#seokmin fluff

[ashonheavenscloud]

everyone go read part one and this IMMEDIATELYYYYYYYY

i’m way too late to reposting this but i’ve been trying to recover from the irreparable damage it did to my emotions…..

who am i kidding i’m never going to recover because THIS is a masterpiece, in every sense of the word. the characterization of seokmin is perfect, the slow burn feels so tender and natural, and all the pieces coming together in the end in such a beautiful, bittersweet conclusion… this fic is my everything and i will come back to this weekly, monthly, yearly, etc etc😭😭

thank you for the early birthday gift AND FOR MAIMING MY HEART IG😭😭

because even then, i knew — l.sm { 2 }

✰ genre: non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au

✰ cw: female reader, petnames, cursing, seokmin is desperately down bad, slowburn, pining, so much fluff, mentions of alcohol, consuming alcohol, nsfw, oral (f recieving) protected sex, mentions of cheating, angst

✰ wc: 23k

✰ tracklist: {spotify} {apple music}

✰ navigation: {one} {two}

✰ note: play wonder - kyungsoo

≡;- ꒰ ° two꒱

After that night, everything felt different to Seokmin. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was a quiet shift in the air, a change that felt as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for him to realize something new. The kiss had unlocked something—a door between him and you, and now, everything was moving in a direction he hadn’t quite expected.

It wasn't overwhelming. Not in the way he'd feared. There was no rush, no need to hurry through the moment. Instead, he lingered in the afterglow, letting the warmth of your smile, your soft laughter, that had soon become his favorite sound, and the quiet moments you shared settle over him like a comfortable blanket. Every time he saw you, it felt a little easier, a little more natural, like this was where he was meant to be all along. But still, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Nervous in the worst and best way, the kind of nervous that made his heart flutter whenever his eyes met yours.

And he noticed, with a growing sense of quiet affection, how you started to pass by the flower shop more often. At first, it was just a passing thing, like the usual routine of grabbing him for coffee, but soon it became something more. The way your gaze lingered on the window, the way your eyes would light up when you saw him behind the counter, arranging flowers, or tidying up the shelves. It felt like a secret, even if it was simple, a little dance of shared glances and quiet moments. Sometimes you’d stop by, just for a few minutes, chatting about the most random things—weather, books, life—and he would savor those brief moments, like they meant the world to him.

It wasn’t just those little interactions, though. There were messages now—casual at first, but with every day that passed, they became more frequent, more personal. Seokmin found himself looking forward to your texts, to hearing about your day, to seeing the little things you’d share with him when he wasn’t around you. And when he’d send back something goofy or heartfelt, he couldn’t help but smile at how easily the conversation flowed. It felt… effortless. Liking you was effortless. 

After that night, he and you started going out more and more often. The beach, the museum, the karaoke, they had led to more—a walk in the park, spontaneous visits to the bookstore, long talks that seemed to go on forever. It felt like the lines between friendship and something more were beginning to blur, but Seokmin didn’t mind. He wanted it, in a way he couldn’t entirely explain. Being near you felt right, felt easy in a way he hadn’t realized was possible. There was laughter now, just as there was before, but it was different. There was more intimacy in it, a warmth that wasn’t just about shared jokes or teasing. There were touches too. Small things—your hands brushing as you walked together, the moments when your fingers would linger a little longer than necessary. 

And then, when the picnic he owed you was mentioned, it felt like the perfect thing to do to complement the windy weather. As he packed the charcuterie board, overloading it with more food than either of you could possibly eat, he found himself looking forward to it as he usually does whenever he would get to spend time with you.

He finds himself constantly thinking of you—wondering what you were doing, what you were thinking, how you were feeling. And it wasn’t just a fleeting thought. It lingered. It was more than just a crush or infatuation. It felt real. And though that made him apprehensive, there was something in him that wanted to take the chance, for what felt like the first time in forever. 

He needed to see this through with you. You deserved that much, and more. 

Maybe it was too soon to know for sure. Maybe it was too early to put a name to it. But Seokmin couldn’t ignore the way you made him feel. And as much as his past made him hesitant to dive in too quickly, he knew that somehow, with you, he was willing to at the very least, try. 

The park is bathed in warm afternoon light, filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows on the grass. Seokmin arrives with an armful of supplies, a wide, proud grin plastered on his face as he reveals his self-made “charcuterie board,” which, to your surprise, takes up nearly half the picnic blanket.

He’s packed everything. From neatly arranged meats and cheeses to stacks of crackers, olives, fresh berries, and even a few jars of spreads. He beams at your astonished laugh, like he’s managed to pull off the ultimate surprise. “I may have gotten a little carried away,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, feigning modesty, even as he’s clearly pleased with himself. He promised he would out-do your sandwiches, after all. 

“A little?” you tease, biting back a smile as you watch him lay everything out with meticulous care. He hands you a cracker topped with some kind of creamy cheese and strawberry jam, watching for your reaction with a delighted anticipation. You take a bite, savoring it, and he grins wider, clearly satisfied.

“I also didn’t know what kind of cheese you would like.” 

“Right,” You giggle, “and the logical solution was to bring seven different cheeses?” 

He nods, leaning forward to leave a kiss on your lips before fitting another cracker into his mouth. “Course. You deserve nothing less,” he jokes. 

Once you’ve both had your fill of snacking, he pulls his guitar out of its case and pats the spot directly next to him on the blanket, urging you to get closer. “Alright, time for the next part of our date.” he says, guiding your fingers to the strings with a gentle, steady touch. His fingers rest over yours as he shows you a simple chord, his face close enough that you can feel his breath on your cheek.

“Press here,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers along the frets. “And then you strum, like this.” His hand covers yours as he shows you, his touch warm and steady, his eyes flicking to yours with a soft, slightly mischievous smile.

Your first attempt is clumsy, the sound far from perfect, but he only chuckles, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of your hand. “You’re doing great,” he assures you, squeezing your hand gently before he releases it. “Way better than I was when I first started.”

You try again, more focused this time, but his thumb starts tracing little patterns against your palm, thoroughly distracting you. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, his lips ghost over your neck until you feel them land a kiss there. The feeling makes you roll your head back against his chest and you glance up to see him watching you with a soft look in his eyes, a hint of adoration that makes your heart want to burst.

After a few minutes, the lesson dissolves entirely as he leans in, pressing another light, playful kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, before brushing his lips against yours in a way that feels perfectly effortless and natural. He laughs softly, murmuring, “You’re way better at this than you think,” before he kisses you again, longer this time, his hands resting on your waist, pulling you a little closer.

There’s a teasing edge to your voice he can clearly hear despite the fact that you’re nearly whispering. “You mean kissing? Or playing guitar?” 

“Both,” He hums against your lips and you whine. 

He reluctantly pulls away, placing his hands over yours again. “Alright, this is a C chord,” 

Seokmin watches as you fumble with the guitar, fingers finding their place on the strings with uncertainty. His heart swells a little—he’s never thought teaching someone guitar could feel so right. But with you, it’s different. You’re here, looking up at him with wide, focused eyes, and he can’t help but lean in closer to guide you.

“Here, like this,” he says softly, his voice warm as he brushes his fingers over yours to adjust your hand on the neck of the guitar. His breath is near your ear, and you can feel the closeness, but you focus on the instrument, trying to get the chord right.

You glance up at him, an eyebrow raised, half-challenging. “Like this?”

Seokmin’s smile widens as he nods. “Exactly. That’s it.”

He lets his hand linger for a second longer than necessary, but quickly pulls back as he instructs, “Good. Now, try strumming.”

You strum the strings, but the sound doesn’t come out as clean as you’d hoped. It’s messy. You sigh, sitting back against him slightly, fingers still pressing the strings, trying to fix it.

“This is harder than it looks,” you mutter under your breath.

Seokmin laughs softly, his tone light and teasing as he leans in again. His shoulder nudges yours gently. “It’s okay, it’ll come. And if it doesn’t, that’s okay, too. Honestly, I think you look pretty cute trying.”

You raise an eyebrow and shift just slightly. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He grins, shrugging casually. “Maybe a little. But it’s true.” His voice drops, a little softer this time.

The words linger in the air for a second, but you just laugh, trying to distract yourself with the guitar. You focus again, pressing down the strings, trying to make the chord ring true. When it does, you look up at him, eyes wide.

“Did I do it?”

Seokmin’s heart gives a little skip. The way your smile spreads, bright and genuine, makes him feel something warm settle in his chest. “Yes. Exactly like that,” he says, a little breathless. He can’t help but admire the way you’re so proud of yourself. 

You’re both quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something about this moment, about the way you’re looking at him that feels different. He’s not just teaching you guitar. He’s simply… enjoying being with you. And before you can respond, his hand moves, his fingers brushing gently against the side of your face. It’s a subtle touch, barely there, but it sends a little thrill through you.

Without thinking, you lean into his touch, your breath catching as his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in just enough for him to kiss you softly. It’s quick, but it’s sweet, and his lips linger against yours for a heartbeat longer than expected.

He pulls back just a little, and his smile softens, his eyes sparkling with something warmer, more familiar now. “That’s for getting the chord right,” he murmurs, teasing but with a softness that melts your heart.

You smile, your fingers still resting on the guitar. “Well, I’ll need a lot more kisses to learn the rest of the song, then.”

Seokmin laughs, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before he grins, shifting closer. “Guess you’ll just have to keep playing then, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You’re a tough teacher.”

His smile widens, and he shifts again, this time nudging you gently. “I’m just giving you a reason to keep trying,” he says, his voice low and a little more serious now. “Besides, I like being close to you.”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words more than you expected. “I like being close to you, too,” you reply quietly, your voice softer now, but with a truth that hangs between you.

Before you can think, you lean in, kissing him again, this time a little longer. Seokmin responds just as eagerly, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer. His heart is racing now, but in a way that feels good—exciting, even. It’s not just the kiss. It’s everything that is you.

You sit there, tangled together on the blanket, the sound of his guitar a soft backdrop as the day drifts lazily by. With every touch and every stolen kiss, he pulls you further into the moment, into this lighthearted bubble where it’s just the two of you, completely caught up in each other. And as you sit together in the golden glow of the afternoon, Seokmin’s hands gentle on your fingers, guiding you through the notes, until night begins to fall, and he offers to walk you home. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin isn’t sure how long the two of you have been walking, but he doesn’t mind. Every second feels easy, peaceful. As the sun dips lower and the leaves fall from the autumn gusts of wind, casting a honeyed glow over the street, he notices how the light falls on your face, softening every edge and detail. He’s struck by how happy he feels in this moment—wandering aimlessly, your hand in his, with no real destination in mind. 

It’s when you stop abruptly, tugging at his arm, that he notices the small, worn sign hanging just above an old staircase. Hidden Treasures. The name, faded and a little tilted, somehow feels right in this quiet, tucked-away corner of the city.

“Wanna go in?” you ask, and your eyes sparkle with curiosity.

He smiles, nodding without hesitation. “Lead the way.”

Inside, the shop is a world unto itself, a warm, cluttered maze of forgotten, handed down things. The air carries a mix of dust and vinyl, with a faint undertone of leather. Seokmin’s eyes drift over racks of vintage clothes, crates of records, and stacks of books and trinkets piled onto shelves. You’re already making a beeline for a shelf at the back, and he follows, quietly amused by how naturally you seem to navigate the cramped space. It’s funny—he’s never given much thought to old records or thrift stores before. But here, watching you take it all in, it seems like he’s seeing it through a different lens.

When you stop in front of a display case filled with cassette tapes, Seokmin can’t help but linger nearby, half-hidden behind a rack of jackets. He watches as you pick up a tape, studying it intently. A soft, faraway look settles on your face, and for a second, Seokmin can imagine how it might feel to be a part of that daydream. He inches closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Something good?” he asks casually, leaning over to look.

You glance up, and for a split second, he sees a shy, almost bashful smile. “I found one of my favorite albums.” You look down at the cassette like it’s a piece of history you’re holding in your hands.

His mind whirs as he notes the titles of the tapes you keep picking up, trying to commit them to memory without you noticing. When you’re distracted by another row of tapes, he snags a few of the ones you seemed especially drawn to and quietly slides them behind his back, out of your sight. A plan begins forming in his head, but he plays it cool, waiting for you to move on to a different section before he slips them to the cashier with a little nod.

As you wander through racks of clothes, he tries on hats for your amusement, pulling funny faces that make you laugh. He feels the warmth in his chest whenever he catches you glancing at him, your expression somewhere between amusement and…something softer.

He plucks a bowler hat from the stand, spins it dramatically in his hand, and places it atop his head. “What do you think?” he asks, striking a pose with a raised eyebrow.

You bite back a laugh, eyeing him with mock seriousness. “Very dashing, but maybe a little too serious for you.”

“Fair point.” He grins and swaps it out for a wide-brimmed sun hat, pulling it low over his eyes with a grin. “Better? I’ll wear it to our next park or beach date. And if you’re nice, I might let you borrow it sometime.”

You dissolve into laughter, nodding in approval, but he doesn’t stop there. He reaches for a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses on a nearby display and perches them on his nose, winking at you over the top of the frames.

“Now?” he asks, a glint of playful confidence in his eyes.

You shake your head, your laughter filling the space around you. He leans in closer, heart-shaped lenses reflecting your amused expression, and kisses you once, quick and teasing.

You gasp out in surprise and he’s overcome with adoration for you and your reaction, unable to resist leaning in again. He starts peppering kisses on and near your lips, humming contently against your skin. 

When he catches your sweet gaze, there’s a small moment of stillness, a quiet shift in the air as he leans in again, slowly this time, brushing a tender kiss against your lips. The feel of your laughter against his mouth is enough to make his heart race, and he’s momentarily lost in how light and easy everything feels with you by his side.

You pull him back into the playful atmosphere, nudging him toward a rack of vintage shirts and jackets. “Try this one,” you insist, holding up a bomber jacket. He slips it on, giving a playful spin as you nod in approval.

“Alright, your turn,” he says, grabbing a leather jacket from the rack and holding it out to you. When you put it on, his eyes widen just a bit. “Wait… It actually kind of suits you.” 

“Really?” 

“Absolutely,” he laughs, watching as you adjust the jacket.

“Yours doesn’t look so bad either,” You step closer, pulling him in by the collar and planting a quick kiss on his lips before either of you has a chance to pull away. 

