The Last Two to Know || Boo Seungkwan x you ♡︎
genre: idol! Seungkwan x Junior Producer!reader, fluff, suggestive, nana tour, quite a long one but very worth it if you keep reading, slow burn
a/n: I enjoyed writing this sooo much, gonna write more nana tour fics > <
“Nana Tour wasn’t just about travel — it was where Boo Seungkwan finally fell in love, and everyone saw it before he did.”
————————————————————————♡︎♡︎♡︎
The set for Game Caterers x Seventeen buzzed like a beehive, camera rigs gliding, staff weaving through cables, a chorus of "hyung!" and "yah!" richocheting off the walls. It was your first time meeting them as one of the junior producers assisting Na PD, nervous was an understatement, you had no idea how you'd keep up with their energy if it was already chaos off-camera.
But then there was Seungkwan.
Sharp, quick witted, and always ready with a comment that sent the room into fits of laughter. Unlike some of the others who were more reserved at first, Seungkwan looked at you directly, making sure you were included in the laughter. You understood immediately why Na PD had a soft spot for him almost instantly after meeting him.
Filming was about to start and the members were already seated. You hugged the stack of cue cards to your chest and did the mental math of which bit was next, trying your best not to look nervous in front of Na PD, when you felt eyes on you.
"Writer-nim looks nervous," Seungkwan teased with a mischevious grin, but just loud enough for the members to hear.
You froze as all twelve pair of eyes turned toward you. "I— I’m not nervous,” you insisted, hugging the cards tighter.
He tilted his head, grin tugging at his lips. “Then why are you holding those cards like they’re about to run away?”
Some of the members chuckled, but his eyes were on you, teasing without pressing too hard or being mean.
Your cheeks warmed under all the attention, and you ducked your head. “I’m… just focused,” you said, barely above a whisper.
Seungkwan leaned sideways on his chair, still grinning, his voice lowering just enough so it was only for you: “Focused is good. But if your hands keep shaking, the cue cards will fly away and then we’ll all know the truth.”
You looked down, realising your knuckles had gone white around the cards. A quiet laugh escaped before you could stop it.
“There it is,” he said, pointing at your smile like it was proof. “Better. Much better.”
You blinked, surprised at how gentle his tone was now. He leaned even closer now, "Don't worry," giving you a small wink as he said, "if you mess up, I'll cover for you on camera,"
You blinked. "Huh?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, “Because you look like the kind of person who'd cover for me off camera.”
And just like that, he leaned back in his chair, sliding effortlessly into Mingyu and Seokmin’s conversation as if he hadn’t just thrown you off balance completely. But his eyes kept flicking back to you, like muscle memory, quick and unspoken.
That was Seungkwan for you. Sharp when he wanted to be, gentle when you least expected it. There weren’t sparks yet — not quite. But the air shifted, subtle and quiet, like a wire being laid between you, waiting for the right moment to catch.
The second time you saw him was for NaNa Tour. And as expected, it started with chaos again.
The knock on the hotel room door was barely a warning before you and Na PD barged in, camera crew at your heels.
"Guys! We have to go now! What are you doing?" He announced, loud and triumphant.
The room erupted. Mingyu sat on the edge of the bed, hair sticking up like he'd lost a fight with a pillow, blinking blearily at the camera with his mouth open. DIno yelped, diving under the blanket like a kid caught sneaking snacks past curfew. Joshua, ever composed, set down his glass of wine with a calm smile of someone who'd expected this.
And then there was Seungkwan.
Cross-legged on the carpet in sweatpants and white t-shirt, mid-laugh at something Dino had said, cheeks slightly pink from drinking. The second he spotted the crew, his expression flipped instantly into mock indignition.
"Ahh, PD-nim!" he shouted, his eyes flickering to you for a second and quickly covering his bare face with his hands, "Do you enjoy shortening my life-span like this?".
Everyone laughed, and you couldn't help but notice how quickly he turned the panic into comedy, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he played it up. His timing was so sharp it made even Na PD grin.
And then he looked at you again.
Just a flicker, quick enough that no one else noticed — but enough to make your stomach flip. His hands still covered half his face, grin tugging at the corners, eyes sparkling like he was checking if you were laughing too.
