#dokyeom fics
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santa baby | 𝚕𝚜𝚖 one
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✿ pairing: lee (dokyeom) seokmin x fem!reader ✿ word count: 0.2k ✿ genre: fluff ✿ tags: (newly) established relationship au ✿ synopsis: (11) hot chocolate + (49) "I'm proud of you." | request from this ask from my love @seokminfilm for my santa baby drabble game .ᐟ
The cocoa packet mixes with the milk instantly once you stir it. It creates the chocolate-brown color you desire before you apply your secret weapons to the mixture.
Seokmin looks on in approval over the crook of your shoulder. "I'm proud of you, you got it from the wrapper into the cup," he teases.
You shoulder-check him and stop stirring, secretly laughing inside at his constant teasing. "Just wait and see, you jerk. This drink is gonna blow your mind." You run to the cabinet and grab the tubes of marshmallow fluff and chocolate sauce, the ingredients that elevate the recipe to a new level.
Before you can put both down on the counter where the mugs of hot cocoa lay, Seokmin puts his hands on your hips and smiles at you with youthful happiness. "I'm happy that I'm here, you know."
You smile back at him earnestly, loving the sparkle in his eyes that appears from his confession. "Ditto." It's been three months of dating, but every time he says words that make your heart flutter, you still don't know what to say. He says it without difficulty, it leaves you speechless sometimes.
"This is already my favorite Christmas Eve ever," he says.
You sideswipe him to make it bag to the mugs, trying to hide your blush. "Wait 'til you try my special cocoa."
santa baby drabble game ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆
#svthub#kvanity#k-films#kstrucknet#keopihausnet#lee seokmin x reader#lee seokmin fic#lee seokmin fics#dokyeom x reader#dokyeom fics#dokyeom fic#seokmin x reader#seokmin fics#seokmin fic#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#seventeen fics#svt x reader#svt fic#svt fics#[ lexi's works ]#[ lw - santa baby ]
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A cupcake, a friend and a love story.
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how your favorite cupcake at your favorite café runed by your friends led you to meeting your boyfriend.
pairing: seokmin x gn!reader words count: 5.9k content: strangers to lovers, non-idol au, fluff, some very poor comedy and a little bit of angst (on reader’s side), seokmin and reader are college student, 95z line regular appearance as café owners, mentions of minghao and wonwoo (implied college students.) warnings: some cuss words, only a tiny bit of skinship (hands holding and implied kiss) note: hi everyone! this the very first work i am posting on here; i hope everyone will like it!! i’m always open to feedback as long as you’re being respectful 🫶🏻 there are some cuss words as stated in the warnings so if you’re uncomfortable with that please don’t read! minors are allowed to interact with this fic as it is only fluff but please do read my pinned as i do not allow minors to follow me.
You are late. Again. What really strikes you the most, when you run down the usual busy streets to get to university, is how much life can change in so many ways with only one encounter. A rushed morning routine, sleepless nights, a constant smile, and a heart full of love. This all happened because of one person, Lee Seokmin. Your own special love story.
As you walk on the 13th street during a chilly Wednesday afternoon, you find yourself in front of Heaven’s Cloud café once again. I guess I really am obsessed with their strawberry filled cupcakes, you mumble to yourself as you push the door open. This comes to no surprise to you as Wednesday afternoon comes with your weekly stops at this café.
When you enter you are immediately hit with the different scents of all the pastries. This is such a nice place with its mint and pink aesthetic, the couches all around the place and their bookshelves filled to the brim. You walk over to the counter where Jeonghan, one of the workers, and a recent friend of yours, is greeting you with his usual angelic smile.
“Hey you! How are you doing today, y/n?” he says while arranging some pastries behind the counter, “I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Yeah, sure! Take your time. I’m fine, what about you? Was today busy?” you ask him as you wave over at Joshua who just came in for his shift.
“Are you worried for my business? You are starting to sound more like my business partner than Seungcheol or even Joshua.” he jokes around as he walks behind the cashier, “What will you have today, my dear y/n?”
“I told you to stop calling me sweet names! I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” you say as you reach over the counter to lightly hit him on the arm. Unfortunately, you miss him. One day, you will get him, you think to yourself. It’s what he deserves for putting you through so much misery.
“Don’t worry, y/n.” answers Joshua as he ties his apron around his waist, “It’s not like there is anyone who wants to keep you to themselves, is there?” Jeonghan laughs out loud as Joshua finishes his sentence. You will get them both, one day. These evil twins deserve it. Sometimes you wonder why you are even friends with them. They’re lucky they fuel your body with their delicious pastries and their sweet drinks.
“I was here to get my precious pastry, not get attacked, Hong Joshua.” you snicker around.
“And I am here, waiting for your order. Even though I probably know it by now.” Jeonghan throws back at you.
You continue joking around with Jeonghan as you hear the door’s jingle behind you and Joshua says their usual “Welcome to Heaven’s Cloud!”. He stands behind the second cashier and start taking the order of a brown-haired – and cute – boy who is probably around your age. You don’t notice him that much as you start telling your order to Jeonghan, “I’ll take a latte and one of those strawberry filled cupcakes, to go please.”
“-and one of those strawberry filled cupcakes.” You hear the brown-haired – and very cute – boy. You don’t pay him much attention as Jeonghan lets you know that your order will be out soon.
You wait for your order for a few minutes while looking at some new books that Wonwoo brought over at the café. You know he brings over even more books ever since you two have been friends. You’re lucky to have him too. You will have to thank him properly one day. You hear your name being called and go back to the counter, exactly at the same time as a certain Seokmin gets called out – probably the cute boy as he is the only other customer in the café.
“Here’s your latte.” Jeonghan says as he hands you your drink, “Unfortunately, Seokmin, ordered the last strawberry cupcake,” he says as he glances at the cute boy whose name is now confirmed, “do you want anything else?”
“That’s not very nice, Seokmin! You deprived y/n of their pastry!” teases Joshua as Seokmin looks at you with an apologetic look on his face.
“It’s okay, don’t listen to him!” you reassure him, “Do you have any cookies? I would like-” you start to ask Jeonghan.
“Do you want to share the cupcake with me?” you hear Seokmin suggests.
“Me?” you ask as you turn to him, pointing to yourself.
“I don’t think there is anyone else he could ask that to, y/n.” Jeonghan whispers, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Oh, shut up Yoon Jeonghan!” you voice out as you give him a look and he holds his hands up in sign of retreat, “Are you okay with that?” you turn back your attention on Seokmin, “Because that would be greatly appreciated. Today was a long day and I really like those cupcakes.”
“Yes, It’s okay! It’s on me, don’t worry.” he answers as Jeonghan already hands you your change back, “Let’s go, let’s seat down.” he says as he starts going over to the couch.
“Thanks!” you say cheerly to Jeonghan as you head towards the seat Seokmin picked.
After a few minutes of observing you, Jeonghan and Joshua exchange a knowing look before Jeonghan whispers a “maybe there is someone who wants them to themselves now.” Which goes unnoticed by you or Seokmin, too engrossed in getting to know one another.
You wake up, the next morning, with a smile on your face. How could you not after meeting such a sweet soul as Seokmin? He was nice, funny, a gentleman. He reassured you countless time about you not being a bother. He handed you napkins when you spilled a little of your latte on the table and let you rant about the books you recently read. You had such a nice time with him that you didn’t even realize you were late for your weekly Wednesday’s movie night with your roommates. When you checked the time, you were already late, and you knew you were stuck with a week of doing dishes as a penalty. You quickly said your goodbye to Seokmin as you grabbed your stuffs hurriedly while he looked at you with a fond expression – unseen by either of you but noticeable to anyone else.
What you two only realized too late is that you did not exchanged numbers. All you could do was to believe your paths will come to meet again.
As you lay around in your bed, daydreaming about his sweet smile and everything you two talked about, you don’t realize how fast time passes by. It’s when you roll over on your stomach, a natural smile on your lips, and grab your phone that you realize that 30 minutes have already passed, and your smile immediately drops.
“Shit, I’m late!” you say out loud to yourself as you jump out of bed. You grab clothes in haste, rush into the bathroom and twenty minutes later you are outside, running in hopes to get to class in time. Lee Seokmin, this is all your fault, you think to yourself. Day one into my life and you already make a mess of it.
A few days later, you stride along the street to get to Heaven’s Cloud café. You convinced yourself to come get a cupcake since you had busy days but deep down you know it’s not your only reason. You just hope the real reason will be here.
You also hope that Jeonghan is not, despite all the love you have for him, because you know for a fact he’ll understand why you’re coming. You don’t want him to meddle into this. Even though this is nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The usual jingle of the door welcomes you as you walk into the very familiar place. Seungcheol, who’s behind the counter, greets you and waves at you. You like Seungcheol. He runs the place along with Jeonghan and Joshua, but he deals much more with everything that needs to be dealt with for the place to run smoothly; from scheduling all the way to accounting. Which is why you are surprised – but not disappointed – to see him working behind the counter today. You quickly scan the place and realize that he is not here. You walk over to the counter and greet Seungcheol.
“Why are you behind the counter? Did the evil twins let you down?” you ask jokingly.
“No,” he says with a smile, “they have the day off. Went out of town to see family. Today’s a calm day so it’s only me!”
“Well, at least when they’re not here we don’t have to be scared about being attacked by their antics.” You two joke about.
You really like Seungcheol. He’s much more composed and calmer than his same-age friends. He tends to give you more advices about anything while Jeonghan and Joshua are the ones who will make you laugh.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he laughs softly, “so what brings you here?”
“Your strawberry filled cupcakes brings me here! I will have one, for here, please, with a cinnamon latte.” you say as you start looking for your wallet.
“Thanks,” Seungcheol tells you as you hand him the money, “go sit down, I’ll bring it to you.”
You make your way to your favorite spot after thanking him and you look at the shelf where Wonwoo puts the books he brings over. Just as you were about to pick your new read, the door jingles and you see him. The reason. His eyes immediately lock with yours and he smiles brightly.
“Y/n!” he says loudly as he walks over to you, “How are you?”
“I’m good! What about you?” you beam at him.
“I’m very good actually.” he starts, “I’ve been searching for you.”
He what? “You were searching for me?” you ask, surprised.
“Yeah, I came here yesterday to see you some more but Jeonghan told me you only really come on Wednesdays.”
“Oh, yeah,” you start, a blush creeping on your face, “I was busy yesterday but I wanted to stop by once more this week. So here I am now.”
“Well, I’m glad we stopped at the same time,” he says, a soft smile making its way on his face, “Is it okay if I join you?”
I have been waiting for that, you almost say. “Yeah, sure! Go order and come hang out with me.”
He comes back with both orders – his and yours – “I told Seungcheol I could bring over your order.” he says as he puts the tray in front of you.
“Thank you, that’s sweet. So, how was your week?”
“Oh, it was fine. Just went to study for a test with a friend on Thursday and I absolutely killed that test! So, I’m here to treat myself for a good job.” he says with a laugh, “What about yours? Were your roommates mad you missed movie night on Wednesday?”
“You definitely deserve that treat right now.” you tell him with a smile, “They were not that mad, really. I mean I do have a penalty but that’s the rules! I wouldn’t have changed anything else though.” As soon as you say it, you regret it. You don’t want to sound like you are flirting because you are not.
“Me neither, don’t worry.” He tells you, his smile hidden behind his cup of coffee.
“By the way, do you know it’s bad to drink so much coffee at almost, what, 6pm?” you snicker as he puts his cup down.
“Well actually I have a study session planned at 6pm until-” he says as he looks at his watch, “Oh fuck, I’m late!”
He jumps out of his seat and grabs his things; “I’m so sorry, y/n, I have to go!” he says hurriedly, “God, why do we keep making each other late?” he mumbles under his breath, “Bye! I will see you around!”
You watch him run out by the door and down the street, smiling sweetly as you follow him with your eyes until he disappears at the corner of a street. It’s only 5 minutes later that you realize you once again forgot to give him your number. But weirdly enough, you have the feeling you’ll see him again soon enough.
1 hour passes by as you work on one of your assignments until you decide to go back to your apartment. You grab your bag, sling it on your shoulder and bring back the trays of dirty – but empty – dishes to Seungcheol.
“Oh, thank you.” he tells you with a bright smile when he notices the trays.
“Yeah, Seokmin forgot to bring his tray too so there you go.” you tell him.
“I didn’t know you knew Seokmin.” he says you as a way to start conversation as he organizes some utensils. Since the café is empty you two can talk freely.
“You know him? Like is he a friend?” you start interrogating him. Maybe you are a tiny bit curious.
“Well, I mean, he is a good friend of Jeonghan so yeah. Jeonghan likes him a lot. He says he’s kind, and he can easily play pranks on him and well, you know how Jeonghan can get.” he explains while he wipes his hands clean.
“Oh yeah, I know how he can get sometimes.” you chuckle, “But he’s right. Seokmin is a very kind person.” you tell him without realizing the smile making its way on your face.
“He really is,” he says as he walks up to you, “he has a really good heart.” he adds on, looking at you a certain way. Oh no.
“Oh god, no, it’s not like that.” you immediately warn him.
“Never said it was.” he says with a slight smile, “But if it was, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, y/n. He’s a really good person. I know we aren’t that close, or you aren’t the kind to confide, even to Jeonghan or Joshua, but what I know is that you deserve someone good. Someone like Seokmin.”
“I don’t know, Seungcheol…” you tell him, surprised by his words. You didn’t know Seungcheol thought so high of you.
“All I’m saying is that if it was, if it ends up becoming something like that, it wouldn’t be so terrible.” he reassures you, “And don’t worry, I’m not Yoon Jeonghan. I will act as if this conversation never happened.” he says as he mimics locking his mouth with a key and throwing it over his shoulder.
On your way back home, you think that Seungcheol forgetting about the conversation doesn’t help the fact that, try as you might, you can’t seem to be able to get over what he told you. Despite being tired, you can’t seem to find sleep and you turn in your bed trying to make your mind forget about the conversation. It’s only at dawn that your body finally finds sleep. It may have to do with your realization that maybe Seokmin could be a good person for you. The good person.
It’s only a few days later when you find yourself striding along the familiar street where Heaven’s Cloud stands. You come into the café before your class, in hopes to see the boy who searched for you once – now is your time to search for him. You walk to the counter as Jeonghan greets you.
“What are you doing here, again? Are you in love with someone here or what?” Jeonghan sneers.
“I’m just here to see my favorite café employee! Did you miss me?” you tell him teasingly as you look at the new pastries.
“Yeah, I guess… But it’s unusual for you to come around so much…” he says with a pensive look, “I will figure out what makes you come back because we both know it isn’t me.”
“There’s nothing to figure out–” you start bickering back just as the door opens and you hear someone talk. Oh. You know this voice. Without even realizing, a smile and a slight blush make its way on your face. You turn around just for your eyes to lock with Seokmin’s who’s currently talking to a tall, very well-dressed boy. He gives you a little sign as to say that he’ll come talk later.
You don’t notice Jeonghan looking back and forth between you two but he catches your attention; “Oh, I figured it out.” he says with a slight laugh.
“No, you didn’t.” you say way too quickly for it to be casual.
“I definitely did! Oh my, y/n likes someone!” he starts to tease.
“Stop it! You didn’t figure out anything!”
‘What didn’t he figure out?” Seokmin interrupts, “Because, not to take side, but I feel like when Jeonghan figures something out he’s kinda always right.”
“It’s nothing, Seokmin really,” you say trying to act composed while you give a look to Jeonghan. “How are you today? I haven’t seen you in a few days!”
“I’m good, what about you? I’m glad to run into you, I’ve started missing you.” He says with a big smile.
