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4linos · 5 days ago

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contracted hearts 2.

kim seungmin x idol!reader

synopsis: when your company forces you into a month-long reality dating show with the idol you can’t stand, thirty days in a camera-filled house become a battle of patience, public image, and unexpected emotions.

warnings: reality show au, angst, slow burn romance, forced proximity, emotional tension, mild language.

wc: 12,980

part 1 // part 3

The first week was over. Seven days. Seven days of awkward meals, polite conversations that barely scraped the surface, and the kind of silence that wasn’t warm or comfortable, just… present.

When you’d signed or rather, been forced to sign that 30-day contract, you’d told yourself maybe, just maybe, you could keep your head down, be civil, and get through this without much incident. But “civil” apparently wasn’t good enough.

You sat slouched in one of the small living room chairs while a couple of crew members moved around like quiet shadows, replacing cameras, adjusting wires, testing angles. The faint click of a new lens locking into place made you wince. It wasn’t just the sound, it was the reminder that every second of your life in this house was being watched, dissected, and judged for entertainment value.

You rubbed at your temple, feeling the faint throbbing of an early headache, when Yubin appeared in front of you. She was holding a folder, her brow furrowed, and her mouth set in that tight, managerial smile she only used when she was about to tell you something you wouldn’t like.

“Your first week has been… a fail,” she said, voice measured, almost too calm.

You let out a long, annoyed sigh and tipped your head back, staring at the ceiling. “Gee, thanks for the encouragement.”

“I’m serious,” she pressed, stepping closer so her voice wouldn’t carry too much over the low hum of conversation from the crew. “The producers went through the footage from this week.”

You glanced at her lazily, not even pretending to care, but she didn’t let it slide. Yubin crouched down so you’d have to look her in the eyes. “Listen, I know you don’t like Seungmin. For whatever reason—”

You cut her a look that very much said, Oh, I could list those reasons, but she kept going.

“—but you need to put that aside for just a few more weeks.”

The “few” landed like a rock in your stomach. A few was still too many. You rolled your eyes, leaning your head against the couch cushion, letting her words slide right past your ears.

She caught it. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” she scolded, tapping the folder against her knee. “Do you know how much usable footage they got from the entire week?”

You raised a brow. “I don’t know. Five hours?”

“One hour.”

Your face didn’t change. You let the silence hang between you.

“That’s not good,” she added, like maybe you hadn’t grasped the seriousness of it.

She just looked at you for a moment, like she was trying to read if you were being stubborn on purpose or if you genuinely didn’t understand what was at stake.

“You’re not giving them anything,” she finally said. “No moments, no chemistry, no banter. You can’t keep sitting in separate rooms or answering with one-word replies. This is reality TV, not a hostage documentary.”

That earned her a faint smirk from you, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Over her shoulder, you could see Seungmin across the room, sitting on the couch with his manager. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped casually over the backrest as he listened to whatever his manager was saying. Then, out of nowhere, he laughed. A full, unguarded laugh shoulders shaking, teeth showing.

It was infuriating.

Not because he was laughing, but because you knew that laugh had never been aimed in your direction, not once during the entire week. Around you, he was composed, careful, always holding himself at a distance. And yet, with his manager? He was warm. Animated.

Yubin followed your gaze, her lips tightening slightly. “He’s probably getting the same talk from his side,” she murmured. “So use that to your advantage. You both know the producers want more. Maybe he’ll start putting in effort too.”

You hummed noncommittally, dragging your eyes away from him and back to Yubin. She continued, straightening her folder. “Don’t make me have to come back here next week and tell you the same thing.”

You gave a slow shrug, but your gaze flicked once more toward Seungmin, who was still smiling faintly at whatever his manager had said.

Yubin followed your gaze for a second, then looked back at you. Her voice softened just a notch. “You have to put your differences aside for a few more weeks. That’s all I’m asking. Think of your debut. Think of the opportunity. Think of—” She cut herself off when she realized you weren’t exactly brimming with enthusiasm.

You leaned back into the couch cushions, arms crossed loosely, eyes fixed on the slow movements of one of the tech staff as they adjusted a camera above the bookshelf.

“One hour…” Yubin repeated under her breath like she couldn’t quite believe it. “Out of one hundred and sixty-eight hours.”

You didn’t reply. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t make her sigh even harder.

Instead, you stole one more glance toward Seungmin. He was still laughing, still entirely at ease. And for some reason, that irritated you more than the blender incident.

Yubin didn’t leave right away.

Even after she’d given you the little “do better” talk, she lingered, settling herself in the corner of the couch while scrolling through her phone. You appreciated it, not that you’d admit it out loud. Having her presence there was like a thin layer of protection against the suffocating awkwardness that filled this place whenever it was just you and Seungmin.

The producers were still moving about, swapping lenses and testing the angles of new cameras. Every so often, one of them would stop to jot down notes, their murmurs low but constant.

When one of them finally came over to the center of the room, mic packs in hand, you already knew what was coming.

“Alright,” he said, in that upbeat, production-voice tone. “We’re done with the setup. From this point, the cameras will be rolling continuously. For now, we need staff to clear the space so we can keep the environment as natural as possible.”

Natural. You almost laughed. As if anything about this was natural.

Yubin gave you a look, one that said I’ll text you later, before standing. She touched your shoulder briefly in a quiet show of support, then followed the crew out. You hated the way the air seemed to change the moment the last staff member walked through that door thicker, heavier, more loaded.

You were still standing near the armrest of the couch when Seungmin moved toward you. His expression was unreadable, calm but not exactly friendly.

“I think we should at least try to be civil,” he said finally, his tone even. Then he extended a hand toward you, palm open in a silent invitation to shake on it.

You didn’t take it.

Instead, you let your gaze drop to his hand for a few seconds, then lifted your eyes to meet his. “Why don’t you like me?”

The question slipped out sharper than you’d expected, your curiosity and frustration mixing into something you couldn’t quite reel back in.

Seungmin blinked, glancing to the side as if checking whether you were really talking to him. “What are you talking about?” he said, voice light, almost amused.

That little laugh quiet, dismissive set your teeth on edge. You could practically feel the cameras on you, recording every flicker of your expression.

You scoffed, the sound quick and bitter. “Right. You’re going to deny it because the cameras are here.” You rolled your eyes and waved it off. “Forget it.”

But instead of letting it drop, his brow furrowed slightly, and his voice took on a different edge. “You’re the one who’s been rude, arrogant, and stuck up since day one.”

That stopped you cold.

“What?” you asked, genuine confusion twisting your features.

He didn’t back down. “Yeah. You walk around here acting like you’re too good to even talk to me.”

Your laugh was humorless. “Me? That’s you. That’s been you from the very beginning.”

His gaze hardened slightly, but you didn’t stop. “Backstage at a music show, during my debut stage? I came over to introduce myself, literally bowed and you barely even looked at me before walking away. Don’t try to rewrite it now.”

You hadn’t realized your voice had been climbing in volume until you heard it echo faintly in the space.

“That never happened,” he said flatly, shaking his head.

“Oh, it happened,” you snapped back. “And I’ve got my members to back me up on it.”

He rolled his eyes in return, the gesture so dismissive it made your blood spike hotter.

The argument spiraled quickly, your voices overlapping, both of you throwing the same accusations back and forth. Rude. Arrogant. Too full of yourself. No self-awareness. It was petty, childish even, but you couldn’t stop.

Then, in the middle of it, his lips quirked, not quite a smile, more of a smirk and he said, “Maybe that attitude is why you’re not even the most popular in your group.”

The words landed like a slap.

For a heartbeat, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You weren’t even sure your expression changed, but inside, something caved in.

You brushed past him without a word, your shoulder bumping his arm harder than necessary. The door to your room was only a few steps away, and you didn’t hesitate. You turned the knob, stepped inside, and locked it behind you.

Seungmin stayed where he was, the lingering ghost of a smirk still on his face, until he realized you weren’t coming back out to throw another insult at him.

The silence that followed made his stomach sink, the taste of that last comment souring in his mouth.

The moment your bedroom door shut, you leaned back against it, letting the lock click into place like it was the only thing keeping you together.

You didn’t slam it, not because you didn’t want to, but because you refused to give the cameras the satisfaction of catching you in some over-the-top meltdown. Still, your pulse was loud in your ears, the sting of his words refusing to fade.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t heard comments like that before. You were well aware of where you stood in FLWR’s popularity rankings. You’d made peace with it or at least, you thought you had. But hearing it from him… someone who had already spent years brushing you off… that cut in a way you hadn’t been ready for.

You dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment before grabbing your phone. Maybe a distraction would help.

First, you put in your earbuds and queued up a playlist, songs you knew by heart, ones that usually put you at ease. The melodies filled the room, but the words still replayed underneath the music like a stubborn echo.

“Maybe that attitude is why you’re not even the most popular in your group.”

You shut your eyes tighter, switching to a different playlist louder, faster, something to drown it out. No luck. You tried napping, but your brain wouldn’t stop circling back to the argument. You flipped onto your side. Then your stomach. Then your back again. You opened a movie on your phone. Ten minutes in, you realized you hadn’t even been following the plot, too busy hearing that stupid sentence over and over. Fine. Social media, then. You scrolled, liked, commented, but every now and then you’d see a fan post about FLWR, photos of your members smiling, fancams with thousands of likes and you’d think, Yeah… maybe he’s right.

By the time the sun shifted low enough to cast warm, slanted light through your window, you’d cycled through every distraction you could think of. None of them worked.

You were lying sideways across the bed, phone abandoned beside you, when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Hey,” Seungmin’s voice called, muffled by the wood. “My manager dropped off some snacks earlier. Do you… want some?”

Your eyes rolled automatically. Not dramatically, just enough to yourself to register your irritation. You stayed silent, staring at the wall.

After a pause, he tried again. “I could, uh… put them outside the door if you want.”

Still nothing from you.

You heard him shift his weight, the faint squeak of a floorboard. You wondered if he knew the cameras could probably hear him apologizing in disguise like this.

A beat later, there was another knock, slightly lighter this time. “Or we could… go out for a bit? Shopping, maybe. Get some air.”

That one made you almost laugh out loud. Shopping. Together. As if wandering through aisles with him for an hour would fix anything.

You didn’t answer.

From the other side of the door, there was a quiet sigh long, resigned. The kind you let out when you’ve run out of ideas. You heard his footsteps retreat, slow at first, then fading entirely down the hall. The room fell silent again.

You exhaled and let yourself sink deeper into the bed. Even with him gone, the weight of earlier still clung to you, stubborn as ever.

You avoided Seungmin like the plague for nearly a week. Whenever the cameras were rolling, you kept your distance, staying as far away as possible without being obvious. If you had to speak, it was polite brief and impersonal.

You were angry. At him. At the situation. At yourself for letting his words dig under your skin when you usually prided yourself on being tough. You knew the show was expecting more, that the staff had likely written off the second week as a failure already, but the truth was, you just didn’t want to deal with it.

You’d rather keep your head down and avoid him until everything blew over, pretending like nothing had happened.

Saturday morning, however, something felt different. You woke up, and the first thing you noticed was how empty your stomach felt. You hadn’t had much of an appetite since the argument, but today, you were starving. Your brain was foggy, but the hunger gnawing at your gut was enough to get you out of bed.

You pulled on a hoodie, half asleep, still not fully processing the day ahead and trudged to the kitchen.

As you walked in, you froze in the doorway. There was Seungmin, standing over the stove with a look of concentration on his face. The kitchen counter was filled with a spread of toast, eggs, fruit, bacon, and freshly squeezed juice. The smell of everything being freshly made filled the air.

His back was turned to you, but he must’ve heard your footsteps because he turned around, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Good morning, I was just about to go wake you.” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I, uh, woke up early to make breakfast. I thought… well, I figured you’d be hungry.”

You stood there, staring at the spread. Your stomach growled, but the sight of him looking awkward and overly eager, like a puppy trying to win you back, made you hesitate.

He bit his lip, watching you closely. “I know I’ve been an idiot. What I said was… mean, uncalled for, and not true. I should never have said it. I’m really sorry.” His voice was sincere, softer than you’d ever heard it.

Your eyes moved from the food to him, and for a moment, you couldn’t say anything.

He cleared his throat. “I made breakfast to, uh, make up for it. I don’t know what else I can do, but I really do mean it. I’m sorry.”

Still, you didn’t respond. You just stared at him, feeling the weight of everything unsaid.

He noticed the hesitation in your expression, but instead of pushing, he gave you space. “Please, at least eat something. I… really want you to have a good day today.”

Something about the genuine way he was speaking, the sincerity in his eyes, made it hard to stay upset with him. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been starving for more than just food, it felt like you’d been starving for an apology, for him to own up to the way he’d made you feel.

Finally, you sighed. “Fine. I’ll eat.”

You sat down at the table, still avoiding his gaze, but the breakfast smelled so good that it was impossible to pretend you weren’t excited about it. As you dug into the toast and eggs, Seungmin slid into the seat across from you. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

The silence hung between you two as you ate, but you couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d made this effort. The food wasn’t just a peace offering, it was his way of showing you that he cared. That was something, wasn’t it?

Finally, Seungmin spoke, his voice quieter, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d even care to hear it.

“It’s not true, you know.”

You looked up at him, confused.

“The stuff I said last week. About you not being popular. That was wrong. And I don’t know what I was thinking. You have so many fans who love you, who are rooting for you. And honestly, look at everything you’ve accomplished. Your solo career is just getting started, and you’ve got an entire group of people who support you. I mean, you’re FLWR, you’re more than just some idol in the background. You’re someone everyone looks up to, and you should be proud of yourself.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, a lump forming in your throat. You looked down at your plate for a second, blinking back the surprise of hearing those words.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know the facts hell, you knew you’d had a successful group and built a following. But hearing someone who’d been so dismissive toward you in the past say, it felt different.

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "I appreciate that," you said quietly, finally meeting his eyes. A small, soft smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you."

Seungmin smiled back, but there was still something vulnerable in his expression, like he was unsure if that apology would be enough to change everything.

You sat there for a moment, the awkwardness starting to fade. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to feel like you could breathe again.

“Does this mean we’re… good?” Seungmin asked carefully, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, the smile on your lips softening. “Yeah. We’re good.”

The air between you two seemed to lighten, as if a weight had finally been lifted. The tension of the past week started to dissolve with every bite of food, every shared glance.

Then, Seungmin, in his typical Seungmin way, tried to lighten the mood with a suggestion.

"Alright, then," he said, a little more upbeat now. "To make up for everything, I was thinking we could go to Lotte World today. It’s on me. Get out of here for a bit, enjoy the day."

You blinked at him, surprised. “Lotte World?”

He grinned. “Yeah. We both could use a little fun, don’t you think?”

The thought of the amusement park bright lights, roller coasters, a day away from cameras, actually made you feel a flicker of excitement. For a second, it almost felt like a normal day.

“Alright,” you said, feeling your mood shift. “I’m in.”

Seungmin’s face lit up, as if he’d just won some unspoken victory. “Great! Hurry up and finish eating, then. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can enjoy it.”

You rolled your eyes at his enthusiasm, but it felt nice to see him genuinely trying. It had been a rough week, but maybe, just maybe, things were starting to change between you two.

As you continued eating your breakfast, you realized that for the first time in a while, you were looking forward to something other than the usual stress and routine of the show. You were looking forward to having a real moment of fun. Together.

And maybe that was the first step toward finally letting go of the weight Seungmin had put on your shoulders.

The car ride to Lotte World felt like a strange mix of discomfort and forced lightheartedness. Seungmin had been in a surprisingly good mood, something you weren’t used to seeing from him, but it didn’t stop the air from feeling thick with awkward tension. He had brought a hand held camera, and you had yours, but for some reason, Seungmin ended up filming you more than you filmed him. He seemed intent on capturing moments for the show, his eyes flicking between the lens and you, trying to get the right angle. You smiled along, doing your best to humor him, but there was an unspoken barrier you both hadn’t fully crossed yet.

Every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you for a little longer than normal, but you quickly turned your attention back to the window. The silence in the car was punctuated only by his occasional voice directing you to smile or look this way, making everything feel more like a performance than a real outing. Still, you had to admit, there was something oddly comforting about how Seungmin seemed to try so hard to make things less uncomfortable.

When you arrived at the park, the atmosphere was bustling with energy families, friends, couples, and a sea of excited voices. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been anticipating the day until you were actually there, the feeling of being out of the house, out of the cameras, and just present in the moment.

Seungmin led the way toward the entrance of the gift shop. He had already begun filming again, his camera trained on you as you walked through the aisles, looking at all the quirky, plush items. The shelves were stocked with headbands, hats, stuffed animals, and all sorts of novelty items.

“Alright, we need a headband for you,” Seungmin said with a smile, holding his camera up to capture your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting him to pick out something ridiculous, but when you saw him eyeing the shelves with genuine interest, you found yourself playing along. He was trying, at least.

As you scanned the options, you found a set of pink bunny ears on the top shelf. They were fluffy, exaggerated, and probably the least subtle thing in the store. You pulled them down and tried them on, glancing at yourself in the mirror.

"Well?" you asked, turning to Seungmin, hoping for a comment.

Seungmin paused, and you could see him freeze for a moment. His eyes widened, just slightly, and you swore you saw a flicker of something in his gaze, something that made his cheeks flush a soft pink. But as quickly as the moment passed, he cleared his throat and looked away, focusing back on the camera instead of meeting your eyes.

“They’re... nice,” he said, his voice slightly strained as he fiddled with the camera settings, avoiding your gaze.

You didn’t catch on to the sudden shift in his demeanor. You just smiled and kept the bunny ears on, feeling a little embarrassed at how cute you felt in them. “I like them,” you said, admiring yourself in the mirror. But before you could finish thinking about it, your eyes landed on another set of ears a pair of puppy ears, just as fluffy but much cuter, with little velvety tips.

Without hesitation, you snuck up behind Seungmin, your hands suddenly finding the headband and placing it on your head. "Look! These are even cuter," you said, a grin creeping onto your face.

Seungmin, still focused on the camera, made a small noise of approval. "They’re cute," he said distractedly.

You knew he wasn’t paying full attention, so you took the opportunity to pull him into the moment. “Now you’re going to wear one too,” you told him sternly, crossing your arms.

Seungmin immediately recoiled. "What? No, I don’t like these kinds of things," he protested, shaking his head and backing away, but you weren’t having any of it.