You were. You tried to hide it, but the smile slipped out anyway. That seemed to satisfy him. He dropped his hands with a flourish, yanked Dino’s blanket away like a magician, and the room erupted once again.
But even in the chaos, you couldn’t shake the thought: Boo Seungkwan wasn’t just funny. He was magnetic. And perhaps a bit cute.
By the time you shepherded the members toward the bus waiting outside, it felt like wrangling a pack of very large, very loud kids on a school trip. Members juggling passports, staff shouting about boarding times and Na PD weaving though them like a man on a mission. You tried to keep up, dragging your suitcase with one hand and clutching your folder of schedules with the other.
"Y/n-ssi," someone called.
You turned—and nearly ran into Seungkwan. His hair was still a little messy from being woken up too soon, but his t-shirt was swapped for a button-down that made him look far too put together and too good-looking for the hour.
“That thing’s too heavy for you,” he said, nodding at your suitcase.
You blinked. “I can manage—”
“Mm. That’s not convincing.” With no hesitation, he tugged the handle from your grip, his hand brushing yours for the briefest second. “I’ll take it. Writer-nim will be busy enough keeping us in line.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He flashed a grin, but there was no teasing edge this time. Just matter-of-fact kindness. “But I want to.”
And before you could argue, he was already wheeling it smoothly towards the bus, chatting to Dino about seat assignments like it was nothing.
At the airport, cameras trailed behind as the members spilled into the terminal, Na PD narrating each stumble and complaint. You focused on keeping track of cue cards and logistics, but every now and then, you caught Seungkwan falling back in step beside you.
“You look less nervous than earlier,” he said once, glancing at your tight grip on your clipboard.
You huffed softly. “That’s because I don’t have twelve pairs of eyes staring at me right now.”
“Correction,” he said, leaning slightly closer, lowering his voice. “You have one. Mine.”
Your head whipped toward him, but he was already smirking at the row of vending machines like he hadn’t just said that.
On the plane, you tucked yourself by the window seat with your laptop, already preparing notes for the first day of filming. The members filtered in noisily, claiming seats, teasing each other. Seungkwan passed by on his way to the back.
“Workaholic,” he murmured under his breath when he spotted you typing.
You glanced up, startled. “Excuse me?”
He leaned down slightly, one hand braced on the seat in front of you, his grin lopsided. “It’s an eleven-hour flight, Y/N. Try sleeping instead of stressing. You’ll need the energy when Na PD drags us all over Italy tomorrow.”
And just like that, he was gone again, disappearing down the aisle before you could retort. But for the rest of the flight, you couldn’t help hearing his voice in your head.
By the time you landed in Italy, night had swallowed the city. Everyone was exhausted, stumbling into the lobby with half-closed eyes. Most of the staff hurried to set up the cameras, but you slipped away briefly, heading to the nearest late-night deli for the staff and members—you knew most of them hadn’t eaten properly since boarding.
When you returned with the bags in your arms, tired but relieved, you didn’t expect anyone to notice. But Seungkwan did.
He took one of the bags from you without a word, brushing your hand in the process. His brows furrowed. “You bought food for everyone?”
You nodded sheepishly. “You guys have been working all day. It was the least I could do.”
For a moment, he didn’t quip, didn’t joke. He just looked at you — eyes softer, mouth tugging into something gentler.
Then he cleared his throat, saying lightly, "You're gonna make the rest of us look bad, you know,".
Before you could respond, Dino shouted his name and Seungkwan turned, raising the bag like a trophy, shouting, "Guys, writer-nim bought us food!".
The members perked instantly, voices overlapping with grateful cheers as they ran towards you. What you didn't notice was the way Seungkwan's gaze lingered on you, as though he was memorising the way you looked in that moment — arms full of snacks, cheeks a little flushed from running, smiling shyly under the sudden flood of gratitude from eleven voices.
It was something he never felt before. He just felt… pulled towards you, in a way he couldn’t quite name yet.
Day 1
8:00
The morning air in Rome was brisk, sunlight catching on terracotta rooftops as the bus dropped everyone near the centre. Cameras trailed after the group, Na PD acting as the tour guide.
