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hyerismuse · 15 days ago

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You make it look so easy ✧ hmlycp!oc ✧ Lee Hyeri

✧ pairing: lee hyeri x hmlycp!oc

✧ synopsis: when sohyun joined a reality show with six other female celebrities, she had expected friendly competition and hilarious antics. However, she had not expected a connection to form between her and fellow castmate, lee hyeri. 3.6k words.

✧ featuring: lee hyeri, cho miyeon, lee jung, choi yena, kim chaewon, patricia

✧ tags: hyemileeyechaepa, slow burn, pining, banter, mutual attraction, hyeri x hmlycp!oc

"Hyeri is gravity, pulling Sohyun into the center of things, but she does it lightly, without force. Sohyun never realizes she’s following until she’s already in motion."

✧ AN: not a real portrayal of people mentioned. for entertainment purposes only.

The first day of filming begins before the cameras are even rolling. The air is crisp in the early morning, the kind that stirs drowsiness into wakefulness, and Sohyun stands at the entrance of the room where she will first meet her castmates, eyeing the production crew setting up inside.

Someone is already there, sitting at the long wooden table with a paper cup of coffee cradled between both hands. Even without looking, Sohyun would have known who it was. The air hums with a restless kind of energy, a presence too big for the quiet morning.

Hyeri.

Sohyun has seen her before, of course. She’s on every screen, in snippets of variety shows, always in motion, always talking, a natural entertainer. And now, here she is, bright-eyed and grinning even at this ungodly hour, as if she’d simply woken up in the mood to perform.

The moment Hyeri notices her, she straightens, her grin stretching wider. “Oh, it’s you,” she says with delighted recognition, pointing as if catching Sohyun in a mischievous act. “I was wondering who’d get here first. Of course, it’s the other oldie.”

Sohyun exhales, slow and measured, more amused than not. “I’m one year younger than you.”

“Exactly!” Hyeri exclaims, as if that proves her point. “Which means we have to stick together. The kids will be here soon.”

She gestures toward the other empty seats like a queen preparing for her court’s arrival. Sohyun follows her gaze. They are, indeed, the first ones here. The long table is bare, save for Hyeri’s coffee and a few scattered papers. The walls still echo faintly with the sounds of crew members adjusting cameras, cables winding across the floor like veins.

“You’re surprisingly early,” Sohyun says, making her way inside.

Hyeri leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I couldn’t sleep. Too excited. You?”

“Too responsible.”

Hyeri laughs, the kind that crinkles her eyes and softens the morning air. “You’re already acting like the house mom.”

Sohyun raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. A staff member signals to help her with her mic, and as she stands up, she catches Hyeri watching her, head tilted in consideration.

“What?” Sohyun asks.

“Nothing,” Hyeri replies, but the grin lingers, like she’s already figured something out.

Sohyun doesn’t know it yet, but this will become a pattern. Hyeri looking at her like she knows something Sohyun doesn’t. Hyeri talking to her like they’ve already agreed to be on the same side. And maybe, without realizing, they have.

The house is bare. Not in the minimalist, carefully curated way, but in the we-have-nothing way. The walls are plain, the rooms echo. There are no beds, no food, not even a single chair. The six of them—Sohyun, Hyeri, Miyeon, Lee Jung, Chaewon, and Patricia (missing Yena on the first day)—stand in the middle of the largest room, processing the reality of their situation.

“Healing show, they said,” Miyeon says gravely.

Patricia places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this. Stay strong.”

They all stand frozen as a voice crackles through the intercom, smooth yet merciless. “Welcome. Your house is currently unfurnished. You will play games to earn ‘cash points’ to buy furniture, food, and other necessities.”

There’s a pause. Six brains working through the implications.

Then, Hyeri claps her hands together, the sound bright against the cavernous emptiness. “This is going to be fun.”

Sohyun glances at her, unimpressed. “I fear I will be less than helpful.”

Hyeri gasps, scandalized. “Sohyun. Are you saying you’re bad at games?”

“I’m saying I conserve my energy.”

“Ah,” Hyeri nods, as if she has unlocked some grand revelation. “A lazy genius.”

Sohyun shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”

“I knew it,” Hyeri says, as if she’s won a bet. “You have that look about you.”

“What look?”

Hyeri gestures vaguely. “The effortless ‘I’ll do the bare minimum and still come out on top’ look.”