"Nope," you said firmly. "You’re going to wear one. It’s part of the deal. You can’t leave until you’re as cute as I am."

He laughed, albeit reluctantly. "You’re seriously making me do this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, but the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

"Yes," you said. "You’re wearing it." You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence was coming from, but you were determined to see it through.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, but you could see a small chuckle escape from him as he reluctantly grabbed the puppy ears and placed them on his head. His expression was one of exaggerated annoyance, but the playful glint in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"Happy now?" he asked, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a little lighter now. "Much better," you said, giving him a thumbs up. "Look at us, the cutest duo in Lotte World."

Seungmin tried to keep a straight face but failed, his lips twitching into a smile.

You made your way to the register to pay, still laughing under your breath. You reached into your bag to grab your wallet, planning to pay for both of the headbands, but before you could get your cash, Seungmin had already slid his card across the counter.

You blinked, surprised. "Hey! I was going to pay for mine."

Seungmin waved it off. "Consider it a peace offering. And... an apology."

You narrowed your eyes slightly but let it go, your shoulders relaxing a little. “Thanks,” you muttered, trying to suppress the smile that was threatening to break through.

Seungmin grinned, turning back to you with a satisfied look on his face. "Let’s go. The real fun’s about to begin."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but there was a genuine warmth behind your expression now, one that you hadn’t felt in days.

As you stepped out of the gift shop, you felt the weight of the past week starting to lift. Maybe today wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

The moment you stepped out of the gift shop, bunny ears still perched perfectly on your head, you scanned the park like a general surveying a battlefield, plotting your next move. The sight of the carousel caught your attention immediately. It wasn’t the biggest or flashiest ride in Lotte World, but the golden poles, colorful horses, and old-fashioned charm pulled you in like a magnet.

You turned to Seungmin, eyes lighting up. “We’re going on that next.”

He followed your gaze and nearly recoiled. “No way,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not getting on a carousel.”

“Too late,” you replied, already marching toward it. “There’s no line.”

You didn’t give him time to argue. The ride was practically empty except for a couple of kids and their parents, so you walked right up and claimed the first horse you saw, a glossy white one with a blue saddle and golden bridle. Seungmin, ever the reluctant participant, stood next to you like a stubborn bodyguard, holding his camera.

“Uh-uh,” you said, pointing to the horse beside yours. “You’re getting on, too.”

“I can just stand here,” he muttered, glancing around as if looking for an escape route.

Before you could respond, the carousel operator, an older man with a strict expression, stepped over and told him bluntly, “You need to get on a horse or get off the ride.”

Your grin widened. “See? Even he says so.”

Seungmin shot you a mildly annoyed look but let out a resigned sigh. With the grace of someone accepting defeat, he climbed onto the horse next to yours, a dark brown one with a red saddle. He adjusted himself awkwardly, clearly unfamiliar with the idea of riding a fake horse.

The carousel jolted gently before beginning its slow, melodic rotation. The old-fashioned music filled the air, and almost instantly, your mood soared. You laughed a bright, genuine laugh that bubbled up from somewhere deep. The wind from the ride lifted your hair slightly, and the bunny ears bounced in rhythm as the horse moved up and down.

Seungmin, despite his earlier complaints, found himself instinctively raising his camera again. He started filming you, trying to capture the way you looked in that moment eyes crinkled, cheeks lifted, completely immersed in the simple joy of the ride. You looked carefree, almost childlike, and for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

He kept telling himself it was just for the show, just good footage, but the truth was… he was mesmerized. Something about you laughing like that, without any guarded expressions or irritation in your eyes, felt different from every other moment he’d spent with you so far.

When the carousel finally slowed to a stop, you hopped off your horse easily, but Seungmin stayed still for a beat too long, camera still in hand, eyes fixed on you.

“Seungmin?” you called, tilting your head. “You okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thought he’d been lost in. “Yeah,” he said quickly, nodding as if to shake off the moment. “I’m fine.”

You gave him a curious look but didn’t press.

Seungmin stepped forward, offering you his hand to help you down from the platform, which you took without thinking. Once your feet hit the ground, he let go quickly, turning his attention to the bustling park around you.

“So,” he said, slipping the camera strap over his neck again, “where do you want to go next?”

You glanced around, pretending to consider your options, but part of you was still wondering what had been going through his head on that carousel. Whatever it was, you could tell it wasn’t nothing.

By the time the afternoon sun dipped low enough to cast long golden streaks across Lotte World, you and Seungmin had already hit what felt like every major ride in the park. The energy between you had shifted, there were still sarcastic remarks, still the occasional eye roll, but they were softer now, tinged with amusement instead of tension.

Eventually, you found yourselves standing at the base of the park’s biggest roller coaster. Its towering steel frame wound high into the sky before plunging into sharp drops and stomach-churning loops. The shrill sound of riders screaming echoed across the park, followed by the mechanical hiss of the ride braking back into the station.

“This is it,” you said confidently, arms crossed. “The big one.”

You glanced up at the massive coaster and then back at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not scared?”

“Fearless,” Seungmin declared, smirking.

That was all it took for you to snort, an actual laugh escaping you. “Fearless? Sure. We’ll see.”

Minutes later, you were both strapped into the very front row, the world stretching out ahead of you. The slow, ominous climb began, each click of the chain lift echoing in your chest. You were grinning, eyes on the view as the park spread beneath you like a miniature model.

And then the drop came.

The coaster roared forward, and Seungmin, who had been so smug, screamed. A sharp, startled, undeniably un-idol-like scream. Midway through the first loop, his hand shot out toward yours, fingers tightening instinctively.

You burst out laughing, the wind whipping your hair into your face, making your bunny ears tilt dangerously to one side. “Fearless, huh?” you shouted over the rushing air.

He didn’t answer, too busy clinging to the safety bar with his other hand.

When the ride screeched to a stop, you both stumbled out, trying to catch your breath. Your legs wobbled as you found your footing, and you noticed his headband, the puppy ears, had slid halfway down his forehead. Yours was just as crooked, but you didn’t care.

“You screamed like a little boy,” you teased, your grin wide.

“I did not,” he said immediately, straightening his headband and walking ahead as if putting distance between you would erase the evidence.

“Did too,” you said, jogging to catch up.

You spotted the food court ahead and nudged his arm. “Ooh, churros. Let’s get one.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, but didn’t protest as you veered toward the smell of fried dough and cinnamon sugar. Halfway there, he pulled the camera from around his neck, turning it toward himself. He spoke a little for the viewers, some commentary about the rides, about you dragging him to “the scariest things possible” before panning the lens to you. You were smiling without realizing it, the kind of smile that came from the combination of adrenaline and sugar cravings.

When you reached the churro stall, you stepped up to the counter, greeting the worker politely before ordering for both of you. Seungmin stood slightly behind, filming you as you spoke, a faint trace of amusement tugging at his mouth.

Moments later, you were munching on your churro, walking slowly through the park as the sky shifted into a warmer glow. “Today hasn’t been that bad,” you admitted between bites.

“Agreed,” he said, dusting sugar from his fingers. “So… do you accept my apology now?”

You chewed thoughtfully before nodding. “Fine. I’m okay with putting everything behind us—” you paused and looked at him with a smirk “—as long as you admit you were stuck up the first time we met. Years ago. When I introduced myself.”

He groaned, tilting his head back. “I barely even remember that.”

“Oh, I do,” you shot back. “Clear as day. You were doing comeback promotions at the time.”

He frowned slightly, as if digging through old memories. “Honestly, I really don’t remember. But… if I did act like that—” his voice softened “—I apologize. Sincerely. I was probably just having a bad day.”

You stared at him for a moment, searching for any sign of sarcasm, but his tone felt genuine. Finally, you gave a small nod and went back to your churro, deciding, for now, to let it go.

The two of you returned to the house just as the sun had completely set, the sky outside a deep navy dotted with faint stars. The adrenaline from the rides at Lotte had long worn off, replaced by the heavy ache in your legs and the kind of tiredness that made you want to collapse face-first onto your bed. Seungmin seemed just as drained, though he was still scrolling on his phone, probably to find somewhere that delivered late at night after mentioning he was hungry.

“I’ll order something for both of us,” he said, kicking off his shoes and setting his bag down by the couch.

“Okay,” you murmured, rubbing your eyes. “I’m gonna get changed first.”

He nodded without looking up from his phone, already muttering something about fried chicken and tteokbokki. You padded down the hall toward your room, already imagining the comfort of your oversized hoodie and loose sweatpants.

But the second you opened your door, you froze.

Your room, your sanctuary for the past two weeks was completely empty. Not just “tidied up” empty. Empty-empty. The bed was gone. Your blanket, your pillows, everything stripped bare. Your suitcase wasn’t in its usual spot. Even the little decorative plant the producers had put there was missing. It was just four bare walls and a carpet that suddenly felt colder than it should.

Your heart jumped into your throat, and before you could even think, you let out a sharp, instinctive scream.

From the kitchen, you heard a loud thunk, the unmistakable sound of Seungmin dropping his phone mid-order followed by the pounding of hurried footsteps. “What happened?!” His voice was laced with urgency as he appeared in the doorway, eyes scanning the room like he was expecting to see an intruder.

When his gaze landed on the emptiness, his expression shifted instantly from alarm to sheer confusion. “What the… where’s all your stuff?”

“That’s what I’d like to know!” you shot back, your voice still edged with shock. “Should I call the police.. Yubin.. the producers?”

Without answering, Seungmin turned on his heel and strode quickly toward his own room. Curiosity and frustration tangled in your chest as you followed him down the hall.

The second you stepped into his room, you spotted your suitcase, propped up neatly in the corner and the sight made you halt mid-step. Your clothes were stacked in an oddly careful pile on top of it. But your attention was immediately drawn to the massive king-sized bed in the middle of his room, where a plain white envelope sat perfectly centered against the dark blanket.

Seungmin picked it up, his brow furrowed, and unfolded the paper inside. His eyes scanned the words before reading aloud:

“Since you were gone for the day, we took the opportunity to… spice things up a little. From now on, you’ll be sharing a room like a real couple. Enjoy the next week and don’t worry, we won’t be back tomorrow. While you were out, we replaced the cameras. Have fun.”

At the bottom, there was a little flourish, signed by the show’s production team, complete with a tiny heart doodle.

You gasped so hard it almost hurt your ribs. “Absolutely no way.”

Seungmin blinked at the letter, then looked around as if he might find hidden evidence of how the staff had pulled this off without either of you noticing. “How did they even…? We were only gone for a few hours…”

“I don’t care how,” you cut in, marching over to grab your suitcase handle. “I’ll just take my stuff and sleep on the floor of the other room.”

He caught your wrist lightly before you could haul the suitcase out. “Stop being stubborn,” he said flatly. “You need to rest properly. You’ve been complaining about your back since the first week. The floor’s not gonna help.”

You stared at him like he’d just suggested you run another marathon after the day you’d had. Words hovered on your tongue, but none of them seemed strong enough to fully convey the sheer no you were feeling.

“It won’t be that bad,” he added quickly, as if trying to reassure you before you exploded. “We’ll just put pillows in the middle or something. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

You groaned, dragging both hands down your face in exaggerated annoyance. “This is actually ridiculous,” you muttered, heading for your suitcase anyway not to leave the room this time, but to dig out your hoodie and sweatpants.

Seungmin turned away, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. Just… get changed. I’ll—uh—wait outside.”

He slipped out the door before you could tell him to, but not before you noticed the faint pink on his ears. Outside, you could hear the subtle thud of his back hitting the door as he leaned against it. His quiet sigh drifted through the wood.

In that moment, neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew the truth: the next two weeks had just gotten a lot longer.

When you finally emerged from the room, freshly changed into your hoodie and sweatpants, Seungmin was standing by the island with his phone in hand. He looked up as soon as you stepped out, straightening a little.

“I just ordered chicken for us,” he said casually, as if this entire room situation hadn’t just been dumped on both of you like some twisted reality show prank.

You paused mid-step. “Thanks,” you murmured, though your eyes were already flicking toward the living room. “You know, I could most definitely sleep on the couch. Problem solved.”

He shook his head almost immediately. “That couch is tiny. You’d fall off before the night’s over.”

“I can make it work,” you said stubbornly, picturing yourself curling up with every spare blanket you could find.

Seungmin gave you a flat look, the kind that clearly said he didn’t buy it for a second. Then, after a beat, he shrugged and said, “If you really mind sharing a bed that much, I can just take the floor.”

The way he said it, matter-of-fact, without complaint, made you pause. You knew the floor wouldn’t exactly be comfortable, especially after the long day you’d had walking, standing in ride lines, and being tossed around on roller coasters. You weren’t exactly best friends, but you weren’t heartless either.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said reluctantly. “It’s fine. Just… put pillows in the middle or something. Make it obvious which side is yours and which is mine.”

“Deal,” he replied quickly, almost like he’d been hoping you’d say that.

The food arrived a few minutes later, and you sat together at the small dining table. The air was still a little tense, but not in the sharp, uncomfortable way it had been earlier in the week. You busied yourself with opening the containers while he grabbed napkins and drinks.

As you dug into your chicken, you decided to lay out some ground rules before things got awkward or worse, misunderstood. “Alright, since the producers think they’re hilarious, we’re gonna need to make some things clear.”

He raised a brow but kept eating. “Go ahead.”

“First,” you said, gesturing toward the room with your chopsticks, “one side of the room is completely mine. The other side is completely yours. No crossing over unless invited.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a small nod.

“Second, if either of us ever needs privacy or just wants to be left alone we say so, and the other person respects that. No questions asked.”

“Also fair,” he agreed without hesitation.

You gave him a look, just to make sure he wasn’t humoring you. “And no messing with each other’s stuff. At all.”

“Obviously,” he said, holding out his hand across the table. “Shake on it?”

You eyed his hand for a second before finally reaching out to shake it, sealing the deal. His grip was warm but light, and you both pulled back quickly, going back to your food like nothing had just happened.

At least now, you thought, you had a plan… even if you weren’t entirely convinced it would save you from whatever the next week had in store.

After dinner, the quiet settled in again, not tense this time just… there. You carried the empty containers to the trash while Seungmin wiped down the table, both of you moving around each other like you’d already been living together for weeks.

When you headed toward the shared room, you stopped at the doorway, taking in the size of the bed again. It didn’t seem that big when you first saw it, but now, with the knowledge that you’d be sharing it, it suddenly felt much smaller.

Seungmin came in behind you, carrying a stack of pillows like he’d been preparing for a fortress. “Alright,” he said, walking past you to the bed. “Middle line. No trespassing.”

You crossed your arms and watched as he arranged the pillows between your halves with almost obsessive precision, making sure there was no chance of an accidental crossover in the middle of the night.

“Wow,” you said dryly. “Very official.”

He glanced up at you with a faint smirk. “What? You’re the one who wanted boundaries.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the corner of your mouth twitching up. Still, you went to your side and began unpacking just enough to have your essentials within arm’s reach, a phone charger, your water bottle, your night cream.

While you were settling in, Seungmin was fussing with his own side. You caught him glancing toward your half a couple of times, like he was checking to see if you were comfortable but didn’t want to outright ask.

Eventually, you both ended up sitting on your respective halves of the bed, scrolling on your phones in a weird kind of synchronized silence. Every so often, you could hear him shifting, the sound of fabric rustling against the sheets.

“Do you always make this much noise when you get ready for bed?” you asked without looking up.

“I’m barely makin’ noise,” he said flatly, though you could hear the faintest laugh in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, unconvinced.

After a few minutes, he set his phone down. “You know, for someone who swore this was the worst idea ever, you’re taking it pretty well.”

You looked at him over the pillow barrier. “I’m tolerating it. Big difference.”

“Right,” he said with a small smile before turning off his bedside lamp.

You mirrored him, plunging the room into a soft darkness, and for the first time since the producers pulled their little stunt, you realized… this might not actually be the worst week of your life.

The first night started out fine silent, still, almost too still. You lay on your side facing away from the pillow wall, staring at the faint red glow of the standby light from one of the cameras across the room. Even though you couldn’t see the lens clearly in the dark, you could feel it, that constant reminder that nothing in here was truly private.

From the other side of the pillow barricade, you heard Seungmin shift again, his sheets rustling as he got comfortable. For a few minutes, the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioner.

Thump.

You frowned. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked, his voice low, groggy.

“That noise. Did you drop something?”

“No. I moved my foot.”

You rolled your eyes into the darkness. “Your foot doesn’t make a thump unless you’re kicking something.”

“Maybe I did,” he muttered, clearly not in the mood for interrogation.

You sighed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, determined to sleep.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. You were just starting to drift off when you felt the faintest dip in the mattress near your side. You froze, blinking into the dark.

“…Was that you?” you asked quietly.

A beat of silence, then: “Pillow fell.”

You peeked over the pillow wall and sure enough, one of the middle pillows had slid down between you two. He hadn’t crossed the line, but it was enough to make you suspicious.

“You’re not cheating the pillow system, are you?” you asked.

“I’m not a cheater,” he said, a little offended. “You think I want to wake up with you accusing me of invading your space?”

You snorted. “If you did, I’d throw you off the bed.”

He chuckled lowly, then turned onto his other side so his back was to you. “Noted.”

It was quieter after that. Eventually, you started to relax again, your breathing evening out, eyelids heavy. The soft sounds of Seungmin shifting now and then faded into background noise.

By the time you finally fell asleep, the pillow wall was still standing strong, but you had this nagging feeling that the producers were going to eat this setup alive when the footage aired.

The morning light slipped in through the half-drawn curtains, bright enough to make you squint but not quite enough to make you want to move. You stretched under the covers, still a little groggy, when the faint sound of movement caught your ear fabric shifting, zippers sliding open, the dull clink of something being set on the desk.

You cracked one eye open. Seungmin was already dressed and crouched over his bag, neatly sorting through what looked like his toiletries and clothes. His expression was unreadable, but his movements were precise like he’d been awake for a while.

Pushing yourself up, you yawned. “I’m gonna get cleaned up. Shower’s calling my name.”

He didn’t look up, just gave a short nod.

You slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. The cool tiles under your feet jolted you awake a little more. You’d just started turning on the water when his voice carried through the door.

“I’m gonna step out for a minute,” he called. “Get some coffee for us. You want anything special?”

That made you pause mid-movement. A small smile tugged at your lips. Coffee from Seungmin was… unexpected. “Yeah,” you replied, giving him your most overly specific coffee order, complete with the milk ratio, sugar level, and exact temperature.