“I’m glad too!” you tell him as you feel your cheeks burn.
After ordering and getting your orders – and some more looks from Jeonghan – you two are sitting down at your usual spot. “So, did you make it in time last time?” you ask Seokmin after setting down your cupcake.
“Absolutely not! I was lucky Minghao – my friend – waited for me. And I told him you were the one keeping me hostage so he forgave me.” he adds with a smile on his face.
“I did not keep you hostage!” you laugh around with him.
“That’s true, I was with you willingly.” he tells you with a slight blush on his face, “You’re like my favorite café partner now.” he says as he brings the cup to his lips.
“I like the sound of that.” you tell him softly, “Do you have classes today?”
He blushes profoundly, “In the afternoon. What about you?”
“Yeah, I do, I have a class in- shit, in 15 minutes.” you say with a laugh, not even surprised anymore that you are late after meeting up with Seokmin “Well, I will be late.” you say before finishing your latte.
“Well go!” Seokmin says hurriedly while watching you gather your things with not the pressure that late people feel.
“Wait,” you say as your grab his hand in one hand and a pen, you just pulled out of your bag, in the other. “I’ve been meaning to do that.” you say as you start scribbling something on his hand, “There you go! I’m going now. Bye Seokmin!” you tell him before turning around and heading towards the door. Before going out, you turn around one more time towards him; “Oh, and Seokmin? Please use that.” you say nodding towards his scribbled hand before finally going out the door and running down the street to get to your class.
For a few minutes Seokmin is stunned because you, the girl of his dream, just gave him your number. The scribbling your favorite café partner followed by a series of numbers on his hand is the proof of his surprise. And at that precise moment, Seokmin feels his heart burst with love.
It’s been a week since you gave your number to Seokmin and today is the only day you two don’t have something planned together. He told you he was busy with studying for the upcoming finals – which you should be too. As you walk the street to get to university, you think about how you two talked and saw each other so much you didn’t have time to miss one another. All your conversations start in the morning and ends late at night, sometimes face to face, other times over phone or text. You don’t think you ever felt as safe and happy with anyone else. He’s the only one who can bring out certain sides of yourself and the only person in the world who will ever make you forget time. It’s like any time you get with him, your world stops and it’s only you two, talking and getting to know each other in a way no one ever got to know you. You’ve opened more to him than to anyone else. And you think this must mean something.
As you get closer to university, you notice, just down the street, that you once again found yourself going to Heaven’s Cloud café. As you check the time on your watch, you decide to make a quick stop to take your latte and your favorite cupcake in this world.
The jingle of the door welcomes you as you step into what could be called your second home. Just as you start walking towards the counter where Jeonghan stands, greeting you with his usual smile, you hear the door chime behind you again and out of curiosity you turn around and your eyes meets two brown eyes you know very well by now. “Seokmin!” you yell out as you realize who is standing before you, “What are you doing here?” you ask him.
“Oh, uhm my study session got cancelled? Last minute emergency from Minghao.” he tells you, “I kind of wanted to ask you to hang out since I was free but I didn’t want to assume you were free for well, me.”
“I’ll always be free for you, Seokmin.” you tell him with a smile, “So do you want to hang out here?” you say as you start walking with him towards Jeonghan.
You don’t even see how Seokmin blushes greatly at your words or how he stutters when he lets you know he would really like to hang out with you right now.
“Hi you two!” says Jeonghan cheerly from behind the counter, “Did you two came in together?”
“We just ran into each other when getting in the café.” Seokmin explains him, “What do you want? It’s on me!” Seokmin tells you.
“You sure?” you ask as he nods to give you confirmation, “Okay Jeonghan, I’ll get a latte, per usual, and a cupcake filled strawberry.”
“Per usual,” Jeonghan answers sassily, “What about you, Seokmin?”
“I’ll just get an americano and a strawberry filled cupcake too.”
“Do you want to share one again?” Jeonghan teases as you and Seokmin glare at him, “I’m kidding! I’ll bring your order, just go seat down.”
You and Seokmin make your way towards your usual spot by the window as your arm brush against his. Oh, how much you want to hold his hand right now. You seat down first as Seokmin takes the seat in front of you and you two starts catching up. As you hear him talk about anything, you realize how much you missed him. But more than anything, you realize how much you like him. Not the same way you like your classes, or your friends and not even that strawberry filled cupcake comes close. You don’t like him. You love him. You’re in love with him. You’re in love with him and you’d give him all the strawberry filled cupcakes and some more if it’s what he wanted.
Your realization is cut short as Jeonghan settles the tray with two drinks and only one cupcake. “Okay so, I guess we’re short on cupcakes again…” Jeonghan explains with a chuckle, “Do you want anything else?”
“I think we’re good with only one?” Seokmin asks you as you nod to agree, “Yeah, it’s okay Jeonghan, don’t worry about it.” He says with a smile before Jeonghan makes his way back to the counter.
“Go ahead, y/n!” he encourages you, “It won’t be the first time we share something. We literally did it the first time we met.”
As you reach for the cupcake, you think to yourself how you would never have thought you’d meet the one you like by sharing a cupcake.
“What did you just say?” Seokmin asks you with a look you never saw on his face.
Oh. Shoot. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.” You tell him, trying to keep your calm. Did you really just say that out loud?
“Me too, y/n.”
“Me too what?” you tell him, hoping he is saying what you think he is.
“I also never thought I’d meet the one I like by sharing a cupcake.” Seokmin tells you, expediently waiting for your answer.
“I like you, y/n.” he says with the most serious expression you ever saw on him, “No, scratch that. I love you. I love how you scrunch up your nose when you laugh. I love how you look at the world. I love how you get obsessed with so many stories that never really exist outside of their pages or your heart. I love how you show so much empathy to others. I love how you pull down on your sleeves when you’re a little cold. I love how you can get riled up quickly but still love your people more than you’ll ever love yourself. I love you. All of the parts that makes you, you. I love it all.”
“Oh, Seokmin…” you tell him softly, with tears in your eyes, “What did I do to deserve all this?” you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, “I love you so much. I think if I told people how I fell so fast for you, they’d never understand. They’d never understand us. What we are, what we feel for each other. In the span of a few weeks, you showed me what love really look like. Ever since reading all of these stories, I have hoped to find my own person and all the waiting time was worth it because now I have you.” you tell him, “Or well, I hope I can have you.”
“You have me, my dear y/n. Ever since I walked into that café, you had me.” he tells you as he holds your hand, “I guess we have to thank Jeonghan for all of this.” he chuckles.
“Jeonghan?” you ask, confused, “Why Jeonghan?”
“He’s the one who told me to come check out the strawberry filled cupcake on that particular day.” he explains, “Which is weird since he knew you’d come here that day and you’d take the only cupcake.”
“Oh my god,” you mumble under your breath, “he didn’t.”
You hear Seokmin asks you what you are talking about while you make your way through the empty café towards the counter. You’re surprised to find Seungcheol standing there, talking with both Jeonghan and Joshua.
Jeonghan notices you first; “What’s up, y/n? Need anything else?”
“You three. Come to the table please. I need to talk to you.”
The three of them look at each other, confused and not used to you being so upfront. Still, they follow you and bring chairs to sit with you and Seokmin.
“So,” Seungcheol starts, “what is it?”
You look between the four-man sitting with you before starting, “Me and Seokmin like each other.” You hear Seokmin gasps next to you, not expecting you to say that.
“That’s great!” Joshua almost screams, “is it not?” he says as he looks at Seokmin which answers him with a I’m-as-confused-as-you expression.
“No, it is.” you say calmly, “You see, I never really thought too much about all of the “there’s only one strawberry filled cupcake” ordeal. I mean, things like that could happen.” You say as you look at Jeonghan. He might be a good pranker but you’re good at reading people. You got him, you think to yourself. “But when I think about it, it seems a little weird to me. You tell me you’re out of your best-seller pastry in the middle of the week? As if you wouldn’t anticipate by having enough stock?”
“Things like that could happen…” Seungcheol cuts you off.
“It could. It could also be all a coincidence and if so, I’m really sorry.” you say, believing in your words, “But, honestly, I don’t believe in those coincidences when Yoon Jeonghan is involved.” you say before adding a not to be mean when looking at Jeonghan.
“Jeonghan,” you start, “did you, perhaps, set me and Seokmin up?”
Seokmin starts hissing “He did what?” as Jeonghan starts denying when Joshua almost screams; “Okay he did it! He set you up!”
Jeonghan looks at him with rounded, surprised eyes; “Joshua!” while his friend looks at him with a sorry look. “Best friend card is revoked!” Jeonghan adds.
“Can someone explain me what’s going on?” Seokmin blurbs out.
“Let me do the honor,” Jeonghan starts, everyone listening intently, “I knew our dear y/n came into the café every Wednesday afternoon after her classes and I knew Seokmin badly wanted to come to the café so I told him to come-”
“At the same time as me.” you cut him off.
“At the same time as you…” he says, “And I knew you would take a cupcake, because when do you not-”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to tease her.” Seungcheol adds in the conversation.
“Okay, first of all,” Jeonghan says with a finger pointed at his oldest friend, “don’t cut me off, that’s rude. And secondly,” he says, lowering his finger and looking at you, “I’m sorry, I will not make fun of you for liking this cupcake anymore.”
“Anyway,” he starts again, “I knew you would take this cupcake and I told Seokmin to specifically take the same one as yours and I only put one in the display.” he confesses.
“And how did you know I’d ask to share?” Seokmin starts asking, “And how did you make it so we would literally come into the café at the very same time? Did you hire someone to spy on me so you could plan it all to the second?” he starts panicking while you chuckle at his reaction. He’s so cute, you think to yourself.
“No, I didn’t do that, I was not that eager for you two to get together, come on now.” Jeonghan says with a laugh. “Everything that happened between you two was natural. I just forced you two to meet earlier than what would have, eventually, happened.” he says, looking between you two. “And as for the first question, Seokmin,” he says, fixing his eyes on him, “you’re literally an angel. I was almost afraid you’d cry when you realized you took away their favorite pastry.” Jeonghan says with another chuckle, “I always call myself an angel but we all know I’m a demon in disguise. You’re the angel. I knew you’d do it.” Jeonghan adds as Seokmin blushes looking at you.
You really love him. You take his hand in yours as you turn to look at Jeonghan. “Why did you do it?” you question your demon-like friend, “I’m not mad, I just want to understand.”
“Oh god, you’re not mad?” Jeonghan answers excitedly, “Oh thanks god, I thought I lost my strawberry-filled-cupcake lover.” he jokes around.
“Jeonghan, you’re on thin ice here.” you try to say seriously despite the smile on your face.
“Okay, okay, sorry.” he says as he gets suddenly way more serious, “It’s just… I always see you hanging out here alone, reading your books or studying. And I know you never talk about it but you yearn for something bigger, preferably in the form of love. Any love.” he explains, “I also know you feel alone. Your family and friends are far away, you left them to come to this city and I know you miss being well surrounded.” he says with a sympathetic smile, “Of course, you have people here, but you don’t let yourself have your people because you’re scared you’d have to leave them one day or another.” he continues, “And I know you needed someone that would make all your walls come down and that person is Seokmin.” he admits, looking at your lover, “He’s love in the form of a person. I knew he’d be good to you. I knew he was who you needed.” he adds on, “And I think I did it for myself too. I like talking to you, hanging out with you but I always knew you were keeping up your barriers around me, around us. And, you can ask Joshua or Seungcheol, I always talked about us becoming best friends in the future. And I just did what I needed to do so I could become your person too. Your person in a different way.” He clarifies when he hears Seokmin snicker at his words.
Well, I guess he is better at reading people than I thought.
“Jeonghan…” you say softly, teary eyed, “Where did that come from? I was supposed to be mad at you, not grateful!” you say with a laugh.
“Hey, no! You said you weren’t mad at me!” he says, smiling big, “You’re not a liar now, are you? Or did Seokmin corrupted you already?” he teases, again. There is the Jeonghan I’m used to, you think.
“I think you are the one who corrupted me.” you throw back at him, watching him laugh. “Thank you, Jeonghan. I hate saying it but you were right. All along.” you start, “I wish things were done differently but I also know I’m grateful for how things are now.”
“So, are we good here?” Seungcheol asks.
You look between the four friends and when you see Seokmin smiling at you reassuringly, you decide everything is very good; “Yeah, we are.” you speak.
“Okay, we’re going to go back then.” adds Joshua as they organize the chairs.
“But, hey, Jeonghan,” you say, getting his attention, “wait for my revenge. Because it will come.” You let him know with a smile on your face.
“But you said we were good!” Jeonghan says loudly, as you shrug, “And what about them?” he says, pointing at his two best friends, “They knew and they didn’t say anything!”
“They’re my favorite now so they get a pass.” you throw back at him, an angelic smile on your face while Joshua and Seungcheol snicker next to him, “Now you all can go back to work. I want to enjoy alone time with my boyfriend.” you say looking sweetly at Seokmin.
The 3 same-age friends walks away as you hear Jeonghan mumble “I think I made a mistake by setting them up together… I’m not ready for them to be disgustingly in love.”
“I have never seen someone stand up to Jeonghan like that.” says your now boyfriend while looking at you with heart eyes. You can see it now. How his eyes lit up when he’s next to you and how his smile doesn’t fade away.
“He’s nothing, I swear. He likes annoying people but he gives up easily once you tell him off.” you let him know while looking at him with the same fond look.
“That’s good to know,” he tells you, “When’s your next class?”
You look at your watch, noticing how your class starts in 5 minutes; “I’m late,” you tell him softly.
“What? Well go! I’ll text you later.” He says hurriedly, waving his hands at you as to make you leave.
“It’s fine. I’ll be late.” you say as you hold his hand over the table and look in his eyes, “There’s other classes but there’s no other you.” you tell him as you lean over the table.
thank you so much for reading my first work! i hope you like it, don't be shy to reblog and tell me what you thought about it 🫶🏻
#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen reactions#seventeen imagines#seventeen fics#seventeen one shot#seventeen fluff#dokyeom x reader#dokyeom scenarios#dokyeom reactions#dokyeom imagines#dokyeom fics#dokyeom one shot#dokyeom fluff#sammy's works#i hope i tagged this right
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⋆ ✩‧₊˚ ᴅᴏᴋʏᴇᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴄꜱ ˚₊‧✩༘⋆
LEGEND:
⇒ 『✓』 - 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔡 (𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔰 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔞 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰) ⇒ 『📱』 - 𝔰𝔪𝔞𝔲, 𝔰𝔬𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔞 𝔞𝔲 ⇒ 『 ☁ 』 - 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣 ⇒ 『 🗣 』 - 𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔨, 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔶, 𝔥𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔲𝔯 ⇒ 『 ⚠︎ 』 - 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱 ⇒ 『 ❣︎ 』 - 𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰 ⇒ 『 18+ 』 - 𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱 ⇒ 『 ➳ 』 - 𝔬𝔫𝔢-𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔰 / 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔰 ⇒ 『 🕰 』 - 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔰 ⇒ 『 ⚛ 』 - 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰
𖠋 do remember to read the warnings before continuing to read the fanfics!!
⚔️ lee seokmin ⚔️
one-shots/time stamps
right now, you and i, i'm thankful we're together - by @wooahaes {➳, ☁} amusement park - by @wheeboo {➳, ☁} MOZZARELLA SWORD - by @slytherinshua {➳, ☁} cold ice, cinnamon smiles - by @fairyhaos {➳, ☁} lunch - by @wheeboo {➳, ☁} Psychiatrists? Smart as hell, dumb as well - by @welcometomyoasis {➳, ☁}
𖠋 to be regularly updated!
do check out part 1 and 2 of my svt fics -> here !
