Jinu

Jinu couldn’t help but furrow his brows as he watched you laugh — actually laugh — while talking to them. Those so-called idols, those polished, plastic things from the rival group. You were smiling, eyes crinkling in that rare way that even the Saja Boys hardly got to see. Not because you didn’t care to show them your lovely side, but because you're too overworked every time you are with them. But of course, Jinu didn’t quite get that — all he saw was you giving them what he wished you’d give him.

Without a word, he walked over and dropped himself into the seat beside you, letting his knee brush deliberately against yours. The contact was subtle, but intentional. You, ever the cautious professional — the manager of Korea’s most beloved boy band — instinctively shifted away, just enough to keep the tabloids at bay.

Jinu caught that. His eyes narrowed for a split second, but he kept his expression in check, smiling politely at the rivals like this was just business. Professionalism, after all. But inside, it was getting harder to keep it together. Every second of that meeting dragged like a knife along glass.

He tried — more than once — to politely wrap things up, throwing in the occasional, “Well, we should get going soon,” or “Don’t want to overstay our time, right?” But every time, you waved him off, too caught up in whatever ideas you, and they were bouncing around. And all Jinu could do was sit there, smiling a lie.

"Jinu, what was that all about?" you snapped the moment you were finally out of earshot.

Two long, exhausting hours of smiling and civil talk, all undone by him acting like a sulky child the entire time. Your cheerful facade had dropped the second the meeting ended, replaced by a deep frown that made your irritation loud and clear. You stormed ahead, widening the space between you both with every step. He kept catching up easily, thanks to those unfairly long legs of his, which only made you more annoyed.

“Were they really that good-looking for you to be all smiley from start to finish?” Jinu asked, voice light, followed by a forced chuckle, trying, and failing, to mask the unease brewing beneath his cool exterior.

You stopped in your tracks. “Yes, they are,” you shot back, whirling around to face him. “So would you kindly stop interfering with everything I’m doing for your benefit?”

Then, with all the sarcasm you could summon, you flashed him your brightest, fakest smile — the kind so unnerving even Gwi-Ma would’ve taken a step back.

Jinu’s smile faltered. His lips pressed into a tight line. “No… not that smile,” he mumbled, voice quieter. “I want the one you gave them earlier.”

You blinked, surprised for half a second by the sudden softness in his voice. The leader of the Saja Boys now sounded less like a composed idol and more like a child begging for attention, or worse, a boy aching for affection he didn’t know how to ask for.

You exhaled, irritation mixing with exhaustion. “...Stop following me,” you said firmly, turning your back on him. “And go practice your choreography. I have more important things to deal with than babysitting your ego.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving Jinu standing alone in the hallway, holding onto the weight of a smile that didn’t belong to him.

Baby (He's my bias)

Baby wasn’t the type to feel things.

At least, not in the way humans did — not the wild rollercoaster of emotion they seemed to ride so easily. His expression rarely changed unless it's stage-required. His voice stayed flat, steady. Highs and lows didn’t reach him. That’s how he was built.

But ever since you entered his field of vision — whether you were laughing, scolding, or just walking past him — he felt it. Something. A subtle throb in his chest, like a warning or a pull. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, soft or sharp — if you were there, it was there.

And right now? It was fire.

“What’s this?”

Baby’s jaw clenched ever so slightly as he caught sight of that guy — one of the members from whatever group this was — leaning in way too close to you, tossing out flirtatious lines like confetti. And there you were, smiling and nodding politely, playing along like the ever-professional manager you were.

You weren’t interested, Baby knew that much, but watching you entertain that flirting for the sake of diplomacy lit something sharp and burning in his chest.

He walked over, expression unreadable, and casually dropped himself on the couch to your right. Slouching back, he stretched his left arm across the top of the couch, just behind your shoulders, not quite touching you, but close enough to claim space around you.

“Oh! Baby Saja! It’s such an honor to meet you!” one of the rappers exclaimed, eyes sparkling with admiration. He had clearly been a fan for a long time.

