Hiiii I’m so happy you’re back!
To celebrate may I ask for a P1h scenario where they are at the send off doing their usual stuff (Jongseob back hug😩) with the s/o, and they basically fall in love at first sight.
Yes im delulu
pairing: P1Harmony x reader
warnings: unrealistic male expectations, pure fluff eheheh
disclaimer: not my pic!
I did a mix between send off and fan sign :) Hope you don't mind!
Keeho
You had been fine all morning—totally fine, perfectly normal—until you got within five people of Keeho. Then your hands started trembling, your stomach twisted itself into a sailor’s knot, and you began rehearsing basic English like you'd never spoken it before.
By the time it was your turn, your heart was thumping so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
But the second Keeho’s eyes found you, something in you shifted. He lit up like someone had just plugged him in. “There you are!” he said, as if he'd been looking for you all day.
You blinked. “Here I am,” you replied, matching his energy before your nerves had the chance to stop you.
His grin stretched wider. “You look too calm for someone meeting me,” he teased.
“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, leaning in just slightly, “the panic is very much internal.”
He laughed—loud, warm, delighted. “Okay, I like you already.”
Your brain short-circuited for a moment, but your mouth kept up somehow. “I try to be likable in public.”
He shook his head as he signed your album, eyes flicking up to you more than necessary. “No, but seriously, you’re funny. You’re keeping up with me. That never happens.”
Your pulse skipped, but you crossed your arms dramatically. “Are you saying people usually can’t handle you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “I’m a lot.”
“Good thing I’m also a lot,” you said, and his expression softened like he found that unexpectedly charming.
When it came time for your selfie, Keeho adjusted his chair and leaned closer. “Is it okay if I touch you?” he asked, hand hovering hesitantly near your shoulder.
You raised a brow. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?”
He froze. Then burst into the brightest, cutest laugh, head thrown back. “Okay, okay, you’re right! You win this one.”
“So you admit defeat,” you said smugly.
“I admit nothing,” he said, still laughing, “but I will take a cute picture with you.”
He rested his hand lightly against your arm—gentle, careful—and the two of you leaned in. The camera clicked as you both smiled in a way that wasn’t posed at all.
When your turn ended, he passed your album back, but didn’t immediately look away. “Thanks for making my day interesting,” he said softly—less performative, more real.
“You’re welcome,” you answered, suddenly shy again.
He didn’t move on right away. His gaze lingered on you, lingering a moment too long to be accidental. You stepped away slowly, still smiling, and he watched you until the staff nudged him forward.
And even then, he glanced back once more—just to meet your eyes again.
Theo
You stepped forward when the staff waved you in, rehearsing a calm smile—only for it to vanish the moment Theo looked up at you.
He froze. Literally froze. Then a soft pink flushed up his neck and into his cheeks so quickly you almost gasped.
“Hi…” he said, voice gentler than you expected, eyes widening like he hadn’t prepared for you specifically.
You blinked, unsure what to do with the sudden intensity. “Hi,” you echoed, and your voice came out warmer than planned.
Theo cleared his throat and tried—unsuccessfully—to hide his blush by focusing very hard on your album. But every couple of seconds, his gaze flicked back up to you, and each time, the blush returned like it was determined to embarrass him.
When it was time for your photo, he scooted closer, trying to act natural. But the moment your faces neared each other, he stiffened slightly, breath catching. You felt his warmth, his shyness, the tiny tremble of someone who wasn’t expecting to be this affected.
Then he frowned—not in a bad way, just with soft concern. “Wait… what happened here?” he murmured, lifting a finger to gesture near your cheek without touching. “Is that a bruise?”
You laughed immediately, because of course he noticed. “Oh—yeah! I play volleyball. I got smacked in the face with a ball a few days ago.”
The relief on his face was instant… followed by a surprised spark in his eyes. “Volleyball? Really? I love volleyball.”
You grinned. “I know.”
He blinked. “You… know?”
“I’ve watched your interviews,” you said lightly. “You talk about it a lot.”
The blush came back with a vengeance, spreading across his cheekbones. “Oh. Right. I—I guess I do.”
That made you laugh again, and Theo looked at you like it was one of his new favorite sounds.
You two talked for a short moment—about positions, favorite plays, whether you preferred spikes or blocks. Theo got unexpectedly animated, hands gesturing, eyes brightening in that understated way of his. You could feel him relaxing, settling into the conversation like it was natural. Easy.
At one point he said, “I feel like you’d be a hitter. You have that energy.”
“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “I live to intimidate people at the net.”
Theo laughed softly, a warm, breathy sound, almost shy but undeniably fond.
When your time was up, he handed your album back but didn’t pull his hand away right away. “It was… really nice to meet you,” he said quietly, eyes dipping for a second before returning to yours.
“Really nice to meet you too,” you said.