You stuck close to the other staff, clipboard in hand, while the members spilled into the cobblestone streets — loud, excited, pointing at everything from the espresso bars to the laundry strung above.
Seungkwan drifted somewhere in the middle, laughing at Mingyu’s mispronounced Italian, but when you paused to squint at the street sign, trying to match it with your note, his shadow fell over your shoulder.
“Don’t tell me we’re late already,” he teased, leaning just enough to peek at your clipboard.
You shifted it away. “We’re on time.”
“Then why the frown?” His grin was small, playful. “Tourists are supposed to look happy.”
“I’m not a tourist,” you reminded him.
He hummed. “Then I’ll make sure you enjoy it anyway.”
Before you could ask what he meant, Na PD called everyone to line up at the Trevi Fountain.
-
The marble gleamed in the sun, water rushing loud enough to drown half the chatter. Mingyu and Seokmin threw their coins with dramatic flairs, shouting wishes they refused to reveal.
You lingered at the edge, scribbling notes. That’s when a hand appeared in your line of sight, holding out a coin.
“You’re not escaping,” Seungkwan said, his eyes fixed on you.
“I don’t need to,” you murmured. “This trip isn’t about me.”
He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “That’s boring. You’re in Rome. You should at least make one wish.”
“I’ll leave the wishes to you guys.”
He studied you for a beat longer than necessary, then slipped the coin into your palm without warning. His fingers lingered just a second too long. “Then I’ll lend you mine. Just for today.”
You blinked, caught off guard. But he only grinned and turned back to the fountain to cheer when Soonyoung nearly fell in trying to pose.
But you held that coin tighter than you meant to.
-
16:00
By afternoon, the group was bundled into a coach headed for Tuscany. The sun dipped low, fields of gold and green blurring past the windows. Members dozed, bickered, sang.
You tucked yourself near the front with your laptop. A shadow fell over you, and Seungkwan dropped into the empty seat beside you.
“You’re working again,” he said, glancing at your screen.
You sighed, “Someone has to.”
He didn’t tease. Just leaned back, letting the hum of the bus fill the silence. After a moment, he added, softer, “Don’t miss the view because of us. You’ll regret it.”
It wasn’t flirty, not even joking. But when you glanced sideways, his gaze was on the countryside — yet his shoulder brushed yours every time the bus turned. Neither of you moved away.
Across the aisle, Soonyoung who was pretending to be asleep, caught Jun’s eye and grinned knowingly.
-
By the time the bus pulled into the gravel driveway of the Tuscan villa, the sun had already melted into the hills, leaving streaks of rose-gold across the sky. Everyone piled out, stretching sore limbs and groaning about the long ride.
You followed with your clipboard tucked under your arm, making notes even as the crew carried equipment. The villa loomed warm and rustic, lanterns glowing against the stone walls, the countryside stretching endlessly behind it.
“Wahhh…” DK’s voice echoed dramatically. “It looks like a drama set!”
Jun twirled in the courtyard. “We should film a historical romance here.”
While the others scattered, laughing and claiming beds, you nearly tripped at the entryway and the stack of notes in your arms slid onto the floor.
“Careful,” Seungkwan’s voice said. He bent down without hesitation, scooping up the pages you dropped. His fingers brushed yours as he handed them back.
You smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He slung his own bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. “You’ve got enough to worry about.”
It wasn’t much — just small words, a small gesture. But Mingyu, passing by with two duffel bags, caught it and smirked. Jeonghan’s eyebrow arched. Joshua gave the tiniest smile before turning away.
-
17:00
Later, when everyone gathered in the kitchen to cook, chaos reigned. Oil splattered, pots clanged, and arguments about seasoning filled the air.
You rolled your sleeves up to help, but before you could even reach for a cutting board, Seungkwan slid in front of you, blocking your path with a wooden spoon in hand.
“Uh-uh,” he said firmly, eyes narrowing playfully. “Writer-nim is off duty in the kitchen.”
You laughed. “I can at least chop vegetables—”
“Sit,” he ordered, softer this time. He nudged a chair out with his foot and gave you a look that made it hard to argue. “You’ve been chasing after us since morning. Let us handle this.”