Unfortunately for him, Baby didn’t even look in his direction, just gave a curt nod before grabbing a bag of chips off the table and tearing it open. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. You tried to keep your cool, and focused on business. But Baby didn’t make it easy.

“Y/N, eat some.”

“Want me to feed you?”

“This tastes good.”

One interruption after another — a childish war waged in crunches and commentary — all aimed at pulling your attention away from them.

You shot him a sharp glare, your lips tightening in a forced smile as you continued your pitch. You wanted to yell at him. God, you wanted to tell him to read the damn room. But you couldn’t — that would be breaking your professionalism, too.

So instead, you endured the battle of chips echoing beside you like a passive-aggressive soundtrack.

The moment the rival group left the room and the door shut behind them, you turned to him — no more filters, no more smiles.

“For fxxk’s sake, Baby, next time just leave me alone when I’m working.” The words hit like a slap. His hand froze halfway to the chip bag, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“I just wanted to share some with you…” he muttered, suddenly small. The fire inside him — that rage, that jealousy — all shrank down into confusion. He didn’t know what this feeling was. He didn’t understand why seeing someone else near you made his chest feel like it was being crushed.

In the demon realm, feelings like this weren’t taught — only how to survive.

“Go share with whatever, whoever you want, Abby, Mystery, I don’t care. I hate chips.”

You rolled your eyes, snatched the last sip of your green tea with more force than necessary, and stormed out of the meeting room, slamming the door on whatever childish stunt he thought this was.

And Baby sat there, chip bag forgotten in his lap, staring at the closed door like he’d just lost something he didn’t even know he had.

Mystery

You’ve barely heard him speak — at least, not to you. Mystery only ever opened his mouth when it was work-related, usually with Jinu or the others. Around you? He was silent. Polite. Distant. Sometimes, you wondered if he actually hated you.

So when he walked into the meeting room that day, casual and unreadable as always, it was nothing new. The others greeted him with the usual mix of respect and camaraderie — all he did was nod.

And then he sat. Right beside you. Quietly. Like some perfectly trained dog who knew how to behave when guests were around.

But the problem wasn’t him. Not yet. The problem was the guy sitting on your other side — one of the new members from the guest group, who had been inching closer to you every five minutes like it was some sort of stealth mission. You didn’t pay him much mind, too focused on keeping the discussion flowing with their leader. You didn’t even notice the way his shoulder leaned in, or the glance he gave your neckline.

But Mystery noticed.

And the moment that man’s hand reached up and casually brushed a loose strand of your hair — that was the last straw.

Smack.

The sound of Mystery slapping the guy’s hand away echoed louder than it should have. The whole room fell silent. You froze mid-sentence. Everyone stared.

Mystery, still expressionless, muttered: “There was a mosquito.”

You turned your glare on him so sharp it could've sliced through stone. Your eyes told him this is an important meeting, and you’re ruining it. His brain finally caught on, and he sat stiffly in place.

But it didn’t end there. Oh no. Throughout the meeting, he kept jumping into conversations, interrupting at the worst times, and making sarcastic remarks under his breath. And the worst part? He genuinely thought he was helping. He thought you were annoyed at them.

Meanwhile, all you wanted… was for him to just leave the damn room.

When the meeting finally wrapped up, you sent off the group with your brightest, most painfully fake smile. Then you turned on him the second the door shut.

“Mystery, what the fuck?” you snapped, slamming your clipboard onto the table. “Aren’t you usually quiet? Why are you making my life harder today?”

He blinked at you. Processing. Silently. Inside, his mind was spiraling.

She hates when I talk? Wait—so if I stay quiet, she won’t be mad...?

Romance had told him once, “Girls like it when you’re protective. Jump in when some guy gets too close. Be the cold, mysterious type, then bam, heroic move.” But Romance didn’t mention anything about the girl turning into a raging storm after.

Maybe Romance was wrong. Or perhaps he was just bad at it.

Either way, he decided then and there — maybe it's better to go back to the version of himself you never noticed. The quiet one. The unreadable one. The Mystery. Because apparently, the moment he opened his mouth... he just became a nuisance to you.