There was a pause on the other side. No words, just silence long enough for you to imagine his face blank stare, processing the absurdity, probably debating whether he should’ve even asked. You could practically hear him mentally cursing you out.

“…Okay,” he finally said, flat but accepting, and then you heard the front door open and close.

You showered leisurely, letting the warm water clear away the stiffness from the previous night. Once you were dressed, you padded back to your now-shared room, towel drying your hair.

That’s when you froze.

On your side of the room, neatly folded and stacked with the kind of precision only someone annoyingly tidy could manage, sat a small pile of Seungmin’s clothes. T-shirts. Hoodies. Even a pair of his sweatpants.

You stared at them for a beat, then sighed, a deep, irritated huff. Rules were rules, and you’d been very clear about sides of the room.

Without thinking twice, you marched over, grabbed the top shirt from the pile, and stormed toward the kitchen where you heard faint movement. The smell of coffee lingered in the air.

“Hey, we talked about this!” you said, voice firm. In one swift motion, you lobbed the folded shirt at the back of his head. It hit with a soft thump.

“Ow—”

The voice wasn’t his. You blinked.

The figure in front of you turned around slowly, an almost comical mix of surprise and confusion on his face. Not Seungmin.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, rushing forward, your hands half-raised in panic. “I’m so sorry—I thought you were Seungmin—seriously, I thought—”

Hyunjin caught the shirt mid-fall, eyebrows lifting as his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh. “I can see that,” he said lightly, his tone far too calm for your level of embarrassment.

You kept babbling apologies, each one faster than the last, as your mind scrambled to process why he was standing in your kitchen holding coffee instead of Seungmin.

You felt your face turn hot as you continued to apologize, stammering as you tried to explain yourself. "I swear I thought you were Seungmin! He just stepped out to get coffee, and—" You paused, realizing how ridiculous you must sound, and only cringed internally at the mess you’d made of the situation.

Hyunjin, however, only chuckled, clearly entertained by your flustered state. "It’s okay, really," he said, the laughter in his voice light and teasing. "I didn’t expect to be hit with a shirt, but I guess that’s what happens when you enter uninvited, huh?"

You blinked, still trying to process his sudden presence. "Wait, what do you mean, ‘uninvited’? I thought Seungmin—"

"I came to visit him," he interrupted, his tone casual. "The producers and our manager suggested I come by to check on him—see how everything's playing out, you know?" He scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "I called him first, but he didn’t answer, so I figured I’d just let myself in. Manager texted me the code to the door, but I didn’t think he’d be gone. Sorry for invading your space like this."

You shook your head, still processing what he was saying, but his apology caught you off guard. "No, no, it’s fine," you said quickly, waving your hands in front of you as if to dismiss the awkwardness.

For a moment, there was a lull in the conversation, and as you caught your breath, you realized how easy it was to talk to Hyunjin. His casual demeanor, mixed with his teasing comments, put you at ease far more than you expected. The way he made everything seem lighthearted made it hard to not smile at his every word.

"Anyway, I’m really sorry again for...you know," he continued, waving the shirt between his fingers. "But I didn’t expect to walk in and be treated like the enemy."

You couldn’t help but giggle. "Well, you were invading my space with no warning," you said jokingly, crossing your arms over your chest, but the playful tone in your voice betrayed any semblance of annoyance. "You should’ve sent a formal invitation first."

He smirked, leaning against the counter. "Next time, I’ll send one on a gold-plated platter, just for you."

You laughed harder than you expected, a bit of heat rising in your cheeks as his words caught you off guard. You weren’t sure if it was his charming smile or his easy confidence, but something about him made you forget the awkward tension you had just moments ago.

"Deal," you said, trying to sound more serious, but your grin gave you away.

Hyunjin chuckled, clearly amused by the way you tried to maintain composure. "Alright, alright," he said, pretending to zip his lips. "I’ll behave. But seriously," he added, his voice turning more sincere as he looked at you directly. "I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll make sure to announce first next time. Promise."

You nodded, the genuine apology in his eyes making you feel a little better. "It’s okay, really. You’re not the first person to barge in unexpectedly," you joked, thinking about the chaos the past few days had brought. "But maybe next time, we could go for coffee together instead of...throwing shirts?"

He grinned, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Now that sounds like a plan," he said, his voice taking on a teasing edge. "I’ll take you to the best coffee shop in town, where the coffee's strong and the company’s better."

Your stomach fluttered, the way he said it with such casual confidence making you second-guess just how much of it was meant as a joke. You laughed, brushing it off, though your cheeks were still warm. "I’ll hold you to that," you replied, a playful challenge in your tone.

The conversation drifted from there, as you both began chatting more naturally, as though you had known each other far longer than just this one meeting. The back-and-forth banter, the easy teasing, it felt so familiar and comfortable, like catching up with an old friend.

But as the moments passed, you couldn’t help but notice how his glances lingered on you a little longer than usual, how his smile seemed to grow whenever you laughed. He was good at making you feel at ease, but there was an underlying something you couldn’t quite place, an extra level of charm in his tone, or the way his eyes would flicker up to meet yours just a little longer than necessary.

You shook the thought away. He was just being friendly, right?

Still, as the conversation flowed effortlessly, you felt something new, something you didn’t expect to feel so soon, especially not in the midst of the chaos with Seungmin. You just didn’t know what to make of it yet.

The atmosphere shifted the second the door clicked open, and Seungmin stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning the room, the coffee cups in his hands. But before his gaze could fully settle on you, it froze when he saw you, laughing and talking so easily with Hyunjin. It was like you two were in the middle of a conversation that had been unfolding for hours, your shared smiles and the way you giggled together seemed... too natural.

For a split second, Seungmin’s heart dropped in his chest, the room suddenly feeling smaller, like there wasn’t enough space for everyone in it. He didn’t even understand why, but there was a weird knot of jealousy starting to twist inside him.

No, he did understand.

His thoughts raced as he stood there, frozen in place, coffee in hand. He was jealous. Of course, he was. He liked you. He’d liked you for a while now, even before this entire chaotic situation started. But admitting it out loud? It felt wrong somehow, even if deep down, he knew it was the truth. He’d ignored it, kept his distance, but now, seeing you so at ease with Hyunjin, it stung more than he expected.

Seungmin didn’t even know if you liked him back hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could show it without things getting awkward between the two of you. But right now, standing in the doorway, watching you laugh with Hyunjin, he felt the sharp edge of frustration. He just wanted to be the one to make you laugh. He wanted to be the one to see you like that.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Hyunjin’s voice broke the tension. "Ah, so you’re back!" he called, turning his head toward Seungmin with an exaggerated grin. "I let myself in, and your shirt came flying at me. Hope you don’t mind."

Seungmin blinked at him, taken aback by the casualness in his tone. He didn’t know what exactly had happened, but the moment felt almost too perfect, like Hyunjin had made himself at home without a second thought. Seungmin wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that Hyunjin had come in uninvited, or that it felt like he had come into your space without permission, into a space that used to feel like only Seungmin’s, in a weird way.

He shook his head and stepped into the room, his eyes meeting yours briefly. You were laughing, looking at Hyunjin, and then, when you noticed him, your expression shifted for a second. He could feel your eyes on him now, but there was no anger or annoyance in your gaze, just the slightest look of surprise, maybe a little amusement. You were still smiling, but it was softer.

"Sorry," you said quickly, laughing lightly as you realized what had happened. "I really thought you were Seungmin."

Hyunjin waved it off, still chuckling. "It’s all good. Honestly, I didn’t expect this. But I’m glad I could make you laugh," he added, glancing at Seungmin with a knowing smirk before he turned back to you.

Seungmin wanted to say something, to make himself known, but his throat felt tight. You and Hyunjin looked so... familiar together. It was as if you two had known each other far longer than just today, and Seungmin couldn't shake the feeling that he was being left out of something. He told himself it was ridiculous. He knew Hyunjin was just being himself, and that you two were just talking. But jealousy had a way of clouding his judgment, and he hated feeling it.

He cleared his throat, then finally spoke, trying to sound casual. "I—I just came back from getting coffee," he said, holding up the cups in his hands, his voice awkward in the silence. "I was just... getting coffee for us."

You blinked, your face softening when you realized he had actually gone out of his way to get your complicated order. "Thanks," you said, your voice genuinely appreciative, but still carrying a bit of amusement as you looked over at him. "I’ll drink it in a bit."

Seungmin nodded and then stood there, shifting on his feet uncomfortably as you and Hyunjin resumed your easy banter. He couldn’t bring himself to sit down just yet. The dynamic between you and Hyunjin felt so... different. So much more effortless than his own moments with you had been recently. He had never imagined himself feeling like this like an outsider in a situation that should have been easy.

And then, the worst part, the part that stung the most was when he realized Hyunjin was looking at him, his gaze sharp, a quiet challenge behind his eyes. Seungmin swallowed hard, unsure of how to read the moment, but certain that Hyunjin had seen something he hadn't meant to show.

Seungmin’s thoughts were cut off when Hyunjin suddenly grinned, as if he’d read the room perfectly. "So, what’s going on, Seungmin? You and Y/N here all by yourselves, huh?" He said it with that same easy charm, but there was something under his words, something a little too casual, like he was trying to provoke a reaction from Seungmin.

Seungmin’s breath hitched. He stared at Hyunjin for a moment, his pulse quickening, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. He didn’t know how to respond. There was no reason for Hyunjin to be asking this. They were just talking, right? But the way he phrased it like there was something more going on between you and him made Seungmin’s chest tighten.

When Seungmin finally found his voice, he glanced at you, who had already turned back to Hyunjin, laughing lightly at something he’d said. You were completely oblivious to the tension building up in the room.

"Yeah, well," Seungmin said, his voice quieter now, "I didn’t expect this either." He hesitated, his hand holding the coffee cups tightly, almost like a shield. "But, yeah... It’s fine. Nothing’s going on. Just... hanging out."

Hyunjin’s grin widened, like he knew exactly what Seungmin was feeling, and in that moment, Seungmin hated how aware he was of it.

It was at that moment that Seungmin realized something, this wasn’t just about the show, about sharing space with you. It wasn’t just about the cameras. He had feelings for you. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t sure how to handle it now, especially with Hyunjin in the room.

The silence in the room felt thick now, and Seungmin realized that things weren’t going to be as simple as he had hoped. Not anymore.

The day had started off relatively calm, a forced kind of peace settling over the house after the earlier mishap. But as the hours passed, a subtle but unmistakable tension hung in the air. It started with the smallest of things, Seungmin’s lack of participation, his drawn-out sighs, the way he’d glance over at you and Hyunjin, then quickly look away. Hyunjin, for his part, had been his usual charming self, clearly enjoying his time, and you couldn’t help but get caught up in the mood. You laughed, smiled, and teased him just like you would with any other old friend. The way his jokes rolled off his tongue had you giggling harder than you’d expected. But Seungmin? Seungmin was a different story.

It wasn’t so much that he was ignoring you, it was more about how present he was, too present. His silence was loud in the moments when you and Hyunjin were talking, when you were cutting fruit and preparing a little snack for everyone. You didn't even notice at first, but slowly, it became more apparent. He didn’t say much. He didn’t even try to join in the conversation when you attempted to include him. Instead, he’d either grunt or give short, dismissive answers.

“Seungmin, do you want to try this?” you asked, offering him a slice of melon from the platter you had just arranged.

He didn’t look up from his phone, his face scrunched in irritation. “No thanks,” he muttered, barely sparing you a glance.

Your hand froze in mid-air. It wasn’t the first time today you felt him pull away. You tried not to take it personally, but with Hyunjin sitting across from you, his smile wide and his eyes warm, it stung a little more than usual. You tried to keep your focus on Hyunjin, who was laughing at some funny anecdote from his recent trip abroad, but you couldn’t help but notice how Seungmin was still sitting at the counter, stewing in his silence. Every time you caught him staring in your direction, there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. You didn’t know what to make of it. Was he mad at you? Or was something else bothering him?

The thought nagged at you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind.

“So, how was the tour, Hyunjin?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation away from the tension in the room. “I heard you guys had some amazing shows overseas.”

Hyunjin beamed, clearly thrilled by the change in topic. “Oh, it was incredible! Paris was my favorite stop. The art museum we went to... It was so beautiful, Y/N. You would have loved it,” he said, leaning forward, clearly excited to talk about it.

You smiled, genuinely interested. “I’d love to go someday,” you said, biting into a strawberry. “I didn’t really get the chance to go anywhere when I was there,”

Hyunjin laughed lightly. “We should go together sometime. I mean, why not? The more the merrier, right?” He gave you a wink, clearly teasing, but you didn’t think much of it.

As the conversation continued, you and Hyunjin easily slipped into that comfortable rhythm, talking about travel, music, and everything in between. You found yourself laughing more than you had in days, your mood lifting with every word. You caught yourself blushing a couple of times, especially when Hyunjin would look at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips curling into that half-smile of his that always made you feel a little warmer.

Seungmin, though, remained quiet, his gaze fixed somewhere off in the distance. Every now and then, he’d glance in your direction, but quickly avert his eyes, as if looking at you for too long might reveal something he wasn’t ready to confront.

You tried to include him in the conversation a few times, but each attempt felt like a struggle. When you asked him if he wanted to join you and Hyunjin for a walk later, he simply shrugged, barely acknowledging you. "I’ll be fine," he said, not meeting your gaze.

The silence between you both grew thicker, his coldness more evident with each passing minute. You couldn’t figure it out. What had happened to the Seungmin who, just a few days ago, had apologized for his harsh words? Why was he being so distant now?

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The frustration bubbled up, and you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells around him. After dinner, when Hyunjin had gone to the living room to relax, you turned to Seungmin.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” you asked, your voice quieter, but firm.

Seungmin looked up from his phone, his expression unreadable. “What’s up?” he asked, but there was a certain coldness in his voice.

You crossed your arms, looking at him with a mixture of concern and frustration. “You’ve been really rude all day,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “I’ve tried to include you in conversations, but you’ve barely said a word, and when you do, it’s either dismissive or downright mean. What’s going on?”

Seungmin’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. His gaze flickered to the floor before he finally spoke, his voice sharp. “I’m not in the mood to be around anyone today,” he muttered, the words coming out with more bite than he likely intended.

You blinked, taken aback by his response. “You’re not in the mood? Seungmin, you can’t just shut everyone out. Especially not me.”

His eyes flickered with annoyance. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m just... I don’t feel like being fake right now, okay?” He turned away, not looking at you.

“Fake?” you echoed, confused. “Seungmin, I’m not asking you to be fake. But you’re acting like you don’t even care to talk to me. Like I’m some... inconvenience.”

He snorted, a dry sound that made your stomach twist. “Maybe you are,” he muttered under his breath, but you heard it loud and clear. Your heart skipped a beat.

You stared at him, completely thrown off by the venom in his words. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “What is it with you? Are you still upset with me about what happened at the beginning of this? Is that why you’re being like this?”

Seungmin’s face froze for a moment. The anger in his eyes softened, but only slightly. “I’m not upset about the show anymore,” he said, his voice quieter now, but still tinged with bitterness. “I just... don’t know how to handle all this. Everything’s been so messed up lately.”

The words stung, but you pushed them aside, your frustration bubbling up again. “So this is your way of dealing with it? By being rude? By shutting me out when I’ve tried to make things better?”

Seungmin didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the floor, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said, his voice softer now, but still heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions.

“I just want you to be honest,” you said, your voice cracking a little. “I can’t keep trying to make things work when you keep pushing me away.”

Seungmin’s gaze flickered up to meet yours, a flash of guilt passing over his features. But before he could say anything, Hyunjin’s voice came from the other room, interrupting the tension.

“You guys good?” he asked, poking his head around the corner. You gave him a small nod, forcing a smile, but it was clear that the conversation had ended for now.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You turned and started heading toward the room, your heart heavy. You had no idea what was going on with Seungmin, but you couldn’t handle the coldness any longer.

Hyunjin sat on the couch, his posture casually relaxed, but his mind was far from calm. He had been listening closely, too closely to the argument between you and Seungmin. He could see the tension between you both, but there was something more beneath it, something that he had picked up on over the course of the last few days. He knew Seungmin better than most. They had been through a lot together, both professionally and personally. But today, he could sense the internal conflict that Seungmin was trying so hard to keep hidden. It wasn’t hard to piece together, especially when he had seen how Seungmin had been looking at you. Hyunjin had his own suspicions, but he hadn’t pushed it. Not until now.

He waited a beat after you left before turning toward Seungmin, who stood by the kitchen counter, staring blankly ahead. The mood had shifted again, Seungmin was distant, his shoulders tense. It was obvious he wasn’t happy with what had just transpired. Hyunjin studied him carefully, noticing the clenched jaw, the subtle frown lines on his forehead.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin began, his voice calm but deliberate, “you should really be a little nicer to her. Don’t you think?”

Seungmin’s eyes snapped to him, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean?” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but Hyunjin could hear the edge of annoyance in it.

“I mean, you’ve been acting like a jerk to her,” Hyunjin said bluntly, leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed. “And we both know why. It’s because you’ve been holding onto that stupid crush of yours for way too long.”

Seungmin flinched at the words, his eyes narrowing. “Shut up, Hyunjin,” he muttered, though his tone was defensive, like he was trying to push the conversation away before it got any deeper. “That’s not it.”

“Isn’t it?” Hyunjin pressed, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that exactly what it is? You begged me to back out of the show when you found out she was the female lead, remember? I didn’t want to, but you insisted. ‘I can do this,’ you said, ‘I want to do it.’ do you remember, when you begged them to put you on the show instead?”

Seungmin didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted away, but it was clear he couldn’t argue with Hyunjin’s recollection of events. He knew Hyunjin was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. His feelings for you had been complicated ever since the beginning. It was easier to bury them under the guise of irritation than to confront them. He didn’t even realize how deep it ran until now, and he hated himself for it.

“I told you to shut up,” Seungmin repeated, his voice lower now, almost dangerously quiet. “That’s enough, Hyunjin.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t done. He wasn’t going to back down this time. He stood up from the couch and walked over to Seungmin, who seemed to tense even more as Hyunjin got closer.

“You’re so damn childish about this,” Hyunjin said, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You’ve been acting cold toward her for days, practically ignoring her, and you think she doesn’t notice? You’re not fooling anyone, least of all her. She deserves better than this. She deserves someone who treats her the way she’s supposed to be treated.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “But you’re so stuck in your own head, you can’t even see it.”