True to his word, every time a dish was ready, he was the one sliding a plate toward you. “Eat before the hyungs inhale it,” he’d mutter, snatching the serving spoons back from Mingyu with a glare. When you hesitated, worried about taking too much, he piled extra onto your plate anyway, his expression brooking no argument.
Across the kitchen, Jeonghan caught the exchange and smirked knowingly. Vernon elbowed Joshua, who only raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face.
-
21:00
Dinner wound down with laughter echoing against the villa walls, and eventually the group spilled onto the terrace, glasses of wine in hand, the Tuscan night spread wide and starry above.
You leaned against the stone railing, notebook forgotten at your side, just enjoying the quiet hum of conversation. Seungkwan drifted over, his sleeve brushing yours whenever either of you shifted.
For a while, he didn’t say anything. Just stood there, sipping his drink, eyes on the stars. Then, quietly, so only you could hear:
“You look less tired now.”
You let a soft laugh, "Do i?".
“You do,” he said, still watching the sky. “Earlier you looked like you were carrying everyone’s schedules on your back. Now…” He gave a little shrug. “You look lighter.”
The words weren’t flirty, not exactly, but something about the softness in his tone and the fact that he noticed made your chest feel tight. You ducked your head, trying to hide your smile.
Behind you, Jeonghan sipped his wine with a knowing glance. Seokmin elbowed Mingyu, who grinned widely, and even Joshua shook his head with the faintest laugh.
Neither you nor Seungkwan noticed.
To you, it was just conversation. To him, it was just honesty.
But to everyone else? It was obvious. Boo Seungkwan and you were already orbiting each other. And you were both the last ones to see it.
Day 2
6:00
The hot air balloon morning felt like something out of a movie. The sky was just beginning to turn gold, cool air brushing against your skin as you checked that the cameras were rolling and the members were buckled in.
You weren’t supposed to go, but Na PD had tossed you the responsibility. “Make sure they don't fly away,” he’d said, as though wrangling Seventeen in the air was an easy task.
You gripped the edge a little too tightly, knuckles white — but when Seungkwan glanced over — the morning sun painting his profile so perfectly, you pasted on what you hoped was a calm smile.
“Not scared?” he asked casually, though there was a spark in his eyes.
You scoffed. “Of course not. It’s… beautiful.”
His gaze dropped to your hands clamped on the basket. “Mm. Then why are you strangling the poor balloon?”
Your cheeks heated. “I’m just—holding on.”
He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Writer-nim, if you fall, I promise I’ll catch you. Though I’m not sure how, considering we’re floating a thousand feet in the air.”
You bit back a laugh, shooting him a sideways glare. “You’re not helping.”
But the truth was — he was. His grin, his teasing tone, the way he exaggerated leaning over the edge just to distract you. Slowly, your shoulders eased, your grip loosened.
When the balloon drifted higher, he let out a soft whistle, eyes shining. “You know… I think this is the first time I’ve been somewhere this quiet. Except for your heart right now, it’s pounding so loud I can hear it.”
Your jaw dropped, but he only smirked, clearly pleased at getting under your skin.
-
16:00
By afternoon, you’d regrouped with the winery team. Rows of vines stretched under the Tuscan sun, green leaves whispering in the breeze. Seungkwan, energized at first, slowly wilted under the heat, though he kept cracking jokes for the camera. You noticed the way his shoulders slumped when the staff called for a break.
So you slipped away. Found a tiny café attached to the winery. After much pointing and gesturing, the barista handed you an iced americano — a rare find in the land of espresso.
When you returned, Seungkwan was sitting on a stone ledge, fanning himself with a brochure. His eyes widened when you placed the cup in his hands.
“Are you—” He blinked, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “You found this? Here?”
You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Thought you could use it. You looked tired.”
He stared for a beat too long, then took a sip and groaned dramatically, head tipping back. “Y/N, you do realise… I have to marry you now, right?”
Your eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
He raised the cup like a toast, smirking. “Who else would go to war with espresso culture just to find me this? It’s basically a proposal. You’re stuck with me.”