Abby

"Abby, no. I don't want to touch your abs. And I'm definitely not looking at them."

You didn’t even try to mask your irritation anymore. Abby was clinging to you again, draped over your arm like an overgrown child.

You were exhausted. Weeks of prepping for this crucial meeting with the rival group had you barely functioning — sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled days, and more stress than your body could reasonably handle.

And Abby… wasn’t helping. At all. If anything, he made things worse.

The other Saja Boys, at least, knew to give you space. They could tell just from looking at you — the dark circles under your eyes, the tightness in your voice, the way you snapped at anything that moved too fast. But not Abby.

He’d been in your room nearly every night these past few weeks, hovering, lounging, existing — claiming the foot of your bed or slumping over your desk like a cat. No reason. No invitation. You told him to leave. You tried to push him out. He never listened. Eventually, you just… gave up and let him be.

From his side, things looked different. Romance had told him once: "When a girl is stressed, she just needs someone to talk to. Be there for her. Don’t leave her alone."

And Abby — sweet, literal Abby — had taken those words as gospel. So when you raised your voice? He thought you were venting. When you kicked him out? He thought it meant stay. He thought maybe… you needed him.

But now?

After a grueling meeting, after you’d smiled through clenched teeth and juggled chaos for hours, the last thing you needed was him joking around. The moment the guests left, you turned to him, expression blank, voice flat.

"Abby, has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking annoying?" You stared him down, the exhaustion in your eyes cutting deeper than your words.

He froze, stunned like someone just pulled the ground out from under him. It took a few seconds for the words to land, to make sense.

'I’m… annoying?'

But by the time he opened his mouth to respond, you were already gone — marching out with your clipboard and files in hand, your back turned, your patience snapped.

And Abby just stood there, alone in the quiet room, his arms falling to his sides, staring at your back that turned to him without regret.

Romance

"That’s a lovely hairstyle,” Romance said coolly, resting his chin on his palm. “But I think she likes mine more than yours.”

His eyes locked onto the guy sitting a little too close to you, not that it was actually close, but for Romance, even a few inches felt like a threat. His voice was laced with teasing, but that sharp glare beneath his lashes gave him away.

He wasn’t jealous.

…Okay, maybe a little.

…Okay, he was jealous.

You hadn’t even noticed the so-called offense. You were busy, focused, managing things like you always did — and Romance was supposed to be quiet like he promised. But now he was nudging your arm, voice honey-sweet:

“Oh, it’s almost time for our date, darling. Don’t you want to go get ready now?” You turned sharply and shoved his arm off yours, glaring daggers at him.

“What do you want?” you hissed under your breath, leaning in close while the others kept talking with their manager. Your tone was low and deadly, your eyes demanding an answer.

“You.” He winked. And that? That was the spark that lit the fuse. You sucked in a sharp breath, gripping your clipboard like a weapon.

“Shut the fuck up. I’ll deal with you later.” You turned away before you said something worse, forcing a smile back onto your face and jumping right back into the conversation with the rival group.

Later, when the guests had finally left, you started tidying the room — roughly. Slamming down documents, yanking off power cords, wiping the table down like it had insulted your ancestors.

“Leave your flirting skills to your fans,” you snapped, flipping the light switch off with too much force. You didn’t even look at him as you stormed out of the room, hoping your exit would finally shake him off.

“But—”

“No buts! Just leave me alone!” you exploded, spinning around to face him. “I have a boyfriend, Romance.”

It came out in a rush. A lie. A sharp, stupid, panicked lie you threw out like a smoke bomb, just to make him back off.And for once… it worked. You left. He didn’t follow. Romance stood there, frozen, your words replaying over and over in his head.

I have a boyfriend, Romance.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more — the fact that you didn’t trust him to be serious, or the idea that maybe… just maybe… someone else had already taken the place he desperately wanted to stand in.

Mwah thank you so much for reading <3 Took me quite some time cuz I movie didn't give us enough character development... I literally had to make scenarios in my head to fall asleep every night just to get ideas AAHHHHHHH. Aight gotta start writing all of your requests ^^