Seungmin’s fist clenched, his knuckles going white. He turned away quickly, trying to suppress the anger that bubbled up inside of him. “I don’t need you to lecture me about her,” he snapped. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know enough,” Hyunjin replied with a smirk, his voice quiet but cutting. “I know you’re just being a damn high schooler about this. You like her, Seungmin, but you don’t know how to handle it, so you push her away. And you wonder why she hasn’t fallen for you yet.”

Seungmin’s eyes flashed with something darker. He spun around, his face red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “Just stay out of it.”

Hyunjin wasn’t intimidated. He only shrugged, his expression one of casual amusement. “I’m not surprised she hasn’t fallen for you yet. You’re so mean to her, you can’t even look her in the eye half the time. You’re pushing her away, Seungmin. And you know it. You’re acting like a damn child.”

The words hit Seungmin harder than anything else Hyunjin had said. It was like a punch to his gut. He hated hearing the truth, but he couldn’t deny it. He had been acting like a fool, and the weight of that realization crashed down on him.

“I’m not a damn child,” Seungmin muttered, but it was weak, almost as if he didn’t believe his own words anymore.

Hyunjin let out a laugh, a short, almost bitter sound. “You are, though. You really are. You’re scared of admitting that you like her, so you’re pushing her away. You’ve been doing it for years, Seungmin. You can’t even talk to her without being rude or distant. You think she doesn’t feel it? You think she doesn’t know?”

Seungmin stared at him, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The anger had drained from him, leaving a hollow emptiness behind. He didn’t know what to say. Hyunjin was right, and it was too painful to admit. He had no excuse for how he’d been acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Hyunjin added, his tone lighter now, as though he were trying to bring the moment to a close. “You need to figure this out. Or you’re gonna lose her before you even get the chance to have her.”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered to the floor, his gaze unfocused. The silence between them hung heavy, neither of them knowing what to say next. But it was clear that Hyunjin’s words had gotten under Seungmin’s skin. It wasn’t just the criticism, it was the truth.

Hyunjin, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “Tell Y/N I had to leave, alright? I’ll see you later.”

Seungmin didn’t respond. He didn’t even move as Hyunjin walked past him, heading toward the door.

Before he left, Hyunjin turned back, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “And one more thing,” he added, his voice teasing but serious. “If you don’t figure it out soon, I might just step in myself. You know, I wouldn’t mind spending a month with her.”

The comment hit Seungmin like a punch to the gut, his face flushing red. He almost snapped back at Hyunjin, but before he could open his mouth, the door clicked shut behind him.

Seungmin stood there for a long time, staring at the door, his mind racing. He wanted to chase after Hyunjin, shout at him for being a little too forward, for making him feel so exposed. But deep down, he knew Hyunjin was right. He knew it wasn’t just about the show anymore. He liked you, maybe more than he was willing to admit, but he couldn’t shake the fear that it was too late. He had been so rude, so distant, had he pushed you too far away?

Seungmin’s chest tightened as he walked back to the kitchen, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He grabbed the coffee cup he had brought you earlier and took a long sip, the bitter taste doing nothing to calm the storm brewing inside of him. He should’ve said something to you earlier, he should’ve apologized for his behavior. But now? Now, it felt like he had crossed a line.

He stared at the empty space between him and where you’d been sitting not too long ago. What was he supposed to do now?

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as Seungmin sat down in the silence of the kitchen, completely unsure of what the future would hold.

masterlist.

❌proofread

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite @nyxaluna @tricky-ritz @tsunderelino @wickedbutlovely @delulumel @shinygubbins @hhwangsmoon @geni-627 @enhacolor @jisuperboard @hyujim @alondra6011 lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]

[contracted hearts taglist. @realrintaro @dragon03138 @straystar-8 @hwangjoanna @4ng3l-ch1ld @httpsxnox @serpentgigi @virgopotterhead @idrgaf-123 @moony-mari @vxyselectric @vixensss @stayp1eceposts @warped-rabbithole @leeknowinggg @ihrtlix @sweatyracoon @suzyhhj @sunfk88 @txtsoobean @noxonexherexbotherxmyxteaxtime @yourenzoo]

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4linos · 7 days ago

Text

contracted hearts.

kim seungmin x idol!reader

warnings: reality show au, angst, slow burn romance, forced proximity, emotional tension, mild language.

wc: 7,823

part 2 // part 3

You never got used to waking up early.

Even after years in the industry, your body still protested every single time the sun came up before you were ready. Your fans liked to think you were an early riser, maybe because of the cheerful way you always greeted them at airport appearances, or the morning-vlog clips your company uploaded now and then, but the truth was uglier. In reality, the smiles were held together by caffeine and willpower, the two great pillars of idol survival.

But lately, you’d had a rare break.

A small hiatus. Three whole weeks since the end of FLWR’s year-long stadium tour, the first tour on that scale for your group, and the first tour of that size you had ever been part of in your life. You’d performed in cities you’d only ever seen in travel documentaries, danced on stages so big you could barely see the fans in the very back, and lived out of hotel rooms that all started to smell the same.

You were exhausted, but in that strangely satisfying way that comes from knowing you’ve done something incredible.

FLWR was everywhere now, the group name trended every time one of you so much as posted a selfie. In the past year, you’d done interviews in English, Japanese, and even a little Spanish. You’d been in glossy magazine spreads. You’d heard your songs playing in cafés in Paris and taxis in New York. Your group chat with the girls was filled with screenshots of random people on the internet reacting to your tour videos.

The fandom, Bloom had grown into something huge, powerful, and fiercely loyal.

But still… you weren’t them.

Not Dahlia, the leader with a face that looked like it belonged on a painting and a voice that could make a crowd hold its breath. Not Soyeon, the dancing prodigy who could make even a walk across the stage look like choreography. Not Dahee, the charming variety queen who could get an entire audience laughing with just one raised eyebrow. Not Minseo, the baby of the group whose soft voice had somehow stolen the hearts of millions.

You were popular, you knew that. You had your own fans who loved your singing, your quirks, the way you could hold a note forever. But the company didn’t look at you the same way they looked at your members. You saw it in the way the staff talked to them versus to you. You heard it in the tone when executives discussed “marketability.”

You tried not to let it eat you alive. But some days it still did.

That morning, you were still sprawled under the covers, debating whether you could justify going back to sleep after drinking half a cup of lukewarm tea, when your phone started buzzing on the nightstand.

You groaned. Only one person would call you this early without warning.

“Yubin,” you mumbled into the phone, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Hey,” she said quickly, her tone brisk. “Can you be ready in ten minutes? I’m outside.”

That jolted you upright. “What? Why? I don’t have schedules today.”

“You do now. Company meeting.”

You frowned, already swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “What kind of meeting? I wasn’t told—”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

Which was code for I don’t want to tell you right now. You knew her well enough to recognize the avoidance.

You grabbed a hoodie and a cap, not bothering with makeup. Your hair was a mess, but it didn’t matter if it was just a meeting, nobody important would care.

When you slid into the backseat of her car, the city outside was still waking up. The streets were quiet, bathed in that pale early light that made everything look softer.

You buckled your seatbelt. “Okay. Spill. What’s going on?”

Her hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “I can’t say yet. You’ll find out when we get there.”

You stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Yubin. You know I hate being blindsided.”

“I know.”

“So tell me.”

She stayed silent, her jaw working.

You leaned forward, tapping the back of her seat. “Seriously. Just tell me now.”

A long sigh escaped her. She hesitated and that hesitation made your stomach twist.

“The company,” she started slowly, “signed you up for something.”

“Something,” you repeated. “Like what?”

Another pause.

“A reality love show.”

You blinked at her. “What.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” she said quickly, her eyes still on the road. “I knew you’d—”

“I’m not doing that.” Your voice was louder than you intended. “No way.”

“It’s already been finalized.”

“you’re joking, right?!”

“They think it’s a good fit for you.”

You sat back against the seat, shaking your head in disbelief. The idea of standing on a stage in front of fifty thousand people didn’t scare you, but this? Cameras in your face while you pretended to be in some cutesy romance? It felt suffocating. And risky.

“What is it even about?” you demanded.

She kept her gaze on the road. “What they told me is… you’ll be with another male idol. For a few days. Stuck in a house. Cameras everywhere.”

You almost laughed at the absurdity. “Oh my God. Why would they—”

“Like I said,” she interrupted gently, “they think you’re a good fit.”

“Based on what?!”

She didn’t answer.

You narrowed your eyes. “Who is it?”

Her grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not supposed to—”

“Yubin.”

She sighed again, clearly deciding there was no point in hiding it now. “Seungmin. From Stray Kids.”

For a moment, you didn’t breathe.

Then: “No. Absolutely not. I’m not doing that.”

The name felt like a bitter taste in your mouth.

The first time you’d met Seungmin was during your debut promotions. You’d been at a music show, nerves buzzing through your entire body, still clutching your in-ears after rehearsals. It had been a whirlwind day of interviews, soundchecks, and costume fittings, and somewhere between the chaos you’d ducked into one of the smaller back rooms to catch your breath.

He’d been there tall, sharp-featured, and already radiating that self-assured air that only seasoned idols seemed to have. You’d recognized him immediately. Stray Kids had been huge long before your debut, and meeting seniors was supposed to be an exciting, respectful moment.

You’d greeted him cheerfully, bowing a full ninety degrees. “Hello, Seungmin! I’m from FLWR, nice to meet you!”

He’d barely looked at you. A quick nod, a mumbled “Mm,” and then his attention had gone right back to his phone.

It was a small thing, but it stuck. Maybe because you’d been so nervous that day, maybe because you’d grown up in a culture where even the smallest politeness was expected in these moments. Whatever the reason, that one brush-off had carved itself into your memory.

From that day on, you’d filed him under cocky, thinks he’s too good for people.

And now, the company expected you to live in a house with him, surrounded by cameras, pretending to be… what? Interested? Friendly?

You scoffed just thinking about it.

In the front seat, Yubin glanced at you through the mirror. “I know you’re not happy about this, but—”

“No. There’s no ‘but.’ This is a terrible idea.”

“They’re not going to back out,” she said softly. “And honestly… if you do well on the show, it might help your solo debut.”

That was the dagger you’d been waiting for, the reminder of where you stood in the company’s eyes. You weren’t Dahlia or Soyeon or Dahee or Minseo. You didn’t have a guaranteed chart-topping solo. You were the one they were nervous about.

The one who had to prove herself.

You turned your gaze to the window, watching the buildings blur past. The day already felt too long, and it hadn’t even really started.

If you’d known what was waiting for you at the company building, maybe you would have told Yubin to turn the car around right then.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

And maybe, though you wouldn’t admit it, a part of you was already curious. Not about Seungmin. Definitely not about him.

But about why, out of all the idols in the industry, they’d chosen you for this.

The elevator ride up to the twelfth floor was too quiet.

Yubin stood beside you, eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors. You kept your gaze on your reflection in the brushed metal walls, wondering if you looked as tired as you felt. The hoodie and cap had been fine in the car, but now, knowing you were walking into a meeting with executives, you wished you’d at least thrown on some lip tint.

You caught her glance at you out of the corner of her eye. Not a warm glance, not the kind that said Don’t worry, it’s fine. More like the cautious look of someone about to hand you a gift wrapped grenade.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.

The twelfth floor of the building was nothing like the lower levels. Downstairs, there were practice rooms, makeup stations, racks of stage outfits. Here, the air smelled faintly of expensive coffee, and the lighting was so even it made the white walls almost clinical.

The meeting room was already full when you walked in.

Three people you recognized immediately, part of the FLWR oversight team, the ones who approved every song, every photo concept, every television appearance. They smiled politely at you, the kind of smiles that didn’t reach the eyes.

And then two strangers: both middle aged, well-dressed, with that effortless posture that said we’re in charge of something important. You didn’t need an introduction to know they were producers from the show.

“Come in, sit,” one of the FLWR staff members said, motioning to the chair at the far end of the glossy conference table. Yubin took the seat beside you, opening her tablet.

You clasped your hands in your lap and waited.

One of the strangers, a man in a navy blazer, leaned forward. “We’ll get right to the point,” he said, his tone brisk but not unfriendly. “We’re producing a new program in collaboration with your company. A reality series romantic format, idol-focused. And you’ve been selected as our female lead.”

You already knew this part, thanks to Yubin. But hearing it phrased like lead role didn’t make you feel any better.

The woman sitting beside him smiled warmly. “We think the concept will resonate with fans. It’s called One Month, One Love.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

She continued, “The premise is simple: one idol couple, one house, one month. Twenty-four-seven camera coverage.”

Your brows furrowed. “Wait. A month?” You turned sharply toward Yubin.

She was studying the papers in front of her like they were suddenly fascinating.

“You didn’t tell me that part,” you said flatly.

Her only response was a small, guilty shrug.

The woman from the show carried on as if you hadn’t spoken. “The goal is to explore whether two famous idols can develop a genuine connection under constant observation. It’s… intimate, yes, but also a unique experiment. Fans love the mystery around idols’ dating lives, this is a safe way to give them a glimpse without breaking the rules.”

Safe. You almost laughed. There was nothing safe about this.

One of the FLWR oversight staff who had been with the group since pre-debut, chimed in. “The couple will have no contact outside the filming schedule, to maintain the integrity of the show. But during the month, you’ll be living together. Cooking, cleaning, talking. Going on planned dates.”

The other producer leaned in slightly. “And, of course, acting like a couple. Holding hands, sitting close, maybe sharing a blanket on the couch. Enough for the viewers to believe in the story.”

You stared at them, incredulous. “You’re telling me I have to fake date someone for a month, on camera, and the entire world will be watching?”

“Exactly,” the woman said, still smiling as if she were offering you a vacation.

“And I don’t get a choice in this?”

The navy blazer man’s tone cooled slightly. “You’ve already been signed by your agency for this project. And…” He hesitated, then said, “There is a contractual clause. Backing out now would result in penalties.”

You froze. “Penalties?”

He spoke again, his voice quieter, as if trying to soften the blow. “Both you and your partner’s agencies have agreed to terms that include financial compensation to the network if either of you withdraw. It’s… not a small amount.”

Of course it wasn’t.

The woman added quickly, “We only put those measures in place because we’ve seen projects like this collapse when one party gets cold feet. We can’t afford that here.”

You sat back, trying to process. The air in the room felt heavier now, pressing against your skin.

This wasn’t just an appearance. This was a trap dressed up as an opportunity.

Your mind went to Seungmin, unbidden. His face in that music show dressing room years ago. The way he’d barely acknowledged you, like you’d been some overeager rookie beneath his notice. And now, you’d have to spend thirty straight days pretending you were falling for him?

You exhaled slowly, forcing your voice to stay calm. “When does this… filming… start?”

“One week from today,” the navy blazer man said. “We’ll have you both moved into the house the day before, so you can settle in before the cameras go live.”

You felt your stomach turn. One week. That wasn’t enough time to mentally prepare for spending a month in close quarters with someone you couldn’t stand.

From your left, Yubin cleared her throat. “I’ll make sure her schedule is clear for that month.”

You shot her a look, sharp enough that she finally met your eyes, though only for a second before glancing back at her tablet.

One of the FLWR staff members, a woman named Jiyeon, smiled at you. “Think of it as an acting challenge. You’re a performer, you can do this.”

You didn’t answer. Because yes, you were a performer. But performing on stage was different. There, you could lose yourself in a song for three minutes, bow, and walk away. Here, you’d be on all the time, with no curtain call.

The woman producer slid a folder across the table toward you. “Inside, you’ll find the basic guidelines, the filming schedule, and the list of approved activities. We’ll send you wardrobe suggestions as well. Oh, and there’s a short questionnaire we’d like you to fill out today, just to help us tailor the show to your personalities.”

You glanced down at the folder, then back up at her. “Personalities,” you echoed, your tone flat.

“Exactly,” she said brightly. “We want it to feel authentic.”

The irony almost made you laugh. Authentic, in a relationship you were contractually forced into.

If you’d had any illusions about this being something you could quietly fade through, they shattered the moment the meeting ended.

One month. One house. One boy you couldn’t stand. And no escape without making yourself, and FLWR look like the villains.

When you stood to leave, Yubin gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. You didn’t return it. Not yet.

Because you knew the next week would feel like the longest countdown of your life.

You didn’t tell the girls right away.

Not because you wanted to keep it a secret, that would’ve been impossible anyway, but because you needed a day to process it yourself. A full twenty-four hours of letting the words One house. One month. Seungmin. rattle around in your head until they stopped making your pulse spike.

They never really stopped, though. They just became… background noise.

The next evening, you were at the dorm. It was one of the rare nights all five of you were in the same place without schedules, scattered across the living room in various states of laziness. Dahlia was curled into the corner of the couch with a book. Dahee had claimed the middle cushion, scrolling through her phone. Soyeon sat cross-legged on the floor, working through stretches that looked painful just to watch. Minseo was lying on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, watching a cooking show on the TV.

You were in the armchair, knees pulled up, hoodie sleeves covering your hands.

It should’ve been peaceful.

But then Yubin’s voice echoed in your head from yesterday: Filming starts in a week.

You exhaled slowly. “I have something to tell you.”

That got their attention immediately. Four sets of eyes turned toward you.

“Is it good news or bad?” Minseo asked, sitting up a little.

“That depends on how you define bad,” you muttered.

Dahlia closed her book. “Go on.”

You hesitated, then decided ripping off the band-aid was best. “The company signed me up for a reality show.”

Dahee tilted her head. “Like… variety variety? Or dating variety?”

“Dating,” you said flatly.

That was all it took.

The reaction was instant, four different voices overlapping, squeals and laughter mixing in the air.

“Wait, what?” Minseo gasped.

“Oh my God,” Dahlia grinned.

“You’ve been holding out on us,” Soyeon teased from the floor.

Dahee smirked. “You finally got caught, huh?”

You held up a hand. “Calm down. It’s not what you think. I didn’t choose this. The company did.”

They ignored that.

“Who is it?” Dahlia pressed.

You stared at them for a beat before saying it. “…Stray Kids’ Seungmin.”

That set off another round of noise half teasing, half disbelief.

Dahlia’s grin widened. “Okay, but… he’s attractive. You can’t deny that. Maybe you’ll fall for him.”

You scoffed so hard it made her laugh. “No. Absolutely not. Do you remember the time I had to MC with him? He barely looked at me the whole time, and I think he said maybe five words total.”