#fanfiction#fanfic recs#kpop fanfic#svt#seventeen#dk#dokyeom#lee seokmin#dk imagines#seokmin scenarios#dokyeom fics#svt fanfics#lockburncastlerecs
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Can you please do svt members who eat out their girls because they want to pleasure them vs those who genuinely fucking love the taste of pussy vs those who are so into eating out they might just cum totally untouched while eating you out
why svt like to eat pussy?
WARNINGS: pure putaria and smut, oral (f. receiving), pussy-drunk analogy.
eats you out bc he wants to pleasure you
seungcheol: the type to give you a speech about how he’s a man of duty and literally write essays about making sure you have toe-curling, back-arching, crying-in-pleasure levels of satisfied.
seungkwan: gold star service provider. it’s giving “nothing but the best for my baby.” he type to ask for feedback mid-session like, “is that good? or do you want me to go harder?”
wonwoo: mf reads books about anatomy to perfect his technique. he’s meticulous as hell, but he’s also so quiet and focused while doing it that you’re left wrecked because how does he even know your body better than you??
seokmin: he’s just so happy to make you happy. he’s the king of telling you how good you’re doing while he’s down there, and it’s the most wholesome yet sinful thing ever.
vernon: this man’s lowkey about it. he’s not saying much—he’s just doing it. very intuitive, very chill, but still SO effective. the kind who gives lazy and broad licks but somehow leaves you shaking. and when he’s done, he’s like, “you wan’me to order some food?” like he didn’t just wreck your entire existence. would probably frown at the sight of your legs shaking. (gives this vibe of that one meme: my boyfriend just left me trembling, and now he is playing minecraft)
2. loves the taste of pussy
jeonghan: smirks while wiping his mouth this man will straight-up tell you he loves the way you taste. and the thing is, he’s cocky but he’s earned it. you’re left wondering who’s being pleasured here because he’s moaning like he’s the one getting off.
joshua: sweet, until he’s between your legs like a man possessed, act like you’re a full-course meal, and he is starving. will kiss you after, totally unbothered that you can taste yourself on his lips.
minghao: he’s the type to tell you you’re delicious with the most deadpan sincerity while licking his lips, and it’s lowkey terrifying how good he is at it.
jun: this man is an enthusiast. he’ll legit say, “I could do this all day,” and you believe him. will pause mid-session to kiss your thighs just to prolong his enjoyment. he is is savoring you like the main course you are.
vernon (again, because he’s sneaky like that): listen, once he gets a taste, it’s game over. sure, he acts chill, but he’s obsessed. you’ll hear him humming into you, vibing just like when the waiter put your fav food on your table.
3. so into eating out they might cum untouched (y’all already know these men are problems)
mingyu: he would grind against the mattress and your leg just from how turned on he is. you’d hear him moaning WITH YOU, and suddenly it’s not just about you anymore—he’s a mess, and it’s hot.
hoshi: would put his whole chest into it like it’s a performance. he’s slurping, he’s whining, and he’s holding onto you for dear life while losing himself in the process. will look up at you with those wide, starry eyes like, “did I do good, baby?” (might need a minute after because he is too into it)
woozi: his arms are locked around your thighs so you can’t run. his tongue is completely illegal. you’re sobbing, and he’s just groaning into you like it’s his orgasm. would cum untouched 100% and then smirk about it.
chan: this man is hungry. his whole vibe is;; “you’re my first meal of the day, and I’m starving.” mf has no shame, no chill, and no limits. he’s gripping your thighs like his life depends on it, grinding into the mattress because he’s that turned on. when he cums untouched, he’s shocked AND EMBARASSED like he wasn't literally eating you out seconds ago.
#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen headcanons#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen smut#seventeen#seventeen fluff#svt smut#svt imagines#seventeen fic#seventeen x you#seventeen x yn#seventeen x oc#seventeen x y/n#seungcheol smut#jeonghan smut#joshua smut#junhui smut#hoshi smut#wonwoo smut#woozi smut#minghao smut#mingyu smut#seokmin smut#seungkwan smut#vernon smut#chan smut#dokyeom smut#jihoon smut
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how seventeen get cuteness aggression for their s/o
requested by many people! counterpart to this hc <3
masterlist
seungcheol, woozi
has probably actually gotten mad at how cute you are at some point. like genuinely, looking over at you and then just freezing, before loudly complaining and making a whole fuss over how you can't keep looking at him like that because he will!!! he Will need to punch something bc of just!!! how!!! cute!!! you are. nonono, he's not punching you, he's gonna punch like. a wall or something. just to vent over how someone as adorable as you actually exists. and then he'll give you kisses all over until you're laughing because you are ridiculously cute and he needs to shower you with affection so you realise how enamoured he is.
jeonghan, joshua, minghao
only he could make cuteness aggression sound like the softest thing ever. he'll be aggressively squishing your cheeks so hard that your eyes are all squinty and everything you say is basically indecipherable, whilst he continues sighing and looking at you with all the fondness in the world and lamenting over how goddamn adorable you are and honestly, what is he going to do with you? the stark contrast between his soft, enamoured voice and the way he's ruffling your hair and kissing your face everywhere like you're going to disappear any moment makes you laugh, weirdly endeared by his behaviour. you're going to get him back for it, though. and ruffle his hair until he can't see a single thing.
junhui, hoshi, mingyu, chan
probably cries. he looks at you sitting there all pretty, completely minding your own business, and the feelings just bubble up inside him so aggressively because WHO is allowed to be that adorable whilst doing absolutely nothing? it's not fair. what starts out as a rant over your cuteness ends up with him a bit teary-eyed and sniffly bc you're just so pretty and he doesn't know what to do. you have to pat him on the head and wipe away his tears as he clings to you and continues to tearily confess that you're the sweetest and loveliest person he's ever seen. his episodes of cuteness of aggression always end with you getting cuteness aggression too bc of how adorable he is everytime he does this
wonwoo, vernon
he's not very showy about his cuteness aggression, at all, but that doesn't mean it's not obvious. he'll stare at you for hours with literal hearts in his eyes, fondness written all over his face, and anyone who looks at him will just know how cute he finds you, even though he hasn't said a word. acts like you're the most precious being in the entire world, and is basically dissolving into a puddle of adoration right then and there. god, he's so lucky to even be in your presence and be able to love you, bc you're just so pretty and so cute. “why are you staring at me so much?” / “you're just so cute, i don't know what to do with you.”
dokyeom, seungkwan
he is very, very noisy about how cute he finds you. i mean like genuinely screeching and being all loud as he complains that you are far too adorable and what about his heart?? have you thought about his heart? bc it's currently melting onto the floor and it's all your fault!!!! the loud screeching is Also accompanied by very clingy hands, so expect the sudden shout to then be followed up with him basically hanging off your shoulders and holding your face in his hands as he cries over how adorable and lovely you are. everyone within a fifty metre radius will know that he finds you cute, by the way. be prepared.
request guidelines
reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble
#fairyhaos.works#seventeen#svt#seventeen fic#seventeen drabble#seventeen headcanons#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt fluff#scoups#seungcheol#jeonghan#joshua#hong jisoo#junhui#hoshi#wonwoo#woozi#jihoon#minghao#the8#mingyu#dokyeom#seokmin#seungkwan#hansol#vernon#dino
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late night conversation
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/39030bd61f9c98bd73175d341e3fec71/098e41cb30644fe9-28/s540x810/69df8187cf6ff4ae3cbf84f89bd68cc3a2a8073f.jpg)
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"sorry, sorry, sorry," he whispered softly, realizing he had woken you as he carefully slipped under the duvet to join you.
you giggled softly at your husband. "it's alright," you murmured, turning to nestle your head against his chest. "i'm just happy you're finally home."
"i couldn't wait to finish up and get back to you," seokmin said, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "dinner was amazing, by the way, you really didn't have to leave dinner prepared for me. i could have managed."
"i'm glad you ate, love," you replied, reaching up to give him a sweet, lingering kiss.
"how was your day with my mom?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your scalp, trying to soothe you back to sleep.
"i told your family about the day we met," you said with a smile, your eyes still closed, basking in the tenderness of his touch.
"oh no, that was so embarrassing," he chuckled, and you joined him.
"i remember every single detail," you said, shifting slightly to gaze into his eyes.
"nooo," he said playfully, preparing himself for the story.
"you looked so adorable that day, but you seemed nervous, constantly checking the time," you said, leaning into him.
"i can't believe you noticed i was nervous," he said, his face turning a bit pink as he covered it with his hand.
"did you think she wasn't going to show up?" you asked, and he nodded.
"i still had a little hope," he laughed softly, and you did too.
"then you left the café, looking so sad, and left the bouquet on the table," you recounted, fully immersed in the memory. "i thought you had forgotten it, and all i could think about was running to give it back to you."
with a warm smile, seokmin said, "the last thing i wanted was to see those flowers again, but then i heard, 'hey, you forgot your bouquet,' and i couldn't believe it."
you both laughed, recalling the image of you chasing after him with the bouquet in hand.
"and the best part is that you asked to keep the flowerswith you when i said i wasn't planning to take them home," he said.
"the flowers were so beautiful; it would have been a shame to throw them away," you explained.
"i was so surprised and couldn't stop thinking, 'who is this crazy girl?'" he said with a laugh.
"good thing she didn't show up for the date," you said, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "i got to meet the love of my life because of it."
"i love you, my meddlesome one," he said, tightening his hug and kissing the top of your head.
#dokyeom fluff#dokyeom x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen fic#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#dokeyom imagines#dk fluff#dk comfort#dk x reader
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smooth operator 🏎️ seokmin x reader.
a lot of drivers were friends with their race engineer. one had to be, considering how closely the two roles overlapped. now, drivers who were in love with their race engineer— a slightly smaller club. perhaps with only one member, even.
★ f1 racer!seokmin x ferrari race engineer!reader. ★ word count: 7.4k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: formula one, seokmin has a crush, literally seokmin as carlos sainz, pining... so much pining..., fluff -ish, hint of angst. cussing/swearing; mentions of a surgery, crash. ★ footnotes: watched 10 carlos sainz reels in a row and this is what i have to show for it. this is literally just 'if seokmin was carlos + if seokmin was in loveee with his engineer'. turned out much, much longer than i anticipated. not proofread. (it's 5am. have mercy.) once again, all f1 inaccuracies are mine. for obvious reasons: dedicated to @diamonddaze01. papaya forever, baby. 🧡
Seokmin has always known he was down bad for you, but he didn’t realize just how bad it was until the news broke.
It came in the form of an email. RE: Your future at Ferrari, it proclaimed, and Seokmin had opened it anticipating the details of his contract renewal. Joshua was already locked in with an extension that spanned several more seasons; surely Seokmin would be given a similar deal.
Instead, he’d been given an apology, an explanation, and a warning that the media would be in on it by tomorrow noon.
His future with Ferrari was virtually nonexistent. And stupidly, foolishly, his first thought had been whether you already knew.
The next 24 hours tick by slowly. It takes everything in Seokmin to not seek you out, to ask what you think about the whole affair. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait for too long.
You text mere minutes after the article is published. Two messages.
First, a link to the article that Seokmin doesn’t even bother to read. The headline is enough. Yoon to make shock switch from Mercedes to Ferrari for the 2025 season.
Second, a GIF of a penguin cocking its head to one side. Three question marks pop up over its head.
It’s exactly the kind of levity that Seokmin needs. He huffs out a laugh, which sounds just a little too hollow in the emptiness of his apartment.
His fingers fly over his screen, and he shoots back a response before he can think too deeply of it. Come over?
He doesn’t have to ask twice. You already don’t deny him on a regular day. How much more when he’s lost his seat at the Scuderia?
You’re ringing Seokmin’s doorbell in an hour. He stumbles over to the front door, sleep-deprived and still a bit dazed. He’s greeted to the sight of you with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy in one hand and a bottle of Pinot Noir in the other.
“Record time,” Seokmin says, his voice coming out as a bit of a rasp.
“Tragic circumstances call for efficiency,” you declare, stepping inside like you own the place. Maybe you do, in a way. Seokmin’s apartment has always felt a little more like home with you in it.
He toes the door shut and watches as you march straight to the kitchen, like this is a mission and not a lunchtime grief counseling session. You plop the ice cream and wine onto the counter, and before he can protest, you’re already reaching for two spoons and a corkscrew.
“No glasses?” he muses, leaning against the doorframe.
You toss him a look over your shoulder. “Are you feeling civilized right now?”
“Depends who’s asking,” he says.
He crosses the room, plucking the corkscrew from your hand and making quick work of the bottle. You trade him a spoon in exchange, and within minutes, you’re both parked on his couch— knees tucked up, shoulders brushing— passing the pint and bottle back and forth like it’s some sort of sacrament.
A lot of drivers were friends with their race engineer. One had to be, considering how closely the two roles overlapped.
Now, drivers who were in love with their race engineer— a slightly smaller club. Perhaps with only one member, even.
Seokmin tries not to think of it. He doesn’t have the time to pine.
“It’s over.” His voice is quieter than he means for it to be. The weight of it all is settling in, sinking into the cushions, pressing against his ribs. “They kept Joshua. They signed Jeonghan. I’m out.”
Your spoon pauses mid-air. “It’s Ferrari,” you say after a beat. “They’ve dropped bigger legends.”
Seokmin knows that. He’s spent the past ten years worshiping this sport, its brutality, its politics. He should’ve seen it coming, should’ve braced for impact. Instead, he let himself believe that winning was enough.
You shift slightly, angling towards him. “Let’s focus on the next day, at least. What’s your plan?” you ask, your tone as even as ever.
“That depends,” he says, flicking his gaze up to meet yours. “Do I get to be bitter first, or do I have to be a good sport immediately?”
Your lips curve. “I think you get 48 hours of being insufferable before you have to post the Notes app apology.”
“God,” he groans, “the worst part.”
You hum in agreement, nudging his knee with yours. “The public statement. The classic ‘Forever grateful to Ferrari for the opportunity’ while you cry into your pillow.”
Seokmin exhales something close to a laugh. “You know me too well.”
“Obviously.”
Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s just you, sitting here in his apartment like you belong in every part of his life, like you always have. But when you shift closer, your hand resting on his knee, Seokmin feels the terrifying urge to be honest.
I’m going to miss you, he wants to say. What am I going to do without you?
The words feel a little too raw, a little too real for one in the afternoon, so he clears his throat and grasps at straws for anything else. “We still have the season,” he says. “You haven’t gotten rid of me yet.”
When you flash him a smile, it’s not pitying. He’s grateful for that, at least. But then your words come— a quiet “I never wanted to be rid of you, idiot”— and it feels like getting shot in the chest.
Ten years on the grid, and this season is shaping up to be his longest one yet.
“Okay, Seok. We need a push now.”
Your voice crackles through the radio, even over the high-pitched wail of the engine and the deafening wind tearing past his helmet. Lap 43 of 57, and he’s sitting in P5 with Seungcheol of Red Bull breathing down his neck.
Seokmin exhales sharply, flexing his fingers against the wheel. He’s already wrung everything he can out of this car, dragging it through tire degradation and the lingering sting of betrayal.
And yet— your voice. Always your voice. Firm, steady, unwavering. The only thing in this whole mess that still belongs to him.
“Copy,” he says, forcing the word out between grit teeth. “Mode push.”
He flicks the necessary settings, shifts the brake balance forward, and readies himself to defend like his life depends on it. If not his life, then his dignity, at the very least.
A month ago, he would have thought differently. A month ago, Seokmin would have driven with Ferrari in his blood, believing he’d wear the red until he retired. But now? Now he drives for himself.