You laughed despite yourself, cheeks warm. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously grateful,” he corrected, eyes crinkling. “Seriously… thanks. You saved me.”
What you didn’t notice was how his gaze lingered even after you turned away, the cup cooling in his hands while his chest felt strangely warm.
-
18:00
The air was buzzing with music and laughter at the wine festival, stalls lined the cobblestone streets, string lights glowing overhead.
Na PD gave the crew the rare green light to relax a little. Which meant wine glasses clinked, the members wandered from booth to booth, and even the staff got nudged into joining in.
You were walking behind the group, checking headcounts like a teacher on a field trip, when Seungkwan fell back to match your pace. His hands were tucked in his pockets, shoulders brushing yours every few steps.
“You’re working even now,” he said, side-eyeing your clipboard. “At this rate, your job description is just ‘Seventeen babysitter.’”
You smirked. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get lost.”
“Me? Lost? Please.” He gestured grandly at the busy square. “You’d miss me after five seconds.”
You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, the others called out for him to join in a street game. He went easily, slipping into the crowd with that easy laugh of his — but not without tossing a glance back at you first, like making sure you’d still be there when he returned.
-
Dinner was at a restaurant perched right in front of the festival square. The group sat at long wooden tables, locals mingling with cameras as plates of pasta and glasses of wine kept coming.
The mood was loud, happy, messy in the best way. You tried to sip slowly, but Na PD urged staff to “just enjoy tonight”. So Seungkwan nudged a glass towards you. “Writer-nim, it’s research. When in Italy, right?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”
“Not drunk,” he said smoothly, eyes glinting. “Just… relaxed. You deserve it.”
So you drank. The wine was sweet, deceptively light. You laughed easier, cheeks warm, and when Joshua poured you another, you didn’t protest.
Seungkwan leaned close at one point, his breath brushing your ear. “So, tell me again. What’s your tolerance?”
You waved him off. “I’m fine.”
"You keep pretending you're a heavy weight," he shook his head with a soft laugh, sliding your half-empty glass a little further away, "But your face says otherwise,"
You tried to protest, "I can handle it—"
He chuckled, low and amused, "Y/N, you're hiccuping between sentences. That's not handling."
You glared at him, cheeks hot and slightly pouting, "You're insufferable,"
"And you're cute," he shot back without hesitation, the words slipping out before he could catch it. His own eyes widened a fraction, then quickly smirked to cover it up, "I mean...in a tragic, lightweight kind of way,"
For a second you just stared at him, blinking, wondering if maybe it was the alcohol playing tricks on your ears. He cleared his throat a little too quickly and took a sip from his glass, his hand reaching over to ruffle your hair like it was nothing.
You swatted his hand away half-heartedly, but when you glanced up at him again, he was already sneaking a look at you. The two of you held each other’s gaze for the briefest moment — then both looked away at the same time, shy smiles tugging at your lips.
It didn’t go unnoticed. Across the table, Jeonghan let out a low whistle. “Aigoo, what is this?”
Dokyeom grinned, leaning in dramatically. “Our Kwannie is really enjoying dinner tonight~”
Laughter rippled through the table, the members exchanging knowing looks while you buried your face in your glass. Seungkwan just shook his head, cheeks pink, trying to laugh it off — but that tiny, quiet smile stayed, even as the conversation moved on
-
Back at the villa, your cheeks were still warm, your head light even after a short break. Na PD tasked you with gathering the members for late-night games. Clipboard in hand, you knocked on doors one by one.
Your knuckles rapped gently against Seungkwan’s door. “Seungkwan-ssi? Time for the—”
The door swung open mid-sentence.
And there he was. Hair damp from a shower, t-shirt half pulled over his head, sweatpants hanging loose on his hips. His eyes widened the same moment yours did.
“Uh—” You froze, words dying instantly in your throat.
He tugged the shirt down quickly, clearing his throat like it could erase what just happened. “Writer-nim,” he said, voice a little rougher than usual. “You’re… early.”