Lee Jung, who has been listening with arms crossed, smirks. “That’s just Sohyun’s face.”

Sohyun accepts this assessment with grace.

The games start simple: guess the song from a one-second snippet, flip the bottle upright, score a 97 or higher in karaoke. The kind of games designed to test either luck or a very specific skill set for Korean entertainment. Hyeri is enthusiastic about everything, leaping into challenges with reckless abandon. Meanwhile, Sohyun plays with precision, opting for the easiest, most efficient way to win.

The first game is a song challenge. The snippet plays—a single second of an instrumental intro.

Lee Jung gasps. “I know this!”

Chaewon mumbles from behind, “No, you don’t.”

Lee Jung looks personally betrayed.

“Wait, wait, let me think—” Patricia hums, snapping her fingers. “Ah! It’s IU’s—”

Miyeon cuts in, scandalised. “No, it’s not!”

Chaos. Hyeri is laughing so hard she has to brace herself against Sohyun’s shoulder. Sohyun is silently trying to fight back laughter as she watches them, and doesn’t move.

As the first day winds down, the members attempt to cook their first meal. The kitchen, bare just hours ago, now hums with activity—knives against cutting boards, water bubbling in a pot, the occasional clatter of a misplaced utensil. Despite the initial enthusiasm, it quickly becomes clear that, out of the six of them, only one truly knows what she’s doing.

Hyeri moves with practiced ease, sleeves rolled up, eyes focused as she tosses something into a pan with an effortless flick of her wrist. The others are less helpful. Lee Jung and Chaewon stand side by side, peering dubiously at a bag of uncooked rice. Patricia is making an elaborate show of inspecting various seasonings, despite not actually contributing to the cooking process. Miyeon seems content with moral support, hovering near the stove without getting in the way.

Sohyun, despite her proclaimed laziness, finds herself gravitating towards Hyeri. She picks up a knife and leans casually against the counter. "You can cook?"

Hyeri glances at her, amused. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

Sohyun gestures vaguely at the others, where Lee Jung has just asked if rice and water should be measured ‘with vibes.’ "You don’t really fit the… atmosphere."

Hyeri laughs, pausing only to expertly stir something sizzling in the pan. "I’ve been living alone for a long time," she says, a touch of nostalgia slipping into her voice. "You learn, or you suffer."

Sohyun considers this, then shrugs. "I prefer takeout."

Hyeri grins, bumping her shoulder lightly against Sohyun’s. "Figures. Lazy genius and all."

Sohyun doesn’t argue. Instead, she notices that Hyeri’s dish needs more onions. Silently, she starts chopping, slow and methodical. She’s never been particularly skilled in the kitchen, but she likes the rhythm of it, the quiet act of helping without making a big deal of it. Beside her, Hyeri hums under her breath, focused but lighthearted, and Sohyun thinks—for the first time since arriving—that maybe this show won’t be so bad after all.

The first night, they all sleep in the same room. Because, of course, they were only able to buy one bed. The floor is layered with their luggage, hastily claimed pillows, and the occasional hoodie repurposed as a cushion. Despite the lack of comfort, there’s an undeniable sense of camaraderie in the air, a quiet energy buzzing just beneath the surface.

Sohyun ends up next to Hyeri, though she isn’t sure how. Maybe it’s chance, or maybe it’s Hyeri’s natural magnetism, the way she orbits into people's spaces with such ease that it feels inevitable. The room is dark, save for the faint glow of a forgotten phone screen, and the hushed murmurs of the others slowly fade into steady breathing.

“You comfortable?” Hyeri’s voice is quiet, curling through the silence like a whisper of mischief. Her breath hits right near Sohyun’s shoulder.

Sohyun shifts slightly, feeling the unfamiliarity of the floor beneath her. “Sure.”

A pause. Then, just as Sohyun is about to drift off, Hyeri mutters, “I think this is going to be really fun.”

Sohyun doesn’t answer, but in the stillness, she thinks, maybe, Hyeri is right.

The cameras don’t always catch the way Hyeri’s eyes linger. They are attuned to grand gestures, to the broad strokes of storytelling, victories and defeats, laughter that makes a room ring. But in the in-between moments, in the quiet pockets of time, Sohyun starts to notice: Hyeri watches her.