He’s collateral damage in a bombshell deal. Everybody wants to know where Lee Seokmin is heading next, and the worst part is that Seokmin himself doesn’t really know the answer to that question.
He doesn’t want to see past this race. Right now, he’s only focused on two things: The checkered flag at the finish line, and the sound of your voice.
Seokmin’s tires scream through the tight left-hander, the rear twitching as he corrects with practiced ease. Red Bull’s poster boy is still there, looming in Seokmin’s mirrors, but the latter holds the racing line. If Seungcheol wants to pass, he’ll have to fight for it.
The radio crackles again. “Good job. Hold him there. We’ve got better traction through the final sector.”
Your voice sounds closer than it should. He pictures you back at the pit wall, one hand on the radio, the other gripping the edge of the desk like you always do when things get tense. He wonders if you’re biting your lip, if your brows are furrowed in that way they always are when you worry about him.
God, he hopes they keep you next year. Even if he won’t be here to see it.
He pushes the thought away.
Lap 50. He’s still P5, but now Joshua is ahead of him, just over a second up the road. A small window of opportunity. A flicker of a chance. And maybe it’s stupid— maybe it’s reckless�� but he’s already lost everything once. What’s one more risk?
“I can catch him,” he says into the radio, adjusting his brake migration. “If I get DRS, I can make a move.”
There’s a beat of contemplative silence. Then, your voice, pure as the driven snow: “You’ve got margin on the tires. Go get him.”
And just like that, the weight in his chest lifts.
Not because of Ferrari. Not because of the podium he probably won’t reach today. But because of you. Because for as long as he’s still here, you’re still rooting for him.
If this is his last season in red, then he’ll make damn sure it’s a season worth remembering.
Lap 53.
The gap is closing. Slowly, surely.
Joshua is right there, his rear wing flashing ahead of Seokmin as they charge down the straight. A year ago, they might have laughed about this over dinner. Two Ferrari boys fighting for position.
But now, Seokmin’s stomach twists with something sharper. It’s not just a battle for P4— it’s a battle to prove he still belongs.
The radio crackles. “You’re within DRS range. We’re good on battery deployment. You know what to do.”
It’s not just a call. It’s a challenge. A test of how much fight Seokmin has left in him.
Your challenge.
He flicks open the rear wing, heart hammering against his ribs as the Ferrari rockets forward. The slipstream pulls him in, closer, closer—
Lap 54.
“You’re faster,” you hiss. “Stay patient.”
But patience has never been Seokmin’s strong suit.
Into Turn 1, he feints a move down the inside. Joshua covers it, just like Seokmin knew he would. That’s fine. He’s setting this up.
Through the chicane, Seokmin stays glued to the rear of the other Ferrari, tires protesting, the car twitching under him. He barely feels it. All he feels is the thrill of the hunt, the way his blood sings with the sheer want of it.
He pulls out.
Joshua squeezes him to the edge of the track, but Seokmin is already committed. Late on the brakes, he sends it down the inside, and he’s through.
The rear wiggles. He catches it. His tires scream in protest, but he keeps the car steady.
Lap 55.
“Nice move.” Your tone is clipped. You don’t seem entirely approving of his little stunt, though he doesn’t miss the edge of pride in your voice as you go on to say, “P4.”
His breath comes out in a rush. The job isn’t done. He forces himself to breathe, to focus, to bring the car home.
Lap 57.
The checkered flag waves. Seokmin crosses the line. P4.
It’s not a podium. It’s not a win. But considering where he was two weeks ago, drowning in uncertainty, it feels like something.
“Good job, Seok,” you say, the tension finally slipping from your voice. “That was a hell of a move.”
He exhales, slumping back into the seat as the weight of the race settles in. “Told you I could catch him,” he breathes, exhaustion laced with something lighter. Something almost like relief.
You laugh— soft, fond, like you knew all along.
And maybe that’s the real victory today.
Every press cycle has been absolute fucking hell to Seokmin as of late.
The reporters are relentless. The vloggers, even more so. All of them want to know what it was like in the room where it happened. Did Jeonghan tell you? What did Joshua say? Where are you heading next?
The third question hounded Seokmin across every race, in every damn country. It didn’t matter if he finished P1 or dead last. There would always be somebody demanding to know about his discussions with rival teams, his campaign for a new seat.
The only thing keeping Seokmin tethered nowadays is you.
The paddock is still a mess when Seokmin slips out of the press conference room. Cameras flash, reporters murmur, and somewhere in the distance, he can hear the unmistakable click of keyboards as people rush to twist his words into headlines.
His head pounds. His chest aches. He hates this part.
But then he sees you.
You’re waiting just beyond the media pen, arms crossed, eyes tracking his every move. The moment you meet his gaze, you offer him a smile.
It’s enough. It’s everything. It’s what keeps him on his feet, keeps him from running.
You don’t say anything as he approaches. Just fall into step beside him, like always.
The two of you walk in silence for a while, weaving through the throngs of paddock staff and fans. He should say something, should at least try to make a joke about how many times he had to dodge questions about next season. For once, Seokmin can’t summon the energy.
When you finally speak, it’s in a delicate tone. “You did good today.”
A podium finish at Suzuka. Didn’t matter, he almost says.
“Did I?” he asks just for the sake of asking.
Your elbow bumps his. “Yeah. You did.”
Seokmin’s throat goes tight. There it is again. That urge to give you a piece of his heart; the whole damn thing, even. Before he can figure out how to respond, a kid— maybe ten, eleven years old— appears at his side, clutching a crumpled receipt, of all things, and a Sharpie.
“Hi,” the kid squeaks, staring up at Seokmin with wide eyes. “Could you sign this, please?”
A practiced smile slots onto Seokmin’s face. It’s instinct. Years of muscle memory. He takes the receipt, uncaps the marker, and scribbles Forza Ferrari.
Except— when Seokmin dots the ‘i’— he feels his stomach drop. The words stare back at him in bold, black ink, a painful reminder of everything he’s losing. Without thinking, he drags a line through them, crossing them out in one sharp motion.
He goes on to sign his name in one fluid motion. A bid to make the scrap of paper still somewhat worth it.
The kid doesn’t notice the weight of the whole thing. “Thanks,” he chirps, practically shaking with excitement. “Can’t wait to see you race next year!”
If there’ll even be a next year, a small voice grouses in the back of Seokmin’s head.
The kid disappears into the crowd, and Seokmin exhales. He feels your gaze before he looks up. He expects pity, maybe amusement— something that will make this sting even more than it already does. But when he meets your eyes, there’s none of that. Just quiet understanding.
Seokmin swallows hard. “That was pathetic.”
Your lips twitch, like you’re fighting the urge to be blunt with him. Instead, you tilt your head and speak with that tone that brooks no arguments.
“It’s hard to unlearn something that meant everything to you,” you say.
That— yeah. That hits harder than he wants to admit.
Seokmin forces out a breathy chuckle. “I should’ve just written my name,” he mumbles.
“Would’ve been a boring autograph,” you shoot back.
He finally looks at you, properly this time, and something in the tension coiled tight in his chest loosens just a little. For the first time all day, Seokmin doesn’t feel like the guy whose seat was stolen. He doesn’t feel like the driver everybody keeps asking what’s next?
He’s just a guy you can joke with, a guy that’s worth one or two of your smiles. And isn’t that better than anything he could possibly be?
You jerk your chin toward the motorhome. “C’mon, before someone else asks you the same three questions again.”
Seokmin hesitates for half a second before falling into step beside you. This time, it’s easier.
Seokmin is no stranger to discomfort.
He’s driven through cramping, headaches, even a stomach bug that left him nearly delirious in Singapore one year. He knows how to push through the pain.
This is different.
It starts as a dull ache during FP1. A tightness low in his abdomen that he chalks up to dehydration, maybe something off in the hotel buffet.
By FP2, it’s a sharp, twisting pain, bad enough that he’s gritting his teeth through every braking zone. You check in more than usual, probably noticing the way his voice is shaky over the radio, but Seokmin waves it off. He can handle it.
Until he can’t.
By the time the session ends, he’s doubled over in the garage, clutching his side as if he can physically will the pain away. You’re the first person to reach him, your hand pressing to his back, voice edged with concern.
“Lee. What’s wrong?”
He’s sweating, his breath shallow, and yet he registers the use of his surname. You’re seriously worried, which would be endearing if he wasn’t fighting for his life. “Stomach—” A wince cuts through the word. “Hurts. Just give me a sec.”
You exchange a look with the team doctor. Seokmin sees it but ignores it. He doesn’t want to make a scene. He just needs to rest, needs a few hours to sleep it off. But when he straightens up, white-hot pain sears through his side, and he stumbles.
You catch him just in time. Seokmin knows better than to protest when you whisk him away.
“Appendicitis,” the doctor confirms, standing in the Ferrari motorhome with a clipboard tucked under one arm. “We need to get him to surgery. The sooner, the better.”
Seokmin sits on the couch, his arms crossed, jaw tight. His entire body protests the thought of stepping away. This isn’t just any race. It’s another chance to prove he still belongs on this grid. After everything, how the hell is he supposed to just sit out?
“Give me painkillers,” he insists. “I’ll race.”
You scoff. “Not an option. You physically cannot drive like this.”
Seokmin shakes his head. “I did FP1 and FP2. I can handle it.”
“Yeah?” You lean against the table, crossing your arms. You’re doing that thing again— the one where your eyes spark like flint. Seokmin has been in enough strategy meetings to know that you’re about to stand on business.
“And when you’re in the car at 300 kph, and that pain gets worse? When you have to fight through a high-speed corner and your body quits on you?” You don’t wait for an answer. “You know what happens then? You crash. And it won’t just be your race on the line. It’ll be everyone else’s on that track.”
Seokmin presses his lips together, frustration buzzing under his skin. He knows you're right, but it doesn’t make it easier to accept. It feels like one more thing slipping away from him, one more weekend where his name won’t even be in the results.
“You have nothing to prove, Seokmin,” you say, your tone a little more gentle. “Missing one race won’t change anything.”
I have everything to prove, he wants to argue. But you’re right. He can barely sit upright without feeling like his insides are twisting into knots. How the hell is he supposed to survive 50 laps under extreme G-forces?
His shoulders sag, defeat settling in. “Who’s replacing me?”
“Kevin,” you say. “He’s already prepping.”
Seokmin exhales sharply through his nose. Kevin Moon is the reserve driver, competent and reliable. He deserves the opportunity. Still, it stings.
You must see it on his face, because your hand brushes against his. “Go get the surgery,” you say. “Heal up. We’ll be waiting for you in Australia.”
Seokmin swallows down the bitterness rising in his throat.
He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if Kevin gets a podium, I’m never letting him hear the end of it.”
You let out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you say.
A little later down the line, Seokmin will find himself grateful for that moment, that need to take a step back.
It becomes his first lesson in the art of letting go.
Seokmin stands in the garage, the faint hum of the mechanics around him barely reaching his ears. He’s staring at the monitor in front of him, but his focus is somewhere else entirely.
You’re there, of course. You always are. Right by his side, clipboard in hand, ready to guide him through every lap, every decision, every nuance of the race ahead. You’re the steady presence he’s relied on for so long, and if he’s being honest with himself— though he hates to admit it— he’s always relied on you more than he should.
But it’s fine, isn’t it? That was the way of this world. You were his engineer. He had to rely on you, had to trust you, had to believe that you would always have his best interests at heart.
“Seok,” your voice breaks through his thoughts, steady and familiar, “ready to go?”
He blinks, snapping his gaze back to you. You’re already watching him, waiting for his response, as though you’ve been calling his name for minutes.
“Yeah,” he croaks. “Just making sure I’m locked in.”
You give him a look, sharp and direct. “Seok, you don’t have to prove anything today. Just focus on driving, okay?”
It’s an echo of the conversation you had back in Saudi Arabia. You have nothing to prove.
He relies on you. He trusts you. He believes you; he has to.
“Got it,” he says softly, trying to ignore the way his pulse spikes when your hand briefly rests on his shoulder.
The feeling is there again, creeping up from somewhere deep inside him. It’s been there for years, lurking just beneath the surface. Every time he sees you, every time you’re close to him, it hits harder.
He watches you walk away, your figure disappearing into the bustle of the team. He should be focusing on the setup, the tire choices, the strategy. Instead, his mind lingers on the way you always seem to know exactly what he needs, even when he doesn’t know himself.
“Seokmin, let’s go,” one of the mechanics calls, pulling him back into the present. He gives a quick nod, his thoughts scattering like dust in the wind as he makes his way to the car. The engine roars to life beneath him, and for a moment, the sound drowns out everything else.
But it doesn’t drown out the thought of you.
The car hums beneath Seokmin, the engine roaring in his ears as the first few laps blur by in a flurry of tire choices, lap times, and strategies. Through it all, your voice is there. A calm presence in the chaos of the race. Every corner, decision, and lap, you’re there guiding him.
“Seok, we’re on track for a good finish. Keep your pace steady, you’re in control,” you tell him, your voice steady despite the ever-present tension.
He doesn’t respond, not directly, but he doesn’t need to. He’s felt your confidence in him ever since he’s joined Ferrari. And right now, with everything on the line, it’s that confidence that keeps him grounded. It’s what allows him to maintain his rhythm, to focus on each curve of the circuit as if nothing else matters.
Joshua is in his rearview mirror. Seokmin can see him inching closer with every lap. But Seokmin knows what’s at stake now.
“Hold your line. Joshua’s on a similar pace, but we’ve got a slight edge. Keep your head in the game,” you remind him, voice full of calculated precision.
“Copy that,” Seokmin grits out, his grip tightening on the wheel. He’s always been competitive, but now, with everything that’s happened over the last few months— his surgery, the uncertainty, the fact that this might be his last real chance to shine— it feels different.
He wants this. He needs this. And not just for him, but for you.
It’s the smallest, almost imperceptible shift in his focus. It’s enough to drive him forward, pushing through the pain of the previous laps, the exhaustion, the pressure.
The laps tick down, and the gap between him and Joshua remains narrow, but Seokmin stays patient. He listens for your instructions, adjusting his braking points, taking each turn just a little more precisely, always with you in mind, guiding him through it all.
“We’re on the final stretch. You’ve got this,” you say, and something in your voice makes his heart race even faster. Something between the confidence, the care, and the sheer belief you have in him.
For a moment, he lets himself daydream. He imagines what it must be like for you to say a different set of words with that unwavering conviction. How I love you might sound in that tone of yours.
He drives it off.
The final lap is a blur of speed, precision, and instinct. Joshua is close behind him, too close for comfort, but Seokmin’s hands are steady, his eyes sharp. The pit stops, the strategy, everything comes down to this.
And then it happens.
Seokmin crosses the finish line first.
A burst of emotion, a flood of relief and exhilaration, rushes through him as the roar of the crowd and his team’s cheers come through his earpiece. He doesn’t hear it as much as he feels it. The triumph, the validation, the overwhelming weight of everything he’s been through finally paying off.
None are quite as sweet as the crackle of your voice.
“You’ve done it.” Your tone is filled with something he can’t quite name. Pride, satisfaction, maybe even affection. “That’s three wins, my friend.”
The third of his career.
The radio goes silent for a beat, and then there’s the unmistakable sound of a cheer rising up behind him, somewhere within the team garage. Ferrari’s first one-two finish since 2022, and it’s Seokmin leading the charge.
“Great job,” Joshua says over the comms, his tone warm but with that familiar competitive edge. He’s close, but Seokmin knows. Joshua knows.
This is Seokmin’s moment.
He pulls into the pit lane, and there’s a minute, just a fleeting one, where everything stops. The noise, the world around him, all of it fades as Seokmin simply sits there, breathing it in.
