Seungmin wasn’t usually the emotional type.

He teased you constantly — playfully, of course. That was just his way of showing affection. But the second someone else tried to do the same — and meant it? With venom, with cruelty?

That’s when the switch flipped.

You hadn’t even told him at first. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. But he noticed — the quiet in your voice, the way your confidence started to crack, the way you avoided mirrors.

He asked once. Then twice. And when you finally told him the truth — that people had been mocking your looks, making little comments, laughing behind your back — the look on his face was unlike anything you’d ever seen.

Cold. Sharp. Protective.

“They said what about you?”

His voice was low. Dangerous. Not loud, but it didn’t need to be. He was already pulling you closer, tucking your head under his chin like he was shielding you from the whole world.

“You know what the joke is?” he whispered, brushing his hand through your hair. “That anyone would even dare insult the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t just comfort you — he reminded you.

Every day after that, he stepped up the compliments. Not empty ones, either — genuine, observant, intimate.

“I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh.” “That scar? It’s hot. Shut up.” “If I hear one more word about your body from someone who doesn’t deserve to look at it, I’ll break their phone. And maybe their jaw.”

And when you doubted yourself, he didn’t let you spiral. He sat you down, looked you straight in the eye, and said:

“You’re mine. And I’m proud of every inch of you. If they can’t see it, they don’t deserve to.”

Seungmin wasn’t just protective.

He was devoted.

And he’d fight the whole world if it meant protecting the way you saw yourself.