The warmth of the kiss lingers as you both turn back to exploring the store, the silliness giving way to a gentler, more intimate mood. He trails behind you as you flip through stacks of old vinyl records, catching snippets of memories and favorite bands from you as you move down the aisle. 

Eventually, you both make your way back out into the evening air, Seokmin carrying a paper bag that you assume is holding his own finds. You barely make it down the street before he stops you, looking as though he can barely contain his excitement.

“Close your eyes,” he says, his tone playful but just a little shy.

“What?” you laugh, eyebrows lifting.

“Just do it,” he insists, that familiar lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

With a bemused smile, you shut your eyes, and after a few seconds, you feel something light press into your hands. Opening your eyes, you see the cassette tapes—the very ones you’d been admiring inside. Your gaze flickers up to him, and he’s watching you with a slightly nervous, almost childlike grin.

“You didn’t—”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant but failing. “You said they were some of your favorites. Would’ve been rude not to let them come along.”

You can’t stop smiling, looking between the tapes and him, a small laugh bubbling out. “I can’t believe you did that.”

He shrugs again, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and a touch of nerves. “Well, it seemed important to you,” he says softly, the confession hanging between you both.

Your shared laughter fades into a quiet moment, and he’s suddenly aware of just how close you are. Before he can second-guess himself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek—a thank-you without words. The warmth of your lips lingers long after you’ve pulled away, and he can’t hide the grin spreading across his face.

He finds himself leaning in, your laughter caught in a hushed space between you, and for a second, he wonders how it’s possible for something to feel both thrilling and completely natural at the same time. You kiss once, twice, and he’s laughing quietly against your mouth, one hand curling around your waist.

“Thank you,” you emphasize when you part, and his eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Anytime,” he says, nudging your shoulder playfully, and his heart flips at the easiness between you both.

As you slip your hand back into his, he squeezes it gently, hoping you’ll never let go.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin looks at you, eyebrows raised in mild skepticism as you pitch the idea of glamping on a Saturday morning at the shop.

“So... it’s like camping, but not?” he asks, crossing his arms. His expression is somewhere between curious and slightly worried, as though he’s imagining himself fending off mosquitoes in the middle of nowhere.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, no—there are no bugs. And no sleeping bags on the ground, I promise. It’s more like a cozy, modern cabin with all the comforts of home. Think cute tents, soft beds, and fairy lights everywhere.”

His shoulders visibly relax, though there’s still a hint of doubt in his eyes. “And... we won’t have to make a fire from scratch or eat out of cans, right?”

“Not unless you want to,” you say, grinning. “There’ll be proper meals, maybe even a fancy coffee machine for our coffee time. It’s just like a mini vacation under the stars.”

He pauses, tilting his head as he considers it. “So... it’s basically a staycation, but outdoors.”

“Exactly!” you say excitedly, “And just imagine the view at night! You’ll love it, I promise.”

After a moment’s thought, he lets out a small sigh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Alright, fine. Let’s do it. But if I see a single bug…”

The flower shop is particularly alive today, and Seokmin is convinced it has something to do with your presence. Greenery fills the shelves around you while a sunbeam slips through the window, highlighting Seokmin’s amused expression. He leans closer, grinning at your bug-handling confidence, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable. You nudge him playfully, feeling the cozy, sweet familiarity between you.

“Don’t worry,” you tease, nudging his shoulder again. “I’ll handle any bugs. All you have to do is enjoy the stars.”

He laughs, a soft, warm sound that’s almost musical. “Fine, but you owe me an extra cup of coffee if there’s anything even resembling a mosquito.” He nods, already envisioning the drive together. “Only if we can have a little barbecue. I haven’t shown you my grilling skills yet.”

“If your grilling skills are anything like your charcuterie-board-making skills, I’m in for a treat.”

He chuckles, cheeks flushing slightly as he reaches to adjust a pot on the counter, keeping his hands busy.

And so, it was decided. The following week, the two of you would go glamping. You spend the week planning out the trip, selecting a location, and picking out a menu from all the dishes Seokmin has offered to make you during your mornings at the coffee shop. Now that he had a car, neither of you had to take the bus. He’d pick you up after your time reading at the cafe and drop you off at yours with a lingering kiss and a promise to see you the next day. 

The weekend came rather quickly, but suddenly, despite all the planning both of you had done, Seokmin felt completely unprepared.

He takes a deep breath, double-checking the bags in his trunk for what must be the fifth time. Snacks? Check. Extra blankets? Check. His guitar—of course, just in case there’s a moment for a quiet tune under the stars. He runs through his list again in his head, but his mind keeps drifting to one thing: you both sharing the same bed tonight.

He laughs softly to himself, feeling that mix of nervousness and excitement tightening in his chest. It’s not like he hasn’t imagined being this close to you, but now that it’s real, it feels like his imagination would never come close, as it usually did with you. He hopes he packed everything to make the evening perfect, especially the surprise he thought you’d love—a matching PJ set he’d picked out just for you, in the same soft fabric as his.

He shakes off his nerves, throwing himself one last look in the rearview mirror. “Alright, Seokmin, it’s just glamping,” he mutters to himself, trying to keep his cool. But even as he says it, he can’t help the excitement building, hoping this night turns out to be as perfect as he hopes. 

Seokmin pulls up to your place, heart beating just a little faster than usual as he catches sight of you waiting downstairs. You wave and jog over, and the smile that stretches across his face is immediate. “Ready for our glamping adventure?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice as he leans over to unlock the passenger door.

“Definitely ready,” you say, settling into the seat and tossing him a grin that instantly has him feeling that familiar warmth. 

With you beside him and the car loaded with bags, he pulls onto the road, a playlist of carefully selected songs filling the space between you with a perfect, mellow vibe. The early moments of the drive are filled with laughter and conversation that flows as easily as the winding road ahead. He’s already feeling more at ease; everything feels right, from the low hum of the engine to the late-afternoon sunlight spilling through the windshield, casting a glow over you.

At the first red light, he lets his hand drift over to yours, giving it a small squeeze. You look over at him, slightly surprised but smiling. “Getting bold, aren’t you?”

He laughs, feigning nonchalance. “Just felt right.” He leans in, stealing a quick kiss—soft and gentle, but enough to make his pulse quicken just a little. You’re barely pulling apart when the light turns green.

The next song that plays is one he remembers you mentioning once because you had the cassette in your collection, and as it fills the car, he sings along softly, sneaking a glance your way to see if you’ll join in. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but then you join in on the chorus, and the two of you sing as the scenery outside rushes by.

When he sees a gas station up ahead, he slows down and nods toward it. “Need anything?” he asks, pulling in.

“Let’s stock up,” you say, and he parks. Inside, the two of you pick out snacks, teasing each other over your choices—he insists that his preference for sweet and salty snacks is superior, while you counter with your taste for fruit and more “refined” options. By the time you’re back in the car, there’s a pile of snacks balanced between you, and you’re begging him to try something new.

“Come on, just one bite,” you say, holding a piece of dried mango up to him.

He rolls his eyes but relents, taking a small bite, pretending to make a face of disgust. “Alright, alright, it’s... decent,” he says, stifling a laugh. “But these,” he says, lifting up a bag of his favorite chips, “are what make a real road trip snack.” 

You’re halfway through a conversation about your favorite drink choices when another red light gives him another excuse to lean in for a kiss—this one a little longer, filled with the sweetness of your laughter and the warmth of the sun filtering through the windshield. He can taste the mango on your lips, deciding it tastes much better this way than on its own. 

As you get closer to the glamping site, the landscape starts to change, giving way to more open fields and a deeper blue sky overhead. He glances over at you, noting the way you’re soaking in the view. There’s something so peaceful, so effortlessly beautiful about you right now, and he finds himself thinking that this might be one of his favorite memories with you already—and you haven’t even made it there yet. 

As you step out of the car, you’re immediately greeted by the scent of fresh, earthy air and the wide-open stretch of the campsite with just a hint of mountains in the distance. The skies are painted with hues of blue and the golden edges of late afternoon. You take it all in, breathing deeply, almost losing yourself in the view when you hear the trunk pop open and catch sight of Seokmin, arms already filled with bags and supplies.

He shoots you a playful, determined look. “Guess I went a little overboard, huh?”

“A little?” you laugh, eyeing the sheer number of bags and supplies he’s brought along.

But Seokmin just grins, shrugging as he starts unpacking with vigor, unloading what seems to be enough to host a small party rather than a quiet date night. He’s fully focused, setting up with precision—cooler, blankets, grilling tools, and that glorious charcuterie board he promised, which he reveals with a flourish. “Just the essentials,” he jokes, flashing a proud smile.

While he organizes, you wander a little ways down the slope, mesmerized by the way the sun lights up the fields and the soft rustling of the leaves. Just as you’re getting lost in the tranquility, you feel his arms gently slide around you from behind. He pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder as he takes in the view with you. It’s quiet, with only the sounds of nature around and the soft weight of his embrace.

He leaves a few kisses on your cheek that you lean into, smile breaking out into your face as he squeezes your waist tighter.

“Pretty, huh?” you ask, smiling as you tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, it really is,” he murmurs, but he’s looking at you, not the scenery, and his voice has that familiar softness that makes your heart skip.

You stand there for a little while, content just to be in his arms, until your stomach gives a not-so-subtle reminder. You laugh, breaking the quiet moment, and admit shyly, “Sorry, I’m starving.”

“I’m on it, baby.” Seokmin releases you, rolling up his sleeves with a mock serious expression as he heads toward the grill. 

You settle down at the little table he’s set up, watching as he works with surprising ease, flipping open the grill and setting up a few slices of pork belly, grilling each piece with careful attention. He even hums a little tune as he works, glancing over at you every now and then to catch your eye, flashing you a smile that’s more than a little pleased.

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling the warmth of his thoughtfulness all the same. As you watch him tend to the food, the sun dipping lower in the sky, you feel a surge of gratitude for the moment, for his sweet, over-prepared heart.

When a piece looks just right, he grabs a little plate, places the pork belly on it, and uses his chopsticks to bring it up, blowing on it gently to cool it down. “C’mere,” he mumbles, a playful glint in his eyes.

You lean forward, opening your mouth as he feeds it to you, watching with a mix of nerves and pride as you chew. The flavors burst in your mouth, rich and perfectly grilled, and you let out an appreciative hum, nodding enthusiastically.

He beams, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah?” He moves closer, his gaze lingering on you, and before you can respond, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a quick, soft kiss.

It leaves you smiling, and you can’t help but laugh softly, giving him a playful nudge. “Trying to win over the food critic, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he murmurs, leaning in to reconnect your lips for longer, until both of you are a little breathless, smiles lingering as he pulls back to check on the grill. 

The two of you linger over the grill, savoring every bite of grilled pork belly and vegetables, laughing at how much food Seokmin managed to bring. Just when you think you’re too full, he pulls out the last surprise: a box of instant ramen he’d brought just in case. “I mean, what’s camping without some ramen, right?” he says, grinning as he sets up the small camping stove.

“Of course,” you laugh, eyes wide with amusement. “As if I’d let you eat it all yourself.”

The ramen simmers quickly, filling the air with its savory scent. When it’s finally ready, you take turns slurping from the pot, laughing between bites, blowing on the noodles to cool them down. “This is seriously perfect,” you say, giving him a playful nudge. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Seokmin blushes, looking sheepish but pleased as he scratches the back of his head. “I wanted to make it nice for us.”

“It is,” you assure, giving him a soft, affectionate smile. 

As you finish up the last of the ramen and start stacking up the dishes, you come up beside him, resting your head on his arm. “I’m gonna shower. I smell like pork belly.” He’s rummaging through something in a bag, but you can’t see what it is over his broad shoulders.

That’s when Seokmin clears his throat and turns around, looking down at his hands nervously, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

“Actually, um…” he starts, then holds up an item. You can’t tell what it is just yet, but the soft blush on his cheeks lets you know that he’s been planning this moment, even if he’s a little shy about it. “I, uh… thought you might like these.”

You look at him, then down at the pajamas, recognizing that they match his. “Wait, matching PJs?” you ask, eyes lighting up in surprise.

He nods, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah… I just thought it’d be fun. But if it’s, you know, too much or—”

“Not at all,” you cut in, grinning. “It’s adorable.”

His face brightens, and he lets out a relieved breath, clearly pleased that you like the gesture. “Good. That’s… good,” he mumbles, finally meeting your gaze with a shy smile. He gestures toward the showers, still looking flustered but undeniably happy.

You head off to shower with the pajamas tucked under your arm, feeling the warmth of his thoughtfulness wrap around you as you go. 

After both of you have showered and changed, the air between you shifts, becoming softer, closer, and undeniably more intimate. The small glamping cabin feels cozy with the lights dimmed, the sounds of the night drifting softly in through the open window. Sitting cross-legged across from each other, you’re in the matching pajamas he picked out—an idea that seemed cute and innocent just hours ago but now has become the bane of his existence. Your set is a top that matches his, but instead of long pants, yours comes with shorts. 

It’s not like he hadn’t seen you in shorts or a skirt before, but he hadn’t… felt your bare legs against him like he would tonight. Tonight, when he’d have to sleep next to you. God, he feels like a fucking virgin. 

Seokmin’s eyes keep drifting over to you, taking in the way your smooth skin glows under the dim light, how relaxed and comfortable you look. His gaze lingers on the delicate line of your collarbone, the soft rise of your shoulders, and the way a few stray strands of hair frame your face. He tries to focus on your conversation, on the way you keep checking that the chords you’re mindlessly playing on his guitar are correct, but every laugh, every casual touch, sends his heart racing a little faster.

“You keep staring,” you tease, your voice light and playful as you stop playing, but there’s a boldness behind it that sends a thrill down his spine.

He laughs, embarrassed but unable to deny it. “I can’t help it,” he admits softly, giving you a sheepish smile. “You’re… really beautiful.”

The words hang between you, soft but full of meaning. You reach over, gently placing a hand on his knee, your fingers lingering just a little longer than usual. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you say, voice just above a whisper.

The warmth of your touch feels electric, and he doesn’t resist the urge to lace your fingers with his. A small silence settles between you, but it feels anything but empty. 

You tilt your head, leaning a little closer, and he follows your lead, heart pounding as he lets himself close the distance just a bit. The edges of your pajamas brush against each other as you inch closer, and before he realizes it, he’s right there, his hand reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

As he leans in to kiss you, the guitar makes a foul sound, strings having been disturbed between your bodies and you laugh. “Let me move this, yeah?” 