And he smiled—small, sweet, a little bit bashful—as if he wasn’t quite ready to stop looking at you.
Jiung
You stepped toward Jiung’s table, trying to steady your breath. He was even more beautiful up close—soft eyes, sharp features, that calm, magnetic presence that always seemed to draw people in without him trying.
When he looked up at you, his expression shifted immediately. His eyes widened just a little, and a small, almost shy smile curved onto his lips.
“Oh,” he said quietly, voice warm. “Your nose piercing… it looks really good on you.”
You touched the jewelry out of habit, smiling. “Thank you! I just got it done recently.”
Jiung nodded, gaze lingering a second longer than necessary. “It suits you a lot. Very elegant.”
“You know,” you said, leaning a little closer across the table, “your nose would also look amazing with a piercing.”
His head snapped up so fast you almost laughed. “Me?” he asked, eyes widening further. A blush started dusting the tops of his cheeks. “I—I don’t know about that.”
“Oh, come on.” You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You have such a pretty face. Very… interesting. A piercing would look incredible on you.”
Jiung froze. Actually froze. His pen hung in midair above your album, and he stared at you like you had just said something he wasn’t prepared to hear for at least the next decade.
“Pretty?” he repeated, voice pitched slightly higher. “Interesting?”
“Very,” you confirmed without hesitation. “Your features are already perfect. A piercing would just make people suffer more.”
His blush deepened instantly—soft pink blooming across sharp cheekbones, down to the tips of his ears. His eyes dropped to the table, suddenly timid in the cutest way.
“I… um…” He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again. “You’re very pretty too.”
You blinked. Then you froze.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The noise of the venue blurred into the background. All that existed was his shy smile, your tightening heartbeat, and the warm flush spreading across both of your faces.
You laughed softly—not mocking, just surprised, touched, a little breathless. “Thank you,” you said, quieter than before.
Jiung finally finished signing your album, but his movements were slower, almost hesitant, like he didn’t want to break the moment. He held the album out to you, fingers brushing yours for the briefest second.
He immediately looked down again, flustered by the tiny contact.
You felt your own cheeks burning, matching his shade perfectly.
For a long moment—longer than a send-off usually allowed—your eyes met again. No words, just an unspoken warmth passing between you, a subtle but undeniable spark.
Then the staff nudged him, and Jiung blinked himself back to reality, though he still looked adorably dazed.
“It was really… nice talking to you,” he said softly.
“You too,” you whispered.
And you walked away knowing you’d left him just as flustered as he had left you.
Intak
You stepped into Intak’s line, reminding yourself that send-offs were quick, simple, nothing to panic over. But the moment he spotted you approaching, his entire expression lit up—bright, curious, that signature spark coming alive in his eyes.
“Hi!” he greeted, leaning forward slightly. “You look excited. Or nervous. Or both?”
You laughed. “Both is probably correct.”
He grinned, delighted. “Same. All the time.”
There was no album signing for this send-off, so it was just you, him, and a few precious seconds of real conversation. You took a breath. “I wanted to say… your dancing is incredible. Really. I’m a ballroom dancer, and watching you move is always so inspiring.”
His reaction was immediate—shock first, then awe, then this wide, amazed smile that made your heart stumble.
“You’re a ballroom dancer?” he repeated, eyes going huge. “No way. That’s so cool.”
You shrugged, suddenly shy under the weight of his attention. “I’ve been learning for a long time.”
“That’s amazing!” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I feel honored. A real dancer complimented me.”
You laughed, flustered. “Intak, you’re definitely a real dancer.”
He pointed at you with playful insistence. “Okay, but ballroom is different. Ballroom is elegant. Ballroom is classy. Ballroom is—”
“Dancing,” you finished, teasing.
He paused. “Okay, fair.”
When the staff signaled it was time for your picture, he perked up suddenly. “Should we do a dancing pose?” he asked. “Since we both are ballroom dancers?”
Your brain short-circuited so hard you almost forgot how to speak. “A—A dancing pose?”
“Yeah!” Intak laughed, extending a hand as if asking you to dance for real. “Only if you want to, of course.”
Your face warmed instantly. “No, I want to. Let’s do it.”
He stepped closer, placing a light hand on your waist with a gentleness that surprised you, letting you set the distance. You took his other hand, falling naturally into position.
“Ready?” he asked, a soft blush coloring his cheeks.
“Ready.”
You dipped into a quick, simple pose—nothing dramatic, just a clean ballroom frame—but the moment was full of laughter, shared nerves, and something sweeter you didn’t dare name. The camera clicked just as both of you smiled a little too shyly at each other.
When you stepped back, he exhaled a breathy laugh. “You’re really good,” he said, voice lower, more sincere. “Honestly… you’re probably a better dancer than me.”