For a moment, it’s just him and the car. And you.
He pulls off his helmet, breathing in the fresh air as he climbs out of the car. The crew swarms him, congratulating him, but his gaze is immediately drawn to you.
You’re waiting at the pit wall, watching him approach. The smile on your face when he sees you— it’s not something he can ignore, not something he wants to ignore.
Honestly? At this point, to hell with P1.
That smile of yours is everything he’s worked for.
The car skids across the track, a sickening scrape of metal against asphalt that makes Seokmin’s stomach lurch.
His hands are already gripping the wheel in tight fists, his foot pressing uselessly on the brake as the car spins. He hears the screech of tires, the crunch of impact, and then— nothing.
Silence, save for the buzzing in his ears, the pounding of his own heartbeat.
“Lee Seokmin,” comes your voice over the comms, sharp with concern, but Seokmin can’t focus on it. He’s still recovering from the shock, still trying to piece together what just happened.
He sees the flashing lights in his rearview mirror, the yellow flags flying high. It’s done.
“Good,” he mutters, though the word feel hollow. His hands are still trembling on the steering wheel, the adrenaline from the spin still pumping through his veins, but he knows what comes next. His race is over thanks to Chwe fucking Vernon.
He guides the car to the pit lane, the engine a low hum beneath him, but every turn feels heavy. He pulls in and slows to a stop, the team immediately rushing toward him. They don’t even have to say anything. He knows what’s coming. It’s a DNF.
“You alright?” Joshua asks over the radio, a touch of concern in his tone. Seokmin barely acknowledges it, his focus sliding back into the numbness he feels.
He steps out of the car. There’s a weight on his chest now, something heavier than just the race that’s been lost.
When he’s finally through the media debrief, he stumbles back to the team’s garage, the last of the pit crew still bustling around, cleaning up the mess.
He’s not surprised when he sees you waiting near the back. The way you’re standing, shoulders slightly slumped, tells him you’ve already been waiting for him.
Seokmin doesn’t say anything at first. He just lets the exhaustion crash into him, sinking against the wall as he runs a hand through his hair. The events of the race feel like a blur now, everything moving too fast for him to process.
“Seokmin,” you start, your voice more gentle than it had been on the comms. You take a couple of steps toward him, but you don’t push. You’ve learned not to press when he’s like this.
Instead, you stand close enough for him to feel your presence, offering him the silent support he’s come to rely on.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he finally admits, voice terse and eyes unfocused. “I was doing okay. Then it just... happened. And I—” He breaks off, the words catching in his throat, frustration and self-doubt mixing together.
You don’t say anything for a moment, letting him work through the silence, but you take a small step forward, closer to him. “It wasn’t your fault,” you say, your voice steady despite the emotions he can hear in it.
You sound as sure of it as you always do. It’s the one thing that makes him feel just a little bit lighter.
“I still wrecked,” Seokmin mutters, his voice heavy. “I still spun out.”
“Yeah,” you say. “But you’re not the only one out there. It happens. What matters is that you're okay.”
Your eyes lock with his, and he sees something there that’s more than just sympathy. Something warm. Something comforting. You’re the only one who can get through to him like this, the only one who knows how to pull him out of his head when he starts spiraling.
You don’t need to say anything else. He doesn’t need more words right now. Just the support, the unspoken understanding that you’re there. That he’s not alone, even when everything feels like it’s slipping away from him.
“I’ve got you,” you say, the words low but steady, grounding him. “We’ll get through it. It’s not over yet.”
For a moment, Seokmin closes his eyes, taking a steadying breath. He can feel the exhaustion and the frustration starting to lift, just a little. With you by his side, he knows he’ll be okay.
It’s a privilege he won’t have for much longer. He doesn’t want to squander what little time he has left with you.
We’ll get through it. That ‘we’ ends with the season, but not today. Today, you’re still his.
“Yeah,” Seokmin agrees, his voice almost a whisper. “We will.”
The summer break settles in, and with it comes a strange kind of peace.
The buzz of the races fades, the constant media scrutiny dies down. It’s a lot to process— sitting in fifth in the championship with 162 points, knowing the season has been one of his best yet, but that it’ll all soon come to an end.
And there’s a matter of the news, too. It breaks like wildfire.
Seokmin is at his apartment, staring blankly at his phone screen, watching the notifications flood in. The announcement is live, plastered across social media and various news outfits.
Williams Racing welcomes Lee Seokmin for 2025, 2026 and beyond.
It should feel like a moment of triumph, a new undertaking, a step forward. Instead, it’s just surreal.
The buzzing of his phone is endless, the questions from reporters unrelenting, but what really gnaws at him is the impending realization that it’s happening. He’s leaving Ferrari, the team he has called home for so long.
The red and black that has become synonymous with Seokmin's identity in the sport, the endless hours spent with his engineers, strategists, and you— the heart of his team. It isn’t just a change of scenery. It’s a shift in everything.
A text from you pings through. The same as last time. This time, it’s a GIF of a cat whose jaw has dropped comically. A laugh crawls out from the back of his throat. For once, he lets himself be honest.
This feels like I'm walking away from everything I've known, he responds, the text admittedly much more load-bearing than it should be. But if anyone was going to understand the weight of this, then it was going to be you.
Your response is quick. You’re not walking away from anything. You’re moving forward. Williams is lucky to have you.
He leans back in his chair, fingers drumming the table in front of him. Your words should be comforting. And, in a way, they are. But it’s hard not to feel like he’s losing something— someone— by making this move.
You’re biased, he teases.
Not at all, you shoot back. I mean, look at your season so far. You’ve been incredible. Williams will give you a fresh start, and you’ve earned it.
Seokmin smiles softly, your words lifting a little of the weight from his chest. It isn’t just the confirmation of his future; it’s the reminder that he hasn’t lost everything he’s built with Ferrari. You’re still here.
But something lingers, unspoken in all of Seokmin’s messages. A question he dreads to ask: What happens now?
His fingers hover over his screen. For a moment, he considers just outright asking you, telling you, about this damn feeling that’s been thrumming in his system for God-knows-how-long.
He settles, instead, for something that’s still the truth.
That’s because you make me possible, he says.
There’s a brief pause before your response comes again.
Don’t get all sappy on me now. We still have a couple more races to win.
A chuckle bubbles out of Seokmin. You always know what to say. How to make it feel like everything will be okay, even when it’s hard to believe that.
I’ll win, he shoots back. Then, in a fit of bravery, one that he almost feels like applauding himself for, he adds, I’ll win for you.
The air in Abu Dhabi is electric.
The final race of the season, and for Seokmin, it’s his last with Ferrari. The sun is setting, casting a golden hue over the track as the engines hum with anticipation.
This is it. The last time he’ll race in the iconic red, the last time he’ll hear the roar of Ferrari fans cheering him on from the stands.
Seokmin stands in his garage, the team bustling around him. His helmet sits beside him, the familiar Ferrari colors glaring back at him. The engineers are doing their final checks, and you’re standing beside him. Quiet, focused, but there's something different about the way you look at him today.
It's the kind of glance that says everything without needing words. You've both known this day would come, but now that it's here, there's a bittersweetness that hangs in the air, unspoken.
“One for the road?” Seokmin says, his voice softer than usual as he meets your eyes.
You smile, though it’s tinged with a trace of sadness. “One for the road,” you echo. “Don’t crash.”
He chuckles. “No promises.”
The warm-up laps begin, and he slips on his helmet, the noise of the crowd outside swelling in his ears. The race is about to start.
“You’re ready,” you say, tapping his shoulder. He feels your presence beside him one last time as you relay the instructions through his earpiece.
The lights go out. The cars roar to life, and Seokmin is in his element. The track, slick from the desert heat, feels different today. He doesn't mind.
He’s determined to give Ferrari one last race to remember.
His eyes focus on the road ahead, but a small part of him is also tuned in to the fact that this race marks the end of an era.
The laps fly by. The strategy calls come in smoothly, with you guiding him through every twist and turn, keeping him grounded. Seokmin pushes hard, each lap faster than the last, as he battles it out with the other drivers.
As the race reaches its final stages, Seokmin finds himself in a podium position. The pressure mounts, but he’s calm, steady.
He knows this track. He knows his car. He knows you.
“P2, Seok. Just a few more laps. Keep your focus,” you call, your voice steady and reassuring.
I’ll miss you, a voice in the back of Seokmin’s head screeches. He barely manages to hold the words back.
“Thanks,” he replies, his voice catching slightly.
Seokmin was usually gunning to finish. Today, he’s dreading it.
The final lap begins. It feels like everything is in slow motion as Seokmin takes each turn, each straight with precision, his tires gripping the track with the familiar strength he’s come to trust over the years.
The end looms. You push him to it. It’s almost cruel, almost unfair, how in doing your job, you’re sending Seokmin off.
Seokmin grips the steering wheel, his hands slightly trembling.
And then it’s over.
Just like that. It’s over.
The crowd roars in approval. Seokmin barely hears it over the pounding in his chest. He pulls into the cooldown lap, his car slowing as he takes it all in.
Joshua finishes third, but he doesn’t say anything over the comms. Once again, this moment is Seokmin’s.
You guide Seokmin through cooldown. He swears that if he strained his ears, he could catch the hitch in your voice.
“Thank you,” he says. He knows everyone is listening, wanting to see how the indomitable Lee Seokmin was going out. This was how.
“It’s been a pleasure driving for you.” (The art of letting go.) “Forza Ferrari.”
There are no cheers from the crew, no jabs from Joshua. For a long moment, the weight of Seokmin’s words linger over the radio.
When you respond, it’s with that firmness that has made Seokmin so utterly infatuated with you.
“Give them hell,” you say.
It’s a command, and Seokmin is convinced he would’ve obliged based on your tone alone. Being the love of his life was just a nice little bonus.
He laughs, the sound carrying over comms. “They won’t know what hit them,” he promises.
Today, Seokmin did well.
Not first, not even second, but a solid position that Williams can be proud of.
He steps out of the car, wiping the sweat from his brow, and slowly removes his helmet. The blue of Williams shines beneath the bright race lights.
There's a sense of accomplishment; it’s not quite like the elation of his Ferrari days. Still, he did his job, and he did it well. That’s what matters.
As he walks towards the garage, his new race engineer is already there, calling out instructions and congratulating him. Seokmin exchanges a couple of words with Vernon.
Seokmin’ll get used to this, he’s sure. He’ll warm up to Vernon. He’ll grow into the dark blue of the Williams suit.
And maybe he’ll even move on from you.
Fat chance, he thinks, when he runs into you outside Williams’ motorhome. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume you were waiting for him.
“Not bad for a rookie,” you say right on the get-go.
“You’re just saying that because you’re not in my ear this time,” he retorts, though there’s a twinkle in his eyes.
You laugh, the sound familiar and comforting in a way that makes Seokmin’s chest feel a little lighter. “I’m just saying, I never got to call you a rookie in that red suit. But now... it suits you,” you tease, nodding toward his new Williams suit. “Kinda bland, though. You looked way better in red.”
“I’m still making it work,” he insists, pulling at the collar of his blue overalls. “Even if it’s not quite the same.”
“You’ll make it work,” you echo, your tone light but sincere. You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. “So, how’s your new race engineer? You’ve got her wrapped around your finger yet?”
The implication that you’d been wrapped around Seokmin’s finger is almost laughable. It had been the other way around for years and years, and you were none the wiser.
“Not yet. It’s different,” he admits. “I miss having you on the comms.”
There’s a brief pause, and you can feel the familiar energy between you two shift slightly, that same unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Seokmin’s gaze flickers down for a moment, then he looks back up at you, a little too seriously.
“Honestly, though,” he says, shuffling a little closer to you, “it’s been weird. You were always the one to get me through the races. I didn't realize just how much I depended on you until now.”
Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected honesty, but you recover quickly, shaking your head with a small smile. “You really have a knack for making me feel like I’m about to cry, don’t you?”
Seokmin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry. Too serious?”
“No, no, it’s just... you’re not the only one who misses the old team,” you say, your voice softening a little. “It’s been weird not hearing you. But you know I’m still rooting for you, Seok. I’m still in your corner.”
And it’s that— that damned support, those words that are never just a platitude to you— that has the words spilling out of Seokmin. Maybe the distance has given him courage. Maybe, now, he has nothing to lose and everything to prove.
“What will it take,” he says in a rush of words, “for you to be there not as my friend?”
Your eyebrows arch upward. Crap. Seokmin knows he probably could’ve phrased that better, but when you’ve been holding on to a feeling— well. It’s hard to be coherent.
“I like having you in my corner,” he amends. “And I want you there as more than a friend.”
It’s still a bit of a fumble, a clumsy attempt, but you always did know how to detangle the web of Seokmin’s confusing sentiments. On and off the track.
You see his confession for what it is. He senses it in the way your expression shifts ever so slightly; he’s comforted by the fact that you don’t pull away, that you don’t immediately go running in the opposite direction.
“You know,” you say slowly, like you’re picking out the best words. “I have a self-imposed rule on not dating co-workers.”
This is somehow worse than the Your future at Ferrari email. “Oh,” is all Seokmin manages to say. Attempting anything else might betray the gravity of his distress.
You level Seokmin with an amused glare. “We’re not on the same team anymore, Seok.”
Oh.
The look on Seokmin’s face must be priceless, because the grin that tugs at your lips is that smile you have whenever he used to nab a podium finish. The thought that it might be comparable to you is enough to have Seokmin going weak in the knees.
He’s reminded of all those hellish press conferences. The endless inquiry of What’s next for Lee Seokmin?
“Bring home a title for Williams,” you say, “and then maybe we can discuss a date.”
Here’s the thing: Seokmin has spent countless hours listening to your voice. He knows its cadence, its inflection, from all the time that it has buzzed in his ear. He knows how you sound when you’re angry, when you’re tense, when you’re excited.
And so he knows you’re not joking. The ‘maybe’ is a cushion. The challenge is sincere.
Seokmin breaks out into a smile, and you can tell he’s not letting this idea go anytime soon.
He’s going to win, and he’s going to come to you to collect.
#seokmin x reader#dk x reader#dokyeom x reader#seokmin imagines#dk imagines#dokyeom imagines#seokmin fic#dk fic#dokyeom fic#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#svt fic#seventeen fic#(🥡) notebook#(💎) page: svt#bro it's nearly 6am. good night. take this. whatever it is.
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triple-dog dare | lsm
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/88386e7643e8232551d3577f26f09244/19a555a9117d8e67-94/s540x810/84c765c13c76d83e85ae6f02f87c13abf2bcbc5f.jpg)
“Bambi.”
The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario.
He didn’t love that analogy.
Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:
“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”
pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.
For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.
Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.
To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.
The day in question went like this:
He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”
And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”
It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.
The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus.
“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”
You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.
Fuck.
“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”
And he meant it, wholeheartedly.
All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door.
The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.
You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”
Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.
“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?”
He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.
“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”
Fuck.
You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds.
“Bambi.”
The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario.
He didn’t love that analogy.
Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:
“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”
Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.
Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.
Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.
Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.
When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.
The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.
“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath.
Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks.
She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”
Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years.
“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”
Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough.
This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.
“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.
“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”
The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.
Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.
Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”
Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling.
“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.
“Well?”
There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”
Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.
You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?”
Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”
His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line.
Bullseye.
“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”
You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view.
“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.
He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.
The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.
That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.
Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.
Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.
You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.
Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls.
No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.
It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.
Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.
“I got you bad, huh?”
You blink.
“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”
For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”
For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”
He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.
Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”
You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.
“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?”
“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”
There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.
Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention.
It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.
“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”
It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”
“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”
After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”
“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”
A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”
Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.
Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.
When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.
To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.
Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”
He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”
“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”
Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”
And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.
The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.
When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.
“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.
Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.
“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”
When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”
That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.
“You okay, Thumper?”
It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him.
He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.
At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.” Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”
Ah.
There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.
You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”
He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”
And that’s that; it’s settled.
Or so you think.
A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”
“Deal.”
You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways.
“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”
Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.
“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.
“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”
Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.
“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”
Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”
As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.
Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to his ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.
Is it hot in here?
Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.
“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”
You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time.
While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.
You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.
Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself.
Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”
You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.
“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”
Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.
You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”
The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out.
You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.
“Hey.”
It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.
The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”
“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling.
Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.
“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”
Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level.
Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.
As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.
“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”
He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….
“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”
Petty, no.
Psychic? Probably.
“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”
Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.
“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”
Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.
His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”
A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.
Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”
In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.
“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”
Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.
“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”
Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”
Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.
“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”
At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.
“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.
Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.
The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.
“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”
Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.
As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip.
On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.
You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.
In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.
Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.
No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.
No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name.
Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.
The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.
That’s it.
If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.
“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”
Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.
Soyeon’s eyes brighten.
Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.
Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”
The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.
Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.
But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.
“I hope I’m interrupting something.”
For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.
Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.
“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”
It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.
Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.
“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”
Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”
“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.
This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.
“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”
Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.
The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.
“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.
His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”
“Oh, my god.”
You do.
The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.
You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.
He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time.
“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”
You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.
“How the hell did you get away from him?”
It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.
Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”
“Oh?”
“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”
All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”
“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”
You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”
“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”
“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.
“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”
“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”
After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.
Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.
A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.
Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.
All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.
“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”
He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”
“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”
You open your mouth to argue.
“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”
You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.
It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.
Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on.
Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others.
She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.
Say something.
Say anything.
“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”
Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.
“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.
You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.
Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.
Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”
You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens.
Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.
Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.
Fuck.
“Ah,” is the best you can do.
And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.
You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —
“He deserves that, don’t you think?”
The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.
Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.
It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.
“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”
No, you realize too late, it’s bait.
Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”
Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.
Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”
“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”
A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.
“Seokmin loves love.”
She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull.
“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”
Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term.
You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.
She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —”
Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another.
“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”
Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is.
Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?
The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be.
You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s.
He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.
What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?
Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper.
“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just — get the hell out of their way.”
By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.
You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.
He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.
All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.
Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.
If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?
Why would it hurt?
The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.
So, you won’t.
You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.
That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.
“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?”
He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.
Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.
The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.
“— and another thing!” She slurs.
There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.
“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”
Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.
“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”
Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.
Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”
“No!” His grandmother squawks.
The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her.
“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”
She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”
“Exactly. Can you —?”
He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.
By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.
“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.
The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking.
Poor bastard.
Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”
“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake.
Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.
Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.
The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.
No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.
Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”
Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”
In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.
On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all.
Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.
You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.
“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”
The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation:
You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.
But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.
“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….”
His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.
Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”
So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.
“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”
“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”
Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.
Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”
His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.
He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.
That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.
You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”
There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.
“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.
Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”
Foot, meet mouth.
You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.
“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”
You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase.
When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”
“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”
It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.
I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.
This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.
Seokmin jumps on the grenade.
“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”
It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.
For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.
“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”
The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.
You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.
You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”
Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.
Actually…
He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.
You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming.
Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he?
His hands are far too busy.
Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold.
His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.
“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.
You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.
His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”
The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.
“You were right, though.”
You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.
“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.
The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.
“How long —”
You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance.
“— have you been waiting to say that?”
Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”
You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.
Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.
“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”
When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.
“Is that why you’re still not naked?”
Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.
“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”
If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.
He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.
“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”
The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand.
Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.
It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.
You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.
Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”
With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”
Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.
“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.”
The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.
“But I’m taking you down with me.”
And you do.
So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.
You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.
What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom.
As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.
You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.
When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”
Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.
You wail, “Noooooo!”
Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.
Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”
“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?”
You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.
Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.
Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.
Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.
“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.
He beams. “Hi.”
“Why are we awake at this hour?”
That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”
“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.
Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.
“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”
#dokyeom#lee seokmin#dk#svt#dokyeom x reader#seokmin x reader#dk x reader#svt x reader#dokyeom fluff#dokyeom angst#dokyeom smut#dokyeom imagines#dokyeom scenarios#dokyeom fic#dokyeom fanfic#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt smut#svt fanfic#svt fic#kvanity#re: triple dog dare#i hate tagging shit for people with multiple name variations oh my god#i give up
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★ IG STORIES W THEM — maknae line
genre. fluff, est relationship ! ~ pairing idol!svt x afab!reader warnings: not really :))
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#seventeen#seventeen drabbles#seventeen fics#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#seventeen au#seventeen fanfic#seventeen crack#seventeen texts#dokyeom#Mingyu#minghao#seungkwan#vernon#dino#seventeen dokyeom#seventeen mingyu#seventeen minghao#seventeen seungkwan#seventeen vernon#seventeen dino#dokyeom fluff#mingyu fluff#minghao fluff#seungkwan fluff#vernon fluff#dino fluff#seventeen x y/n
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🚪 svt when they don't open the door for you when you knock
a/n: weirdly specific but i was triggered by this recently hence; not properly proofread word count: 3.8k tags: comfort!svt, gn!annoyed+emotional!reader, reader described to be smaller than svt, fluff, pet names, emotional tears, some raised voices (to and from minghao)
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
Seungcheol — immediately stands up when he hears just the keys jingling at the door. He runs to reach it before you turn the knob but he’s too late.
But before you could even start complaining, before you could even glare at him, Cheol immediately embraces you and says “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t hear your knocks, I have no excuse.”
In this instance, all his pouts are not to annoy you, but to beg you to get rid of your annoyance at him. So try as you might to stay annoyed at him, how could you when he’s got you locked safe in the embrace of his strong and secure arms?
(i’m sorry cheol’s is so short because……..i think this is the most accurate i can get him honestly it’s just really straightforward like this for him)
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Jeonghan — immediately walks out of your shared room to greet you as soon as he hears the door open.
“You’re home—” he says with arms outstretched, but you cut him off instantly.
“Why didn’t you open the door for me?” He stays silent, a questioning look on his face. “I knocked so many times, but you know we can’t knock too loudly right? I was waiting for you to open the door, but you didn’t.”
You roll your eyes and steam off to your room, sidestepping him and his efforts to talk to you. When you emerge and settle on the couch, he sits beside you but at a slight distance because he knew better than to keep pressing when you were like this.
When he sees that your breathing started to regulate and your expression seemed to neutralize, that’s when he reaches for your hand and laces his fingers in yours. “How was your day, my angel?”
You just look at him. He persists, kissing the back of your intertwined hand. “Come here, I know you need a hug.”
Reluctantly, you lower your pride and scoot closer to him, settling on his chest. “Now, what’s bothering my angel? I know it’s more than just the door, and I’m really sorry that hurt you. But it’s more than the door, isn’t it? How are you really?”
You fight back tears because you know he’s right. It just wasn't your day and nothing went well, and you feel so bad that you projected your unnecessary anger at him.
You hug him tighter and mumble out an “I’m sorry Hannie,” to which he replies, “I’m sorry too, it’s okay. Hannie is here to listen, I’m here.”
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Joshua — doesn’t realize his mistake at first and greets you like normal: with a smile, a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. He quickly realizes that something was off when you don’t return the said hug and kiss as enthusiastically as you usually do, and your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. When you only gave one word replies to him asking how your day was, alarms flare in his head.
He stops whatever he’s doing and does the same to you, taking the few groceries you were packing away from your hands and replacing them with his. he looks you in the eye, the alarm and guilt so palpable in his.
“I’m sorry,” he immediately prefaces. “What did I do? Or what did I not do? I’m so, so sorry.”
At his apologies, you started feeling bad as you saw him so helpless, but you also couldn’t hold back the whining tone from your voice as you said, “You knew I went to get some groceries. Why didn’t you open the door?” You feel bad, yes, but you’re also still annoyed.
He sighs in realization and frustration, before he looks back to you and caresses your cheek, then wordlessly pulls you into his chest. He strokes your head and smooths down your hair, a gesture that never fails to comfort you.
“I’m sorry, love. I’m really sorry. I really didn’t hear the door, I promise I didn’t mean to.” You stay like that for a while, just holding each other before he breaks away, saying he’ll be right back. When he emerges from your room, he had a light jacket on to cover his tank top.
“Let’s go.”
“What?”
“For a walk. And a snack. And because I know something else is bothering that pretty head of yours,” he says with a kiss to your forehead. “Really tell me about your day, love. I want to hear all about it.”
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Junhui — plays along with your annoyed air at first, mocking your tone whenever you said “Why didn’t you open the door?” with his own mischievous smile.
When he saw that you didn’t just glare at him once or twice—it was five times to be exact—he slowly tones down, then fully stops when you stay silent. That’s when he realizes how seriously annoyed you were at this miss.
He isn’t very physically and verbally expressive of his love, but he wordlessly proceeds to set the dining table for you the moment you sat there, cautious of how you were going to react. When he was done, he sat down with you, stealing glances at you as you proceeded with dinner. When you asked if he had eaten, he shook his head silently.
As some time passed and there was a slight lull while you were eating, he grabs your hand and looks you in the eye with intent and remorse. “I'm sorry I didn’t open the door for you. I’ll be way more attentive next time.”
For the first time since you arrived, the frown on your face melted because here was Junhui so straightforward and affectionate when he rarely was. The moment he saw that smile on your lips, he leaned in to kiss it. “There’s my favorite smile.”
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Soonyoung — at a loss for words as to how to make it up to you. But because it was Soonyoung, you couldn’t really stay annoyed at him for so long. After all, that was the first time it happened and he just happened to catch you on a bad day too, and you see that it never happened again.
But you also saw there’s more to it than that. Since then, he proceeds to open literally anything for you, from bedroom and car doors, to jars and cereal boxes, even the TV at one point, grabbing the remote from your hand and doing a simple push of a button for you.
He only stops when you ask him “Soonyoungie, I know how unbelievably sweet it is for you to open these things for me, but are you still doing this because of what happened before?”
He just looked at you and pursed his lips. He really didn’t want to make you feel anything negative, especially when he was the cause of it. He wordlessly gave you a sullen nod.
You melt at this and pull him in for a hug, repeatedly reassuring him that you weren’t annoyed at him anymore and that he could stop. Well, he didn’t completely stop, he realized that it was no big deal to do even the smallest things for you.
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Wonwoo — was always busy with his games whenever you knock at your door and no one answers. You were pretty used to it, in fact. It wasn’t everyday, but it happened often. On those days, you just go to him and kiss his forehead. Most times, he immediately stops the game and dedicates his time to you.
But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make you a bit sad everytime he fails to greet you at the door. So when a time came that this happened for how many days straight, your sadness turned into frustration and then annoyance.
It reached its peak when he was so engrossed with whatever he was playing that he didn’t even look to you when you arrived, didn’t even greet you. You scoff, but it fell to deaf ears inside his gaming headset. You walk out and busy yourself with something, anything besides him. When he does finally come out, he greets you, but is given the cold shoulder. He notices it right away.
“Love?” Silence. “Baby?” More silence. He attempts to hold your hand, but you pull it away. Oh shit. He tries again, inching closer to try and hug you, but his advances are rejected as you move away from him.
He sighs with defeat, knowing that he won’t get anywhere when you’re like this. So the evening passed in silence. When you two were finally getting ready for bed, you try to find sanctuary under the covers for the hurt in your heart. You try to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. You feel Wonwoo’s side dip with his weight, and when he settled down, he finally got the chance to wrap you in a hug.
“Talk to me. Please. I think I know what this is about, so just talk to me. I know we won’t be able to sleep without fixing this problem. Please.”
You cave and face him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. And he realizes how grave his mistake was.
Since then, he always came running to the door at the first few knocks, greeting you with a tight hug and a soft forehead kiss. You wonder how, and you find out that the sounds from his games were a little too loud whenever you arrived.
“Wonwoo-ya! Where were you? How could you abandon us to die?” You peek into his gaming room and hear frustrated voices coming from the speakers.
“Sorry! I had to attend to more important things,” he speaks into his mic with a wink toward your direction.
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Jihoon — was a homebody, and always answered the door without fail. That is, whenever he was home before you were, which was a rare occurrence. It was a different story for his perpetually locked studio. He never answered the door for anyone, not even you. So as long as he was inside and could unlock the door remotely, you entered quietly to not disturb his artistic process.
There was one rule, most especially applicable to him, and that rule is no work was to be brought home. He rarely took breaks anymore when at the office and in the studio, so home was a place for rest.
He followed the said rule religiously, until you experienced unanswered knocks similar to how he is in the studio. For the past few days when you open the door, you see him slumped over his desk with work, samples streaming from the speakers or strewn paper filled with various lyrics.
For the nth consecutive time this happens, you were fed up with him. Your efforts at knocking to get his attention proved futile, so you called. He answered on the second ring.
“Jihoon-ah. I’ve been knocking for 10 minutes. Why aren’t you answering?”
You were greeted at the door by a breathless Jihoon, confused and slightly annoyed, asking you “Why didn’t you just open the door?”
That did it for you. “Because we’re not at your studio, Jihoon. We’re supposed to be at home.” You pushed past him in frustration, and his actions slowly dawned on him.
The next day, you wake to a soft kiss on your forehead and a whispered “I love you” before Jihoon left for work. Your annoyance has mostly died down, but it was replaced by a pang of sadness, that was quickly replaced by shock when you exited your room and saw what was on the table.
It was a bouquet of delicate flowers in your favorite color, nothing grand, but something well thought of. You notice something glinting tied around the stems. It was a key. On the table was a note: “I will open all the doors for you, and leave them open for you and only you. Even the door to the studio will be unlocked for you. I’m sorry. - Your Ji”
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Minghao — doesn’t immediately understand what the big deal is about.
"It’s just a door."
That’s what you hear him say when he finally asks why you’ve been annoyed and cold the moment you stepped into the apartment.
“It’s not just a door, Minghao!”
“You don’t hear me say the same thing when you don’t open the door for me, do you?”
“But I apologize after! It’s like you don’t even care!”
“I care, but it’s just not a big deal for me.”
“Well then if it’s not a big deal, why couldn’t you do something so simple?”
“I didn’t mean to not hear you knocking! I just happened to be preoccupied then!”
“Wow, so you were too preoccupied to even greet me? To apologize to me?”
It was a bad day for both of you, and you ended up fighting fire with fire, bringing up even unrelated issues from past and present, until one of you reached your tipping point, all from a simple gesture not done.
At that tipping point, he is rendered silent. “Pause. I can’t do this.”
You nod. “Pause.”
After a few moments, he speaks again. “I’m sorry. You know how blunt I can be. I didn’t see right away that it’s not what you need right now.”
You nod. “I’m sorry. It’s really not my day. I just couldn’t understand how you could say that as if it’s nothing.”
He initiates contact, reaching for your hands and circling them around his waist, and you effortlessly lean into the embrace he forms around you. He presses a soft kiss on the crown of your head. His lips stay there when you hear him say, "It's not nothing. It's never nothing with you."
“Then please just open the door next time?”
He lightly chuckles, and you feel his chest move with it. “It really is just a door. But okay, I’ll make sure to always open it for you.”
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Mingyu — always opens the door for you. No contest.
But on the rare occasion that he misses to do so, and he caught you on a bad day at that, he just stands there like a helpless puppy as the gravity of his actions sinks in. Whether you say your choice words, or with no words at all, he will know what he did wrong right away.
You storm into your room and he quickly follows, but your body language made it clear that you didn’t want to be disturbed. Despite his height, you easily sidestepped him as you made your way into the bathroom to shower.
