𐙚 “Think fast, I’m a random girl” with Treasure 𐙚
Request
Genre: Flufffff
Hyunsuk -
He’s standing in the kitchen, hoodie sleeves shoved up, a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, humming something under his breath while stirring instant ramen like he’s making a five-star meal.
You creep up behind him, arms crossed, your voice light and casual.
“Think fast,” you say, “I’m a random girl.”
He stops stirring. Doesn’t turn around right away.
You see the way his head tilts a little, processing. Then he slowly sets the bowl down, turns, and leans back against the counter with that unreadable face he gets when he’s being serious.
“Nah,” he says simply. “I’d never fall for that.”
You blink. “Why not?”
His eyes flick over you like he’s about to say something stupid, but what comes out is unexpectedly soft.
“Because I only flirt with the girl I’m in love with.”
The room goes quiet for a second. You weren’t expecting him to take it that seriously — but he does. He’s still looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like your little game didn’t even rattle him.
Then a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“But…” he adds, taking a lazy step forward, “if you really wanna pretend…”
His hand slides around your waist, and he leans in close enough for his breath to brush your skin.
“I can still make you fall for me again.”
And suddenly, you’re the one who forgot this was supposed to be a test.
Jihoon -
He’s mid-scroll on the couch, zoned in on his phone with one leg bouncing and an open bag of chips tucked between his knees. One AirPod’s in. He doesn’t even notice you walk in.
Which makes it even better.
You clear your throat dramatically, hands on your hips.
“Think fast,” you say with a smirk, “I’m a random girl.”
His head snaps up so fast you hear his neck crack. He stares at you like you just told him the house was on fire.
“YOU’RE WHAT?!”
You take a slow step toward him, raising your voice a little, sweet and fake:
“I said—think fast, I’m a random girl.”
Jihoon immediately launches a couch pillow at you like it’s self-defense. “GET AWAY FROM ME, STRANGER!” he shouts. “I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND SHE’S SCARY AS HELL!”
You’re wheezing by the time he dives across the couch like you’ve cursed him. One sock flies off in the process.
“I KNEW YOU WERE PLANNING SOMETHING!” he yells from behind a throw blanket. “I SAW THE TIKTOKS! I’M NOT FALLING FOR IT. I VALUE MY LIFE.”
You’re doubled over laughing, trying to breathe. He peeks out from behind the pillow fort he just built.
“…Wait. You are her, right?”
“I am her, Jihoon.”
He glares. “Don’t do that. My soul literally left my body. I thought I was about to get stabbed on live TV.”
You toss a chip at him. He catches it with his mouth and says, “Still passed though.”
Debatable.
Yoshi -
You find him in his usual spot on the edge of the bed, headphones around his neck, sketchbook balanced on one knee while he’s zoning in on some little scribble you’re probably not allowed to see yet.
He doesn’t notice you come in. Doesn’t even look up when you move closer.
You clear your throat. “Think fast,” you say smoothly, “I’m a random girl.”
He pauses for a split second—like, exactly one beat—then flips the page of his sketchbook without so much as a glance your way.
“Okay,” he says flatly, “then leave.”
You blink. “What?”
“You’re a random girl,” he says again, still not looking up. “And my girlfriend doesn’t let random girls sit on her bed.”
You stare at him in stunned silence while he keeps drawing like he just reported someone to HR. Calm. Cold. Unbothered.
You finally drop the act, huffing, “Yoshi. It’s me.”
He finally glances up—expression softening only a little—and shrugs.
“I know. But that was a test, right?”
You nod slowly.
He turns another page in his sketchbook and mutters, “Passed with flying colors. And I didn’t even stop shading.”
You can’t decide if you’re impressed… or slightly afraid.
Junkyu -
He’s on the floor in the living room, curled up in a hoodie that’s swallowing him whole, legs stretched out, and your shared snack stash spread out like a picnic. He’s halfway through a bag of gummies, laser-focused on a cartoon playing on TV, completely zoned out.