He nods wordlessly, watching as you pick it up and carefully lay it inside the open case on the ground. His eyes trail after you as you rejoin him on the bed, watching the way you sit closer this time, your weight on your knees so that you’re hovering above him only slightly. Your palms come down to rest on his shoulders, and your lips, which he’d unknowingly been staring at for the last few seconds, finally meet his in a tender kiss. It's slow, careful, full of thought and feeling and tamed nervousness all at once as your hands wrap around his neck. It doesn’t take long before his lips part and your tongue meets his, head tilting in order to better taste him, desperate to feel him closer in any way he’ll let you have him. 

He's kissed you before, he’s felt the closeness between you two before, but this—this feels like the part of the song where every instrument comes together in harmony. There’s an unexpected depth to the way his hands find the small of your back, in the way you whine and sigh out in utter need, in how you fit so easily against him. 

A part of him panics, scrambling to put a name to what he’s feeling. It’s something big, bigger than he’s been ready to admit even to himself. Every moment he’s spent with you flickers in his mind, and it feels like he’s been collecting pieces of a story that only now makes sense. He doesn’t just care for you. He doesn't just like you. The feeling pressing in his chest, warm and weighty, is something else entirely—persistent, relentless, constant.

As your lips leave his to kiss down his jaw and neck, he wonders, dazed, if you can feel it too. This gravitational pull, he’s wrapped up in it. With each wet mark you leave behind on his neck, he’s free-falling further, and he realizes it’s too late to stop. He's already far beyond the point of no return.

Seokmin doesn’t hesitate to respond to your body, the space between you becoming both smaller and warmer as he tugs you closer until you’re practically situated on his lap. You let out a small, surprised gasp as you settle onto his thighs, hands sliding back up until they’re raking through his hair. 

As Seokmin slowly lowers you onto the soft bedding, the world outside feels distant, muted, as though it's been replaced by the gentle rhythm of your breathing and the steady thrum of his heart. His hands tremble, just slightly, but it’s not from uncertainty. 

He hovers above you for a second, eyes tracing your features, like he's trying to commit every detail to memory. There's a stillness between you, but it’s not awkward—just quiet, full of anticipation and softness. He touches your cheek gently, his thumb skimming over your skin.

"I..." he starts, words escaping him for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he’d wanted to say, but now all that’s left is the weight of the feelings he’s been holding back. He doesn't force it out, though, unsure if he can say anything that would encapsulate how he feels.

Instead, he leans down again, slowly, giving you the space to meet him halfway. His lips find yours once more, soft and tender, the kiss full of the things he can’t yet bring himself to voice. With each press of his mouth to yours, his body hums with the need to be close, to be tangled up with you, to feel you so completely.

When he pulls back, he stays close, forehead resting against yours, sharing the same breath. His heart beats faster than usual, as you utter his name in a single breath. “Seokmin?” 

“Yes?” 

“I… I need this off. Please.” You whisper, tugging at his shirt. He realizes immediately what you’re implying—or better said, what him taking his shirt off implies; his heart rattles wildly as he nods quickly.

He wastes no time in giving you exactly what you want, only hesitating to offer you the chance to change your mind. When you don't, laying there with your hair fanned out across the pillow and your eyes dazed and your lips still wet and swollen from his kiss, he pulls it off in one motion. He carefully observes the way your eyes trail down and right back up to meet his, a warmth spreading across his cheeks. 

“Help me with mine?” You plead softly, and he has to physically force his eyes to not roll back at the sultriness and vulnerability laced in your tone. He can’t help the low groan that escapes him, however, as he slides his slender fingers under the hem of your shirt and begins to lift it off of you. 

And with this, he takes his sweet, sweet time, holding his breath as inch by inch, more of your smooth skin is exposed to him. Until the swell of your breasts appears under the fabric. You sit up a little to help him slip it over your head and when you lay back down, Seokmin swears he might die. 

You can tell he needs a bit of a push, made obvious in the way he’s become gone completely still above you, jaw slack and chest heaving, so you grab his hand that sits at your hip and slide it up, molding it over your chest. Only then does he take some initiative to slide his thumb over your nipple and dip his head down to kiss your lips with a suppressed moan. 

“Do you know how much you mean to me?” The words spill out before he can help them, though he feels no embarrassment, especially not when you smile lazily up at him, eyes flickering between his. 

You nod without missing a beat, letting your fingertips brush back a few strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes. 

“I feel the same way.” You reassure, and that’s all it takes for him to kiss you again. This kiss is different from the last in just about every way; it’s desperate, wet, full of passion and you reciprocate it with just as much fervor, whining out when his hips roll into yours once, then twice, then as many times as it takes for the two of you to begin panting in each other’s mouths from the friction. 

Seokmin kisses your neck and down your sternum, using his hands to push both of your breasts together so he can alternate between licking and sucking at both of them with ease. He eats up every little whimper you let him have, returning the sound to you with no restraint as he rubs himself against your core. 

You watch him carefully, the way his jaw tenses when he bites down on your skin, the way he glances up at you through his brows as he swirls his tongue on your abdomen.

He lives and breathes for each little hiccup you let out, the whimpered chants of his name and “more” and “yes” only encouraging him to absolutely ravish you.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” 

You nod, letting his fingers trail around the waistband of your shorts. He hooks his fingers on either side, watching your face as he slips them down your thighs to discover the prettiest little lacy panties. They’re a midnight blue to match the night sky, and somehow, even through the dark material he can spot a wet mark from your slick. 

A sound rumbles from his chest, “You’re so-” he starts, but he’s interrupted by your moan, one that he draws from you the moment he runs a single digit over your clothed core. 

“Seokmin,” you pant, hips rolling up to meet his finger as it rubs you over and over again. He’s focused, keen on catching every little shift of your breath so can conjure up a trend of what you enjoy most. When he leans in to kiss your cunt, you almost lose your mind. It has formed a heartbeat entirely separate from the one rattling in your chest, and your body, which responds so well and obediently to his every touch, has altered itself to flutter in time with each one of his kisses. 

The material of your panties is so thin it’s almost easy to pretend it’s not there. Seokmin could have easily moved it aside, but he felt the need to create a pace, for your sake and his. If he had already tasted your slit, he’s sure he would have come untouched in his pants and this was the only sleepwear he brought, so it had to last him until tomorrow, too. 

His concentration doesn’t falter for a second, hands moving to cradle your thighs, rubbing them and squeezing your flesh as if he couldn’t believe your bare skin was truly in his hold. You’re becoming restless, he can tell, because you’re writhing, hands trembling as they reach for his hair.

“Take them off,” you beg. “I need to feel you.” You can’t take it anymore, the way he’s making out with your folds without any direct contact. You need to feel the drag of his tongue, the softness of his lips, without any material in the way. 

When he hums against you, the vibration feels wondrous. Being the great listener he is, he fulfills your request instantly. Your panties are dragged down your legs and tossed aside. Less than a second later, he leans his weight on his elbows, marveling at the sight before him. 

With his pupils blown wide, he mumbles something in between a plea and a praise, but it’s indiscernible because he’s already started to kiss you, whatever he’s said getting lost against your skin. His lips attach to the innermost part of your thigh, teeth nibbling boldly as you squirm. He doesn’t mean to be such a tease, but when all you want is to feel his mouth on you and he’s busied himself with marking the skin nearest to where you need him, you can’t help but whine in protest. 

“I can’t take it anymore.” You whisper, and he looks up to meet your eyes. 

It’s in a soft, lust-dripped voice that he requests, “let me take my time with you,” but you quickly shake your head.

“Please,” you try to beg, and the silkiness of your voice makes his dick swell inside his pants. He leans up, face close to yours and observing the way your cheeks redden from the humiliation of begging so shamelessly. He cracks a small grin and brings a hand up to hold your jaw affectionately, but firmly, as he kisses you.

Seokmin's lips break away from yours, his breath hot against your skin as he gazes deeply into your eyes. "Are you sure?" he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers trail down your side, and you nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

"Seokmin," you moan, your voice ragged and desperate. "Please..."

He looks up at you, his expression one of such raw desire that it takes your breath away. "I need you so much," he admits, his voice thick with emotion. "But I want to make sure that you're okay... that this is what you want."

You nod again, more urgently this time, your body thrumming with need. "Yes, yes," you insist, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I want you."

With a growl of satisfaction, he shifts his weight. You feel his fingers press against you, tentative at first, but then firmer as he begins to explore your wetness. You gasp at the touch, your hips bucking involuntarily.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent as he continues to stroke you. "So perfect... I can't believe I get to be inside you."

His words send a thrill through you, making your heart race even faster. You watch as he removes his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. His eyes lock onto yours as he licks his fingers clean.

With a gentle yet firm grip, Seokmin lifts your legs, hands holding them to your chest. He leans in closer, his dark hair brushing against your inner thighs as he moves. Your skin tingles where it grazes you, and you bite your lower lip to stifle a moan. Seokmin's eyes never leave yours, his gaze intense and full of purpose. He lowers his head, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive core, sending shivers up your spine.

His tongue licks a stipe up your folds, tasting you for the first time. The sensation is electric, shock waves of pleasure radiating from the point of contact. You gasp, your back arching slightly as you try to ground yourself. Seokmin's hands on your thigh tightens momentarily, holding you steady as he continues his exploration.

With a groan at the feeling of you clenching against him, his tongue delves deeper, each stroke calculated, designed to elicit the most profound responses from your body. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, your arousal growing with each passing second. 

"God, Seokmin," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. His name sounds so unbelievably sweet on your lips, a mantra of trust and desire. 

His mouth works feverishly now, his tongue flicking against your clit, occasionally pausing when he decides to wrap his lips around you or lay his tongue flat for friction. His teeth graze your clit lightly, a teasing nibble that sends sparks through your entire body. You cry out, your hips lifting involuntarily to roll against his face. He responds by increasing the intensity, his tongue now working in unison with his fingers, plunging into you as his mouth focuses on your bud. 

You can feel your orgasm building, and Seokmin senses it too, his actions becoming more urgent, more frantic. It’s obvious that he wants nothing more than to give you your release. The way he grinds himself down into the bedding shows that he’s just as affected as you are, and it only turns you on more. Every pant and moan he lets out against you is dizzying and overwhelming. As he leans back for a second to study your swollen, glistening cunt, you let out a whine. 

His hand slides up to cup your breast, squeezing gently as his mouth devours you again, murmuring a quiet “Sorry,” into your folds.

"Seokmin, I'm... I'm close," you manage to gasp, your voice strained with need.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and glossed over. "Let go for me, baby." he murmurs against your slick skin, his words sending a fresh wave of sensation through you. He leans down enough to stick his tongue in you, and the moment he does, you feel his nose bump your clit. 

That was it—all it took for you to fall apart. Your body convulses, your muscles tightening and releasing in a torrent of ecstasy. Seokmin, driven by your cries, continues his relentless assault as you gasp and tremble beneath him. It feels endless, a cascade of bliss that leaves you breathless.

You knew his big ass nose would come in handy. 

When the waves of pleasure finally subside, you lay there, spent and sated. Seokmin remains between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. He seems content, as if he had just accomplished something monumental, and at the same time, awe stuck by how absolutely fucked out you look. 

"Seokmin," you whisper again, your voice soft and filled with wonder.

“I know,” he mutters, crawling back up your body to kiss your lips sweetly. With deliberate slowness, he drags his pants down and lines himself up, his tip nudging at your entrance. 

Suddenly, he stops, burying his face into your chest as he realizes one thing. 

“What’s wrong?” You run a hand through his hair and he looks up at you, trying not to look too disappointed. If all he got to do today was eat you out, he would die a happy man. 

“I didn’t bring condoms.” He sighs, “I mean… I would’ve, but… I didn’t want to assume we would– I would never want you to feel like–” 

“All that overpacking and you didn’t think to bring a condom?” You giggle, letting your thumb caress his cheek. 

He grumbles, huffing out with exasperation as he hides his face in your skin again. 

After a moment, you hum contemplatively, and he can’t help but notice how little this seems to be affecting you. He ignores the pang in his chest and contemplates excusing himself to finish in the bathroom when you whisper the last thing he thought he might hear right about now: “It’s a good thing I did.” 

Slowly, he cranes his head to look back up at your eyes with his own wide ones. You wink, and he lifts himself up a little too eagerly as you tell him “They’re in my backpack. Side pocket.”

The way he rolls out of the bed and jogs over makes you laugh, rushing to find the shiny packet in your bag. When he does, he holds it up to showcase it and runs back over to you, reassuming his position between your legs. 

“You brought so many.” He blushes and you laugh. 

“Just in case. You’re not the only one who came prepared.” 

The giggles from the short interruption dissolve into happy, contented sighs as he presses his lips to yours with want. He only breaks the kiss to lean back on his heels and tear the packet open, fully removing his pants this time and slipping on the pastel colored rubber. 

You hold your breath as you feel him poking your thigh, every muscle in your body tense with anticipation. Then, with a deep sigh, he guides himself to your entrance and pushes inside, inch by inch. You gasp at the intrusion, your body stretching to accommodate him, and he freezes, waiting for you to adjust.

"Relax for me," he whispers, his voice soothing as he distracts you from any discomfort by dragging his lips from the corner of your mouth to your jaw. 

When you nod and tug his hips closer, he begins to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, his actions slow and measured.

The sensation is overwhelming, being wrapped up in you, surrounded by your soft walls. It’s so warm and so wet, better than he could ever have imagined. The way you squeeze him, the way your hands cling to him—the way you let his name fall from your lips like it belongs there. His emotions are so heightened, he has to slow down to not finish already. 

You moan, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, and he bends down to kiss you, his tongue licking at your bottom lip as he continues to thrust. The sound of your combined moans fills the tent, mingling with the rustle of fabric and the soft murmur of the night outside. 

Seokmin's pace gradually increases, his movements becoming more forceful, more desperate. You can feel the strain in his muscles, the tension in his body as he tries to hold back, to savor every moment. But the need is too great, the connection between you too powerful, and soon he's lost in the rhythm, his thrusts hard and steady, each one driving you closer to the edge.

"I'm so close," you gasp, your voice breaking as a particularly deep thrust hits just the right spot. "Please, please, please..."