She is loud, as expected, a crackling presence that makes everything feel alive, but Sohyun learns that Hyeri has a different kind of quiet. It’s in the way she places a slice of meat onto Sohyun’s plate before serving herself, or how she’s the first to laugh for Sohyun. Not just when Sohyun says something deliberately funny, but even when she mutters something under her breath, not meant for an audience.

They have their own kind of rhythm. At some point, it becomes a running joke that the two of them are always in the kitchen, leaning against counters, moving around each other without needing to say much.

One afternoon, as Sohyun peels an orange, Hyeri slides a plate of neatly arranged side dishes in front of her. “You’re just going to eat fruit?”

Sohyun eyes the plate. “I was considering it.”

Hyeri tuts, plucking a piece of kimchi and holding it out with chopsticks. “Try this.”

Sohyun hesitates but leans forward, taking the bite. She chews thoughtfully. “Not bad.”

Hyeri smirks. “High praise, coming from you.”

Before Sohyun can reply, Miyeon walks in and pauses, narrowing her eyes at the two of them. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You guys are always doing this.”

Hyeri leans against the counter, feigning innocence. “And?”

Miyeon points dramatically. “It’s weird. You move like—like some kind of synchronized unit. You’re the parents.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to adopt any of you,” Sohyun deadpans, popping the fruit into her mouth.

Hyeri, beside her, just grins. “Too late. We’re legally bound now.” She presses her shoulder lightly against Sohyun’s, casual but lingering.

Sohyun hums, unimpressed. “Must’ve missed the paperwork.” She hands a piece of orange to Hyeri, silently.

“I forged your signature,” Hyeri says, voice light and teasing, and it’s ridiculous enough that Sohyun lets out a small, reluctant laugh.

“Wow. Fraud. Arrest her,” Sohyun says dryly, nodding at Miyeon, who gasps dramatically.

“Unnie, you’d turn on your own spouse?” Miyeon asks, horrified.

Hyeri gasps, playing along. “That’s right! This is betrayal of the highest degree.”

Sohyun rolls her eyes, reaching for another piece of fruit. “I refuse to acknowledge this marriage.”

Hyeri leans in, lowering her voice just enough for only Sohyun to hear. “Doesn’t mean it’s not real, Sohyunnie.”

The moment lingers, something light but unspoken sitting between them. Sohyun refuses to have a response for that, refuses to acknowledge the blush creeping up her neck from the casual and flirty back and forth. Instead, she just flicks her fingers lightly on Hyeri’s forehead. Hyeri lets out a loud, indignant squawk.

“Oh, you’re done for now,” Hyeri declares, lunging.

Sohyun ducks out of the way before she can be tackled, escaping to the safety of the living space. The others barely glance up, used to the chaos.

Sohyun finds that her dynamic with Hyeri is unlike her interactions with the others. Chaewon, another introvert, is easy to be around. She finds they share a natural ebb and flow of conversation that doesn’t demand much effort. Lee Jung is someone she can analyze things with, their conversations sometimes turning into quiet dissections of game strategies or the best way to approach challenges.

There’s something infuriating about Hyeri’s attention. It’s relentless, like she’s made it her personal mission to pull Sohyun into the center of things, to coax out reactions that Sohyun isn’t always willing to give. And worse, she makes it look effortless.

“Come on Sohyunnie, you can’t just sit there all night,” Hyeri says one evening, nudging Sohyun’s knee with her own. She’s sitting in the corner of the couch, the others chatting amongst themselves. “You have to contribute something to the chaos.”

“I am contributing,” Sohyun says, gesturing vaguely. “I’m observing.”

Hyeri clicks her tongue. “Weak excuse. We both know you’re funnier than you let on.”

Sohyun raises a brow. “Oh? A personal analysis?”

Hyeri grins. “I’m a Sohyunnie expert.”

“Debatable.”

“Oh? Then let’s test it.” Hyeri shifts, facing her fully now. “I bet I can predict your next move.”

Sohyun huffs a quiet laugh. “I don’t think I’m that predictable.”

She looks around to the others. “You’re about to pretend you’re not invested in this conversation, but you’re already waiting to hear what I say.”

Sohyun pauses. Squints at her. “…Lucky guess.”

Hyeri beams. “I know you.”

Somewhere across the fire, Miyeon and Yena are watching them with barely concealed amusement.