Mingyu was standing by the door of the bathroom when you finished. You tried sidestepping him again, but he stood his ground this time, catching you in his embrace, rubbing your back, then kneading your temples. He led you back to your room, helping you dress up, dry your hair, massages your hands. While you do your skincare, he combs your hair straight and with no tangles. When you’re done and you stop to look at each other in the mirror, he hugs you from behind, and you allow him to do so.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I won’t.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck and doesn’t let go until you finally give him a kiss on the cheek, one that was denied from him when you arrived. You tried really hard to stay annoyed at Mingyu, but you can’t, you just can’t.
So he always opens the door for you, without fail. He’d rather see your endless smiles if it meant doing something as simple as this.
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Seokmin — you knock at the door, knowing Seokmin is inside because you can hear him busy inside. It isn’t as usual for him to be home earlier than you because it was usually the other way around, so when he doesn’t open the door for you, your annoyance slowly grew with every knock.
You were just so tired and couldn’t wait to lie down but he couldn’t even open the door for you? You fumble with your keys, even dropping it in frustration, and he still didn’t hear you.
When you finally open the door, you hear music playing from the speakers and you can smell something…off. A panicked yelp confirms that yes, indeed, something is wrong, and you follow the scent to the kitchen, where you see Seokmin trying to save what was left of his bowl’s contents.
“Seokminnie, are you okay? What happened?”
His alarmed eyes met yours and were soon filled with disappointment. “You’re here. I didn’t even hear you come in. I’m sorry, I…I was just trying to make you something because I know you’re tired with all those messages you sent me and it was just the right timing that I could leave work early so I rushed home and then this happened and—”
You can’t believe you had the gall to be annoyed at him when he was the sweetest, most thoughtful man on earth. You take the bowl from his hands and hug him, resting your head on his beating heart. He molds himself into you and wraps you in his arms.
“I love you, Minnie.”
He kisses the crown of your head and rests his chin there while rubbing your back reassuringly. “I love you too. You can rest now, I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry.”
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Seungkwan — you were so ready to be petty and annoyed, you already had choice words in mind because you think this was payback for all the times you absentmindedly did the same to him, how he was left stewing but you secretly always took this chance to placate and soothe him because you knew he liked it when you fussed over him.
Nonetheless, you tried to be as obnoxious as possible while fumbling with your keys and opening the door. Seeing the back of his head leaned on the couch, you couldn’t even believe that he didn’t turn his head to you until you stood in front of him and was immediately silenced.
Seungkwan was fast asleep, deeply asleep that your noise didn’t even wake him. You slowly backtracked and remembered what his day was like today, how it was packed to the brim with schedules from one place to another, and you felt guilty as hell.
As quietly as you could, you brush his hair away from his face. You overestimated how deep his sleep was though, because his eyes flow open the moment he felt your touch.
“Wha—you’re home!” He grabs your hand and looks at you with sleepy eyes that closed again when he realized that “Ah no, I fell asleep. I was trying to wait for you but—”
You shushed him at that moment and said it was okay because this tired sleepyhead needs to rest already. You pull him up from the couch, where he wordlessly fixed himself against your side and kissed the side of your head as you walked into your shared room so you could tuck him in properly.
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Vernon — was watching a movie and was so fixated on it that he didnt even notice you were in until you opened the light.
“Oh—oh! Youre home!” He scrambles to pause the movie and brisk walk straight to you for a tight hug, even swaying slightly side to side. When he breaks apart and sees the slight frown on your face (that you quickly assembled after it got wiped away with that damn heartwarming hug), he tilts his head to the side.
“I know that face. What did I do? Is it because I didn’t open the door?” He widens his eyes in acknowledgment as it clicks in his head and lets out a defeated smile.
“I’m sorry” and while he still had you in his clutches, he kisses your nose.
“I’m sorry,” and a kiss on your cheek, another apology with another kiss to your other cheek, your forehead, your lips, your eyes, until you're smothered with his kisses.
He doesn’t stop until you were pushing him away, but he achieved his goal of making you smile. “Are you still annoyed? I’m not stopping,” He says, returning your smile with your favorite gummy smile of his.
“No, okay, stop! I’m okay. I’m not annoyed anymore…but don’t do it again.”
“Got it,” with one final kiss, a deeper one on your lips. When you both come up for air, he follows it up with “Come on, what do you wanna watch?”
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Chan — apologized as profusely as he could after seeing your annoyed face, hugging and kissing and never letting you leave his embrace until you finally said you weren’t annoyed anymore.
You let it go then, but you’re still a bit petty, and decided to do an Uno Reverse on him when the opportunity presented itself. You acted as nonchalant as possible when you heard him struggle with his keys, open the door, and finally face you from where you were seated.
When you look up from the book you were reading, you tried to act as surprised as you could. “Oh, Channie! You’re home.” You could see a sheen of annoyance masking his face, one he was trying to keep down.
“Didn’t you hear me knocking?”
“…No, sorry. I guess I was too into this book. I’m sorry Channie,” you say with the best pout you could muster.
You see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, before he smiles and leans down to kiss your forehead. “It’s okay, baby.” He wordlessly settles down beside you on the couch and pulls you in to cuddle and hold you tight.
You were dumbstruck to say the least. He wasn’t…annoyed? “You’re not annoyed at me?”
He pulls you in closer, nuzzling his cheek against yours before saying “No,” followed by a kiss to your cheek. “But I know you still are. And I’m really sorry. So I’ll just hold you tight until this hurt goes away.”
Your heart swells with pride at how he instantly saw through your seemingly tough facade. You melt against him, all sign of annoyance gone from you as you whisper a “Thank you, Chan.”
#chanranghaeys#chanranghaeys writes#seventeen#svt#seventeen fic#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt x y/n#svt x you#seventeen x you#seventeen drabble#seventeen headcanons#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt fluff#svt smut#svt angst#scoups#seungcheol#jeonghan#joshua hong#hong jisoo#jun#junhui#hoshi#wonwoo#woozi#the8#mingyu#dokyeom
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Promise
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d91c008d9a44599da900aa093ac273a3/d56d77505027b77a-d1/s540x810/29da17bbfafb7bdc81188cdd438e061bc50f8f3d.jpg)
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Genre: fluff.
Pairing: Dokyeom x reader.
Warnings: barely proofread. Subtle mention of marriage I guess??
Yuin's note: Inspiration struck me this morning so I wrote this in record time of ten minutes. Happy New Year everyone!
"Promise that you'll never leave me," Seokmin said suddenly as he walked into the room.
"What are you talking about?" you narrowed your eyes, a bit confused.
"You heard me," he stepped a few inches closer and pointed at you with a finger, his expression very serious. "Promise that you'll never go away."
"Ah, I knew you had too much punch," you grimaced in annoyance. "Look, it's January 1st and is super late, let's talk about this in the morning."
You turned to head towards the bed but he stepped in front of you again, taking you by the shoulders. You swallowed hard; his touch was not exactly rough, but it was very firm. This seemed serious, not just one of those moments.
"Promise that you'll never leave me," Seokmin repeated.
He leaned in a bit closer, looking you straight in the eyes. You stared into his eyes, feeling your heart race a little; you knew the answer and the words you wanted to say, but they just got stuck.
"Until death do us part, right?" you murmured, shrugging your shoulders.
Seokmin fell silent, his lips curving slightly upward in a little smile, and he rested his hands on your waist in a heartfelt hug that you received by wrapping your arms around his neck.
Suddenly, you felt his grip tighten, and your feet floated in the air. Instinctively, you clung to him even tighter as you let out a small gasp of surprise. Yes, you had fallen into his game again.
"I know you'll never leave me!" he exclaimed joyfully. "I love you!"
"I love you too, but put me down! Lee Seok Min!"
When your feet were back on the ground, you took a moment to breathe; you were ready to start an argument, but you hadn't even opened your mouth when Seokmin leaned in and pressed a kiss in your forehead, pulling back to look at you with a warm smile.
He tilted his head slightly, cupping your cheeks with his hands. "Why are you blushing? Are you that happy to see me?"
You smiled, placing your hands over his. "I will never leave you, I promise" and you gave him a small peck on the tip of his nose. "Happy first New Year."
Seokmin gave you a fond smile that made his eyes squint. "Happy first New Year, sweetie."
#seventeen#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fic#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen x y/n#seventeen x you#seventeen drabbles#svt#svt fanfic#svt fic#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt x y/n#svt x you#svt imagines#dokyeom#dokyeom fanfic#dokyeom fic#dokyeom fluff#dokyeom x reader#dokyeom imagines#dokyeom x y/n#dokyeom x you#seventeen carat#svt drabbles
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DOKYEOM AS YOUR INEXPERIENCED DOMESTIC BOYFRIEND 𖧷 ,, 이석민
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/68169aaa1f503e046b819580fb2864a5/ddbd924568d632a5-fd/s540x810/ce620b5e350ce2560b9522315d264e3c1fe94898.jpg)
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🏷️ ⋆。˚. new couple!dk x reader, fluffy&comedic headcanons, dk is a little dumb here haha bear with me
🗒️ ⋆。˚. we all love a goofy silly boyfriend <3
୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐
dokyeom who always complies to your little silly requests and never once uttered a single complaint — wear matching banana onesies in broad daylight to the nearby convenience store? yes. make a funny face in front of the pastries you’ve just ordered at the cafe for your instagram post? sure. switching shoes just because your feet started hurting from the high heels? of course (at this point he is high-heel trained, he could be doing full-on jogs with them haha) he just can’t say no to his princess because honestly how could he ever deny your pouty, doe-eyed face…?
dokyeom who has absolutely no idea what the definition of personal space is and loves sticking to you whenever and wherever you are. and by that, it’s literally whenever and wherever. there was once when you were up showering at 2am to cool off the scorching summer heat, and when you turned around after applying shampoo, you literally caught him sitting down on the bathroom mat, bed hair sticking out in all directions, rubbing his eyes and staring at you doe-eyed. “kyeomie what the heck are you doing there???” (not gonna lie your soul nearly left your body) “I was scared…. :( the bed’s too empty”
dokyeom who would panick when you have your period in front of him. “JAGIYA YOU’RE BLEEDING” “it’s called menstruation…” and you can literally see the cogs turn in his brain, trying to process what that meant. “do you need a bandage?” and of course it took him quite a while to learn that you indeed do not need one…
dokyeom who brings you down to the playground across the street to build snow ducks during winter, but every single snow duck he made had some fuckass weird mutations — the beak would be missing or even the whole ass head would be gone, but regardless,, you would praise him. “look jagiya, this is us” he pointed to three snow ducks perched on the wooden bench. “kyeomie but there’s three ducks not two?” and he smiles at you saying “this is gonna be our little family in the future” 🥹
#seventeen dk#seventeen ff#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fic#kpop fluff#kpopff#kpopfic#svt ff#svt au#seventeen au#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt fanfic#svt headcanons#seventeen headcanons#svt dk#dokyeom#dokyeom fluff#dokyeom fanfic#dokyeom fic#lee seokmin#dokyeom imagines#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#svt#seventeen#svt fic recs#seventeen drabbles
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the city of love
synopsis in which dokyeom proposes to yn in Paris pairing nonidol!lee dokyeom x gn!reader genre fluff warnings dk being anxious, a small part about cabarets, terms of endearment/petnames, kisses, reader wears a dress, that's all i can think of (do let me know if theres more) word count 1.9k
playlist cant help falling in love marry you
notes: been loving romcoms for a while and decided to write this story based on what id like my proposal to look like HAHAHA hope yall like it !! p.s. 10 things i hate about you is one of my favourites <3 do give me more ideas for fics in the cmmts or send me an ask !!
As Dokyeom paced around the room, his mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts. The suitcase in front of him was half-packed, clothes neatly folded, but his thoughts were anything but organized. The idea of proposing to you filled him with both excitement and anxiety. He glanced at the bag of balloons he’d slipped into his luggage, a reminder of the grand plan he had meticulously crafted for a few months now.
“What if they don’t say yes, hyung?” Dokyeom fretted, pacing around their room as he packed for the trip with Y/N. His phone was on speaker, and he were calling the group for some last-minute advice.
“Have you seen the way they look at you?” Seungkwan’s voice came through, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m pretty sure they’ll say yes.”
“If they say no, can I steal them from you?” Dino joked with a laugh. “They make amazing cookies.”
“Not helping,” Dokyeom mumbled, nervously folding another shirt into their suitcase.
Dokyeom's fingers brushed the edge of the velvet ring box, its weight a tangible symbol of his hopes and fears. “I just hope everything goes smoothly. What if all this effort is for nothing? They might leave me.”
“Don’t worry about all of that,” Jeonghan advised gently. “Remember to have fun. Trust the plan. Everything will fall into place if it’s meant to be.”
“And don’t forget to pack the ring,” S.Coups chimed in with a grin that Dokyeom could practically hear.
Dokyeom took a deep breath, nodding even though no one could see him. “Alright, I think I’m all packed. Let’s hope everything goes according to plan.” He muttered the last part.
Everything had gone surprisingly well so far. You and Dokyeom had talked about this trip to Paris for years, but something always got in the way. Now, finally, both of you were able to take a seven-day leave and make it happen. The city felt like something out of a dream — timeless, and full of hidden wonders.
On the first day, after landing in Paris, you both felt the excitement settle in as you headed straight to the Louvre. The enormous layout of the museum took your breath away as you went inside, surrounded by art from all around the world. Walking hand in hand, you wove through the maze of halls, pausing at famous works like the Mona Lisa and Winged Victory of Samothrace.
When you reached the sculpture Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, you both stood in awe. The way the marble figures intertwined seemed almost too lifelike, as if they were frozen in a moment of affection. You couldn’t help but admire the way the light bounced off the smooth stone, highlighting every detail. Dokyeom’s arm hugged your waist as you both took in the beauty and history surrounding you.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” You whispered, eyes fixed on the sculpture.
Dokyeom nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, but you know what’s even more beautiful?” He turned to look at you, his smile widening.
You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him gently. “You’re such a cheeseball.”
“I mean it, though,” he chuckled, squeezing your hand. “I still can’t believe we’re here. Together.”
In that moment, surrounded by art and history, everything felt perfectly right.
You spent more time at the Louvre than planned, snapping tons of photos for Instagram and for your own memories.
On the second day, you and Dokyeom decided to explore the Montmartre, starting with the stunning Sacré-Cœur Basilica. The white domes stood out against the sky, offering an amazing view of Paris below. Inside, the intricate mosaics shimmered in the light, creating a serene atmosphere as you took in the stunning architecture.
After leaving the Basilica, you strolled through the nearby Place du Tertre, a lively square filled with the buzz of street artists and their easels. You and Dokyeom sat down to get your portraits done, soaking in the lively atmosphere. The atmosphere was vibrant, with the sounds of sketching, laughter, and conversations blending together into a perfect Montmartre experience.
After a delicious lunch at a little café, you both headed to the Musée d'Orsay. There, you found yourself captivated by masterpieces from artists like Van Gogh and Monet. Each painting seemed to pull you into its world, and the museum’s elegant interior only enhanced the experience. The two of you wandered through the halls, taking in every detail of the beautiful works of art.
As evening approached, your excitement began to build. You were about to experience the legendary Moulin Rouge, a cabaret show in Paris you’d heard so much about. Dokyeom, always full of surprises, had secretly bought tickets for the famous venue. As you arrived, the bright lights, vibrant costumes, and captivating performances whisked you away to a world of entertainment you had only dreamed of. Checking "watching a cabaret show" off your bucket list felt even more magical than you had imagined.