You walk over casually, hovering in front of him like a stranger at a bus stop.
“Think fast,” you say lightly, “I’m a random girl.”
He looks up at you.
Blanks.
Blinks.
Then… smiles?
“Oh… hi?”
You raise an eyebrow, waiting for more, but he just kind of stares at you like he’s trying to remember if he knows you from middle school or something.
And then—out of nowhere—he leans up and pecks your cheek.
“Wait—what?” you say, laughing. “You kissed a random girl?”
He immediately freezes. Like, full body lock-up. His soul might’ve left his body.
“…Wait. WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“I said, ‘Think fast, I’m a random girl.’”
“Oh my god,” he breathes, backing away like he just committed a crime. “No. Wait. Hold on. That doesn’t count. You—you tricked me.”
“You kissed me.”
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE YOU!!” he panics, pulling his hood over his head like it’ll protect him. “I didn’t hear the first part! You—your voice—sounded so familiar!”
You’re crying from laughing at this point, while he flops onto the carpet and dramatically groans into a pillow.
“I’m a good boyfriend,” he whines. “I swear. I just have slow ears.”
Jaehyuk -
He’s in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, trying to figure out how to cut a mango without butchering it completely. You hear him humming to himself, soft and off-key, clearly proud of his little fruit-cutting mission.
You lean on the counter, watching him for a second before striking.
“Think fast,” you say sweetly. “I’m a random girl.”
His head pops up instantly, eyes bright, knife still in hand.
“Oh hey,” he says without missing a beat, “you’re really pretty. Do you want some mango?”
You blink.
He smiles. It’s big. It’s sincere. Like you’re actually some girl he just met.
“I’m Jaehyuk, by the way.”
You cross your arms. “You’re offering fruit to a random girl?”
“Yeah?” he says, tilting his head. “Sharing food is good manners.”
“…Babe.”
His whole face drops.
“Wait—BABE?!”
You just stare. He slowly lowers the mango like it betrayed him.
“NO. WAIT. YOU WERE PRETENDING?!”
“I said, ‘Think fast, I’m a random girl.’”
“I thought you were just being cute!” he cries, hands in his hair. “Oh my god. I flirted with a fake girl. I fed her. I smiled. I gave her mango. I’m a monster.”
You’re laughing so hard you have to sit down.
He brings you a mango slice anyway and mumbles, “This is an apology snack. Please don’t break up with me.”
Asahi -
He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with his laptop open, headphones half on, and a digital art file glowing on the screen. Focused. Zoned in. Vibes immaculate.
You tiptoe in, clearing your throat with fake confidence.
“Asahi,” you say, voice sweet and smooth, “think fast. I’m a random girl.”
He doesn’t even blink.
He just slowly turns his head to look at you, expression blank. Then:
“…Okay?”
You pause. “That’s it?”
He shrugs. “What do you want me to do? Scream?”
You step closer. “I’m a random girl, Sahi. You don’t know me. I could be trying to flirt.”
He stares at you.
Long pause.
“…Why would you say that in your own voice, wearing your own hoodie?” he asks, completely serious. “You smell like my shampoo.”
You blink. “That’s… not the point.”
He tilts his head like you just failed the test.
“You walked into our apartment. Unlocked the door. Said your full sentence in perfect Korean. And you’re wearing my socks.”
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.
He nods slowly, turning back to his laptop. “Exactly.”
You sigh, collapsing onto the couch while he calmly returns to editing like you didn’t just get reverse tested.
From across the room, he calls out, “You wanna pretend next time, use a different shampoo.”
Doyoung -
He’s in the corner of the room folding laundry, doing that thing where he folds each shirt with way too much precision like he’s building a house. His phone is playing music on low, and his brow is furrowed like someone gave him bonus points for being neat.
You lean in the doorway, watching for the perfect moment.
“Think fast,” you say casually, “I’m a random girl.”
He freezes mid-fold.
Like, mid-shirt-in-the-air freeze.
He slowly turns to you with the most offended expression you’ve ever seen.