“They are so weird,” Yena whispers.

Miyeon nods sagely. “I give it three more weeks before they realize.”

“Realize what?” Sohyun asks, perfectly monotone.

Miyeon just grins. “Nothing, unnie. You’ll see.”

Hyeri is still looking at her, and Sohyun, against all odds, finds herself looking back.

It’s small, at first. Sohyun finds herself talking more during meals, interjecting in conversations instead of just observing from the sidelines. She rolls her eyes more but with less actual resistance when Hyeri tugs her into whatever chaos is brewing that day.

During one of the games, Hyeri dramatically throws herself onto the floor in frustration, limbs sprawled like a child mid-tantrum. Sohyun, against her better judgment, crouches down beside her.

“Are you done?” she asks, raising a brow.

“I’m in mourning,” Hyeri sighs, opening a single eye.

Sohyun shakes her head, pretending to check her watch. “Well, you have about ten seconds before we have to move on.”

Hyeri gasps, lifting her head. “Not even a minute? So cruel.”

“Tragic,” Sohyun agrees, offering a hand. Hyeri takes it without hesitation.

It happens again and again. Hyeri is gravity, pulling Sohyun into the center of things, but she does it lightly, without force. Sohyun never realizes she’s following until she’s already in motion.

One evening, after a long day of shooting, the cast lingers outside, enjoying the cool air. The conversation drifts lazily between them, laughter bubbling up in pockets, until Hyeri turns to Sohyun with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Let’s play a game,” she announces.

“No,” Sohyun replies immediately, but Hyeri is already pressing on.

“Just one round. Rock-paper-scissors.”

Sohyun sighs. “For what?”

Hyeri grins. “Loser has to go make snacks for everyone.”

“That sounds like a punishment for me either way.”

“But it’ll be fun,” Hyeri insists, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea. The others are already watching, entertained by the exchange.

Sohyun exhales through her nose, feigning great reluctance. “Fine. One round.”

They throw their hands at the same time. Hyeri throws paper, Sohyun throws scissors.

“Aha!” Sohyun declares, triumphant. She throws fists into the air in an uncharacteristic burst of energy. Hyeri’s rubbing off on her. “Looks like you’re getting the snacks.”

Hyeri gapes at her hand like it personally betrayed her. “Nooo,” she groans, dragging out the syllable and melting onto the floor. Suddenly, she springs back up with her fist held on an open palm. Her eyes sparkling, she demands, “Rematch.”

“No rematches,” Sohyun says smugly. “I believe in fair play.”

Miyeon claps delightedly. “Rules are rules, unnie.”

With great dramatic flair, Hyeri trudges off toward the kitchen, bemoaning her fate, while the others cheer behind her. Sohyun leans back, satisfied, watching as Hyeri’s exaggerated misery turns into a giggle before she crouches in front of the fridge.

She has no doubt that Hyeri will come back with more snacks than necessary, humming as she hands them out, probably pretending she won after all.

At night, when the cameras are less intrusive, their conversations slow down and sink into something quieter.

“You don’t like to waste energy, do you?” Hyeri asks one evening, after a long day of filming. They’re sitting on the porch, the air cool against their skin. It’s cold out there, but they’ve bundled up and lean into each other closely.

Sohyun considers. “Why use more than necessary?”

Hyeri hums, nodding. “I like that about you.”

Sohyun glances at her, surprised. Hyeri’s nose is all red from the cold. “Yeah?”

Hyeri tilts her head. “Yeah. But I also like when you use a little more.”

It takes Sohyun a second to realize what she means. The way she’s started joining in more, the way she meets Hyeri’s teasing with her own brand of dry amusement. It’s not something she’s done consciously.

“…It’s not that bad, I guess,” Sohyun admits, looking out at the darkened trees.

Hyeri nudges her knee. “That’s practically a love confession coming from you.”

Sohyun scoffs, shaking her head. But she doesn’t deny it. She hopes she can also blame her red cheeks on the weather.

And Hyeri, in the quiet way that she does, smiles like she heard it anyway.

It doesn’t take long for the others to notice.

“Wow, Sohyun really lets you get away with anything,” Patricia comments one afternoon, watching as Hyeri nudges the last bite of her rice onto Sohyun’s plate. Sohyun eats it without a word, barely glancing up from where she’s flicking through the week’s schedule on her phone.