He responds by increasing his speed, his hips snapping against yours with brutal precision. You can feel the pressure building inside you, a coiling sensation that threatens to explode at any moment. Your body arches off the bed, your nails digging into his back as you chase after that elusive climax.

"Shit, baby,” he mumbles, his voice strained. "Let me feel you come around me." His hands come up to hold yours, fingers intertwining as you mumble incoherently, squeezing your eyes shut.

And then, with one final, shuddering thrust, you do. Your body seizes, the second wave of ecstasy crashing over you as your breath catches, your release washing over you in pulsing waves. Seokmin follows closely behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside the condom, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you move, simply basking in the afterglow of your shared release. Seokmin's breath is warm against your skin, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal as he nuzzles into you. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers, his voice so soft you wonder if you imagined it. 

But before you can respond, he lifts his head, his eyes searching yours, forever prioritizing your needs over his. “Was that okay?”

You smile, “More than okay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

A look of sheer joy spreads across his face, and he leans down to kiss you once more, his lips lingering against yours. 

“You tired, pretty girl?” 

“Just a little.” 

“Let me clean you up, yeah?  

You hum as he gives you a one last kiss and slips out of you with a hiss, sensitive still. He tosses the condom in the trash and slips on a pair of briefs, still a little shy to be naked in front of you, despite what just went down. He goes over to the bathroom to grab some towelette wipes and a towel. 

“Let me see, honey.” He spreads your legs again, leaving a kiss at your knee before wiping away the wetness that leaked out of you. He uses the wipe, then dries you off with the towel, tossing both things before going towards your bag. 

“Where do you have your panties?” 

“Front pocket…” You mumble tiredly. A small grin forms on his face at how sweet you sound, tired, still caught up in your post orgasmic bliss. He picks out a pretty pair, white and lacy, and helps you slip it on. “You cold? Want me to get you a shirt?” 

This time, you can only nod, eyelids heavy with sleep. To avoid bothering you again with the question of ‘Where do you keep your shirts?’ he grabs one of his own and gently lifts you off the mattress to slip it over your head. You hum softly, grabbing his hand to pull him to bed as he tries to pull away again. Seokmin thinks his heart might burst. He kisses your knuckles softly, cheeks glowing.“One second, I promise,” he coos, “I just need to dim the lights.” 

As soon as he flips the switch and dims the fairy lights, he settles down beside you, feeling your arms instinctively reach for him, wrapping around his waist as you draw yourself closer.

Your face is buried against his shoulder, a soft, contented sigh escaping as you nestle in. Your breathing evens out almost immediately, eyelids fluttering closed as the last hints of wakefulness slip away. Seokmin can feel the gentle weight of your legs tangling with his, pulling him into your warmth and, for a moment, he just watches—completely captivated by how you feel against him.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he brushes his fingers over your arm, savoring this closeness and the peaceful look on your face. Every bit of tension melts away as he breathes in your familiar, comforting scent. He knows you’re fast asleep now, fully trusting and at ease in his arms, and that thought alone is enough to make his heart swell.

For the first time in a long while, he feels completely at peace. So, he lets himself relax, tucking you close as he watches over you, basking in the soft quiet of the night.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

The first time Seokmin wakes up next to you, he decides the world will never give him enough mornings by your side. 

It’s evident in everything that surrounds the two of you on that Sunday morning—it’s in the breeze blowing through the curtain of the window that you had left open the night before. It’s in the blanket you had hogged in your slumber, exposing one of his legs to feel the warm welcome of the early sun peeking in through that very window. It’s your breath that he can hear by his ear, light and shallow and calm, through soft parted lips he can’t wait to feel on his again. 

It’s your skin, smooth and delicate. It’s near him, on him, touching him in different places, across his legs and chest and arms and neck; he can’t keep count, he just knows he’s enveloped in you—and it’s igniting the most intense adoration within his bones. The kind he might have felt long ago, the kind that grips his heart and thoughts with no means of slowing down. 

It’s you, beside him, and suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of sleeping alone again. 

Your rustling brings a smile to his face, simply because he’s eager to meet your eyes once more. And when they open, unfocused but searching for his face too, they crinkle into half moons and Seokmin swoons. 

This moment, so simple and familiar, feels perfect. It’s then, when he’s least prepared, caught off-guard in his sleepy haze and admiring your soft, tired features, that he hears you say it: 

“I love you.”

From the moment the words leave your mouth, his own sit on the tip of his tongue, begging to be uttered back. 

Instead, he offers you silence. Seconds of silence after a confession so vulnerable, so true—a confession he’s needed and longed to hear from you since the moment he kissed you that first night under the flickering streetlight. 

That word—love—feels dangerous, almost cursed. The last time he’d said it to someone, the last time he felt love for someone and told them so with no hesitation in his mind, with no consideration for his fragile heart, he was humiliated. It’s silly, he knows, but each time he’d said those words before, they’d somehow signaled the beginning of the end. And he could not bear to see the end of things with you. And now, looking into your hopeful eyes, that same fear rears its head, cold and stubborn, whispering that to say it back is to invite heartbreak, to open himself up to being left behind again. It’s irrational, maybe, but the thought is paralyzing.

He swallows, managing a soft smile, trying his best to keep his face composed as his mind raises and his voice threatens to shake. His fingers brush your cheek as he murmurs the same words he uttered to you last night, “You have no idea how much you mean to me.” It’s the best he can manage, the closest he can get to saying it without actually risking the word. He hopes it’s enough, hopes you can see the love in his eyes, even if he can’t yet bring himself to say it out loud. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, offering him a small, understanding smile. “I didn’t say it because I expected you to say it back. I said it because… well, because that’s how I feel.”

You seem to understand, at least partially, your hand squeezing his, and he can see the glimmer of acceptance in your gaze. He knows it won't be enough—momentarily, perhaps, or for an unknown amount of time, but not forever. 

You squeeze his hand again, letting out a quiet breath. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” you say, voice warm and steady. “And until then… I’m here.”

He feels the tension ease just a bit, his heart swelling with both relief and guilt. You’re being so patient, so open, and it only makes him want to be brave for you. But he just nods for now, pressing his lips into a thin line as he manages, “Thank you. For understanding.”

You give a faint nod, a smile that tries to hide the slight sadness in your eyes, and he feels his heart twist. He wishes he could tell you that he feels it too—that your confession wasn’t one-sided. But for now, he stays silent, feeling the weight of what you’ve given him settle in.

“Do you wanna get up?” He offers softly. You instantly shake your head, burying your face into his bare chest.

“Five more minutes?” you mumble. You peek up at him, your smile sleepily mischievous, and Seokmin chuckles, his hand brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Five minutes, ten—however long you want,” he whispers, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. It’s unhurried, as if the whole world could wait while the two of you are wrapped up like this, tangled in each other.

When you shift beside him, stretching your arms out lazily, you glance at him with a small, reassuring smile that eases his heartbeat just a bit. He’s grateful for the way you make things easy, like even this moment doesn’t have to be heavy if you don’t want it to be. You run a hand over your face, yawning, before nudging him with your elbow.

“Guess we should get up,” you say, your tone light and natural. “Don’t want to waste a good morning, right?”

He gives a half-smile, nodding as he follows you out of bed, and you throw him a playful look over your shoulder.

“Unless you were hoping I’d stay and keep you company in bed all day?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. His eyes widen slightly, a bit taken aback by your ease, but he can’t help the shy grin that spreads across his face.

“I wouldn’t complain,”  he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

And with that, you slip past him to get ready, leaving him with a sense of relief—and an unmistakable, lingering warmth.

Seokmin manages to shake off some of his nerves, filling the air with his easy going laughter as he cooks breakfast and teases you over little things, falling back into the playful rhythm the two of you share so naturally. 

Your voice echoes there, soft and steady, the simple weight of those words still settling over him. Every time he catches a glimpse of you—whether it’s the gentle way you sip your coffee or the absent-minded way you tuck your hair behind your ear—it stirs a quiet ache he can’t ignore.

As Seokmin finishes up the breakfast, he watches you from the corner of his eye, letting the simple moments drift by like steady waves, lapping at the shore of his thoughts. There’s something calming about the way you settle into the space around him, fitting so easily into this quiet morning routine together, as if it’s something you’ve done a hundred times before. He hands you a plate, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and the warmth that spreads through him feels steady, grounding.

You look up, catching his gaze with a small, grateful smile that makes his chest tighten. He watches as you take a bite, the way your eyes light up with approval, and he feels his nerves settle just a little more.

“Good?” he asks, half-laughing as you give a quick nod, cheeks full, and he finds himself grinning at the way you look. 

Between bites, the two of you chat, slipping into your familiar rhythm. He makes a lighthearted comment about your hair sticking up in the back, and you laugh, nudging his arm. Somewhere in the banter, you catch his hand in yours, resting there naturally like it belongs. 

Seokmin can't help but replay those three words you said over and over in his mind, thinking of the quiet certainty in your voice, the way your eyes held his as if no hesitation existed. And now, with you here beside him, he almost says it back, the words, the words itching to be let out. But he doesn’t—he can’t; not yet.

Instead, he gently squeezes your hand, hoping, in some way, that you can feel the depth of his affection in the simple, steady warmth of his touch. The way his gaze lingers on you speaks volumes he isn’t yet brave enough to say. And you smile at him, as if you know.

The rest of the day drifts by like a dream, bathed in golden afternoon light that slowly deepens into the cool, quiet tones of evening. After breakfast, the two of you go for a short walk around the grounds, wandering past trees in full autumn colors, the air crisp and bracing. Occasionally, Seokmin’s fingers find yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels both grounding and unspokenly affectionate. 

As it turns out, you and Seokmin have a knack for stumbling into things—quite literally. He catches his foot on a root hidden beneath the leaves, nearly pulling you down with him by your attached hands as he laughs, scrambling to regain balance with a sheepish grin. You poke fun at him, of course, only to nearly slip on a patch of damp grass a few steps later, and Seokmin’s hand shoots out to steady you, laughing as he catches you in his arms.

“You were saying?” he teases, eyebrows raised, his playful smirk softened by the affection in his gaze.

Later, as evening settles in, you sit together outside on the small porch, wrapped up in blankets and each other, watching the stars begin to pepper the sky. Seokmin pulls his guitar into his lap and plays a few soft, mellow chords, humming quietly, his voice blending with the evening calm. Occasionally, he looks up at you, his gaze tender and constantly admiring, as it always is. 

By the time you head inside, there’s an anticipation between you, growing steadily when the two of you embrace after your showers. The glow of the small lamp fills the room, casting soft shadows on the walls as you settle into the bed together. You both fall into an easy rhythm of conversation and laughter, whispers blending into quiet confessions and gentle touches, which eventually lose their innocence. Even then, there’s no rush, no need for words, just a sense of closeness that feels like a second skin. As one kiss leads to another, the night takes on a similar course as it had the previous evening—one that feels both familiar and thrilling in its newness. In the stillness of the campsite under the moon and stars, there’s only the soft sound of breaths, kisses, and… Well. 

The next morning arrives with a gentle sunlight spilling through the windows, casting everything in a warm glow. You wake slowly, savoring the feeling of lying next to him with the comfort of his presence still wrapped around you. You share soft smiles as you both get ready, packing up the last of your things in a comfortable, tired haze. There’s a sweetness in the routine, the way he hands you your jacket and steals a quick kiss on your cheek, as if he can’t help himself.

The drive home feels just as perfect as the drive there—filled with little moments of laughter and teasing, fingers brushing over the console, songs you hum along to together. Seokmin stops for your staple coffee time halfway to home, passing you a cup with a small grin. You glance out the window occasionally, taking in the passing landscape, but every time you turn back to him, he’s already looking at you, a soft warmth in his eyes.

It’s only when he pulls up to your place that a sense of reality settles in, a quiet reluctance to let the trip end. He helps you with your bags, walking you to your door with that familiar ease, and there’s a bittersweetness in his goodbye kiss, lingering a moment longer as if to preemptively make up for the inevitable time apart.

“See you soon?” he says softly, his hand still holding yours.

You nod, and the warmth in his gaze tells you everything you need to know, even as he steps back down the hall and out of sight.

Weeks after your first confession, you and Seokmin have fallen into an easy rhythm that feels like second nature. He’s more open now, sharing silent looks across the table, catching you with a gaze that feels almost as sentimental as the words you’re longing for him to say. He’s grown comfortable in so many ways, but in quiet moments, you still see it—that flicker of hesitance, like something inside him just can’t cross a line he’s drawn. And tonight, with the city lights casting a soft glow around his apartment, you feel ready to try again.

The two of you settle close on his couch, your legs brushing against each other as you both sink into the comfort of the evening. A movie flickers on the screen, but it’s more of a backdrop than the main event, something you both occasionally glance at in between kisses, light touches, and murmured exchanges.

Seokmin leans back slightly, his fingers brushing through your hair as you press closer, sharing soft, lingering kisses. It’s slow, unhurried, and he lets himself forget everything else for a while, entirely caught up in the feeling of you next to him. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together, giving a gentle squeeze. After a while of pretending to watch the screen, he pulls you a little closer, his gaze searching yours for a moment before he tilts his head, brushing another soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. And then another, slower and deeper this time.

His nose digs into your cheek and you smile, cradling his face in your hands, letting them wander around to the back of his neck, where you run your fingers through his hair.

The movie fades further into the background, replaced by warmth and soft laughter as you lose yourselves in each other, both of you letting the feeling settle deeper into your bones. It’s simple, but for Seokmin, it’s the kind of night that reminds him why he’s feeling so swept up in you.

You turn toward him on the couch, reaching out to trace your fingers gently along his arm, and catch his gaze. He smiles, eyes softening as he leans into your touch. The moment feels right, and with a steadying breath, you let the words spill out again: “I love you.”

For a moment, he goes completely still. You see a rush of emotion in his eyes, something soft, vulnerable and unguarded, and you think—just for a heartbeat—that this might be the time he finally lets go of whatever’s holding him back. But the warmth fades, replaced by that familiar shadow of hesitation. His fingers curl around yours, gripping tight as if holding on could substitute for the words he can’t bring himself to say. He presses his lips to the back of your hand and sighs. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, his gaze falling as though he’s searching for something on the floor.

Your gaze drops from his too, focusing somewhere off to the side, and your grip on his hand loosens, as if without thinking, like something in you is just pulling away.