Dahlia tilted her head. “Maybe he was nervous.”

You shot her a look. “Nervous? He’s been in the industry longer than us. He’s done MC gigs before.”

Dahee chimed in, her tone softer but still playful. “Ignore her. But… maybe keep in mind that idols aren’t always having the best days. You should know that.” She got up from the couch and padded over, slipping her arms around your shoulders in a back hug. “Sometimes people are distant because they’re dealing with other stuff, not because they don’t like you.”

You let her warmth sink in for a moment before sighing. “Maybe. But I still don’t like him.”

“Fair,” she murmured, squeezing once before letting go.

Minseo spoke up from the couch. “Well, I think Seungmin’s attractive too. So if it doesn’t work out…” She grinned. “Please pass him my number.”

You turned to glare at her, but it only made her burst into laughter.

Dahlia, still holding her book like she’d forgotten it entirely, shrugged. “To be fair, every time I’ve interacted with him or the rest of Stray Kids, they were nice.”

You blinked at her. “Are you serious?”

She nodded without hesitation.

Your brows furrowed. “Then why…?” You trailed off, the thought unfinished.

“Why what?” Soyeon asked.

You glanced down at your hoodie sleeves. “…Why doesn’t he like me?”

The room quieted just a little at that.

Soyeon leaned back on her hands, studying you. “Don’t overthink it.”

“How can I not overthink it?” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “What if I did something without realizing? What if I offended him somehow?”

Minseo, still lounging, tilted her head. “Or maybe…” Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “…maybe he thinks you’re attractive, and he’s acting cold so he doesn’t catch real feelings.”

The room erupted in laughter again, except you. You just gave her a look that said absolutely not.

But her words stuck in your head longer than you wanted them to.

You had been dreading this day since the meeting.

It had lived in the back of your mind like an unwelcome guest, stealing pieces of every hour you tried to enjoy. Even when you were out with the girls, even when you were curled under blankets watching dramas, there it was, the quiet knowledge that soon, you’d be stuck in a house with him.

And now soon had become now.

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of the filming location, a two-story modern house with big glass windows and a neat little garden that looked like it had been designed for Instagram. Even from the outside, you could tell it was the kind of place that felt less like a home and more like a perfectly staged photo.

Your fingers stayed locked around the seatbelt.

“I’m not getting out,” you said before Yubin could even reach for the door handle.

She glanced at you over her shoulder. “We’ve been over this—”

“He’s already here.” You didn’t even need to ask, you’d spotted a black van parked nearby, and a pair of unfamiliar shoes just inside the doorway.

“Mm,” Yubin confirmed as she pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “His manager said he’s inside getting settled.”

You slouched lower in your seat. “Then I’ll wait until he’s… done.”

Yubin didn’t answer immediately. She loved you, you knew she did. She’d been with you since the chaotic, sleep-deprived pre-debut days, back when FLWR was just five girls in a cramped dorm with peeling wallpaper and no guarantee of success. She’d been the one to keep you from falling apart on bad days, the one who quietly slipped your favorite snacks into your bag before a long schedule.

But she also knew her job. And today, her job wasn’t to shield you, it was to make sure you walked through that door before the company accused her of “delays.”

So instead of coaxing you, she opened her own door and got out. You watched her walk over to greet a man you assumed was Seungmin’s manager. They shook hands like they were old friends, voices low but friendly.

You caught bits of it through the open car window.

“…He’s inside… getting settled,” his manager was saying.

“Ah, thank you,” Yubin replied, her smile professional.

You stayed exactly where you were.

When she came back, she didn’t bother trying to negotiate. She opened your door, reached in, and tugged lightly at your arm. Not rough, but enough to make it clear you weren’t staying put.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll get your bags. Just go inside.”

You crossed your arms like a sulky teenager. “I don’t want to.”

She gave you one last look, part sympathy, part please don’t make this harder and then a small push toward the sidewalk.

“Go,” she said quietly.

You exhaled loudly, muttering something that wasn’t quite words, and stepped out.

Seungmin’s manager smiled politely as you passed. You forced yourself to return the gesture.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of fresh paint and furniture polish. The floor was spotless, the light pouring in from the windows so bright it almost made you squint. It looked exactly like the photos the producers had shown you open kitchen, spacious living room, stairs leading up to the bedrooms.

You weren’t really paying attention, though. Your mind was on not running into him right away.

Which is exactly why you walked straight into him.

The impact jolted you, sending a dull ache up your nose, the part of you that had taken the brunt of the collision.

“You could watch where you’re going,” Seungmin said, voice low and matter-of-fact.

You bit back the response that bubbled up instantly and rubbed your nose instead.

He stepped back, looking entirely unbothered. “I already claimed my room. Since you’re late.” He nodded toward the larger of the two rooms, then pointed toward a smaller door on the opposite side of the hall. “That one’s yours.”

You stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

He didn’t look like he was.

You were just opening your mouth to snap something back when Yubin and his manager entered, dragging your bags behind them.

“That should be everything,” Yubin said, brushing hair out of her face.

You stepped forward to take the suitcase from her. “Thanks.”

She smiled faintly. “Glad you two have met already. The producers will be here tomorrow morning to install cameras everywhere. So for now…” She gave you a little look that was almost mischievous. “…Enjoy the camera-free day. Clean up, make it feel homey.”

You nearly scoffed out loud. Homey. Right.

Seungmin’s manager nodded in agreement. “We’ll leave you to it. Remember, Seungmin, I’m a call away. Anything you need.”

Seungmin nodded, lifting a hand in a casual wave.

Yubin turned to you, her expression softening. “I’ll be back in a few days to check in. The company said I’ll stop by once in a while over the month anyway.”

That was not good enough. You rushed over, lowering your voice. “You don’t have to go. Seriously. Just… stay for a little while.”

The look you gave her said what you didn’t: Don’t leave me alone with him.

She hesitated, you saw it but in the end, she shook her head apologetically. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble if I linger. You’ll be fine. Call me if you need anything.”

And then she was gone.

The silence that followed was heavy.

“I didn’t want to do this either,” Seungmin said suddenly, breaking it. “Hyunjin was supposed to be here instead of me.”

You froze mid-step. “…What?”

He leaned casually against the wall, like this was a boring conversation. “He had to drop out. Brand shoot conflict.”

Hwang Hyunjin. You could’ve been stuck in a house with him instead?

You let out a sharp huff, bending to grab your bags. They were heavier than you remembered, probably because Yubin had insisted on carrying them from your dorm, meaning you hadn’t felt their weight until now.

You tried to hoist both duffle bags onto your shoulders while dragging your massive suitcase with the other hand. The balance was impossible, every step felt like you might tip over.

When one duffle started to slide off your shoulder, you muttered under your breath, adjusting your grip.

Seungmin just stood there, watching.

“You could at least help,” you said finally, your patience thinning.

He rolled his eyes but stepped forward anyway, taking both duffle bags from you with ease.

“Suitcase is yours,” he said simply before heading toward the stairs.

You gripped the handle of the suitcase, its wheels squeaking faintly against the polished floor as you followed him toward what would be your smallest-room-in-the-house prison for the next month.

And this was only day zero.

You had barely slept the night before.

It wasn’t just nerves though those were there, heavy in your stomach, it was the awareness that when you woke up, everything about your life for the next month would change. You’d be watched. Every word, every blink, every sigh recorded. And not just recorded broadcast, analyzed, replayed in slow motion by people who’d decide for themselves what you meant.

When Yubin showed up that morning, she wasn’t alone.

Behind her came two of FLWR’s stylists and a makeup artist, wheeling in cases and garment bags like they were preparing you for an awards show.

You blinked at them. “What’s all this?”

“First day,” Yubin said, setting her phone on the counter. “They want you looking perfect. First impressions.”

“You mean they want me marketable,” you muttered.

She didn’t deny it.

The makeup artist was already unpacking brushes, laying them out in a neat line like surgical tools. One of the stylists started hanging clothes in the open closet by the door, casual enough for a “cozy” reality show, but with the kind of tailoring that didn’t exist in normal people’s wardrobes.

You sat obediently while they worked, letting them dab concealer under your eyes, blend blush into your cheeks, smooth flyaways with a gentle tug. Yubin stayed close, scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing at you in the mirror.

Meanwhile, the house was transforming around you.

Camera operators moved like shadows, lugging tripods from room to room. Lighting techs crouched by outlets, plugging in panels. Producers huddled together near the kitchen island, whispering about angles and “key emotional beats.” Every so often, someone passed by with a black case that looked like it could hold either a camera lens or a small bomb.

You watched a tech in the living room mount a small, black camera to the corner of the wall, one of at least five you’d spotted already.

“Will I even have a bit of privacy?” you asked Yubin quietly.

She didn’t look up from her phone. “Bathroom.”

You let out a loud sigh.

She finally glanced at you, lips quirking in a small smile. “Cheer up. It’s just thirty days. And remember, once Dahlia finishes her solo promotions, Minseo’s next. Then you. Filming this now lines up perfectly for your debut push.”

You knew she was right. It had been the plan since the beginning: you’d finish the show, the hype would hopefully be on your side, and your solo debut would hit while your name was still trending. The meeting with the producers had made it clear, if the show did well, your debut numbers would likely follow.

That didn’t make it feel any less claustrophobic.

When the stylists finished, Yubin gave you a final once-over and nodded. “Perfect.”

The FLWR staff said their goodbyes soon after, along with Seungmin’s team. Bags packed, vans idling outside, promises to “check in soon.” And just like that, the two of you were alone.

Well, not really.

The house felt crowded even without people in it. Your gaze flicked around, catching on the tiny red lights that winked from the corners of the walls, the microphones disguised as decorative items, the faint hum of electronics.

The only other person here was the one you’d spent years avoiding.

The first task was scripted: an introduction interview.

You sat together on the couch, side by side but with a polite gap between you. The producer behind the main camera prompted you to say your names, talk briefly about your groups, and share “how you’re feeling” about the show.

Your smile felt stiff, but you delivered the lines.

“I’m curious to see how this will go,” you said, which was as close as you could get to the truth without causing a PR fire.

Seungmin’s answer was smoother, but equally non-committal: “It’s new for me, but I’ll do my best.”

The producer seemed satisfied. The crew began packing up, wishing you both “good luck.”

The front door clicked shut behind them.

For the first time, it was really just the two of you.

“Are you hungry?” Seungmin asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard. You turned toward him, wary. “…A little.”

“I can make you something,” he said, already moving toward the kitchen.

You blinked. This was… new. Not the Seungmin who’d barely looked at you when you’d first met, or the one who’d claimed the big bedroom without discussion.

You followed him, still cautious, as he opened the fridge, now fully stocked by the staff. Eggs, vegetables, prepped meat, even neatly labeled containers of sauces. He pulled out a few things, setting them on the counter.

Without being asked, you stepped in to help washing vegetables, handing him utensils. The air between you stayed quiet but not entirely tense.

He broke the silence first. “So… how’s FLWR? You guys just finished your tour, right?”

You nodded. “A year. Stadiums. We wrapped a few weeks ago.”

He hummed. “Must’ve been intense.”

“It was,” you said. “Worth it. But exhausting.” You glanced at him. “Stray Kids just finished too, didn’t you?”

He nodded, slicing with practiced ease. “Same. Flying every week, barely resting before the next show… By the last leg, I didn’t know what city we were in half the time.”

You smiled faintly. “Same.”

By the time you sat down to eat, the conversation had loosened just enough to feel… human. You took a cautious bite and immediately hated that it was delicious.

Halfway through the meal, the topic drifted naturally or maybe deliberately, the way the producers had hinted they wanted, into the harder parts of idol life.

You found yourself talking about the distance from your family, the birthdays and holidays you’d missed. About how sometimes, even surrounded by thousands of fans, you felt completely alone.

You weren’t sure why you were saying any of it. You weren’t the type to share your hardships openly not with strangers, not even with people you didn’t fully trust. But maybe it was the fact that he did understand. That, despite everything, he’d lived a version of the same life.

Your throat tightened before you could stop it. You blinked rapidly, but a few tears slipped free anyway.

Seungmin didn’t comment. He just reached for a tissue and held it out.

You took it, pressing it lightly to your eyes. ��…Sorry. I don’t usually…”

“It’s fine,” he said simply, and went back to his food.

You let out a quiet laugh through your sniffle. “I just… Sometimes it’s suffocating. Keeping it all in.”

He nodded. “I get that. I don’t like to burden my members, either.”

“Exactly.” You sat back, a little calmer now. “It’s easier to just pretend you’re fine.”

He didn’t say anything more, but you caught the small flicker in his expression, the kind that said me too.

And just like that, the month ahead felt… not easier, exactly. But maybe less impossible.

After dinner, the house grew unnervingly quiet.

The clatter of pots and pans had stopped, the gentle hum of conversation gone with it. The only sound left was the faint whir of cameras as their lenses adjusted every so often, following motion like small, unblinking eyes.

You busied yourself by rinsing the dishes and wiping down the counter, mostly to avoid sitting in awkward silence. Seungmin had taken care of the stovetop, working methodically, his movements quiet but efficient.

When everything was put away, you found yourself standing in the middle of the kitchen with nothing left to do. Your gaze drifted toward the living room, but the thought of curling up there under the watchful gaze of at least three cameras made your skin crawl.

You were scanning for something, anything to keep yourself occupied when Seungmin straightened, wiped his hands on a towel, and said, “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

You nodded absently. “Okay.”

He disappeared down the short hallway toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You didn’t think anything of it at first.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. You figured maybe he was showering, but you didn’t hear water running.

Another twenty minutes ticked by.

You glanced toward the closed door, then toward the cameras, one perched in the hallway corner, the other in the kitchen. Both were angled away from the bathroom entrance, but their presence was still obvious, a constant reminder that nowhere in this house felt truly private except for that single locked space.

Half an hour became forty minutes.

By the time you hit the one-hour mark, curiosity had shifted into mild irritation.

It was the only bathroom. And now you needed it.

At first, you told yourself to wait. He’d probably come out any second. But the seconds dragged into minutes, and the minutes began stacking until it had been nearly an hour and a half.

Finally, you walked down the hallway, your socks barely making a sound on the floor. You stopped just outside the door, hesitating.

A faint sound leaked through the wood tinny, distant.

You leaned closer, pressing your ear gently against the surface. The noise became clearer: not music, but dialogue. The muffled rise and fall of voices, underscored by dramatic background music. A movie. You frowned.

Knocking lightly, you called, “Seungmin?”

Inside, you heard a sharp rustle, like someone fumbling with something. Then his voice, slightly startled: “Yeah?”

“Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah. Just… using the restroom.”

You stared at the door. “For an hour and a half?”

Silence.

Something in you, maybe the fatigue, maybe the frustration decided you’d had enough waiting. You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, bracing yourself for the worst, and turned.

It opened easily.

Seungmin was sitting on the floor, back leaning against the base of the sink cabinet, legs stretched out in front of him. His phone was balanced in one hand, the light from the screen illuminating his face in a faint blue glow.

He jumped when the door swung open, gasping like he’d been caught committing a federal crime. His phone nearly slipped from his hand, and he fumbled to pause whatever was playing.

“What are you doing?” you demanded.

For a split second, he looked like he might actually answer seriously. Then he scoffed, recovering some of his usual indifference. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a single room out there without a camera.”

You folded your arms.

He gestured vaguely with his phone. “So I’m watching my movie. This is the only place they can’t see me.”

You stared at him. “…You locked yourself in here for an hour and a half just to watch a movie?”

“Yes,” he said flatly, like it was the most logical thing in the world.

You exhaled through your nose, pinching the bridge of it briefly. “Well, congratulations, but I need to use the restroom. So out.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pushed himself up with a loud, exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

You stepped aside as he walked past, rolling his eyes like you were the one being unreasonable.

The moment he disappeared into the living room, you shut the door behind you with a little more force than necessary.

By the time you emerged again, he was stretched out on the couch, phone still in hand, the faintest smirk on his lips like he was amused that you’d gone through the trouble of confronting him.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

But in your head, you were already wondering how many more bizarre moments like this the next twenty-nine days would hold.

The sun dipped behind the blinds without ceremony, casting the living room in that bluish half-light that made everything feel a little more closed in.

You’d expected that once night came, things might relax, maybe the producers would call it a wrap and leave you some space. But no. The tiny red lights on each camera still blinked steadily, unblinking, recording every shift, every sigh.

You and Seungmin sat on opposite ends of the couch. The space between you was wide enough to park a car in, but it still felt too close.

At first, you scrolled through your phone, pretending you had a hundred unread messages to catch up on. In reality, you were reading the same texts from Dahlia over and over, her teasing emojis from earlier in the day, a couple of “fighting!” messages, and one not-so-helpful, “try not to kill him on the first week 😘.”

Seungmin was also on his phone, earbuds in, occasionally letting out a faint chuckle at whatever he was watching. You glanced once just once and caught sight of some gaming livestream, the bright colors reflecting in his eyes. He looked… different when he was focused on something that wasn’t you. Softer, almost.

You hated that you noticed.

For the next hour, you both avoided direct conversation. The only sounds were the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the occasional creak of the house settling, and the distant clatter of his game’s sound effects.

By the second hour, the silence had started to feel heavier.

Your phone battery was dying, but plugging it into the outlet meant getting up, which would mean moving in front of at least two cameras and you didn’t feel like giving them that kind of footage.

So instead, you shifted in your seat, pulled your knees up, and tried to get comfortable.

“You’re fidgeting,” Seungmin said suddenly, not looking away from his screen.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You keep moving around,” he said, voice even. “It’s distracting.”

You stared at him. “Well, maybe if there was something to do in this house, I wouldn’t be fidgeting.”

He finally looked at you, one eyebrow raised. “You could talk to me.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Pass.”

By the third hour, you’d had enough of just sitting there. You retreated to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for something to snack on, partly to break the monotony and partly to avoid him.

Seungmin called after you, “Don’t eat all the good stuff, we’re here for a month.”

You resisted the urge to throw a piece of bread at him.

Eventually, you settled on some grapes and returned to your end of the couch, popping them into your mouth one by one while scrolling aimlessly again.

It was around 10 PM when one of the producers’ earlier instructions replayed in your mind: “You should both try to spend most of your evening in shared spaces for the first few days so the audience can get to know your chemistry.”

Chemistry. Right.