By the third day, you decided to slow things down, spending the afternoon at the Champ de Mars for a picnic, with the Eiffel Tower looming gracefully above. You both laughed as you watched tourists pose dramatically in front of the landmark, feeling content in your own world together. Later, you took a scenic cruise along the Seine River, the water shimmering in the late afternoon light.
The two of you returned to the hotel room early to prepare for a special dinner at the Eiffel Tower, a night you had anticipated with excitement. You had chosen a stunning white Chanel mini dress, its chic simplicity accentuated by black off-shoulder sleeves that framed your shoulders gracefully. A delicate ribbon, adorned with a Chanel camellia, cinched the waist, adding a touch of timeless elegance. The soft glow of the evening light made the fabric shimmer subtly as you moved.
Dokyeom had chosen a new suit to complement your outfit. His classic black and white suit was impeccably tailored, with a simple yet elegant Chanel brooch pinned to the lapel.
“I had to pick out a new suit to match you, you know,” he said with a playful smile. “And I didn’t want to risk being turned away because of the dress code.”
“I'm glad though. You look handsome as always.”
After taking some photos on the balcony, you headed out to the restaurant. As you were about to leave, Dokyeom asked you to wait outside while he spoke with the concierge.
You were puzzled by the request, but when he returned, he explained that he had arranged for extra towels and soap to be delivered to your room. You didn’t think much of it and continued your way to the dinner venue.
The both of you indulged in a long-awaited culinary experience at Le Jules Verne, a restaurant you had been eager to visit ever since seeing it in Murder Mystery 2. Dining high above Paris with panoramic views of the city, the experience was as unforgettable as you had hoped. The sophisticated atmosphere and exquisite cuisine made it a perfect end to a delightful day — or so you thought.
Back at the hotel, Dokyeom asked you to close your eyes. He gently guided you into the room, covering your eyes with his hands.
“Close your eyes.”
“What are you up to? Don’t do anything silly; this dress is expensive!” you chided, knowing he might do something playful.
“Relax, I’m not doing anything stupid. Are they closed?”
“Yes, kyeom, they are. What’s going on?”
“Keep them closed. I’ll let go now.”
He removed his hands, and you heard him shuffling things around. “Okay, you can open them now.”
You slowly opened your eyes and took in the breathtaking scene before you. Rose petals were delicately scattered from the entrance of the hotel room, leading to a heart-shaped arrangement in the center, where Dokyeom stood, enveloped in a sea of petals. He held a bouquet of roses, their vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the soft light of the room. Silver balloons floated on the windows, their reflective letters spelling out “Marry Me?” Your heart raced as you took in every detail, feeling a wave of emotion swell within you.
As you stepped further into the room, Dokyeom moved to stand within the heart of petals, his eyes full of love and nervous anticipation. He handed you the bouquet, his hands trembling slightly, then knelt down with a deep breath, pulling out a ring box. Your breath hitched as you saw the ring — its diamond gleamed with a brilliance that seemed to capture all the warmth and love in the room, shimmering with every flicker of light.
“Dokyeom…”
“Y/N, love, these five years with you have been the most incredible of my life. You’ve been my rock through every high and low, my constant when everything else was uncertain. I can’t imagine a future without you, and I want to continue building that future together. I want to create more memories with you, face every challenge side by side, and share every joy. My love for you is beyond words. Will you marry me?”
Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you nodded, your voice choked with emotion. “Yes, of course I will. I love you so much.” You extended your left hand, and with a gentle, reverent touch, he slid the ring onto your finger. The moment felt suspended in time, the diamond’s brilliance reflecting your shared happiness and the promise of a future together.
“Okay, thank God, because my heart was pounding and my knees were killing me,” he joked, making you laugh as you admired the ring.
“I had it custom-made.”
“Really? It’s perfect,” you said, turning your hand to catch the light. The ring’s elegant design and intricate details made it feel even more special. “I love it.”
“Yeah. I thought you’d like it more this way. I had fun designing it and made sure to include all the details you love,” he said, as you admired the diamond sparkling in the moonlight.
“Thank you, Dokyeom. This has been absolutely amazing.” You looked at him and gave him a kiss.
“Let’s take some pictures!” you said, grabbing your camera.
That night, after posting some photos on Instagram, your phone buzzed incessantly with congratulations and likes. But you barely noticed, wrapped up in the comfort of late-night snacks and your favorite movies, nestled beside your new fiancé.
“By the way, how did you pull off that incredible surprise?” you asked, gazing at Dokyeom with curiosity.
“Well, the concierge is a secret weapon,” Dokyeom said with a mischievous grin. “They’re like fairy godparents for tonight. I think they were so charmed by the proposal that they didn’t charge me a thing. They said it was the sweetest thing they’d ever seen — except maybe the time a couple asked them to help with a proposal on a gondola in Venice. ”
You laughed softly, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. “I love you, Dokyeom,” you said, your voice soft as you gazed into his eyes.
“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied. He gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that made your heart swell even more.
In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the room and the cozy comfort of each other’s presence, everything felt perfect.
You had always thought people exaggerated when they called Paris the city of love. But experiencing it firsthand, you couldn’t agree more.
#kpop fanfic#fanfic recs#fanfiction#svt#seventeen#svt fanfic#svt ff#dk imagines#dk#dokyeom fics#dokyeom#dk x reader#dk seventeen#dk svt#lee seokmin#dokyeom x reader#dokyeom fluff#dokyeom imagines#dokyeom fanfic#lee dokyeom#lee dokyeom x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader
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how seventeen would act with reader having daddy issues
WARNINGS: it may be sensitive to some people, and there are mentions of past traumas and family issues. mostly of it is basically, seventeen and their family taking care of you <3
a/n: this was an ask that was in my inbox for a long time, sorry about this 🥺 and worse, I was writing it, and the light have gone off, so ivé lost the drabble and I cant find in my inbox, I just know that it was from my bestie hannieween, sorry about the long time 🥺🙏 I hope you like it
seungcheol: already planning how to spoil you just to make up for what you didn’t get. this man would not let you suffer through those awkward, tense family reunions. the second you even hint at feeling uncomfortable, he’s pulling you out of there and taking you straight to his family’s place. his dad, a total sweetheart. he’s the type to sit you down, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely listen. and that’s when it hits you—this is where seungcheol gets his protective streak. his dad’s got the same energy, always making sure you’re taken care of. it’s like you’re part of their family now, and honestly, it feels better than anything you’ve ever known.
jeonghan: he’s sneaky about it, but in the most loving way. like, he knows you’ve got that hole where support should be, and he’s filling it without making it obvious. he’d get his mom and dad to invite you over for a casual dinner, but then it’s all about you. “oh, y/n loves pasta, mom,” he’d say, nudging you under the table when you get shy. his parents adore you, and jeonghan’s sitting back, watching you laugh at his dad’s corny jokes with this smug little grin, like, yeah, that’s my baby.
joshua: he’d plan random trips to his family’s place, just so you can hang out with his mom. like, one weekend, you’re baking cookies with his mom, and the next, you’re playing guitar with his uncle. josh is always hovering, making sure you’re comfortable, but lowkey beaming when he sees you getting along with his family. he’s super patient, too—he never pushes, just waits for you to open up when you’re ready. and when you do... he’s holding your hand, whispering, “see? they love you, just like i do.”
junhui: he’d make sure you feel like you belong there too. he’d take you home during the holidays, and suddenly, his mom’s treating you like her own kid. jun would sit next to you at dinner, quietly making sure you’re okay, squeezing your hand under the table whenever he notices you getting overwhelmed. he’s just sitting there, watching it all unfold, thinking, yeah, this is what you deserve.
hoshi: this man would straight-up share his dad with you. like, he’d plan trips for the three of you—fishing, hiking, picnics, you name it. and he’d be so proud when you start opening up to his dad. he gets that it’s gonna take time, but when he sees you laughing at his dad’s terrible puns, he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. sometimes, when hoshi’s away for schedules, you’d even hang out with his dad without him. he’ll be texting you like, “my dad loves you more than me now 😭.” and even when he’s away for work, his family still makes time for you, calling you over to hang out or have dinner.
woozi: jihoon’s not big on family talk, but he knows you are, and he gets it. instead of dragging you into his family stuff, he makes a point of creating a new kind of support for you. like, you want to skip a stressful family dinner? cool, you’re spending the night at his place, binge-watching your favorite shows and eating takeout. he’s not one for big gestures, but he makes sure you always know you’re not alone. his quiet, steady presence is the comfort you never knew you needed.
wonwoo: he’d just sit there, letting you talk, and then hit you with the most thoughtful response ever, like, “you didn’t deserve that, but you deserve everything good now. let me be that for you.” giving you the world’s warmest hug, he’d probably start joking about being your emotional support cat forever.
minghao: he fully believes in breaking cycles, so he’s the guy who helps you redefine what family even means. he’d take you to meet his ambient, his friends, his family, everywhere where he KNOWS you'll be taken care off. he’d also start little traditions with you, like Sunday morning walks or trying new restaurants, just to build something stable and comforting for you. he's not trying to be your dad—of course. but he's trying to make programs that he remembered doing with his dad and that somehow, marked his trajectory. he wants you to experience that too.
mingyu: when shit gets heavy, he doesn’t try to fix it all at once—he just sits with you, lets you cry on his shoulder, strokes your hair, and whispers, “you’re not alone, okay? you’ve got me.” when you’re ready, he’s like, “now, what do you want to do about it?” and he’ll back you no matter what. he’ll drag you out to do the most random shit—karaoke, late-night drives, baking cookies at 2 a.m.—just so you’re not stuck in your head. and when you thank him later, he’s like, “who, me? nah nah.”
seokmin: he is the kind of guy who’ll carry you—literally. if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll scoop you up like you weigh nothing and plant you on the couch with snacks, a blanket, and whatever dumb movie he picked. “you don’t need to do anything today,” he says, plopping down beside you with the softest smile. but also, he won’t sugarcoat things, but he also doesn’t let you get stuck in negative self-talk. “you’re worth more than what he made you feel.”
seungkwan: got a sixth sense for this kinda thing. you don’t even have to say the words—he knows. he’s the type to gently steer the convo every time someone in your family says something shitty, or he’ll swoop in with some sarcastic-ass joke to take the heat off you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s soft as hell, cuddling you, stroking your hair, and reminding you that he’s your safe space now. he’d probably even offer to go with you to therapy, just to sit there and hold your hand.b
vernon: he’ll say the goofiest shit to make you laugh—like doing terrible impressions of your least favorite family members or purposely messing up on kendama. doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves you. when you’re down, he’s the type to turn everything into a you’re amazing campaign. random notes in your bag, impromptu “you’re so cool” chants, and hugs so tight they might crack your ribs.
chan: baby’s the sweetest. he’s lowkey hurt that you’ve had to deal with that kind of stuff, so he makes it his mission to show you what love and support really look like. chan’s family would love you, and he’d be so excited to share them with you. he’d plan little visits where it’s just you, him, and his parents, so it’s not overwhelming. later, he’d check in, like, “did you have fun? was it okay?” because all he wants is for you to feel loved and safe.
#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen headcanons#svt imagines#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen fanfic#svt x reader#seventeen fic#seungcheol x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#junhui x reader#hoshi x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#minghao x reader#mingyu x reader#seokmin x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#dino x reader#chan x reader#scoups x reader#soonyoung x reader#jihoon x reader#dokyeom x reader
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how seventeen react to their s/o getting cuteness aggression for them
requested by anon! seriously guys you always have the best ideas,,,, anyways i loved this req yet again
masterlist
seungcheol, joshua, junhui, woozi
you make weird scrunchy hand gestures in his face one time and very seriously go “i wanna just shfjkrehfkrrhr your face in my hands, you know?”. and he just blinks, wide-eyed, mostly just fascinated at how to made that sound with your mouth, before slowly nodding his head and going “okay”. you tell him that he's cute on a regular basis in the strangest of ways so like, he's used to it now. once, you grabbed his cheeks and gave him kisses all over and complained about his adorableness until he was laughing, and he thinks that was the best incident of your cuteness aggression over him. the whole idea of cuteness aggression is kinda endearing tbh and the way you in particular express it?? most adorable thing in the world.
jeonghan, minghao, seungkwan
1000000% capable of getting all aggressive back at you, don't even test him. he'll get all up in your face and poke your cheeks being all like “me?? let's talk about you!! why are YOU so cute huh?? have you thought about how i feel about that??? why do you walk around being so cute when you Know that it's gonna make me fall even more in love with you????” until you're literally giggling at his faux anger over how adorable you are. gives you the side-eye and clicks his tongue bc How Dare you get all screechy about his cuteness when you're literally sitting right there and being way cuter than he could ever be.
hoshi, mingyu, dokyeom
you yell “WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE” into his face and he will literally jump five feet into the air and yell back “I DON'T KNOW!!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME” whilst almost sobbing bc why??? are you yelling???? and what does that have to do with him being cute??? your cuteness aggression always takes him by surprise bc he didn't know it would be so… well, aggressive. you ruffle his hair until it's so messed up he can't see a thing and then smack a huge kiss on his cheek before leaving. and he's just left sitting there, hair in his eyes, a little dazed bc uhhh literally what just happened and why is he actually BLUSHING like what have you done to him
wonwoo, vernon, chan
you unleash your aggression over his cuteness on him and he just stares at you with lost eyes and the what are you doing clear on his face. you need to explain to him that there's this thing called “cuteness aggression” that can be activated by things that are just so cute that you wanna scrunch them up in your hands. and he nods and makes understanding noises but you're not entirely sure he gets it. no matter tho bc you start getting the cuteness aggression urges more and more often and now you're beginning to think that he's acting out his cutest actions on purpose just so that you'll come over and squish his face super duper hard
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reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble
#fairyhaos.works#seventeen#svt#seventeen fic#seventeen drabble#seventeen headcanons#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt fluff#scoups#seungcheol#jeonghan#joshua#hong jisoo#junhui#hoshi#wonwoo#woozi#jihoon#minghao#the8#mingyu#dokyeom#seokmin#seungkwan#hansol#vernon#dino
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[22:40]
you heard a small beep in your sleep, and you stirred awake as a warm body slid under the duvet next to you.
‘sorry, sorry, sorryyyy’ your boyfriend whispered frantically. you shook your head and slowly moved an arm so seokmin could slide into your arms.
‘s okay’ you mumbled, your body and mind still half asleep. ‘missed you. how was work?’
‘it was good. thank you for the lunch, by the way. my coworkers were sooo jealous that my partner packs me lunch’ seokmin pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and you smiled with your eyes still closed.
‘’m glad...’
‘are you.. asleep? sunflower?’ your boyfriend’s fingertip traced light patterns on your arm as you began to drift back into sleep. you let out a low groan and nuzzled closer into seokmin’s chest.
‘tired. so so so… tired…’
‘go to sleep, my love. we can talk tomorrow’
‘mmm… but i wants to talk to you noww’ you were obviously delirious from just being woken up, and seokmin thought it was adorable.
‘i have the morning off tomorrow. we can talk then, right?’
you seemed to pause to think about it before resigning quickly. sleep had won.
‘mkay’ you yawned loudly. ‘good night, i love you seokminnie’
‘i love you too. good night’
a/n: i was looking at my masterlist n realized i didn’t have a SINGLE WORK for dk and i got so pissed at myself bc i absolutely love dokyeom so i js had to pull this up from the bottom of my drafts, even if it’s horrible
#hannyoontify.works#seventeen#svt#dokyeom#dk#seventeen fluff#seventeen dk#seventeen dokyeom#dokyeom fluff#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#svt dk#dk fluff#fluff#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen fic#svt fanfic#svt x reader#svt fluff
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