A soft, reassuring smile comes to your lips, and you do your best to hold it there, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. When he squeezes your hand, he feels you squeeze back, and you’re still right there beside him, warm and present. But Seokmin can feel the edges of something—uncertainty, maybe—hovering, just barely.

While your heart aches with a sting that’s sharper than last time, you brush it aside, leaning closer to reassure him, trying to smooth the hurt in both of you. “It’s okay, Seokmin,” you whisper, thumb tracing over his knuckles softly. “I didn’t say it to hear it back… I just wanted you to know.”

His eyes meet yours, full of regret and something else—something deeper that can’t be voiced. He gently lifts your hand, pressing it against his chest, over his heart, as if willing you to feel everything he wishes he could say. “I’m so sorry. It’s… it’s not fair to you.” His voice trembles, the words catching in his throat. “It’s not that I don’t feel it, I just…”

You nod slowly, holding his gaze even though your own emotions are mixed—somewhere between understanding and the ache of waiting. “I know you care about me, Seokmin. I’m trying to be patient, really. I…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “I wish you’d let yourself believe in this too. I don’t want you to be afraid of it.”

He tightens his grip on your hand, his eyes turning somber. “It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” he says, his voice soft, almost pleading. “It’s that every time I say those words, it feels like… like saying it out loud will make it vanish. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Your expression softens. “You won’t lose me, Seokmin. I’m right here.” 

Seokmin feels a knot in his chest, seeing the quiet disappointment in your eyes, a look he never wanted to be the cause of. He pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as if trying to bridge the gap with touch instead of words. He’s silent for a moment, caught between the instinct to protect himself and the fear that he’ll push you away if he doesn’t change. The tension melts, if only a little, as he wraps his arms around you, anchoring you to him with a fierce kind of tenderness.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he. The warmth between your bodies fills the space where the silence lies, saying enough for the time being, and you feel your eyelids growing heavier as the quiet lulls you toward sleep. His hand drifts up to brush through your hair, a touch so gentle that it makes you smile, just barely, and you let yourself drift off, hoping, as his heartbeat thrums against your cheek, that it’s all for you.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

≡;- ꒰ ° three꒱

The night starts quietly, with the two of you curled up on his couch, the dim, golden glow from the living room lamp casting a warm hue around you. You talk about everything and nothing—work, weekend plans, the idea of a trip he wants to take you on. Each topic drifts easily between you, filling the space with laughter, shared glances, and gentle touches.

Seokmin has his arm loosely draped around your shoulders, his fingers tracing light patterns on your arm as you lean into his warmth. Occasionally, he reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering softly against your cheek, giving you a gentle smile that makes your heart flutter. It’s in these tiny, quiet moments that you feel his affection most—unspoken, steady, as if no words are needed.

At one point, he leans down to kiss you, his lips warm and tender with a hand sitting at the base of your neck. You kiss him back a little slower, savoring the sweetness of it. When he pulls away, he nudges you playfully, his eyes crinkling with that familiar, affectionate look that never fails to make you feel giddy.

“You’re going to stay the night, right?” he asks, his tone just a little shy, though his fingers are threaded through yours with a quiet confidence that feels both fragile and sure.

Smiling, you nestle closer, feeling that familiar spark in your chest. “If you’ll have me,” you tease, laughing as he tugs you even closer, your head settling comfortably against his chest as his hand traces slow circles along your back.

He nods, a quiet joy in his eyes as he presses a light kiss to your forehead. His hand finds yours again, fingers curling around yours in a small, reassuring squeeze. For a moment, he looks like he wants to say something, his gaze lingering on your face as if he’s searching for the right words.

Instead, you break the silence, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Baby,” you murmur softly, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “I really… I care about you, a lot.”

His smile softens, his eyes warm as they meet yours. “Me too,” he replies quietly, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. His gaze holds something vulnerable beneath the surface, a weight to his affection that feels so real, even if he doesn’t say it.

The conversation drifts on, flowing from one topic to another as the minutes slip by. Every now and then, he leans in to kiss you again, an affectionate touch of lips that lingers a little longer each time, filled with a quiet intensity that makes you feel wanted, cherished. As the evening wears on, you find yourself wrapped in his arms, half-drowsy and content, happy to simply exist there in his warmth. You leave a kiss on his throat and the words leave your mouth unexpectedly; soft, steady, unplanned, as if saying them was the most natural thing in the world, “Seokmin… I love you.”

The room grows still, and Seokmin’s face shifts immediately, as though he’s braced himself for something he isn’t sure he can accept. He looks away, lips pressing into a tight line. There’s a quiet between you, but it isn’t the warm silence you’re used to; it’s the kind that leaves you feeling exposed.

After a beat, he exhales sharply. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

You feel frustration stirring, a tightness forming in your chest. “Seokmin, it’s the third time I’ve told you in the last three months, and I still haven’t heard anything back. Not even once.”

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “It’s… it’s complicated. I told you that.”

You take a deep breath, nodding, trying to keep your voice even. “I understand. But don’t you think it’s a little unfair? I’m putting myself out there, and every time, you just… close up.” You glance down, the words catching in your throat as you add, “I don’t even know if you want this to be anything serious, Seokmin.”

Your words hit him, and his brows furrow as he finally looks back at you. “Of course I do. Why do you think I’m with you?”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Then why can’t you say it? Why can’t you just say you love me?”

He sighs, clearly struggling, and you can see the way he’s wrestling with the internal conflict he’s been carrying for so long. But before he can answer, your phone buzzes, drawing both your eyes to the screen as it lights up with a message. You barely look at it, just a quick glance, but Seokmin’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing as he catches sight of the heart emoji he had seen back when you left your phone on the bus.

“Who’s texting you?” he asks, a hint of irritation in his voice.

You look down at the name, realizing with a sinking feeling that it’s from your ex. You hadn’t changed the contact since meeting Seokmin, hadn’t thought about it, really. But the moment feels heavy as you explain, “It’s just… someone from a while ago. We don’t talk anymore.”

His mouth twitches in a half-bitter smile, half-scoff as he lifts himself up from under you, standing up to pace. “A heart emoji? Doesn’t seem like ‘just someone.’”

You follow, reaching for his hand, but he pulls away, pain in his eyes harder than you’ve ever seen. “Seokmin, it’s not what you think. I haven’t talked to him since we started seeing each other.”

But he shakes his head, looking away. “You say that, but how am I supposed to believe it? I’ve been here before, and I know what happens next.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, disbelief mingling with anger. “Are you serious? Seokmin, I’ve done nothing but give you every reason to trust me. I’ve waited, I’ve been patient with you. I told you how I feel because I thought you’d want to know, not so I could be questioned like this.”

His voice rises, defensiveness seeping in. “You don’t understand, okay? You don’t know what it’s like to think everything’s fine and then realize it was all a lie. I can’t just give myself away like that. I’m not ready.”

The frustration boils over, and your voice trembles as you retort, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have been with me if you weren’t ready for someone who actually loves you.” You take a step back, feeling a crack in the wall you’ve been holding up. “And you know what? I don’t even want to hear ‘I love you’ now, not like this. Not if I have to beg for it.”

Seokmin looks away, swallowing, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you feels like a chasm, a point you can’t return from. Finally, his voice softens, barely above a whisper. “Maybe I just… don’t know how to love anyone right.”

The silence stretches uncomfortably, the weight of his words filling the space between you. Your heart twists, but instead of softening, it stirs your anger.

“You know what, Seokmin?” You break the silence, voice sharper than you intend. “I don’t think you really want this. And God, that fucking sucks—because every day with you felt like I finally got everything I ever wanted. But apparently the feeling isn’t mutual. I mean, you say you care, but every time I take a step closer, you’re right there pushing me back.”

His expression hardens, and he crosses his arms defensively. “And maybe I don’t want to get hurt again. You think it’s easy for me to just jump in like nothing happened?”

You shake your head, exasperated. “I get that you have baggage, but what about mine? You don’t think it hurts every time I tell you how I feel, and you just stare at me like it’s some impossible thing for you to say back? Like I’m asking too much from you?” You scoff, shaking your head. “Maybe that’s on me for thinking I could mean more to you than just… this convenient relationship you can pull away from whenever you feel like it.”

He takes a step back, his eyes blazing with hurt and anger. “Convenient? You think this is convenient for me? You think everything we did means nothing to me? You think you mean nothing to me?”

Your voice breaks, hurt now outweighing the anger. “You never even asked me to be your girlfriend, Seokmin!” He looks over, finding that tears have begun pooling in your eyes. “I feel like I’m just waiting around for you to make up your mind.”

Seokmin freezes, his heart sinking at the sight of your tears. The words hit him harder than anything else you’ve said. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been taking for granted, how much he’d been leaving you to carry on your own. The look on your face—raw, vulnerable, and heartbroken—pierces him in a way nothing else has.

His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he can’t move. His chest feels tight, like there’s a weight pressing down on him. He had always thought he was doing enough, that his feelings for you would be enough to show how much you meant to him. But hearing you say those words—waiting around for him to make up his mind—it’s like a gut punch. He never intended for you to feel this way.

“Y/N…” he starts, his voice strained and unsteady. His hand hovers in the air as if unsure whether to reach for you or not, the space between you seeming wider than ever. His lips tremble slightly, and he takes a step forward, but you don’t move. The distance between you feels like an impenetrable wall, and he feels like he’s losing you with every passing second.

“I—I never meant for you to feel that way,” he says, his words faltering. His eyes flicker between you and the floor, unsure of how to fix the brokenness that’s suddenly so palpable between you two. “I… I thought you knew how much I care about you. I thought I was doing enough…”

His voice trails off, and the realization dawns on him like a harsh slap. He didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. He didn’t make it clear how serious he was. He just assumed you knew. And now, seeing the hurt in your eyes, he understands how wrong he’s been.

“I—I never wanted you to feel like you were waiting. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, his voice thick with regret. His chest feels tight, constricted by the weight of his own inaction. “I didn’t realize how much I was asking of you.”

He takes another tentative step toward you, his hands trembling slightly as they reach for yours. This time, when he touches your hand, there’s no hesitation—just a desperate need to bridge the gap between you. His fingers wrap gently around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, his gaze searching yours for any sign that there’s still hope.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to… how to make it right.” He shakes his head in disbelief, as if trying to make sense of it all. The weight of everything he’s left unsaid presses down on him, and the guilt gnaws at him, leaving him feeling smaller with each passing second. "Please, just tell me how to fix it," he says quietly, his voice barely audible. "I don’t want to lose you. But–” You roll your eyes before he even elaborates, already knowing where his point is going, “I can’t. Not after what happened last time.” 

You take your hand out of his grip, clenching your fists. “Do you even hear yourself? I’ve been here, Seokmin. I stayed, I waited, I tried. But all you’re doing is punishing me for something that has nothing to do with me. And I can’t keep trying to prove myself to you when you’re already convinced I’m going to hurt you.”

Seokmin’s expression twists with frustration, his voice dropping, “Well, maybe that’s because people like you always do. You say you’re here now, but I’ve seen what happens next. You’ll find someone else, someone who can say all the right things, and you’ll leave me just like everyone else has.”

There’s a sudden ache in your chest, a pang of betrayal, and it’s your turn to take a step back. “People like me?” you repeat, voice trembling. “You think so little of me that you’d group me with whatever happened to you before? How could you possibly believe that after everything we’ve been through?”

He glances away, unable to answer, but his silence only fuels your frustration.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, voice barely above a whisper but seething. “Maybe you’re not the guy for me. Because I deserve someone who trusts me, who wants to be with me, and isn’t stuck in this endless cycle of doubt and fear.”

The words hang in the air between you, and Seokmin’s face instantly shifts from anger to something far more fragile. His eyes widen, and he looks as if you’ve struck him—like he hadn’t considered, not for a second, that things could actually end this way.

“You… you don’t mean that,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. He takes a step toward you, desperation in his eyes. “You can’t just… walk away. We can work through this; I’ll try harder.”

You shake your head, the weight of disappointment settling heavily in your chest. “Seokmin, this isn’t about trying harder. It’s about trust, about feeling like you actually want me in your life. I can’t keep pouring myself into this when you’re too afraid to meet me halfway.”

His voice cracks as he pleads, “But I need you. I just… I didn’t know how to say it before. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you’d understand. I thought you’d give me more time.”

You can feel your resolve start to waver, but you swallow hard, staying strong. “I thought I could, too. But it’s not fair to keep asking me to wait. I’m not your past, Seokmin. I’m here, right now, trying to build a future with you. And if that’s not something you can give me…” You take a shaky breath, the finality of it sinking in, “…then maybe this isn’t right.”

The devastation on his face is clear, and he takes another step toward you, reaching out hesitantly as if afraid you’ll pull away. “No, please… I’ll try to be better. I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightens at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, you soften. But there’s still an ache, a lingering feeling that’s been growing with each unspoken “I love you,” each moment he couldn’t bring himself to trust you.

“Seokmin, I didn’t want it to come to this,” you murmur, voice breaking slightly. “But I can’t be the only one fighting for us. You need to want this, too. Not just because you’re afraid of being alone, but because you’re willing to love me.”

He’s silent, his hands dropping as his gaze falls to the floor, visibly struggling with the weight of your words. Finally, he nods, a defeated look in his eyes. “I do want to… but I don’t know how.”

You close your eyes, heart aching for him—for what could have been, for the love that’s still there between you but not enough to hold you together. You gently touch his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin one last time. “I hope you figure it out, Seokmin. For both of us.”

He looks up, a tear slipping down his cheek as he whispers, “I’m so sorry.” And you walk out the door, leaving him standing alone in his living room. 

The silence presses in around him, heavy and suffocating, like an oppressive weight settling over his chest. His body feels frozen, like he’s still trying to catch up to the reality of what just happened, the weight of your words and the finality of your departure sinking into his bones.

He rubs his face with both hands, the frustration and guilt bubbling up in a way that feels suffocating. His mind spins, replaying the argument over and over again, each word cutting deeper than the last. You were right. He never asked you to be his girlfriend. He never gave you the security you needed, the assurance you deserved. And now, the one person he thought would always be there, the one person he couldn’t afford to lose, was walking away.

He drags a hand through his hair, pacing across the room aimlessly, unsure of what to do with himself. His mind races, but everything feels so muddled, so unclear. He knows he messed up, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how much he’d taken for granted until it was too late, until you were gone.

His breath comes in shallow bursts, and suddenly, the tears come, hot and stinging against his eyes.