You sighed audibly, earning a side glance from Seungmin. “Something wrong?” he asked, tone dry.

“Other than being stuck here with you? Nope. Totally fine.”

He smirked faintly but didn’t respond.

By 11, your irritation had shifted into something more like exhaustion. The kind that comes from being on all day cameras, fake smiles, and a house that didn’t feel like yours.

You stood, stretching your arms over your head. “I’m going to bed.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “It’s early.”

“It’s late enough,” you shot back.

You headed toward your small room, the one he’d so kindly “assigned” you earlier and shut the door behind you, leaning your back against it for a moment.

For the first time all day, you were alone without anyone watching.

But instead of relief, you felt a strange buzz in your chest. Not quite anger. Not quite… anything you could name.

Just the lingering image of Seungmin sitting at the other end of the couch, smirking at you like he had all the time in the world.

You weren’t sure what had woken you first, the light slipping through the thin curtains or the obnoxious mechanical whirring echoing from somewhere beyond your bedroom door.

It wasn’t the gentle hum of a fridge or the distant creak of pipes. No. This was aggressive. Industrial. Something that did not belong in the fragile stillness of an early morning.

You groaned, rolling onto your side, dragging the blanket over your head in the hope that it might block out whatever monster was roaring to life in the kitchen. But the sound didn’t just continue, it got louder, sharper, like whoever was making it had moved the blender closer to the doorway just to spite you.

Your eyes cracked open. The red light from the tiny camera in the corner blinked steadily back at you, reminding you that yes, your very first moments of irritation for the day were being immortalized. Somewhere, a producer was probably already sipping their coffee and enjoying the footage.

You kicked off the blanket with a huff and reached for the first piece of clothing your hand could find, a worn oversized sweater you’d stuffed into your suitcase at the last minute. It still smelled faintly of your apartment. Home. Somewhere far, far away from here.

Dragging it over your head, you shuffled toward the door, socks whispering against the floor, eyes barely open. You didn’t bother checking the mirror. If the cameras wanted your bedhead, they could have it.

The moment you stepped into the hallway, the noise doubled in volume, bouncing off the walls.

There he was.

Seungmin stood in the middle of the pristine kitchen, sleeves pushed up, hair annoyingly perfect for someone who had clearly been awake for a while. His hand was on the blender lid, holding it down like he was conducting an orchestra of noise. A faint, infuriating curve lifted the corner of his mouth not a full smile, but enough to send a clear message.

He knew. He knew you were still asleep. He knew this would drag you out of bed.

And he was enjoying it.

The blender finally cut off with a sharp click. Silence rushed back into the space, almost dizzying after the racket. You blinked at him, disbelief written across your face.

“You’re kidding,” you muttered, voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” he said casually, as though he hadn’t just waged an acoustic war against your REM cycle.

You didn’t dignify him with more words. You just stared at the ridiculous smoothie in his hand, bright, unnatural purple and then turned on your heel.

If you stayed in that kitchen one second longer, the microphones might catch something you’d regret.

The floor felt cold under your socks as you padded back down the hallway. You didn’t slam your bedroom door, slamming it would be too much of a win for him but you closed it with the deliberate weight of someone announcing, I am done with you for now.

You flopped onto the bed, dragging the sweater’s hood over your head like you could disappear inside it.

Your phone buzzed.

A text from Yubin lit up the screen:

How’s it going so far? Need me to stop by?

You didn’t hesitate. Your thumbs flew over the keys.

Yes. Get me out of here.

For a second, you almost felt relief. Yubin could come, maybe take you for a walk, give you a break from Seungmin’s smug early-morning antics.

But then, her reply came. Not words. Just a single yellow thumbs-down emoji.

You stared at it. That was it. No sympathy. No “hang in there.” Not even a “lol.” Just rejection in emoji form. You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost painful and tossed your phone onto the pillow beside you.

Lying there, sweater sleeves bunched around your hands, you thought about how this was only day two. Maybe not even a full day.

And there were twenty-eight more to go.

You exhaled through your nose, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling in the early light.

How were you supposed to survive a month like this?

masterlist.

a/n: this is only part 1! more angst and drama to come (,:

808 notes · View notes

4linos · 7 days ago

Text

new fic today (?) 🙈

#Started working on it while finishing what could’ve been #might change title though #idk if i like #niniyaps

31 notes · View notes

4linos · 10 days ago

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jaw on the flooooooor help. This was so hot

Can u plz write a lee know marriage au minho using vibrator on reader because she has been ignoring him since he fingered her during the family dinner (plz give an little glimpse of it)and then u can write the rest thank u 💗 no degrading plz 😊😊

under the table

⋆｡°✩

pairing: lee know x fem reader

word count: 4K

contains: +18, established relationship, marriage, fingering, clit play, sex toy, overstimulation, minho is a charming menace and maddening gentle.

authors note: english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance :)

⋆｡°✩

!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!!

You hadn’t spoken more than two words to him since the dinner at his parents' house.

Minho didn’t push. He never does. And he could tell from the second you stepped out of the car that night, jaw tight, silence stretched too thin between you, that you were really mad this time.

Still, he acted normal. Watered the plants. Fed the cats. Kissed your cheek in passing like nothing had happened.

Like he didn’t finger you under the table while his mother asked how married life was treating you.

It started innocently enough. His hand on your thigh, warm, casual. His thumb brushing soft little circles, back and forth, like muscle memory. You were used to it. Minho was always touchy in public, and it usually meant nothing.

Usually.

But that night, something was different. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the way your dress rode up when you crossed your legs. Or maybe it was just him, always composed, always proper in front of his family, but with that look in his eyes he only ever gave you.

You should’ve known.

Because his hand didn’t stop at your thigh.

It crept higher, fingertips skating up the inside of your leg until they found your panties, until they hooked just under the edge and stayed there, unmoving.

You shifted in your seat, shot him a look. He didn’t even blink.

He just smiled at his mother across the table, nodded at something his father said, and let his middle finger slide beneath the fabric.

“Stop,” you mouthed.

He ignored you.

Worse, he turned his head like he was going to whisper something sweet, maybe a joke or a little compliment. Instead, he said this:

“You’re all wet, baby. That’s not very polite.”

You choked on your own breath.

He didn’t do much. Not really. Just a slow, teasing press, one finger dipping in, retreating, circling your clit like he had all the time in the world. Barely even moving. But his hands were always like that, precise. Focused. He knew exactly what pressure to use, exactly how to touch you so your body betrayed you in seconds.

You clenched around nothing. Bit your cheek. Smiled at his mother like your world wasn’t unraveling in front of the food.

He was calm. He was charming. His hand never faltered.

And the worst part?

You could feel it building, hot and slow and impossible to fight. Every muscle in your body tightening, legs squeezed under the table, shoulders squared like it was enough to hold yourself together with posture alone.

It wasn’t.

Not when his finger flickered just right. Not when he rubbed a little firmer, a little faster, still so subtle you wondered if anyone could even tell.

Your stomach flipped. Your breath stuttered. You reached for your drink just to have something to do, just to mask the shake in your hands, but even lifting the glass felt like a betrayal. Your fingers trembled. Your throat was dry. And Minho?

Minho was watching his mother with perfect, boyish attentiveness. Nod, smile, blink. The picture of innocence.

Except for the smirk.

So faint, it barely touched his lips. But you saw it. Felt it. The way the corner of his mouth tugged upward, pleased, amused, knowing. He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t need to. That smirk was made for you.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurt. Tried to breathe slowly. Keep your eyes open. Keep your thighs still. Keep pretending.

But your body had other plans.

The orgasm hit like a ripple, quiet, tight, devastating. A rush of heat that spread through your core, over your skin, until your face burned and your lashes fluttered and the smile you forced was just a second too long to be real. Suppressing the tiniest whimper as your grip on the tablecloth tightened.

And Minho?

He leaned in like he was going to press a kiss to your cheek, so casual, so sweet.

But instead, he kissed your temple and whispered, “There you go, sweetheart.”

Gentle. Proud. Like you had done something good for him.

You didn’t talk to him the rest of the night. Not in the car. Not in bed. Not the next morning when he kissed the top of your head and told you he’d bring back your favorite coffee after the gym.

He played dumb. Gave you space at first. Thought it was funny, even. His little prank gone too far. But three days later and you still barely looked at him. Still tiptoed around him like a ghost in your own home. And it was driving him insane.

“You’re still upset?” he asked softly one night as you walked past him in the kitchen. You didn’t respond. Just picked up your water and left the room.

That’s when he decided.

If you wouldn’t talk to him, you’d listen to what his hands had to say instead.

So that night, he didn’t go to bed right away. He waited. He didn’t say anything. Minho just climbed in behind you, warm and familiar. He didn't touch you at first. Just laid there, letting the quiet settle between your shoulders like a blanket.

Then, slow, casual, his hand came to rest on your waist.

You tensed immediately. "Don’t," you said quietly, voice tight.

His hand stilled. “Just want to hold you.”

You hesitated… but didn’t push him away.

He took the opening. Let his fingers trace the edge of your shirt, skim the curve of your hip, featherlight. You tried not to react, but your breath caught, just a little. Your skin betrayed you first, prickling under his touch like it was waiting for him.

"You’ve been ignoring me," he murmured after a beat. Not accusing. Just a fact.

You swallowed and turned your face into the pillow. “I'm mad at you.”

“I know.”

You didn’t say anything else. You didn’t have to.

His hand slid lower, down, over your hip, between your thighs.

This time, you caught his wrist. Firm. Final.

“Hey. Don't"

He stopped.

Didn’t pull away. Didn’t force it. Just leaned closer, warm breath ghosting against your neck as he spoke quietly: “You don’t have to let me,” voice soft, maddeningly steady. “I just want to be close to you. Missed you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your throat go tight.

You wanted to stay mad. You were mad. But his voice… his hand resting so still against your skin, not pushing… It made something in your chest ache. Still, you kept your grip on his wrist.

Minho didn’t fight it. He just leaned in and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I know you didn’t like what I did,” he murmured, so close now, the words curved over your skin.

You didn’t answer, not right away, but your grip loosened. And when his fingers dipped under the waistband of your panties, you didn’t stop him this time. Not fully.

You moved, turned slightly to face him, just enough to see his expression in the low light.

“I’m still upset,” you whispered.

His eyes softened. “I know.”

“I—” Your voice caught. You frowned, lashes fluttering as his fingers brushed between your folds, barely there. “Minho…”

“Hmm?” He kissed the corner of your mouth, just a brush. “You said something?”

And damn him, he was so careful. No teasing. No pressure. Just warmth and gentle strokes. With a charm that only he knows how to do. You hated how your hips tilted into his hand. How quickly your body responded.

“Still mad, huh?” he whispered, grinning just a little when your brows knit together.

You made a soft noise and glared at him weakly.

His grin widened, but only for a second. Because then he was kissing you for real, slow and deep. And your hand, the one that tried to stop him, curled around his wrist instead. Not to push him away. To hold him there. Minho's fingers responded immediately by circling your clit with a little more pressure.

You broke the kiss with a gasp, forehead falling to his shoulder.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re—” your voice trembled, your thighs already beginning to shake. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I never do,” he murmured, mouth at your ear. “And you always let me win.”

Your body clenched at the sound of his voice, at the quiet, devastating pride in it, the way he knew you’d come undone for him no matter how mad you were.

So you tried, one last time, to pull his hand away. Your fingers curled around his wrist again, shaky but firm. But Minho didn’t move. He grabbed your wrist in return, gently, easily, and pinned it to the mattress beside you as he leaned in, took your mouth in a kiss that knocked the air right out of your lungs.

And just before his body settled fully into yours, heat and weight and everything you had been pretending you didn’t miss, he muttered, voice low and final:

“Too late, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught.

Your free hand pushed weakly at his chest, but he just kissed you harder, slow and thorough, tongue sweeping against yours like he had something to prove.

Because he knew you wanted this. And he knew you were mad. So he had only one thing crossing his mind: making you melt.

And so his fingers didn’t stop. He worked you with infuriating patience, every slow, precise circle over your clit was maddening. Just the barest pressure, like he knew exactly how to drive you insane without giving you any real relief. You whimpered against his mouth, your hips twitching, trying to grind into his hand for more friction. He didn’t let you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, flushed and panting beneath him, and smirked. “You’re still pretending,” he said, brushing your hair out of your face with his knuckles, “like you didn’t like the way I touched you.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but he shifted his hips, just enough to press against you, warm and hard, and your breath hitched instead, especially when his fingers flicked, just once, with a little more intent, making your thighs jump.

He laughed under his breath. “Mm. That’s what I thought.”

“Minho—”

“What?” he said sweetly. “You think I didn’t notice? The way you squeezed my hand under the table? How you kept pressing your thighs together like you could stop it?” He leaned in again, lips brushing your cheek. His fingers slowed even more, maddeningly gentle. “Baby, you were dripping.”

You turned your face, trying to hide the way your cheeks burned. But the hand between your legs didn’t stop, it moved with sinful patience, circling and stroking your clit with that perfect rhythm he knew you couldn’t handle.

He caught your chin in his fingers and gently made you look at him.

“Look at me, sweetie,” he whispered. “You wanted me to stop?”

Your fingers curled into the sheets, back arching slightly as your body betrayed you again, hips lifting toward his hand, breath catching with every teasing pass of his fingers.

“But you came,” he said, like it was something sacred. “Right there in front of everyone. Because of me.” He ducked his head, kissed your neck. “So now,” he said, tongue soothing the spot, “you’re gonna be honest with me.”

He slid his other hand between your bodies, under your shirt, palm warm against your belly, then on your waist, pulling you closer.

“Tell me you liked it,” he whispered. “Tell me you liked how I touched you.”

You hated how much you needed him.

How your thighs had already parted for him again. How your breath came fast, your fingers gripped his arm, how close your body was to giving in, again.

And Minho just smiled.

He watched the way your breath stuttered, the way your body arched into him despite everything. The fight was still there, stubborn as ever, but it was unraveling, thread by thread. You were flushed. Quiet. So close to crumbling.

So yes, of course he smiled.

“So,” he said softly, like the idea had just occurred to him, “You really didn’t like the way I touched you?”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and even though you didn’t say it, the answer was all over your face.

Minho grinned, all teeth and charm and mischief. “That’s okay, baby. Really. I’ve got something better.”

Your brows furrowed. “What—”

He kissed you once, quick and warm, before pushing off the bed.

You sat up on your elbows, heartbeat picking up as he walked across the room, calm, like he wasn’t about to destroy you completely, and crouched beside his nightstand.

He opened the drawer. Rummaged for a second. Pulled it out.

The vibrator.

Your breath caught.

“Wait—”

He just looked at you with a smile, sweet as sin. “What? You don’t like my hands, right?” he asked, tossing the toy onto the bed with a little shrug. “This’ll be easier. More… efficient.”

Then he climbed back onto the bed, straddling your thighs, taking his time, like he wasn’t in any rush to tear you apart. He palmed the toy in one hand and dragged the other down your chest, between your tits, until his fingers found the hem of your shirt again. But he did nothing more than that.

“You wanna hold it yourself?” he offered, settling between your legs. “Or are you gonna let me help?”

You hesitated. And he laughed.

“Still pretending you don’t want my help? Cute.”

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down your legs without breaking eye contact.

“Let’s make this nice and easy for you,” he murmured.

Then the vibrator clicked on, soft at first.

He didn’t go for your clit right away. No. He pressed it to the inside of your thigh, just above your knee, and slowly dragged it upward. Watching you. Listening to the little sounds that slipped out as your hips shifted, already seeking more.

By the time he reached the crease of your thigh, your hand was fisting the sheets.

He pressed it just beside where you needed it, teasing. So close.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your inner thigh. “You’re gonna like this a lot more than my hands.”

Then he finally pressed it to your clit. Gently. Just enough to make your back arch. And he grinned. Because your gasp was everything he wanted to hear.

You glared at him. “Oh, God—”

He laughed under his breath, too casual. Like this was just a regular Tuesday. Like he wasn’t the reason your thighs were sticky and your heart was pounding.

“Too quiet,” he said, voice low as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “You sure you’re mad?”

He kissed your thigh and kept the toy right where it was, watching your reaction with open delight.

You gasped, hips jerking, a sharp whine breaking from your throat before you could stop it. The vibration wasn’t even set that high, but it felt maddening, too much and not enough all at once. Your clit throbbed beneath the toy’s relentless hum, nerves tightening with every pulse.

Minho’s eyes lit up.

“Thought you didn’t like being touched, sweetheart,” he teased. “Thought I crossed a line.”

You moaned, fingers curling into the sheets like they could anchor you to reality. Your thighs were already trying to snap closed, but he kept them spread with a single hand pressed firm to the inside of your knee. You were trembling, thighs shaking, belly tightening, every inch of you too hot, too sensitive.

Still, you tried to stay still, to hold onto whatever resolve you had left. But it was slipping through your fingers fast.

Minho looked up, mouth brushing your thigh as the toy buzzed steadily against your clit. “Be honest,” he whispered. “You think about it, don’t you? When you’re pretending to be mad. When you won’t even look at me.”

You shook your head.

It was a lie. A bold-faced, shamefully transparent lie. The truth was written in every twitch of your hips, every gasp you bit back. Your body betrayed you before your voice ever could.

He chuckled, low and pleased, breath warm against your thigh.

“Oh, baby.”

He was still looking right at you, seeing the heat in your face, the way your lips trembled as you tried, still, to stay mad with him. He could see the pulse fluttering wildly in your throat, the way your nipples strained against your shirt, hard and aching. The vibrator was steady against your clit, and your muscles were fluttering around nothing, clenching uselessly, begging for more.

You could feel your orgasm building, slow and steady, cruel in its pace. Your walls fluttered, empty and aching, but Minho wouldn’t give you that.

He tilted his head, eyes fixed on you like he was watching his favorite movie. “Feels good?” he asked softly, like he didn’t already know the answer.

You swallowed hard. Didn’t speak.

But your hips kept rolling. You were grinding against the toy now, chasing it without even realizing it, every motion sharper, needier. You whimpered when he pressed it just a little firmer, your body jolting.

“Thought so,” he murmured, thumb stroking lazily over your hip bone, grounding, teasing, possessive all at once.

Then his fingers moved lower, slipping between your folds, gathering the wetness spilling from you. He didn't remove the toy, no, he kept it buzzing cruelly against your clit, but now there were fingers too. Sliding along your entrance, dipping in just enough to tease, not enough to satisfy. Your back arched off the bed, a helpless cry tearing from your lips.