You felt your cheeks burn instantly. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
You tried to recover with a joke. “So… will you dance with me again next time?”
Intak’s answer was immediate, without hesitation. “Yes. Absolutely yes.” Then he added, softer, “I’d like that.”
And as you walked away, you could still feel the warmth of his hand in yours.
Soul
You barely had time to collect yourself before Soul spotted you in line—because the moment he did, he lit up like a sparkler. He bounced a little in his seat, waving both hands as if he’d been waiting specifically for you to reach him.
When you stepped forward, he immediately leaned in, eyes sparkling with pure excitement. “Your outfit!” he exclaimed. “So cool!”
You laughed. “Thank you. It’s… very me, I guess.”
Then his eyes dropped to your belt, and he gasped dramatically. “A McDonald’s toy?!” he said, sounding genuinely amazed. “It’s so cute!”
You glanced around quickly, then lowered your voice conspiratorially. “I, um… actually brought one for you too. But I know you’re not allowed to accept gifts.”
Soul’s head snapped up, and he looked at you with the biggest, most delighted grin. “You brought one for me?” he whispered, like you’d just told him a precious secret.
You nodded, biting back a smile. “I did.”
Before anything else could happen, the staff signaled for your selfie. Soul scooted so close to you that you felt his hair brush your cheek—soft, faintly ticklish. He held the phone up, but before taking the picture, he leaned toward your ear.
“Just secretly give it to me,” he whispered mischievously, voice bubbling with suppressed laughter.
Your breath caught in your throat, partly from surprise, partly from how close he suddenly was. But you reached into your pocket and slid the small toy into your hand.
When he extended his own hand under the table, you gently placed the toy into his palm. Your fingers brushed—light, brief, but enough to send a shiver up your spine.
Soul giggled. An adorable, quiet, I-shouldn’t-be-doing-this giggle.
He hid the toy under the tablecloth with the smoothness of someone who had absolutely done this sort of thing before.
Then he looked at you again, eyes squinting with the brightest smile. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I love it.”
You smiled softly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually want it.”
“I do!” he insisted, nodding so fast his hair bounced. “I’m going to wear it on stage.”
Your eyes widened. “You don’t have to do that. Really.”
“I want to,” Soul said firmly, still smiling. “For you.”
The photo finally snapped—both of you grinning like you were sharing something wonderfully secret.
When your time was up, he gave you a tiny wave, the kind that seemed meant only for you. Under the table, he clutched the toy like it was treasure.
And as you walked away, you heard him giggle again—soft, warm, and absolutely thrilled.
Jongseob
You stepped forward, trying to compose yourself, but the moment Jongseob looked up, his eyes widened in surprise. He tilted his head, studying you for a second with a soft, curious smile.
“You’re really small,” he said, almost to himself. Then, with a playful squint, “You look like an elf.”
Your face heated instantly. “An… an elf?”
“In a cute way,” he added quickly, grin growing. “Like a tiny forest elf.”
You covered your cheeks with your hands for half a second, which only made him laugh—soft, low, undeniably fond.
When the staff signaled for the photo, Jongseob stepped behind you without hesitation. “Let’s do something fitting,” he said, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Before you could ask what he meant, he gently wrapped his arms around you from behind. His chin hovered near your shoulder, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.
The camera clicked, but neither of you moved right away.
“You smell amazing,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.
You turned slightly, flustered. “Oh—thank you. It’s, um… it’s this perfume I use.” You told him the brand, hoping it would explain your blush.
Jongseob leaned in again, closer this time, his nose brushing the air near your neck. He inhaled softly—just once, subtle but unmistakably intimate.
Then he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, confidently. “That’s not the perfume. You smell good.”
Your breath caught. Your brain flatlined. You didn’t know what to do besides stare at him with wide eyes.
So you did what you always did when overwhelmed—you joked.
“Do you… want some?” you asked, half laughing, half dying inside. You expected him to tease you, maybe brush it off.
But instead, Jongseob straightened slightly, eyes brightening. “Yes,” he said immediately.
You blinked. “Wait—really?”
He nodded eagerly, stepping closer. “Yeah. Put some on me.”
You fumbled for the small perfume bottle in your bag, still unsure if this was allowed, but the staff didn’t stop you, and Jongseob looked far too excited for you to refuse.
“Okay,” you said softly.
He tilted his head toward you, offering his wrist first. You sprayed lightly, watching the fine mist settle against his skin.
He lifted his wrist and sniffed it, smiling so wide you almost melted. “It smells really good,” he said. “Now I match you.”
Your chest tightened in the sweetest, most dangerous way.
“I’m glad you like it,” you managed.
“Like it?” he repeated, still beaming. “I love it.”
He gave you one last smile—a soft, lingering one—as the staff nudged him to move on. But even as you walked away, you felt his gaze follow you, warm and quietly captivated.