He doesn’t try to stop them. They fall freely, a mixture of frustration, guilt, and regret overwhelming him. The harshness of the argument fades into the quiet ache of realizing what he’s lost, and with it, the reality of how deeply he’s hurt you. His chest tightens with every tear that slips down his face, the lump in his throat growing impossibly heavier.

He slumps further into the couch, his face in his hands as he tries to catch his breath. The sobs come harder now, raw and uncontrollable. He’d never imagined it would end like this—he’d always believed things would somehow work out, that time would fix everything, that he could somehow get over his own fears and be the person you needed. But now, in the quiet aftermath, all he can feel is the void left by your absence, and the fear that maybe it’s too late for any of it.

Should he have followed you outside? Grabbed your arm, held you against his chest, begged you not to leave? Would it have made a difference? 

He paces back and forth in the living room, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Every step feels like it’s dragging him deeper into a pit, each round of his feet against the floor only making him feel more isolated. The tears that had come earlier are dry now, but the hurt still lingers, gnawing at him. His mind is a whirlwind, replaying everything from the argument to the moment you walked out.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. The thought runs over and over in his mind, but he’s not sure how to make it stop, how to undo what’s been said. He’s not sure what’s scarier: the fact that he couldn’t say the words you needed to hear or that now, in the aftermath, he’s terrified of losing you.

His eyes keep drifting to his phone, as though waiting for some kind of sign, a message from you, maybe, telling him you’ve reconsidered. But there’s nothing. Just the empty silence that presses down on him, the space between you growing further with each passing minute.

Hours slip by, and eventually, he can’t stay awake any longer. He drags himself to his bedroom, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated, like everything is moving in slow motion. The bed feels too big, too empty without you beside him, where you were supposed to lie tonight, in his arms. He lays down but can’t seem to settle, tossing and turning as thoughts of you invade his every attempt at rest.

His mind drifts back to the warmth of your laughter, the softness of your touch, how easily the two of you had fit together. And now, he’s left with this cold, aching emptiness. He can’t stop thinking about you—how he should’ve told you everything you needed to hear, how he could’ve fixed it.

But all he can do now is lie awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping, wishing, that somehow, he’ll find a way to make things right.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The days since you’d left feel like an eternity. A month and a half. 

The space between you and Seokmin has grown too wide to bridge, but every day, as he drives home from work, he’s haunted by the sight of you getting off the bus at your usual stop. There’s a painful rhythm to it now, a constant reminder of what once was and how easily it all slipped away. He can’t help but notice the way your shoulders are hunched, the distance in your stride, as if you too are carrying a weight you hadn’t expected.

Seokmin keeps his eyes on the road, trying not to look, but every day, it’s harder to ignore. His heart aches with the knowledge that you’re right there—so close, yet untouchable.

It’s a quiet torment, this space between you two. The conversations with his friends, the questions about you, all feel like another layer of pressure, a weight he can’t seem to shrug off.

“Hey, Seokmin,” Seungkwan says one evening, voice light but laced with concern as he wipes down his work station. “Have you heard from Y/N? I haven’t seen her around lately. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

Seokmin stiffens, his grip on the rag he’s holding tightening. His best friend’s eyes are searching, but Seokmin doesn’t know how to explain. How could he? The words still feel heavy in his mouth, and he’s not sure how much longer he can lie about it.

“I… uh… we just haven’t talked in a while,” Seokmin says, his voice unsteady, the smile he tries to muster faltering. “I think she’s been busy with schoolwork, you know?”

Seungkwan doesn’t press, though the concern in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s hard for Seokmin to explain what’s going on, especially when it feels like everything’s been left unsaid, hanging in the air like a storm that never quite hits. 

Then, it’s Joshua at the coffee shop, always quick to greet Seokmin with his usual bright energy, but his tone shifts a little when he mentions you. “So, where’s your friend been? Haven’t seen her in here lately. You two still hanging out?”

Seokmin’s chest tightens, the words harder to push out than he expects. “Yeah, she’s just been busy with some stuff. You know how it is.”

Joshua looks at him for a moment, expression softening as though he’s trying to piece things together, but he says nothing. Instead, he just hands over Seokmin’s coffee with a knowing smile, as if that’s all he can offer for now.

Seokmin hates the question, the one he can’t answer truthfully. Every time it comes up, it breaks something inside him. So, when Mr. Kim asks why you haven’t been coming by to read his books, Seokmin smiles—his smile that feels too heavy, too tired—and gives the same response he’s been giving for weeks. “She’s been busy, Mr. Kim. I’m sure she’ll stop by again soon.”

Mr. Kim, not catching the underlying sadness, just nods and pats Seokmin’s shoulder, his eyes warm with understanding. “I hope so. It’s not the same without her.”

But the worst of it all is when Ms. Boo, Seungkwan’s grandmother, asks. Seokmin has always had a soft spot for the elderly woman, and her memory isn’t what it used to be, so she asks about you often—sometimes multiple times in a week.

Each time, it feels like a new cut. She looks up at him with bright, hopeful eyes, always asking where you’ve gone, if you’re coming to visit again soon. 

Seokmin forces the smile to stay in place, masking the rawness he feels. “She’s just been busy with school, Ms. Boo. Everything’s alright, I promise. She’ll be back soon.”

But there’s always something about the way she looks at him that feels like she sees through the mask, as if she can tell something isn’t right. She doesn’t say it out loud, but the way she sighs, the way her face falls just a little, makes it clear that she can feel the change in the air. She sees it in the flowers, too. Despite how hard Seokmin tries to hide it, the displays at the window have begun to look lifeless and dull once more. 

Seungkwan, who has overheard all these conversations, sees how his grandmother’s face changes with each of these questions. He sees how Seokmin’s eyes dim just a little bit more each time he lies. It breaks his heart to watch, and yet, he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t know how to make it better for his friend.

Seokmin is a shell of himself when he’s alone in his apartment, and Seungkwan knows it. He’s seen it in the way Seokmin walks through the coffee shop doors, the way his shoulders slump more with each passing day. But there’s nothing to say. Nothing Seungkwan can do except wait for Seokmin to find a way out of this quiet agony.

And Seokmin, for his part, is slowly suffocating in it. The silence between them stretches on, a cruel reminder of how things can slip away when the words left unsaid are too heavy to carry.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Seokmin can’t take it anymore. Every day, he drives past your stop, sees you walking away, and it feels like he's still chasing something he can't reach. He hasn’t let go, not really. It’s been two months, but the feeling of being cut off from you gnaws at him relentlessly. He doesn’t know how to fix it, but he knows he can’t keep waiting, not like this.

He picks up his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he stares at your name in his contacts. The screen is bright in the dimness of his apartment, a silent reminder of all the things left unsaid between you two. He hesitates for a moment, but it’s only a moment—he doesn’t want to regret this. Not this time.

He taps your name, the sound of the call connecting ringing in his ears. It rings and rings, each second stretching longer than the last. His heart beats louder in his chest, and as the voicemail prompt comes through, he lets out a shaky breath.

The words tumble out before he can stop them, a rush of everything he’s been holding back, the things he hasn’t said and should’ve said weeks ago.

“Hey,” he starts, his voice quiet but steady. “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but… I wanted you to know that I miss you, and I miss us. And… I’m in love with you, if that means anything to you now.”

He swallows hard again, the confession hanging in the air, vulnerable and raw. “I just—” His voice cracks for a second before he regains himself. “I just need you to know that. Because I can’t pretend I don’t feel it anymore. And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t miss you. Even if this is too late. Even if you’re already moving on.”

The words weigh heavily on him, but there’s something freeing about saying them out loud, even if it’s just into a voicemail.

He lets out a shaky breath, the lump in his throat tightening as he finishes, “I don’t know what you want or how you feel anymore, but I hope, in some way, you know how much you mean to me. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll understand that when I say I’m sorry for everything that went wrong, I mean it. I really do.”

He pauses again, the finality of the message weighing on him, and he rubs the back of his neck, closing his eyes as if imagining you were hearing him now.

“I hope you’re doing okay. Whatever you decide, just… know that I miss you. I’m sorry. And I love you. I always have.”

His hand falls to his side as the beep signaling the end of the message rings in his ears, leaving a silence that feels even heavier than the one before.

Seokmin stares at the phone in his hand, his breath shaky, heart pounding. The message is sent, but the weight of it doesn’t lift. In fact, everything feels heavier, as if saying those words has only made the space between you feel even more real. He rubs his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. His chest feels tight, a lump in his throat that won’t go away no matter how many times he exhales.

He stares at the phone, unable to look away. His mind is flooded with memories of you—the way you used to laugh, how your eyes would light up when you'd talk about something you loved, how your hand felt in his, so warm and familiar. He’d taken it all for granted. And now, with the message sent and no immediate response, the silence between you feels deafening.

His eyes water, his throat tightens with the kind of ache that no words can fix. It’s strange how he can feel so empty yet so full of regret at the same time. He thought saying the words would somehow bring relief, some kind of release, but instead, it only makes him realize how much he’s lost. How much he’s hurt you. How he hasn’t been the person he wanted to be for you, not the way he promised he would.

The thought of you not listening to the message, not responding, makes the knot in his stomach twist tighter. What if you’ve already moved on? What if it’s too late for him to fix anything? He can barely bring himself to imagine it.

Seokmin blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but it doesn’t help. His tears spill over, and for the first time since the night you walked out, he lets himself really cry. He sits there, phone still in his hand, the emptiness of the room almost suffocating. 

"Please listen," he whispers to the empty room, as though saying it out loud might somehow make it real. The words feel weak, pathetic even, but they’re all he has left.

He sets the phone down on the couch beside him, a hollow ache settling in his chest. The message he left you was everything he needed to say, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. His fingers twitch, almost instinctively, reaching for his phone again as if the act of texting or calling might undo the quiet that’s consumed him. But he doesn’t. His hand falls to his side, heavy and lifeless.

Seokmin feels the weight of it all in the stillness, like the air itself is pressing down on him. He pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a loose embrace. His thoughts drift back to the fight, to the moment he knew things had cracked between the two of you. He could still hear your voice, the pain and frustration in it, the words you said—I’m just waiting around for you to make up your mind. They replay over and over, no matter how hard he tries to shake them off.

The silence stretches on, suffocating. The clock ticks, each second heavier than the last. Seokmin’s breath shudders as his mind replays every moment, every opportunity he had to say the words that could have made a difference. But he never did. He never allowed himself to take that step, always too afraid that he’d screw it up, that he’d let you down. And now, in the quiet aftermath of everything, he realizes how much he truly let you down.

His body feels tired, worn, but sleep doesn’t come. Not tonight. He lies back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the minutes tick by. His eyes are red, his heart heavier than it’s ever been. 

The next morning, Seokmin wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing beside. He groans, blinking into the early light of the day, the ache in his chest still persistent. He’s been lying on the couch for hours, unable to fall asleep, but exhausted all the same. When he finally brings himself to stand, his phone buzzes again with a text from Seungkwan.

“Hey, we’re coming over. You okay?”

As much as he wants to curl up and shut out the world, he knows Seungkwan won’t let that happen. And Soonyoung, ever the optimistic force, won’t leave him alone until they can make him smile again.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he slowly trudges into the kitchen, staring blankly at the coffee maker as if it holds the secret to feeling better. He pours a cup, the warm liquid comforting in the way only caffeine can, but it doesn’t do anything for the hollow ache that’s settled into his ribs.

When the doorbell rings, he’s still holding the mug, his fingers cold around it. He doesn’t even bother to put it down as he goes to open the door.

Seungkwan and Soonyoung are standing there, both grinning wide, but it doesn’t take long for them to notice how Seokmin’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His hair is a mess, his clothes wrinkled, but it’s the way he carries himself that tells them everything.

“Seokmin,” Seungkwan says softly, stepping forward and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on, man? You’ve been off lately. It’s obvious.”

Seokmin doesn’t say anything at first. He just gives a small shrug, trying to brush them off, but Soonyoung isn’t having it.

“Don’t give us that. We’ve been your friends for too long,” Soonyoung says, his voice light but with an edge of concern. “We’re here to hang out, but if something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to us, right?”

Seokmin forces a laugh, but it sounds hollow. He rubs a hand over his face, suddenly feeling the weight of how truly alone he felt settling even deeper in his chest.

“I… I don’t know, guys. I don’t think it’ll make a difference, but…” His voice trails off, and for a moment, he wonders if he should just tell them. If he could just say the words, maybe it would make everything easier.

Seungkwan glances at Soonyoung, and the two of them silently agree. Soonyoung gestures toward the couch. “Come on, sit down. We’re not leaving until you spill, man.”

With a heavy sigh, Seokmin sits down, his body slumping into the couch. He finally sets the mug down on the coffee table and stares at his hands. It’s like the weight of everything is suddenly too much to bear, and he can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

“I… I messed up,” Seokmin starts, his voice tight, a lump forming in his throat. “I messed up with her. She—she told me she loved me, and I couldn’t say it back.”

Both Seungkwan and Soonyoung freeze, exchanging a glance, then turning back to him. Seungkwan speaks first, his voice gentle. “What do you mean, you couldn’t say it back? I thought things were going well.”

Seokmin runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know, I just—I was so scared. I couldn’t let myself fall for her, not completely. I was afraid of getting hurt again. So when she told me she loved me, I froze. I couldn’t say it. And she—she called me out on it. She asked me why I couldn’t just say it, why I never even asked her to be my girlfriend. And then…” His voice breaks, and he wipes his eyes, embarrassed. “And then I let her go. I didn’t fight for her. I didn’t even try.”

The room falls silent, the weight of Seokmin’s confession settling between them. Soonyoung’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks, but there’s an edge of disbelief in it. “You didn’t ask her to be your girlfriend?” He shakes his head, as if trying to make sense of it. “What the hell?”

“I know,” Seokmin replies, his voice barely a whisper. “I was an idiot. I let the fear get in the way, and now… now she’s gone. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. And I’ve been… I’ve been torturing myself thinking I could fix it somehow, but I don’t know if I can anymore.”

Seungkwan sits down beside him, his tone firm but understanding. “So what, you’re just giving up? You can’t expect to just let this go without trying to make it right. You love her, don’t you?”

Seokmin nods without hesitation, his eyes full of regret. “Yeah. I love her. I think I always have, but I was too afraid to admit it, to act on it. And now I think I’ve lost her for good.”