“A random what?”
“A random girl,” you repeat, trying not to laugh. “You don’t know me. I just walked up to you.”
He blinks.
Then points to the folded laundry. “Do you know how in love someone has to be to fold someone else’s pajama pants like this?”
You raise an eyebrow. “So you wouldn’t flirt with me?”
“No.”
“Even if I looked this cute?”
He looks you up and down.
“Especially if you look this cute,” he says, crossing his arms. “You’re the exact type I’d avoid. Too pretty. Dangerous.”
You snort. “So you’d run away?”
“I’d sprint. And text my girlfriend while running. With proof.”
You just stare.
Then he tilts his head and adds, “And if I didn’t know you? You’d still fail the test.”
“…How?”
“Because strangers don’t know my laundry routine.”
You realize he’s dead serious.
You also realize you definitely just got passed with honors.
Haruto -
You catch him standing in the hallway, hoodie draped over his shoulders, phone in hand, lazily waiting for something to load. He’s leaning against the wall like it’s a photoshoot and he’s the model they overpaid for — all nonchalant, long legs, and too much attitude for someone doing absolutely nothing.
You stroll up to him, pretending not to know him.
“Think fast,” you say with a playful smirk. “I’m a random girl.”
He doesn’t even flinch. Just slowly turns his head, eyes dropping to your lips like this is not his first fake-flirty encounter.
He tucks his phone into his hoodie pocket and says, flat and casual,
“Alright. What’s your name?”
You blink. “Huh?”
He steps a little closer. “I mean… you’re a random girl, right? I don’t know your name. So tell me.”
“…What?”
He leans in, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “You’re lucky I’m taken.”
You open your mouth to argue, but he’s already walking away with a smirk like he set the trap and you fell in it.
“You failed,” you call after him.
“Nope,” he says without turning around. “I acted. You reacted. That’s a pass in my book.”
You just stand there, confused and lowkey flustered, trying to remember who was supposed to be testing who.
Jeongwoo -
He’s in the middle of dancing in front of the TV — not for content, not for practice, just for vibes. Hair flopping, socks sliding, full concert mode in the living room. You watch him for a second from the doorway, barely holding in your laughter.
Then you put on your most casual, nonchalant voice and step into the room.
“Think fast,” you call out, “I’m a random girl.”
He freezes mid-move like someone hit the pause button. Literally one arm in the air, one sock half-off, jaw halfway open.
“…HUH?!”
“I’m a random girl,” you repeat. “You don’t know me. I just walked in.”
“OH MY GOD.”
He yells it like it’s life-threatening. Then — and you’re not even sure how he moves that fast — he jumps over the couch like a contestant in an action movie, crashes into a blanket, and hides behind it like you’re a security threat.
“STRANGER! STRANGER DANGER! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND! SHE’S SHORT AND STRONG AND SHE’S WATCHING ME RIGHT NOW, I JUST KNOW IT—”
You’re crying with laughter.
“It’s me, Jeongwoo!”
He peeks over the couch, hair messy and eyes wide.
“…Wait. Really?”
You nod.
He slowly stands up, straightens his shirt, clears his throat, and tries to look serious.
“…Yeah. No. I knew that. I was acting.”
You raise an eyebrow.
He points a dramatic finger. “Test me again and I’ll scream louder.”
Junghwan -
He’s sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch, scrolling through his phone with the volume low and a snack in hand. You settle down beside him, close but casual.
You tilt your head and say, “Think fast. I’m a random girl.”
He doesn’t pause the video.
“Oh really?” he says, popping a chip into his mouth. “Then fall for me.”
You blink. “Wait, what?”
He turns to face you with a confident smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“That’s how it always goes in those dramas, right? Mysterious girl appears out of nowhere, the guy falls head over heels. Cue the music. End scene.”
You stare, trying not to smile.
He leans his head on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“But don’t worry — you’ve always been my girlfriend. No plot twists here.”
You smile softly, shaking your head at how smoothly he flipped the whole thing.