Your face burned hotter than the Tuscan sun. “I—I was just—Na PD said—”
He leaned against the doorframe, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk he couldn’t quite hide. “Relax. It’s fine.” Then, softer, just for you: "But careful, Writer-nim. You'll give yourself away if you keep looking at me look that."
Your face burned. “I—I wasn’t— I just came to—”
“To tell me I look good?” His voice was playful, but his ears betrayed him, flushing red.
Before you could stammer out a reply, Mingyu’s voice boomed from the hall. “YAH! Stop flirting and get downstairs, Boo Seungkwan!”
Laughter erupted from behind doors. Dino’s cackle, Jeonghan’s sly “Ooooh~,” even Na PD’s chuckle somewhere down the hall.
Seungkwan groaned, dragging a hand over his face, but his eyes flicked to yours one last time — softer now, almost shy. “Go on,” he murmured. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
You walked away and bolted down the stairs, pulse racing, clipboard clutched too tight.
Behind his closed door, Seungkwan leaned against it, towel slipping forgotten from his fingers. His heart thundered like the festival drums still echoing in the night.
Something had changed. And maybe everyone else already saw it — except for the two of you.
Day 3
The air at breakfast was lighter than usual, though you couldn’t quite look at Seungkwan straight. Every time your eyes brushed his, your chest recalled last night’s accident at his door — his bare shoulders, the way he’d smirked before you darted away.
He, meanwhile, was still cracking jokes for the cameras, but his gaze lingered longer than it should’ve whenever you crossed the room with notes or handed out directions. He didn’t even realize he was doing it until Jihoon elbowed him. “You’re spacing out.”
“I’m not,” Seungkwan hissed back, straightening. Jihoon just hummed, unconvinced.
-
When the four of them — Seungkwan, Mingyu, Jun, Jihoon — headed out with you trailing behind, the air was playful, but also an unspoken tension between you and a certain someone.
As the group climbed the medieval towers, Mingyu crouched beside you, offering a steady hand down a step. “Careful,” he teased, flashing a grin. “You should just stick by me today. Call me oppa and I’ll make sure you don’t trip.”
You laughed, not even thinking twice. “Fine, oppa.”
Mingyu lit up like he’d won a prize and the members hollered, clapping like you’d just dropped the punchline of the year. But in the corner of your eye you caught Seungkwan, arms folded, jaw tight. He laughed with the others, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Later, when the group split up to wander shops, he drifted to your side almost without realizing.
“So,” he said casually, hands in pockets, “you can call him oppa that easily?”
You blinked at him. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” he muttered. Then, lower: “Just makes me wonder why you don't call me oppa.”
Your steps faltered, heat rushing to your cheeks. “…You want me to?” His smirk was quick, covering his nerves. “I wouldn’t hate it.”
-
16:00
Back at the villa, everyone gathered in the dining room, cameras off for once. Laughter filled the air as wine poured freely. After dinner, Mingyu and Myungho roped you into their “performance,” spinning you dramatically as part of their gag routine.
The members roared with laughter, but Seungkwan’s smile slipped again. He clapped, but his foot tapped under the table, eyes fixed on you.
When you passed Dino later to clear dishes, he whispered, “Y/nnie, Seungkwan-hyung looked jealous.”
You scoffed, whispering back, “He did not.”
Dino grinned mischievously. “Ask him yourself.”
So when you brushed past Seungkwan on the way to the kitchen, you leaned down and whispered jokingly, “They think you were jealous.”
His head snapped toward you, eyes sharp, lips curling slowly. “…And what if I was?”
You froze, pulse hammering, that wasn't an answer you were expecting, but before you could react, Myungho called his name and the moment was swallowed in noise again.
-
22:00
The villa was buzzing even after the talent show. Laughter spilled from the kitchen, members pouring more drinks, snacks laid out across the counter. You stayed near the sink, half-torn between your staff responsibilities and the warmth of the moment, smiling at the boys bickering over card games.
Seungkwan was at the center of it, as always. His cheeks were flushed, lips pink from wine, eyes crinkled in laughter. He leaned into the table, one arm propping up his chin as Mingyu teased him.
But something was off. You noticed it when you passed behind him to grab another stack of plates — the way his glass clinked onto the table just a beat too deliberately, the way he sighed, slouching back like the alcohol had hit harder than it should have.