Soonyoung leans forward, his expression serious. “Look, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. If she really means that much to you, you can’t just walk away from it. You have to try, even if it’s scary.”

Seungkwan chimes in, his voice quieter but equally earnest. “We’re here for you, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

Seokmin nods, feeling the weight of their words sink in. The guilt is still there, gnawing at him, but for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t feel so alone in it. Maybe there’s still a chance to make things right. 

“I... I called her,” he admits quietly, his voice hesitant, like he’s unsure if admitting it will make it real. He looks up at Seungkwan and Soonyoung, who are both watching him closely, waiting for him to continue. “I left her a voicemail last night.”

The room goes still, and Seungkwan leans forward, his brows furrowing in concern. “A voicemail? What did you say?”

Seokmin takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair again. “I told her I miss her. I told her I miss us. And then... I told her I love her. I said it. I just… I don’t know if it matters anymore. She hasn’t responded.”

Soonyoung’s expression softens. “That’s huge. But you can’t just expect one voicemail to fix everything. Maybe… maybe she needs time too.”

“I know,” Seokmin says, his voice raw with emotion. “But it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. I just—I don’t even know where to start.”

Seungkwan places a hand on his shoulder, offering a small, supportive squeeze. “You did the right thing by reaching out, Seokmin. You told her how you felt, and now you have to give her the space to process it. You can’t control how she responds, but you can control how you act. And the fact that you’re willing to try—well, that says a lot.”

Seokmin’s gaze drifts to the window, the weight of the situation heavy on his chest. His voice cracks as he speaks again. “I just don’t want to lose her. Not like this.”

“Then don’t give up,” Soonyoung says firmly, a quiet determination in his words. “You’ve taken the first step. Now it’s time to show her that you’re serious about making things right. She might need to hear from you again. Maybe not right away, but eventually.”

Seungkwan adds quickly, “But don’t rush it. You’ve got to be patient with her, and with yourself. You can’t undo what’s happened, but you can start moving forward. And if she’s meant to be with you, she’ll see that.”

Seokmin nods, the weight in his chest easing slightly. He’s still unsure about what the future holds, but hearing his friends’ words gives him a sense of hope he hasn’t felt in weeks. There’s still a chance, even if it seems small. And for now, that’s enough to hold onto.

“Thanks,” Seokmin murmurs, his voice thick with gratitude. “You guys really don’t know how much this means to me.”

The day drags on as Seokmin tries to focus on what Seungkwan and Soonyoung have planned for him. They’ve taken him out for some outdoor activity—something to get him out of the house and away from the constant, gnawing worry that’s been eating at him since he left that voicemail.

They’re hiking up a trail, the air fresh and crisp around them, the sounds of birds calling and wind rustling through the trees. Seokmin knows they’re trying to get him to focus on something else, but his mind keeps drifting back to his phone. He checks it every few minutes, his thumb hovering over the screen, but every time, there’s still nothing. No missed call, no message, not even an unread notification.

Seungkwan and Soonyoung chat animatedly ahead, laughing and joking, but Seokmin falls behind, his thoughts lost in the stillness of his mind. His phone buzzes in his pocket, making his heart jump, and he pulls it out eagerly, hoping—just hoping—it’s you. But when he unlocks the screen, his shoulders sag in disappointment. It’s just a message from his mom, asking if he’s eating enough. He sighs and stuffs the phone back into his pocket, trying to shake off the feeling of defeat creeping in.

“You okay, man?” Seungkwan calls back, his voice laced with concern as he notices Seokmin lagging behind.

“Yeah, just tired,” Seokmin replies with a half-smile, forcing the words out even though they don’t feel true. He stretches his legs to catch up, trying to hide the emptiness that seems to settle deeper with every minute he’s away from his phone.

Soonyoung turns around to check on him too, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not still checking your phone every five seconds, are you? Let’s enjoy today, okay? You deserve a break from the stress.”

But even as Seokmin tries to convince himself, he can’t shake the constant urge to check his phone. He tries to focus on the hike, listening to Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s conversation as they joke about how out of shape they are, but his mind keeps straying. He checks again when they stop to rest, and then again when they grab lunch at a small café after the hike.

No message. No calls. No unread messages. Nothing.

The silence feels nauseating.

They sit down at a table outside, and Seungkwan gives him a light nudge, raising his eyebrows as a silent check-in. Seokmin replies with a weak, crooked smile. As much as he tries to focus on the present moment, he finds his every thought circulating back to you. 

A month later, he hadn’t heard from you, and it had eaten away at him, slowly, quietly—like a slow, insidious rust that creeps across the metal of his soul, gradually weakening his resolve and leaving him hollowed out. 

He replayed the voicemail he’d left you a thousand times, but the silence that followed it felt like a cruel, final answer. He convinced himself that you were done with him, that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. The distance between you had crushed him, and as the days passed, his hope dwindled until he was convinced this was the end. 

Some days, he crashed out on his couch at night, consumed by guilt, regret, and doubt, unable to shake the feeling that he had lost you for good. Other days, he sat staring blankly at the TV, the familiar ache in his chest as a constant companion. He’s learned to live with the silence that hangs between him and you, but it’s still unbearable. The thought of you is a constant, as persistent as the ticking of a clock in the room. He’s replayed the voicemail over and over in his mind, the words you never responded to still echoing in his ears.

It’s late at night, and just as he’s about to get up to go to bed, a knock on his door freezes him in place. His heart skips a beat. For a moment, he wonders if he’s imagining things. But no—there it is again, more urgent this time.

He opens the door, his breath catching in his throat as he sees you standing there, the faint glow of hallway lights casting soft shadows across your face. You look hesitant, like you’re unsure of how to begin. The sight of you shakes him to his core, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

He swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N?”

You nod, your eyes searching his face, torn between relief and uncertainty. "I… I saw your voicemail." Your voice trembles, as if every word is a weight on your chest. "The day it came in. I just… I needed time. I needed time to figure things out."

Seokmin stands there, frozen, the full weight of what you’re saying finally sinking in. You saw it. You heard it. And yet, you didn’t respond.

“I—” He starts, but he can’t seem to find the words. The tension in the air is thick, both of you still holding onto the remnants of everything that’s gone unsaid.

"I know you were waiting for me to respond. But," you stop yourself, struggling to find the words. "You made me wait for so long, Seokmin. For 'I love you.' I needed to make you wait too. It wasn’t fair, but… that’s how I felt."

The truth stings. He’s been waiting for you, aching with every unanswered day, but hearing this—he hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t expected you to have been just as torn up inside.

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin finally manages, his voice hoarse. “I never meant to hurt you, I just… I couldn’t—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “I was so scared, Y/N. I was scared of getting hurt again. I didn’t know how to say it. But I was never trying to make you wait. I just… couldn’t.”

You take a step closer, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it. I really do. But it hurt. It hurt, Seokmin. All I wanted was for you to let me in, to trust me like I trusted you. And when you couldn’t say it, when you couldn’t even ask me to be yours… it made me feel like maybe I wasn’t enough. Like maybe I wasn’t worth it.”

His breath hitches in his throat, a raw ache spreading through his chest. He feels the weight of your words like a heavy stone pressing down on him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he repeats, his voice cracking. The tears he’s been holding back finally spill over, streaking down his cheeks. He doesn’t try to hide them; they just fall, one after another. “I never wanted you to feel that way. I never wanted to make you feel like you weren’t worth it. You were always worth it. I just—” His voice falters as he swallows back a sob. “I just didn’t know how to let myself love you. I was so scared of losing you that I pushed you away.”

You can’t hold back your tears either, and they fall silently as you watch him break down. Everything you’ve been holding in—every ounce of pain, of frustration, of longing—rushes to the surface, and all you can do is stand there, letting it all spill over, just like him.

“I was so angry at you, Seokmin,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Angry because I loved you, and I wanted you to love me back so badly, but you couldn’t say it. And I hated that I had to question whether I was enough for you.”

“I know, I know,” he says, wiping his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. He wants so badly to reach for your hand, but he won’t. Not until you make the first move. Instead, he swallows, continuing. “And I’m sorry. I was selfish, and I hurt you. I was terrified of being vulnerable, and I never should have let it get this far.”

You take a deep breath, your chest tight. “I can’t go back to how things were, Seokmin. I can’t just pretend everything is okay. But I don’t want to lose you. I’ve thought about this. A lot. And the thing is, I… I forgive you. I forgive you because I know you were just scared. I get that. I do. But we can’t keep doing this, you know? We can’t keep hurting each other, over and over.”

Seokmin nods, wiping his eyes again, his heart breaking with the realization that you’ve been hurt just as much as he has. “I’m sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I… I can’t imagine my life without you. I just—” He pauses, his voice catching in his throat. “I love you. I love you so much. And I should have said it. I’ve known it for so long. And fuck, you would’ve though I was crazy, but I should have said it since the night we kissed because even then, I knew. I should’ve told you I’m in love with you. Then I wouldn’t have been regretting right now.”

You suddenly laugh weakly, and he’s both so delighted at the sound he had missed, and confused, having just poured his heart out to you. Until your lips part to explain, hands swiping away at the tears on your cheeks. “Sorry–It’s just… Those are the lyrics to your song.” 

"What?" he asks softly, his voice a little strained.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "The song," you repeat, wiping your eyes as you try to gather your thoughts. "The one you wrote, the one you sang for me at the beach."

“Oh.” At the time, the song had been just a way of sharing a piece of himself with you. But now, it felt like a mirror of everything that had gone wrong between you two—the love he couldn’t say, the hesitation, the distance that had grown between you. He had no idea then that it would be ever so relevant now. 

"I—I'm sorry," he whispers, almost afraid to speak too loud in case it shatters the fragile moment between you. "I should've said it. I should’ve made it clearer."

You shake your head, your voice breaking just a little as you reach for and squeeze his hand. "I just needed to hear those three words, Seokmin. I needed to know you meant it."

“I love you.” He repeats. And it’s real, raw, and enough to mend the cracks in your heart.

You step forward, slowly, carefully, and you wrap your arms around him. Seokmin doesn’t hesitate for a second; he pulls you close, burying his face in your hair, holding onto you like you’re the one thing that can keep him from falling apart.

“I love you too, Seokmin,” you whisper against his chest, your voice trembling. “I love you.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels right. 

"Y/N," he starts, his voice hoarse but steady. "I know you’ve been through a lot waiting for me to figure everything out. And I want you to know... everyone’s been asking about you."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, unsure where he’s going with this. “What do you mean? Who’s been asking?”

Seokmin gives a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Seungkwan and Soonyoung were both asking about you, about how you’re doing, how things have been. They’ve noticed something’s... off with me. And, uh, Mr. Kim, too. He said he hasn't seen you at the coffee shop lately. I think he misses having you around to borrow books from him." He hesitates, his expression turning more serious as he looks down at his feet, voice almost cracking. "And... Ms. Boo. She’s been asking about you every time I go to work. She doesn’t understand why we haven’t been hanging out. She doesn’t know what happened, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her everything. So, I told her you were just busy."

A sad smile spreads across your face at the mention of Ms. Boo. "I didn't realize they were still thinking about me," you murmur softly, feeling a lump form in your throat. "It’s been so long, I didn’t want to keep bothering them."

Seokmin shakes his head, his hand gently reaching for yours again, this time holding it with more certainty. "You never bothered anyone. I just... I didn’t know how to explain everything. And I didn’t want to make it worse."

You let out a small sigh, your heart aching. “I should’ve reached out sooner. I just... I was trying to give you space to figure things out, Seokmin.”

Seokmin’s gaze softens, and he takes another step closer to you. “I don’t want you to feel like that anymore. You’re not alone in this, and I never should’ve made you feel like you were. I’ve missed you so much. I just didn’t know how to fix everything.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, squeezing his hand. “I understand now. I just needed to know I wasn’t just... waiting around forever.”

Seokmin nods, his eyes brimming with sincerity. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get it right. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The words sink in, warm and comforting, and for the first time in months, you feel like a weight has lifted off your chest. He’s here, truly here, and that’s all you ever needed.

“You should come in,” Seokmin says gently, realizing the two of you are still standing in the doorway. “It’s late, and I don’t want you to be out here in the cold. I’ve been thinking about you every day, Y/N. I want to make up for everything I put you through.”

You glance up at him, a small but genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

As you step over the threshold, Seokmin pulls the door shut behind you, his hand lingering on the knob for a second before he leads you to the living room, where you notice how much quieter it feels now that you’re back in it.

Seokmin sits next to you, close but not too close, as though still letting you take the lead. His eyes search your face for any sign of doubt, but all he finds is a quiet peace. He reaches for your hand again, intertwining your fingers with his.

The two of you sit together, talking for hours, the conversation flowing as you sift through the pain of the past months. The words you’ve both held back, the misunderstandings, the regrets, all of it is finally laid out in the open, and with every confession, every apology, the weight between you seems to lift just a little more. You cry, both of you, but the tears don’t feel heavy anymore. They’re cleansing, freeing.

Seokmin holds you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly as if to keep you there, to remind himself that this time, he wasn’t going to let you go. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and you smile through the tears. It’s a smile that says everything you couldn’t say earlier: I’m here. I’m still here.

Seokmin reaches out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if testing the waters, before cupping your cheek in his palm. His touch is soft, tender, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tight. You lean into his touch instinctively, eyes fluttering closed as his thumb traces the curve of your jaw.

His lips brush against yours at first, a delicate press that sends a spark through your chest, and you melt into it, hands reaching up to gently pull him closer. The kiss deepens just slightly, as though the floodgates have opened, and suddenly all the words you didn’t know how to say are there, in the way his lips move against yours, in the way you both cling to each other like this might be your last chance.

When you pull back, it’s almost reluctantly. Both of you are breathing a little heavier, but there’s something infinitely reassuring in the way you look at each other now. No more words are needed.

The hours slip away as the two of you laugh, talk about memories, and share quiet moments. You rest your head on Seokmin’s shoulder, your fingers gently tracing over his hand. You know the past isn’t easily forgotten, but for tonight, it doesn’t matter. It’s the two of you, right here, right now, rebuilding what you lost.

Eventually, sleep starts to pull at you both, and with one final, lingering kiss, you settle into the couch together. Seokmin shifts, adjusting himself so you’re both comfortable, and without another word, you fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

The morning after, Seokmin wakes up with a start, blinking against the sunlight that streams through the window. His body aches from the position he’s been in, his neck sore from sleeping on the couch for what feels like the hundredth time in a row. He groans softly, stretching, and then pauses when he realizes—this time, it’s different.