Minho just smiled.

"Still pretending?" he whispered. "You gonna keep lying to me while you're soaking my hand?"

You whimpered again, voice wrecked. “Lee—”

He pressed two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them just right, and your whole body jerked like he had flipped a switch.

“Oh, baby,” he said again, grinning as your walls clenched around him. “You’re gonna be honest with me one way or another.”

And with that, he moved the toy in slow, deliberate circles over your clit while his fingers fucked you deeper, a rhythm built to break you.

And God, it was working.

Your orgasm tore through you without warning, sharp and blinding, your back arching clean off the bed as you cried out his name, voice cracking around it. Your thighs clamped around his hand, your body trembling as your orgasm took over, long and messy and overwhelming.

But he didn’t stop.

The vibrator stayed pressed against your clit, relentless, merciless.

Your hands flew to his wrist, not to pull him away, not really, just to do something, to hold on to reality while your nerves sparked.

“F-fuck—Fucking stop!” you whimpered, hips jerking hard.

“I know,” he said, breath warm against your inner thigh. “I know, baby. It’s too much now, isn’t it?”

He didn’t stop.

You twisted beneath him, thighs twitching, eyes wide and glassy as the pressure built again with terrifying speed. “Please,” you gasped. “Please, I—It's too much—”

“C'mon, baby,” he whispered, mouth brushing over your hip.

Your body jolted again, clit too sensitive, skin too raw, but the pleasure was there, coiled tighter than ever, spinning back into that unbearable edge. He moved the toy just a little, the tiniest shift, and it hit just right again.

“You don’t get to come once and be done,” Minho murmured, voice too soft for the menace in his touch. “Not after all three days being mad.”

You whimpered, biting down hard on your bottom lip, hips writhing now without any rhythm, desperate and lost.

“Come again for me,” he said, eyes locked on your face. “Show me you really like being touched.”

You shattered again, with a strangled sob this time, thighs shaking violently, slick dripping down your folds and soaking his hand. Your vision went white at the edges. You didn’t even hear yourself scream.

And still, Minho didn’t stop.

Your limbs twitched, barely under your control. The high dragged on, longer than you thought your body could take, wave after wave rippling through you, almost painful now in how deep it reached.

Still, Minho kept the toy pressed against you, his fingers gentle on your thigh like he wasn’t the ruining you.

"Give it to me, sweetheart” he murmured, admiring the way your stomach trembled, how your hand clung to his forearm without strength. “I missed you so much.”

You tried to speak, to plead, maybe to tell him you were done, but it came out as a choked breath, nothing more. Your hips tried to twist away from the pressure, but he followed you easily, unbothered.

“You wanna stop?” he asked, tilting his head like he genuinely wasn’t sure. “Hmm? Thought you didn’t like it when I touched you. Isn’t this better?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, but it wasn’t clear what you meant. No? Don’t stop? No, you couldn’t do it again?

He smiled.

Then, he let up. Just a little. Just enough for you to breathe again.

But the toy stayed on.

He turned it to a lower setting, slow and steady against your overstimulated clit. Just enough to keep you teetering, to keep the aftershocks rolling through you like little soft earthquakes.

You blinked up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“You’re gonna take one more for me,” Minho said, brushing your thighs so softly. “Just one more. You can do that, can’t you?”

His voice was coaxing, gentle even, charming as always, but his eyes were wicked.

Your body was hypersensitive, nerves frayed and sparking with every pulse of the toy against your clit. You whimpered, thighs twitching, fingers digging helplessly into the sheets.

Minho watched you unravel again, quiet and focused, like he didn’t want to miss a single moment.

“I know you can do it for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking your hip with the same hand holding you open.

And when it hit, your second orgasm was sharper, more overwhelming than the first. You cried out, back arching off the bed, toes curling. Your whole body shook, and still Minho didn’t move the toy. Not until your thighs jerked once, then again, your voice breaking into a high, desperate sob.

Only then did he ease it away, finally letting your body come down.

You collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, limbs useless. Sweat clung to your skin. You felt boneless, wrung out.

He leaned in, warm breath grazing your skin, and pressed a slow kiss to the inside of your trembling thigh. Just one, soft and reverent, like a thank-you.

Then he stood, searched for your panties, and helped you tug them back on with careful hands, like you hadn’t just been squirming and crying out under his touch. He smoothed them over your hips, fingers lingering just a second too long before he let go.

He circled the bed and climbed in beside you like nothing had happened.

Not like he had just made you come twice without ever fucking you.

Not like your thighs were still trembling or your breath still caught in your throat every now and then.

He slid an arm around your waist and pulled you in close, tucking you against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His lips brushed your temple, soft and slow. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, steady, warm, grounding.

“…You’re such an asshole.”

Minho laughed, low and smug and entirely unbothered, as he nosed at your hair, arm tightening around your waist.

“Still,” he said, lips brushing your temple again, “you married me.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Then another, just under your jaw. And another, to your shoulder.

You shot him a glare. “You’re evil.”

But he just... smiled. “But you love me.”

Unfortunately, he was right.

You huffed. Didn’t have the strength to argue, and not just because your muscles felt like jelly.

Because he had won. Once again, he had won. And maybe, just maybe… you didn’t mind being married to a menace. Because it was Lee Know. And God... you really loved him.

—

taglist @velvetmoonlght @anjian03 @nightmarenyxx @nebugalaxy @annyeongffs @hanjisunnnng @fawnoverdawn @headfirstfortoro @fangirljas929 <3 (taglist post)

#nini’s nsfw favs

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4linos · 10 days ago

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exactlyy 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

skz as slashers

──── ୨୧ ────

Lee Know as : Ghostface

──── ୨୧ ────

──── ୨୧ ────

masterlist

#niniyaps

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4linos · 11 days ago

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does anyone know about/remember ballelino? they were my favorite writer on heree 🫠🫠 they just disappeared one day but i still think about the fics, wedding season was my favorite. 🫠

#nini yaps

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4linos · 11 days ago

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[ OT8.] SKZ AS YOUR SUGAR DADDY.

sugar daddy!skz x sugar baby!reader

[ (stray kids) ] 18+ | sugar dating, au, financial exchange, companionship/other services | warning/s: nsfw, spoiling you rotten

— bang chan.

this man is powerful, influential, and rich. committed relationships are a tad difficult due to his career of choice, however, he would spoil you so bad. he’ll give gifts he knows you’ll appreciate, rather than gifts that are for his own enjoyment.

you can expect sentimental things like custom jewelry with your name engraved on it. he loves to pamper himself and you whenever he can and is willing to reciprocate sexual favors too.

— lee know (minho).

you have no idea what the hell he does but the man is fucking wealthy!! long story short, he has the capacity to change your whole life around; he’s willing to do it too.

he’s a very possessive sugar daddy and made it very clear that he has to be the only man in your life. he expects to see your personal purchases on his bank statements, and expects to fuck you seven days a week.

— changbin.

he’s a world famous producer, owns his own company with famous artists + your sugar daddy turned boyfriend. he’ll only spend money on you once you’re in a serious relationship.

he immediately moves you out of your shitty apartment and buys you a car to ‘get around’ - would be as involved in your life as you would allow. <3 rough and passionate sex with a shopping spree as aftercare.

— hyunjin.

he’s more of a fuck buddy than a sugar daddy and won’t even tell you straight up that the main thing on the negotiating table is his dick. and somehow wealthier than minho. he’ll give you what you want and even extra as long as it’s within reason.

he probably won’t turn the dynamic into something serious. so the day you decide to cut shit off, he’ll probably hit it one last time, then bounce. he’s really just a “call me if ya need me.” type of guy.

— han.

he is a writer, a very successful one at that, and a rather lax sugar daddy. a bit childish, but his dick game (and black card) go crazy. you’d be sprung and in love before you knew what hit you.

if he’s taking you out expect to be dressed in the finest clothing to match his fly. he likes it when you send him photos of yourself, they don’t at all have to be nudes, but those are appreciated too. he wants you to have the sugar, spice, and everything nice.

— felix.

he’s looking for companionship more than anything, someone to come home to possibly? either way, sex would just be an added bonus for him. would fuck you like he had something to prove because he’s a service top, simply put.

dates are always special, and nights-in are even more so. he is very romantic and makes you wonder why he’s still single. he takes you all over the world. paris has seen your face more than your local chipotle. will give you the world as long as you’re loyal to him.

— seungmin.

100% on forbes korea 50 richest list. he’s nice and sweet in public, but as his financially struggling assistant you realized he was anything but. you honestly don’t remember how he became your sugar daddy because you literally cannot stand each other.

granted, it makes for superior hate sex. he ‘hates’ you but he gets jealous when another man is near you. he ‘hates’ you but he smiles like a fool when you text him. he ‘hates’ you but he has no issues making things official with you.

— i.n (jeongin).

he only made you his sugarbaby because he’s bored as hell and has all this money and no one to spend it on. he’ll ice you out, custom designer drip, jewelry, etc. won’t dig into your personal life, probably doesn’t even care, so there has to be a mutual respect of boundaries.

you won’t have to do too much, just when he wants a quickie, you better be ready. it’s really just a playful dynamic honestly, although sometimes you have to initiate skinship most of the time. he truly is a simple man that you found easy to learn.

#nini’s nsfw favs

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4linos · 12 days ago

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DID YOU SEE BLONDE BUZZCUT HYUNJIN??? ABSOLUTELY NO LOOK IS SAFE WITH THAT MAN ISTG🫠

It had me needing a fluff cute loved up Hyunjin vibes. Maybe he and Y/n haven’t said the big three words to each other yet and they are walking along the river or beach simply holding hands all cutely and talking about their day and nightly plans. As they stopped to enjoy the sunset, Y/n whispers the big three words to him. It causes him to choke a bit before pulling Y/n for a breathtaking kiss. After it him being in disbelief that he didn’t get to say it first what he would’ve done later on in the night. He whispers it back twice and keeps saying it and asking Y/n to say it all the way walking back no matter what conversation they were having at that moment.

anon 🥹🥹 i really hope you’re still around! and i hope you enjoy your long awaited request! <3

love in the air, love on the tongue.

#sorry this took so long #sweet anon

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4linos · 12 days ago

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love in the air, love on the tongue.

hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

synopsis/request: after three gentle, lingering months of quiet glances, shared laughter, and holding back the words sitting on the tips of their tongues, you and hyunjin escape to the beach on a spontaneous trip. as the ocean whispers in the background and golden sunlight fades into dusk, one of you finally says it first: “I love you.”

warnings: lots of fluff, mild emotional vulnerability and internal anxiety surrounding relationship insecurity and fear of rejection.

wc: 5,590

You were halfway through zipping your bag when your phone buzzed on the dresser. You already knew it was him. Hyunjin had texted you twenty minutes ago saying he was on his way, which meant he was probably already pulling into the parking lot. Always a little early, always with that same bashful, bright smile when he showed up at your door. You padded over to your phone in socked feet, peeking at the message.

hyunjin: here! should i come up? 👀

Your lips curled into a smile so instinctive it made your cheeks ache. You typed back quickly:

you: yeah! door’s unlocked 💛

Your heart was beating a little too fast for how casual this was supposed to be. It was just a spontaneous trip. Just the beach. Just Hyunjin.

And yet… nothing with him ever felt like just anything.

Before you could even step back into your room, you heard the familiar squeak of the hinges and the sound of his sneakers tapping against the wood floor.

"Hello?" he called gently, almost singing it like he did sometimes, voice soft and curious.

You popped your head out from your bedroom doorway, grinning. “In here!”

He followed your voice, that easy glide in his step so distinctly him, graceful but relaxed, like he didn’t even try. He looked annoyingly good for someone who was about to spend two hours in a car and then who knew how long in sand and sea spray.

“I’m impressed,” he said, leaning against your doorway. “You’re actually ready.”

You raised a brow, arms crossed. “Is that sarcasm?”

“Never,” he deadpanned, and you could already see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped into your room, eyes scanning your bag on the bed. With zero hesitation, he reached for it. “Here, let me—”

The moment he lifted it off the mattress, he froze.

“…Did you pack rocks?” he asked, blinking dramatically. “Is this sand from the beach we’re going to? Were you planning to return it?”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his chest. “I packed the essentials.”

“That many essentials?” he shot back, laughing now, the sound bubbling up with the ease you were addicted to.

“And snacks,” you added, defensively. “It’s a long drive!”

His fingers tightened on the bag handle as he mock-staggered toward the hallway. “You’re lucky I’m built like a Greek statue.”

“Yeah, a very dramatic statue,” you teased, following him.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, smiling like you’d just handed him the sun. There was something in his gaze that lingered, too, something quiet and warm that neither of you had said aloud yet. Something you both felt but hadn’t dared to name. Not yet.

Hyunjin walked ahead of you down the stairs, still carrying your bag like it was made of feathers and not twelve metric tons of “essentials.” He opened the passenger door with a little bow, glancing up at you with a grin.

“Milady,” he said, as he always did on days he felt particularly cheesy.

You laughed and gave him a look, but you climbed in anyway. You liked when he did things like that, gentle things that didn’t feel performative, just him being him. He shut the door carefully, then circled around to the driver’s side.

His car still smelled like his cologne subtle, a little woodsy and the faint citrus of the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. You buckled yourself in as he settled into the driver’s seat, pulling his hoodie off in one swift motion. His hair was half-tied today, loose strands falling around his face in lazy curls. You tried not to stare.

He caught you staring.

“What?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, looking out the window.

Hyunjin chuckled under his breath and started the engine.

The car rolled onto the main road, the hum of the tires on asphalt blending into the soft music playing from his playlist, some mellow indie song you didn’t know the name of but already wanted to save. His hand hovered over the volume for a second before he left it as is, glancing at you.

“Good level?” he asked.

“Perfect,” you said.

There were a lot of little things like that with Hyunjin, small courtesies that made you feel like you were constantly being cared for without it ever being overwhelming. Noticing when you looked cold, bringing an extra water bottle just in case you forgot, remembering which side of the car you liked to sit on even when he didn’t have to.

Three months felt like nothing and everything all at once.

You watched the city blur past, glass buildings melting into neighborhoods, into wide roads and long trees that danced with the wind. You hadn’t said much in the last ten minutes, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was. Not with him.

Still, you were hyper-aware of the way your hand sat on your lap and not next to his. Hyper-aware of the unspoken weight pressing soft and warm against your chest like waves lapping at shorelines.

You wanted to tell him. You really did. You loved him.

You knew it like you knew your own heartbeat. In the way he laughed at your jokes like they were the funniest things in the world. In the way he looked at you when you were talking about something you cared about eyes bright, completely tuned in. In the way he remembered everything. Even the dumb things. Especially the dumb things.

You wanted to say it. But when?

Would it be weird to just blurt it out in the car? What if he didn’t say it back?

You glanced over at him. His left hand gripped the wheel lightly, the right resting on the gear shift. The sunlight caught the curve of his jaw, warm and golden. He looked calm, content, lips slightly parted as he hummed along to the music.

“I packed peanut butter pretzels,” you blurted out.

Hyunjin blinked and turned his head. “What?”

You nearly hit your own face. Smooth. So smooth.

“I mean. In the bag. I packed peanut butter pretzels. You said they were your favorite that one time,” you mumbled, eyes firmly on the road ahead.

There was a beat of silence. Then another.

Then, Hyunjin’s smile slowly spread across his face, soft and surprised and impossibly fond.

“You remembered that?”

You nodded, still not looking at him.

“I mentioned that in passing, like, weeks ago.”

“I remember things,” you said quietly.

He was quiet for a few seconds, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“I like that about you,” he said eventually.

You turned your head then, and your eyes met.

It felt like something shifted in the air barely, but undeniably. His smile faded into something more serious, more thoughtful. Like he was thinking about the same thing you were.

You looked away again, too nervous to hold it.

Hyunjin turned his eyes back to the road, but his voice was a little softer now.

“You remember the little things. That’s rare.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t, not without risking your voice breaking from how badly you wanted to say it.

Instead, you reached for the aux cable.

The drive stretched on peacefully. You played music, took turns skipping songs, shared a few gummy bears from the middle console stash. At one point, you passed a field of sunflowers, and Hyunjin pulled over without saying a word, just so you could take pictures.

He handed you your phone with a sheepish grin. “You looked like you wanted to.”

“I did, but I didn’t want to say it,” you admitted.

He shrugged. “You don’t have to. I just know.”

And somehow, that meant more than if you’d said it out loud.

About forty minutes from the coast, the air started to smell different cleaner, fresher, tinged with the salt of ocean wind. You rolled the window down, letting the breeze hit your face. Hyunjin did the same. Your hair whipped wildly in the wind, and he laughed as a strand smacked him in the face.

“Worth it,” you said, holding your arm out of the window like you were flying.

He grinned. “Totally.”

You didn’t know it then, but that moment, wind in your hair, sun kissing your skin, Hyunjin beside you laughing like he had nothing else to do in the world but be here with you, would be one of the moments you’d think back on over and over. A quiet, golden thing lodged in your memory like a favorite song.

The tires crunched softly against gravel as Hyunjin pulled into a small, nearly empty parking area overlooking the coastline. The sea stretched out before you in pale blue and misty silver, waves rolling in slow and gentle under the early afternoon sun. It was the kind of view that took your breath and gave it back, calmer.

Hyunjin leaned forward slightly, peering through the windshield. “Wow,” he said under his breath.

You felt your own chest tighten in agreement. There was something about the vastness of it, the way the water met the sky with no hard edges, no lines drawn that made everything inside you feel a little softer. Like the chaos of your thoughts could be soothed by nothing more than salt air and sunlight.

He turned to you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Good idea?”

You nodded, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “Great idea.”

You both got out of the car, the wind catching your hair and making it dance across your face. Hyunjin met you at the back, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag like it weighed nothing, though you were pretty sure he winced slightly as he slung it over his shoulder.

You said nothing, only smiled smugly to yourself.

In your other hand, you held the small, checkered blanket you’d stuffed in the bag earlier, a last-minute thought, but one you were grateful for now. The sand was warm and dry but still littered with bits of shell and sun-bleached driftwood. It would be nice to have something to sit on. To share.

You both walked down the wooden boardwalk in comfortable silence, your shoes dangling from your fingers, toes curling into the sand as soon as you stepped off. The breeze was stronger here, curling around your legs and lifting the hem of Hyunjin’s shirt slightly. You caught a glimpse of skin and quickly looked away. Focus.