“Hyung’s gone,” Dino snickered, pointing. “Look at him, he’s red already.”
Seungkwan waved his hand lazily, eyelids fluttering as he leaned his head onto his arm. “I’m… fine…” he slurred, dragging the word out.
The others roared with laughter. You frowned. Something didn’t add up.
When the night wound down and members stumbled off toward their rooms, Seungkwan stayed slouched at the table, lips pressed together in a faint pout. You sighed, setting down your notebook. “Come on,” you murmured, tugging gently at his sleeve. “You should sleep.”
He let you pull him up, leaning just enough of his weight on you to make your heart skip. His arm around your shoulder as you guided him down the hallway, muttering under your breath about how you always seemed to end up babysitting.
In his room, you tugged the blanket down and coaxed him to sit. He flopped onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. “You’re so bossy,” he mumbled, his eyes half-lidded.
“Someone has to be,” you whispered, pulling the blanket over him.
And then — his hand shot out, curling gently around your wrist. You froze, staring down at him. His eyes weren’t hazy anymore. They were sharp. Awake. Watching you.
“Got you,” he murmured, lips quirking.
Your heart jumped to your throat. “You— you’re not drunk?”
His thumb brushed against your wrist, “Water,” he admitted softly, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I switched it before you sat down.”
You stared, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You— you made me drag you here?!”
“Mm.” His voice dropped, lower now. “Wanted to see if you’d take care of me.”
The room felt suddenly smaller, quieter. His hand was still warm on your wrist. You tried to tug away, but his grip tightened just enough.
“You looked worried,” he added, eyes softening. “It was… cute.”
You swallowed hard, pulse racing. “You’re impossible.”
He finally let you go, flopping back into the pillow with a smug grin. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
But as you slipped out, flustered beyond belief, you caught sight of his glass on the desk. You picked it up out of habit — and the faint, clean smell of water confirmed it.
From inside the room, you heard him chuckle lowly to himself. And you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest, no matter how much you tried to will it away
Day 4
The villa buzzed with groggy voices and clattering dishes the next morning. Members dragged themselves to breakfast in various states of disarray, some still half-asleep, some already loud.
You moved quietly through the kitchen, topping up pitchers of juice and making sure everyone had what they needed. It was easier to focus on tasks than think about the night before—how Seungkwan had fooled you, the way his hand had held your wrist just a little too long, the softness in his eyes when he’d said you looked cute.
You’d barely gotten a chance to sit when a familiar voice cut in.
“Writer-nim,” Seungkwan said, sliding into the chair across from you with his plate, voice too casual. “Did you sleep well?”
You met his gaze, wary. “Better than some people who pretended to be drunk.”
His grin spread slow, smug. “Ah, so you were worried.”
Your cheeks heated. “I was tricked.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, tone dipping low enough for only you. “Still. You took care of me.” His smile softened, almost shy for a beat. “I liked that.”
Your chest fluttered, but before you could reply, Mingyu slid between you with a loud, “Seungkwan-ah, pass the bread!” and the moment scattered like crumbs on the table.
-
The group headed out toward the coast. Cameras caught their jokes and clumsy attempts at sightseeing, but beneath it all, something between you and Seungkwan had shifted.
He stayed closer than before—falling into step beside you, reaching to steady you when cobblestones turned uneven, quietly pointing out things he thought you’d like. His words weren’t always flirty, but they carried weight: “Don’t forget sunscreen.” “Careful, step’s higher here.” “Did you eat enough at lunch?”
The others noticed.
“Kwannie’s acting like a tour guide,” Hoshi teased, slinging an arm over Myungho's shoulder.
Joshua chuckled softly. “More like a boyfriend.”
You flushed and pretended not to hear, while Seungkwan tried to laugh it off, but his ears turned scarlet.
-
The villa had gone quiet. The last of the laughter had faded upstairs, leaving only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the chirp of crickets through the open window.
You padded into the kitchen, thinking you’d sneak a glass of water before heading to bed. But you weren’t alone.
Seungkwan stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp from a shower. He was stirring lazily at a glass, gaze fixed on the moonlight pooling over the tiled floor.