“She acts like she doesn’t like it,” Miyeon adds, leaning in conspiratorially, “but she does.”

Sohyun levels them both with a flat stare. “Do I look like someone who’s easily swayed?”

“Yes,” Yena chirps from the couch, not even looking up from her phone.

Hyeri, who has been quietly observing this exchange with an almost suspicious amount of amusement, finally chimes in. “They’re just jealous because you’d never let them feed you.”

Sohyun pauses, chopsticks hovering mid-air. “You don’t feed me.”

Hyeri hums. “Not yet.”

The table erupts into laughter, and Sohyun, despite herself, despite all the warnings she should probably be giving to the part of her brain that registers danger, feels the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

The days stretched into weeks, and without realizing it, Sohyun and Hyeri had settled into an unspoken rhythm. Sohyun never needed to ask for the water bottle during meals because Hyeri passed it to her before she even reached for it. Hyeri never had to adjust her mic properly because Sohyun instinctively did it for her. They navigated their shared space with a quiet understanding, a series of tiny, unspoken gestures that the others began to notice.

"Unnie, your mic—" Miyeon started, only to blink in surprise as Sohyun was already fixing it.

"Oh? When did you become unnie’s manager?" Yena teased, grinning.

Hyeri, always ready for a bit, dramatically gasped, turned around, and squished Sohyun’s cheeks between her hands. "Sohyunnie! Are you finally accepting my love?"

Sohyun rolled her eyes. “Turn around again. Your mic still isn’t fixed.”

Hyeri giggled and turned around obediently, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Once she was done, Sohyun flicked her on her back. She didn’t step away when Hyeri nudged her shoulder against hers. Their proximity had become effortless. They leaned into each other in the downtime between games, shoulders brushing when they stood side by side in the kitchen, Hyeri’s head tipping onto Sohyun’s shoulder when she finally got too tired to keep up with the others’ energy.

One evening, Hyeri dozed off on the couch, an arm thrown over her face, her hoodie slipping off her shoulder. The room was filled with the comfortable noise of the other members playing a game in the background. Sohyun, without thinking, reached for a blanket and draped it over Hyeri carefully. She hesitated for a second before tucking it in just slightly around her.

Lee Jung, who had been watching, smirked. "Oh? So thoughtful."

Sohyun shrugged, grabbing her phone like nothing had happened. "She’d do it for any of us."

"Mm-hmm." Lee Jung’s knowing tone did nothing to help the warmth creeping up Sohyun’s neck.

The others had started to tease them openly now. The parent jokes continued, but there were also comments about the way they interacted differently. Yena pointed out how Hyeri always seemed to laugh the hardest at Sohyun’s deadpan jokes, even when the others barely registered them. Chaewon quipped that Sohyun only let Hyeri get away with certain things that would have earned anyone else a blank stare. It wasn’t wrong.

As the end of the show loomed closer, there were more noticeable moments—fingers grazing when passing plates, inside jokes that no one else understood, Hyeri absently fixing Sohyun’s hoodie when it slipped off her shoulder. The cameras caught everything, of course, and so did the fans.

The compilations started appearing before the final episodes even aired. Edits of their moments set to music, slowed-down footage of Hyeri laughing just a little softer when it was Sohyun speaking. Comments dissecting every glance, every lingering touch.

But for them, it was simpler than that. It was in the way Hyeri would squeeze Sohyun’s wrist lightly when she passed by, the way Sohyun always saved a seat next to her without needing to say a word. It was knowing they’d carry this bond beyond the show.

On their last night, long after the cameras had powered down for the day, they sat outside in the quiet, wrapped in hoodies against the evening chill.

"It doesn’t feel real that it’s ending," Hyeri murmured, her voice softer than usual.

Sohyun hummed, watching the faint flicker of light in the distance. "Mm. Time went by fast."

Hyeri turned to look at her, eyes searching. "Let’s not just let this be a show thing."

Sohyun turned her head slightly. The weight of Hyeri’s gaze was steady, warm in a way that made something in her chest feel light and heavy at the same time.

"We won’t," she said simply.

Hyeri grinned, reaching out to curl Sohyun’s hair behind her ear, caring for her like she always did, like she always would. "Good."

#lee hyeri #hyeri #hyeri imagines #hyeri x reader #hyeri girls day #kpop imagines

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