You glanced at him instead, really looked at him. He was scanning the beach, brows slightly raised, clearly looking for the perfect spot. He turned, spotted a quieter area closer to some rocks but still near the water, and gestured toward it with a soft, “There?”

You nodded. “Yeah. That looks perfect.”

He led the way, and once you reached the spot, you both set to work. You laid the blanket out, smoothing it over the sand carefully, tucking down the corners to keep it from lifting in the wind. Hyunjin dropped the bag beside it and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh.

“Not bad,” he said, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Feels like we’re the first ones here.”

You sat beside him, your knee brushing against his briefly. He didn’t move away. Neither did you.

“I like it,” you said, hugging your legs to your chest. “It’s quiet.”

For a while, you just sat there, side by side, letting the silence stretch as the waves whispered close by. Seagulls cried in the distance, and somewhere, faintly, a dog barked. But mostly, it was just the sound of water and the occasional soft rustle of wind through dune grass.

Hyunjin tilted his head toward you. “Do you ever think about what it’d be like to live by the ocean?”

You smiled. “Yeah. Sometimes. I think I’d wake up earlier. Go for long walks. Maybe pick up painting.”

“You’d be good at that,” he said, almost automatically.

You glanced over, startled by how certain he sounded.

“I’ve never painted in my life,” you pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a small smile. “You’d still be good at it.”

You stared at him for a second longer than you meant to. The sunlight hit his profile at just the right angle like a film still, like a memory already forming and your throat tightened with the sudden, overwhelming want to tell him.

But the words stuck to the roof of your mouth.

What if he didn’t say it back? What if it scared him? What if it ruined everything?

You blinked and looked away instead.

Hyunjin didn’t press. He just let his head fall back, eyes closed against the sunlight, and let the moment breathe.

After a while, you turned to him, propping your elbow on your knee.

“Wanna build a sandcastle?” you asked.

His eyes opened instantly. He turned his head toward you, raising a brow.

“You’re serious?”

“Why not?”

He grinned, sitting up. “Alright. But if I build a better one than you, you owe me ice cream.”

You laughed, already scooping a handful of dry sand and letting it trickle through your fingers. “Deal.”

You both slid off the blanket onto the sand, and for the next ten minutes, you worked with easy chatter, laughter bubbling between you as you dug trenches and piled up mounds. It wasn’t even a proper castle yet, just a series of vaguely tower-shaped lumps surrounded by a moat you’d both agreed was “symbolic” but it didn’t matter. It was fun. It was silly. It was exactly what you’d needed without realizing.

Then, somewhere behind you, a small voice piped up.

“Can I help?”

You both turned.

A little girl stood there, probably five or six, in a ruffled blue swimsuit and an oversized sun hat that nearly covered her eyes. She had a bright orange plastic shovel in one hand and a hopeful smile stretched across her round face.

You blinked, surprised? but before you could say anything, Hyunjin beamed at her.

“Of course you can,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”

“Nari,” she said, stepping forward and immediately plopping herself down in the sand like she’d known you both forever.

You watched as Hyunjin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to meet her at eye level.

“Well, Nari,” he said in a mock-serious voice. “We were just about to build the tallest tower yet. Do you think you can help with that?”

She nodded solemnly. “I’m really good at towers.”

“Perfect,” he said, offering her a fist bump. “We need an expert.”

She giggled and bumped her tiny fist against his.

And just like that, she was part of your little beach kingdom.

You helped too, of course, carrying water from the tide in an old bucket you found nearby, patting down walls, adding little shells as windows, but you kept stealing glances at Hyunjin.

The way he scooped sand for Nari without hesitation, letting her boss him around like she was the project manager. The way he listened patiently as she explained her tower design, nodding seriously even though it made absolutely no architectural sense. The way he laughed, genuinely laughed when she accidentally knocked one of the towers over and squeaked out a sheepish “oops.”

He didn’t mind. Not even a little.

And you… couldn’t stop looking at him.

Something twisted gently in your chest, warm and achy at the same time.

You already knew he was sweet. But seeing him like this, so effortlessly kind, open, soft with someone so small and earnest it made your heart feel too big for your ribs.

I love you, you thought, the words like a whisper against the inside of your throat. I really do.

You stared down at your hands, brushing grains of sand off your fingers.

When do I say it?

The longer you waited, the more impossible it felt. What if it came out weird? What if he thought it was too early? What if he panicked and smiled politely and pretended he didn’t hear?

You didn’t think he’d hurt you. Hyunjin wasn’t cruel. But still… Would he say it back? Was he ready?

You wanted to ask. You wanted to know. But your thoughts were cut off by a shriek of laughter.

You looked up sharply.

Hyunjin had a little shell in his hand, holding it up like a treasure, and Nari was giggling uncontrollably as he crowned one of the towers with it.

“This is the royal shell,” he was saying, his voice completely serious. “It means this castle is now official.”

“Can I be the queen?” Nari asked.

“Absolutely,” he said without missing a beat. “Queen Nari. Ruler of all the sand.”

She clapped her hands, then looked at you. “You can be the princess!”

You smiled, amused. “Thanks, Your Majesty.”

“And you—” she turned back to Hyunjin “—you can be the royal guard.”

Hyunjin grinned, placing a hand over his heart. “It’s an honor, Your Highness.”

And she giggled again, wild and unfiltered, throwing her shovel down as if the joy was too much to hold in her tiny body.

You didn’t even realize you were staring until Hyunjin looked up and met your gaze.

He gave you a quiet, knowing smile like he could feel what you were thinking. And maybe he could.

Your stomach fluttered. Maybe he was just as scared to say it first as you were.

The afternoon sun had started to slip lower in the sky by the time Nari’s name was called light, clear, drifting on the wind like part of the sea air itself.

“Oh, Nari!”

You both looked up at once. Down the shore, a woman and man were waving toward you, the woman cupping her hands around her mouth like a gentle megaphone. They both looked warm and kind, the woman with a big straw sunhat and the man holding a half-melted ice cream cone and a tote bag heavy with snacks.

“That’s my mommy!” Nari said brightly, pointing with sandy fingers.

You smiled. “She looks sweet.”

“She is,” Nari replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She glanced back at the castle one last time, cheeks flushed from sun and laughter. Then, turning to you and Hyunjin, she said, “Thank you for letting me help. It’s the best castle in the whole beach.”

You laughed softly. “You made it the best.”

Hyunjin gave her a little salute. “Long live Queen Nari.”

She giggled, spinning on her heel and sprinting off in that toddler way, half skipping, half tripping, limbs full of energy. Her orange shovel bounced in her tiny hand as she went, then dropped into the sand behind her, forgotten. She didn’t stop to pick it up.

As she reached her parents, the woman bent to meet her, brushing the hair out of her face. Nari immediately pointed back at you both, clearly telling them all about the castle and her very important role as architect and ruler. The parents turned, both smiling. The man gave you a small wave. The woman mouthed something like thank you.

You and Hyunjin waved back.

And just like that… the beach was quiet again.

Nari’s footsteps disappeared into the wind. The tide crept closer, slowly curling over parts of the moat you’d all built. And the three-tower castle remained, slightly crooked, charming in its imperfection, its “royal shell” still perched proudly on the tallest spire.

You watched it for a moment longer, a peaceful ache in your chest.

Then Hyunjin let out a long, contented sigh as he flopped back onto the blanket, arms stretched behind his head.

“She was cute,” he said, voice lazy.

“Mmhm,” you replied, still watching the horizon. “You were really sweet with her.”

He turned his head toward you, eyes squinting up at the sky. “She made it easy. I mean.. how can you say no to someone who calls you the royal guard?”

You smiled and finally lay back too, settling beside him, your shoulder brushing his again.

The fabric of the blanket was warm beneath you, slightly rough but familiar. The breeze had cooled a little, but the sun was still strong, painting your skin in gold. Around you, the world slowed. The sea stretched endlessly. The clouds drifted like thoughts you didn’t have to catch.

“Do you think you’d want kids someday?” you asked suddenly, without really meaning to.

Hyunjin was quiet for a beat. Then he said, “Yeah. I think so. Not now, obviously. But one day.”

You nodded, staring up at the same piece of sky.

“Why?” he asked. “Did I look like a total natural back there?”

You laughed, tipping your head toward him. “You kind of did, honestly.”

He grinned, a little bashful. “Guess I’ll take the compliment.”

For a while, neither of you said anything. You just lay there, letting the silence fill in the spaces like tidewater in the grooves of sand.

And then, your stomach growled.

Hyunjin turned to you with a raised brow. “That was aggressive.”

You snorted. “Don’t judge me. You ate half the snacks earlier.”

“We both did,” he said defensively, already sitting up and rummaging through the bag. “Let’s see what’s left.”

You joined him, cross-legged again on the blanket as you both took stock of the snack situation.

A half-eaten bag of honey butter chips. The peanut butter pretzels. A granola bar. One juice box you’d packed for fun, now slightly warm but still drinkable.

“Okay, this is tragic,” he said dramatically. “We might have to resort to cannibalism.”

“Touch me and I’ll throw you into the ocean,” you warned, popping a pretzel into your mouth.

He held up his hands in surrender, grinning.

You both leaned back, slowly working through the last of the food, taking turns picking at crumbs and talking about nothing and everything.

At first, it was just more talk about Nari, how cute she was, how she should probably be running a small kingdom somewhere. Then it shifted. Movies you wanted to watch. Your shared inability to understand cryptocurrency. The best food you've ever had on vacation. Whether ghosts were real. Childhood memories. Embarrassing stories.

It was like the sea encouraged a different kind of honesty. Your voices were quieter now, closer. The mood wasn’t heavy, just safe. Your laughter came softer. His eyes lingered longer.

Time didn’t seem to exist. Just the sound of waves, the way the light hit the water, the warmth between your shoulders as you sat beside each other like you’d always belonged there.

Then, at some point, Hyunjin turned to you, brushing sand off his fingers.

“Hey,” he said, eyes crinkling a little. “Didn’t I make a bet earlier?”

You blinked, confused for a second.

Then it hit you.

“You said if your sandcastle was better, I owed you ice cream,” you said slowly.

“Exactly.” He nodded sagely. “And clearly mine was superior. Did you see the texture on that tower? The craftsmanship? The royal shell placement?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine. Fine. I’ll get you ice cream.”

You stared at his hand as he held it out to you.

It was nothing. Just a hand. Just help.

But your heart still fluttered like it was something more.

You slipped your fingers into his and let him pull you up.

His hand was warm. Familiar. Strong in the quietest way. And when you were standing in front of him, your faces close, the waves behind you and the castle beside you, you suddenly couldn’t stop looking at him.

Not his hand. Not the sand still clinging to his knees. Him.

His lips, parted slightly like he was about to say something. His eyes, softer than the sky, searching yours like they were trying to find something they couldn’t name.

The air shifted. He didn’t let go of your hand.

You didn’t either. You wanted to say it.

The words were bubbling under your tongue, rising and falling with your breath like the tide itself.

I love you.

It would be so easy. You could say it right now. Just lean forward and let it fall out.

But still, you hesitated.

Because saying it meant opening something vulnerable. It meant handing him your heart, raw and real and still figuring itself out.

And you weren’t sure what he’d do with it.

You tried to imagine him saying it back softly, seriously, that same breathless honesty in his voice he always had when he really meant something. You also imagined him smiling politely. Pulling back. Saying thank you or that’s sweet or I’m not quite there yet.

The idea made your stomach twist. What if this perfect day ended with disappointment?

What if you ruined the calm just by being too much? What if—

“Hey,” Hyunjin said suddenly, his voice a thread in the breeze. You looked up.

“I know that look,” he said quietly. “You’re thinking too much again.”

You blinked, startled.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he said with a small smile. “Your eyebrows do this little thing when you’re overthinking. Right there.” He pointed gently between your brows. Your heart stuttered.

He noticed that?

“I was just…” you hesitated. Then laughed nervously. “I was thinking about what ice cream flavor I might get.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, clearly not buying it. But he didn’t press.

“Come on,” he said instead. “Let’s go find that ice cream.”

You nodded. But as you followed him down the beach, your fingers brushing once again before linking naturally like it had always been this way… the words were still there. Soft. Waiting. Close enough to touch.

You hadn’t realized how warm the day had become until you were already halfway through your massive, overly ambitious ice cream cone and it started melting down your hand.

“I told you,” Hyunjin said between licks of his own double scoop. “We should’ve shared one.”

“But this is more fun,” you replied, sticking your tongue out and then immediately regretting it as a stripe of vanilla dripped down your wrist. “Okay, maybe less fun now.”

He laughed, his voice bouncing off the boardwalk and dissolving into the ocean breeze. The two of you had found a tiny family-owned stand at the edge of the beach, nestled between some beach shops and a weather-worn surfboard rental kiosk. The menu had been printed in fading marker, the flavors handwritten with childlike enthusiasm.

He’d gone with green tea and cookies and cream. You’d chosen strawberry and classic vanilla. Together, it looked like a pastel mountain in each of your hands, delicious and entirely too much.

Hyunjin leaned toward you now with a mischievous look in his eye. “Hold still,” he said, and gently wiped a small smudge of strawberry from the corner of your lip with his thumb. His touch was soft and instinctive. Like he didn’t even have to think about it.

Your heart fluttered as you mirrored the gesture, brushing a spot of cream from the edge of his jaw. He grinned, leaning slightly into your fingers, then scrunched his nose. “You’re trying to make me drop my cone,” he mumbled.

“Maybe,” you teased. “One less flavor to compete with.”

He gasped dramatically. “You’re evil.”

You both walked on, slowly now, with the cones nearly gone and the sun mellowing into its golden hour softness.

The beach was quieter than before, families starting to pack up, shadows stretching long across the sand, the air shifting into that calm, reflective mood only late afternoons near the water could bring.

You strolled barefoot down to where the sea kissed the land. The coolness of the water brushed over your toes, tickling your ankles and sinking your feet into the wet sand.

Hyunjin’s hand found yours again, easily, like a habit he didn’t even think about anymore.

There was a quiet peace in that. In him.

The two of you walked like that, hand in hand, melting ice cream cones in the other, shoes forgotten somewhere near your bag, as the sea rolled in beside you.

You took a breath. The moment felt soft, slow. A little surreal.

“Remember when you asked me to be your partner?” you said suddenly, glancing over at him with a raised brow.

He made a groaning noise and tipped his head back. “Please don’t bring that up again.”

You laughed. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“I choked,” he said, looking at you through his fingers as he covered his face in mock embarrassment. “I literally forgot the words. I said, ‘Do you… want to… date… do dating? With me?’”

You doubled over laughing. “Yes! That’s what it was! Do dating with me. I almost said no out of secondhand embarrassment.”

“But you didn’t,” he pointed out smugly.

“No, I didn’t,” you agreed, swinging your arm a little with his. “It was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, his cheeks flushed with the memory. “I panicked. You were standing there looking like a movie scene, and my brain short-circuited.”

You nudged him playfully. “So now you admit I looked good that day?”

He gave a soft snort, squeezing your hand. “You always look good. That’s the problem.”

You blinked.

It was such a simple thing to say, such an easy admission, but the way he said it caught you off guard. There was no hesitation. No self-aware smirk. Just plain, honest affection.

And suddenly, the laughter fell quiet. Not awkward. Just… quieter.

You turned your head to him, heart thumping.

The light hit his features gently, soft gold along his cheekbones, his lashes casting delicate shadows. His lips were slightly parted as he looked at you. Waiting. Not pressing. Just there.

You swallowed.

The water curled around your feet again. And this time, you didn’t overthink it. You didn’t build it up into some grand declaration or second-guess your timing or run through the dozen versions of this conversation you’d rehearsed in your head.

You simply leaned in.

The words came out so quietly, they barely carried beyond the waves.

“I love you.”

At first, Hyunjin didn’t move. He blinked, once, then again like maybe he hadn’t heard you right. Like he needed a second to catch up with the moment. And he choked out a small laugh. His mouth opened. Closed again. He didn’t say anything.

Instead, he leaned in fast, cupping your cheek with one hand and kissing you like he’d been holding back for months.

There was nothing dramatic about it, no fireworks or cinematic slow motion. Just warmth. Just honesty. Just him. You melted into it.

When he finally pulled back, he was smiling, but his eyes were wet.

You blinked, breathless. “Did I break you?”

“No,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. “You just… you beat me to it.”

You furrowed your brows. “You were gonna say it?”

“I wanted to,” he said, still holding your hand like it was the only real thing. “Like… today. At some point. Maybe after the castle. But—ugh, you beat me.”

You smiled softly. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m not,” he said, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “But I wanted to say it first.”

And then, so quietly, you might’ve imagined it he whispered, “I love you.”

The way he said it made your chest swell.

Like he’d been holding it inside all day. Maybe longer. Maybe since that time he brought you a cup of tea when you were having a bad day and sat with you without saying a word. Maybe since your second date, when you both got caught in the rain and ended up in that tiny bookstore and spent hours talking about nothing at all.

Maybe always.

“I love you,” he said again, firmer this time, smiling as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I really, really do.”

Your throat tightened.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, your ice cream cones forgotten, your toes buried in the cold, damp sand. You could feel his breath against your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered once more.

Like a prayer. Like a promise.

You spent the rest of the evening walking slowly along the shore, the light fading gently around you, the tide rising and falling as you found your way back to your blanket. Your shoulders touched as you sat again, both of you a little quieter now, not from awkwardness, but from the weightlessness that came after a confession shared and returned. Every so often, he’d glance over and whisper it again.

While unwrapping a granola bar: “I love you.” While pointing out a dog running freely by the water: “Still love you.” While brushing sand from your legs: “Did I mention I love you?”

It never felt repetitive. Never lost its meaning.

It was like he had to make up for lost time.

You let yourself lean into him fully now, head on his shoulder, fingers laced tightly. The sky turned lavender, then indigo. The stars blinked open one by one, quiet and distant. You stayed until the wind got too cool and the waves too loud, until the world told you gently that it was time to go.

As you packed up, Hyunjin turned to you, reaching for your hand again.

One last time, before the night fully swallowed the sky, he whispered it again.

“I love you.”

And this time, when you said it back, it wasn’t scary at all.

It was everything you’d waited for.

masterlist.

a/n: & yes, that’s across the street nari w/ ats y/n & minho. they made a special appearance as a cute little family at the beach !! (:

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