He looked up when you entered. For a moment, neither of you said anything — the silence oddly heavy, like it was waiting.
“You can’t sleep either?” you asked softly.
He shook his head, lips tugging into the faintest smile. “Too many voices in my head. Hard to turn them off.” He hesitated, then added, “You?”
You nodded. “Same.”
You joined him by the counter, close enough that your arms almost brushed. The quiet stretched, thick and warm. His fingers drummed against the glass, slower than usual, his whole presence quieter, stripped of the joking edge he carried during the day.
“Y/N,” he said suddenly, voice low. “Why do you keep doing this?”
You frowned. “Doing what?”
He turned then, really looking at you. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to solve something. “Taking care of us. Of me. Buying food when you’re exhausted, chasing us around all day, pretending you’re fine when you’re not.” His jaw tightened. “Do you even know what it does to me?”
Your chest tightened. “Seungkwan…”
“Oppa,” he corrected, a little sharper than he meant to.
Your breath hitched. The air shifted immediately. His eyes darkened, his shoulders stiff, and you realised he wasn’t teasing this time.
Slowly, you whispered, “…Seungkwan oppa.”
That was all it took. His restraint shattered. He closed the gap in two strides, caging you gently against the counter, his hand cupping your jaw as his lips found yours in a kiss that was rougher, needier than either of you expected.
You gasped, your hands instinctively clutching his shirt, and he groaned softly against your mouth, deepening the kiss like he’d been starving for it. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter in one swift motion, his lips never leaving yours.
“God,” he whispered against your lips, forehead pressed to yours. “I can’t— I’ve been holding this in since Rome. And then last night—” His hand trembled against your waist. “I can’t act like I don’t feel it anymore.”
Your chest swelled painfully, relief and want tangled together. “You’re not the only one,” you whispered back, eyes burning with lust as he captured your lips again.
The kitchen door creaked open.
“Hyung?” Dino’s voice piped up, confused. “Why are you— OH MY GOD.”
You both jumped apart, faces flushed, but Dino was already sprinting down the hall screaming, “EVERYONE, THEY’RE MAKING OUT IN THE KITCHEN!”
Groans and laughter erupted upstairs, doors slamming open, voices overlapping.
“Finally!” Mingyu’s voice boomed. “I knew it,” Jeonghan cackled. Joshua’s calm voice cut through the chaos: “Try not to traumatize the maknae, please.”
Seungkwan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. His other hand grabbed yours firmly. “Come on,” he muttered, tugging you toward the hallway.
“Where are we—”
“To my room,” he gritted out, cheeks scarlet but determination written all over his face. “If they’re going to tease, might as well give them something to talk about.”
The teasing followed you all the way down the hall — wolf whistles, chants of “Oppa! Oppa!” — but the way his hand gripped yours, steady and sure, drowned it all out.
Breakfast the next morning was already loud when you and Seungkwan walked in together. The table went quiet for exactly three seconds before Soonyoung shot up. “Wooo! Look who finally came down!”
“Oppa and Y/N!” DK banged his spoon like a drum, grinning ear to ear.
Your face burned. Seungkwan groaned, “I hate all of you,” though his hand still found yours under the table.
Dino pointed with his chopsticks, grinning. “See? I told you hyung was jealous last night!”
Mingyu leaned back, smirking. “He’s been jealous since she called me oppa.”
“Don’t start,” Seungkwan muttered, ears scarlet.
Jun clapped his hands like a judge. “It’s official — the NaNa Tour just turned R-rated.” The whole table howled, Seungkwan burying his face in his hands as you hid behind your glass.
Na PD set down his coffee, shaking his head knowingly. “You two really thought you were subtle? Everyone knew. You were just the last to notice.”
The boys roared again, but before you could shrink further, DK bounded up and wrapped you in a bear hug. “Welcome to the family, Y/N!”
Laughter filled the room. And under the noise, Seungkwan leaned close, voice just for you. “They can tease all they want. I don’t care. Not as long as you’re here. With me.”
And with that, the wire that had been quietly laid since the very first cue card — finally sparked into something bright, real, and undeniable.
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