It’s not the familiar emptiness that he’s grown used to, the loneliness that had made each morning feel longer than the last. It’s you. You’re still in his arms, tucked close against his side, your head resting on his chest. He feels the softness of your hair against his cheek, your warmth pressed against him, and for the first time in so long, he doesn’t feel that cold, hollow ache in his chest.

His heart swells as he watches you sleep, your face peaceful, and he’s overwhelmed with gratitude. For the first time in months, the quiet of the morning doesn’t feel like a reminder of everything he’s lost.

He breathes in slowly, savoring the moment, letting the calm wash over him. You’re here. You’re here with him, and he can’t help but smile softly at the thought. His fingers gently run through your hair, brushing it away from your face, and he holds you a little closer, not wanting to ever forget this feeling.

He smiles, soft and content, as he slowly slips out from beneath you, careful not to wake you. His movements are slow, deliberate, and as stealthy as possible.

As he quietly stands and stretches, he feels the familiar ache in his body from having slept in the same position for too long, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a reminder that he’s here with you. He heads into the kitchen, the soft hum of the morning settling around him as he begins preparing breakfast. There’s something soothing about the routine, the way the eggs sizzle in the pan and the faint aroma of bacon fills the air. But most of all, he takes extra care to make the coffee.

He grins as he prepares it, thinking back to those moments when you’d meet him at the shop. It was always a small moment in the day, but it felt special, like a secret between the two of you. That was when he’d get to steal a few minutes with you, to laugh, to catch up, to just be in each other’s company.

The smell of the freshly brewed coffee drifts from the kitchen and into the living room, and without realizing it, Seokmin finds himself looking over his shoulder. He doesn’t want to rush you, doesn’t want to wake you up too soon, but the idea of sharing a quiet morning together makes him giddy. He takes the coffee mug, walking back toward the couch, smiling as he notices the way you’re still curled up, your face soft with sleep.

He kneels beside the couch, the weight of the mug warm in his hands, and gently places it on the table in front of you. Your eyelids flutter, and Seokmin’s heart skips a beat when you slowly stir, your eyes opening just enough to meet his gaze. The first thing he sees is your sleepy, familiar smile, and it’s like the last few months never happened.

"Coffee time?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but full of affection. The inside joke between you that always felt so special, so intimate—those little moments where it was just the two of you, caught in a world all your own.

Your smile widens, your eyes still half-lidded from sleep, and you stretch slightly, rubbing at your eyes as you sit up. “Coffee time," you echo, a soft laugh in your voice, like you’ve been waiting for this very moment to return.

Seokmin hands you the mug, feeling a warmth spread through him as you wrap your fingers around it, your eyes meeting his with a new sense of connection—like everything is coming back into place, slowly but surely.

And as you sip the coffee, the silence between you is filled with comfort, the kind that only comes after all the pain, all the uncertainty. You’re here, together, sharing this simple morning with each other. 

Love at first sight is undoubtedly the biggest fabrication that the media and modern culture has ever tried to push on society. It only happens in the movies and the books, and rarely is it even done right. 

In the real world, people make mistakes. They hurt the people they love, and they hurt themselves. They don’t talk for months on end, only to barely piece themselves together and try again.

Make no mistake; Lee Seokmin is not a pessimist, nor is he a bitter person. He’s the kind of guy who likes playing guitar at the beach as the waves crash against the shore, and going on spontaneous museum trips where he pretends to fully read each placard. The kind that enjoys drinking with his friends at karaoke rooms, and stumbling home tipsy under the stars. The kind that flips over a penny on the street so it’s face up—In hopes that the next stranger that finds it can have a bit of good luck. He likes picnics at the parks and vintage thrift stores full of cassette tapes and funny hats. And, as it turns out, he actually does like glamping (it really is nothing like camping).

Once upon a time, he used to be a hopeless romantic. 

That was before. 

Before you, the person who showed him that love is all of those scary things, but without them, it wouldn’t be as special as it is. As real as it is. As raw and emotional and warm as it really, truly is. 

Love is the coffee the two of you bonded over at the start—warm and inviting at first, comforting with its rich aroma that fills the air. It starts slow, the first sip lingering on your lips as you savor the sweetness, the bitterness, the complexity all wrapped up in one. At times, it can be too hot, burning you with its intensity, leaving you a little singed, but it’s that very warmth that keeps you coming back for more. Over time, as it cools, you get to know its depth, its subtle flavors unfolding with each moment shared. Sometimes it’s a little bitter, and sometimes it contains an unfathomable amount of sweetness… and then some.  

But in the end, it’s the kind of thing you can’t imagine your days—your life without.

Love at first sight—true love—It was a flat out lie, and he refused to fall for its charm ever again. 

So why, he thinks to himself, why did he so easily fall in love with you? 

End.

[hyperdramas]

backyard boy | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, next-door neighbor au, flirty!seokmin, flirting (in general), mutual attraction, friends to ???, mailbox meet-cute, reader is head over heels over seokmin, seokmin asks reader on a date, moral of this fic: lyr misses the summertime

now playing: backyard boy, claire rosinkranz

Watering your flowerbed was exceptionally hard when your hot neighbor-slash-good friend was in a tight black tank top on a scalding summer day.

Lee Seokmin was handsome—you wouldn't lie to yourself about it. Not just his appearance was hot either: all of him was attractive in some way, whether it be his jovial, sweet personality, or warm disposition. He was just a powerhouse to be around.

He was standing by the mailbox, shuffling through letters with a stiff expression as he looked down at them. Seokmin's build was changing, you thought to yourself, as you could see his muscles and pecs straining through the fabric. It wasn't like that before, and you know this because you committed all of him to memory—he was on your mind just that much.

And now he's looking at you. Great.

Smile and wave, you whisper to yourself to remind your stationary body to move. You do as you say, giving Seokmin a small smile and waving of the hand as he smiles back, flashing his teeth as his brown hair shuffles in the wind. His eyes are that rich dark brown, and they meet yours as he approaches your yard.

Act cool, act cool, you repeat, hands growing sweaty as you stop pouring water on your probably now drowning daisies.

"Good morning," Seokmin's polite voice is deeper than you remember, but you smile anyway, replying with a cheery "Good morning!"

"You look really pretty today. That outfit pairing is a nice look on you." Seokmin's voice is sweet with a hint of flirtiness behind it, and you pick up on the hint, cheeks growing red as you mutter out a thank you.

Trying to change the subject and save your already-deteriorating facade, you gesture to Seokmin's yard, eyes scanning the bright green grass.

"Have you mowed it lately? It looks nice and clean-cut," You shyly compliment. Seokmin chuckles, nodding as he glances back at it. "Yeah, I did, actually—Friday morning. Took me a while, so I'm glad someone noticed."

The two of you laugh, dead air filling between you two as you stare at each other for a bit too long before Seokmin changes subjects for you, saving you from awkward silence and imminent destruction.

"So, any plans for today?" Seokmin's pretty fingers straighten the stack of mail in his hand, and your eyes dip from his face to the chain and necklace around his neck you haven't noticed before until now of all times when you're too focused to speak without stammering to worry about his new chain that's twinkling on his neck.

"I—oh, um, no. Probably just chilling at home, getting some much-needed work done. What about you? You glance up at him, and Seokmin meets your gaze, smiling proudly as he shakes his head. "Yeah, what you said sounds about right."

You laugh at Seokmin's light expression, and he chuckles back, dark eyes scanning your face as his lips curve into a pretty smirk. "Your smile could light up the world. It's so bright and pretty."

If you were a person who didn't know him well, you would think he was flirting with you—Seokmin was just a flirty person altogether and complimented people so much that most thought he was just flirty. That doesn't mean you still didn't get giddy at the thought of him calling your smile 'bright and pretty'.

"Yours too." You reply back, blush evident now as you quickly add, "Also—you've been working out again, right? I could tell when you walked over here—you look...you look really good Seokmin."

You couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth at the moment, but before you wanted to stop them and do a double take, it was already too late—you had said Seokmin's body looked really good, and stammered while doing so.

Seokmin, on the other hand, was on top of the world—the smile that came on his handsome features was enough to rival the summer sun itself, and he nodded, wetting his lips as he spoke. "I have, actually: I'm trying out a new diet."

"Well, it's working!" You smile cheerfully, offering two awkward thumbs-up as Seokmin chuckles, eyeing you again quietly as you look away.

"Since you're free today, would you maybe like to go for lunch later? There's this new taco place down the street and I've wanted to try it for a while." Seokmin offers, looking you up and down slowly as he smiles gently.

Did you feel like eating tacos? No, not really. Were you going to because Seokmin asked you to try them with him? Yes, of course.

"I—yes! Yes, I'd love to." You agree, and Seokmin nods, glancing down at his phone. "11:30 good? I'll drive you there."

You're so filled with excitement that you feel like you could fly away.

"Yeah, yeah, that's good." You confirm, and Seokmin nods, eyes on yours. You don't look away, holding eye contact with him shyly as you two stand in silence for a while before you snap out of it, laughing nervously.

"Well, I'll see you in a few hours, Seokmin," you say coolly, surprising yourself at your composure. Seokmin nods and gives you a brief wave as he jogs back to his house. He walks up the steps and pauses at the door, offering you one last smile before disappearing inside.

Before you know it, your heart melts, your flowers drown, and you're floating on air.

feedback & reblogs are appreciated! i read every one of them :>

[monamipencil]

───── “imperfections?”

               ⋆˚｡ or, in which svt appreciates your beauty.

pairings; maknae line x reader, established relationship. | a/n; sorry that this took so long! the creative juices vanished. but i hope this provides to comfort to anyone who needs it! again, pls be kind to yourself and love yourself, just a bit more today <3 | [ check out hyung line ! ]

⋆ MINGHAO ⏤ hands; minghao fell in love when he saw you peeling tangerines for him. most would call it the bare minimum, but it is another thing to be on the receiving end of it. he takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, the back of your hand, your fingertips and your palm. he will never let go of your hands, and he always finds a way to hold them. he shifts the all the grocery bags to one of his hands, so that he could hold yours with the other. his fingers trace the creases and crooks of your hand, memorizing them like a prayer. it doesn't whether your hands are short, long, chubby or skinny. what matters is the love they hold in them.

⋆ MINGYU ⏤ tummy; there's a certain happiness that blooms in his heart when he notices you've gained weight. it's both an affirmation of his culinary skills and his love for you. his large hand lays gently on your bloated stomach, thumb caressing the skin beneath. he sometimes loves to lay on your tummy as well, and lull to sleep to the faint sound of your heart beat. his hands always find your stomach, making a home for it within his hands. he frowns, when you try to hide yourself. he assures with you a kiss to your belly and the next you find a note from him. “oh, muse of the ancient Grecians, what I would do to carve your curves on marble, and in my heart that belongs to you.”

⋆ SEOKMIN ⏤ thighs; his hands are molded to the soft curves of your body. a warm feeling vines from your chest, seeping through out your body when he touches the soft flesh of your thighs. whether it's when he's driving, he's making love to you, it makes you feel loved. a furrow nestles between his brows and his beautiful lips pull down when you express your dislike for them. he listens to you and responds that he finds them beautiful and that he wishes you can see yourself from his eyes. his head lays on your lap, heavy with worries and sorrows. only the soft plush of your thighs can provide him comfort. he nestles on your thighs, content with the solace they can provide him.

⋆ SEUNGKWAN ⏤ freckles; angel-kissed skin, diamonds painted on your skin with colors spilled by the universe. seungkwan's hands ache to touch your skin, and trace the tiny specks littered all over it. the gentlest of his kisses are reserved for your freckles. the brush of his lips, and the tender adoration swirling in his eyes is enough to lift any insecurity. even during cuddles, his hands find purchase on the freckles. a lone finger tracing each and every speck of it. the first time he realised he's in love with you was when he looked up at the night sky. but all he could think of was you, stars littered on the vast canvas of the sky. after all, what's a night sky without stars?

⋆ VERNON ⏤ chest; now, he adores you. he loves you, your mind and your heart. he cannot bear the blame for the fact that your breasts are in front of your heart. and who could blame him anyway? his ear presses into your chest after a long day. the rhythm of your heart serves as a lullaby, making slumber creep upon his bones. his hands are somehow, always, under your shirt. they fondle, squeeze and trace your breasts. vernon doesn't care whether your breasts are big or small. he simply loves them. after all, they make home for him in all ways he thinks he doesn't deserve. but you know better, he has a home inside your heart, anyway.

⋆ CHAN ⏤ height; his heart skips a beat every time he has to look up to meet your eyes. he leans his head on your shoulders, content with how easily your bodies fit together. your hand around his shoulders gives him all the comfort he ever needs. you don't have to voice out your insecurities for chan to hear them. he sees it in the ways you make yourself smaller, a bit more “acceptable.” that's why he always makes sure to let you know that he loves you just the way you are. you don't need to take up smaller space when you deserve all the big things. you don't have to fit in any beauty standards. you fit in his hands and in the nooks and crooks of his heart. that's all that matters.

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag @nurihihi (send an ask to be on the taglist!)

[ylangelegy]

seokmin, who is widely regarded to have the most boyfriend material-like photos in the group, has a little secret. if he looks like a boyfriend in his photos— well, it's because he is.

seokmin, who will shyly smile at you when you're out on dates. you already know what he needs before he asks.

seokmin is never any less embarrassed about making this request. when you take his phone and unlock it, you're at least comforted by the fact that his home screen is a photo of the two of you.

seokmin will tell you everything from "you know all my best angles" to "you have an eye for lighting." you might think he's flattering you, but he's dead serious. his favorite photos of himself have been captured by you.

seokmin never questions your creative direction. if you instruct him to take a sip of his drink, he'll happily oblige. if you tell him to look away from the camera, he'll snap his neck around. ask him to jump and he'll say "how high?"

seokmin, who is generous with his affection and his compliments. he'll prop his chin over your shoulder and hug you from behind as the two of you assess the photos. "you got my good side here," he'll point out about one picture. "i like how you framed that," he'll say of another.

seokmin understands, however, that some things are sacred. like this: when you're reviewing pictures, and there's one that you really like? all you have to say is off-limits, and seokmin knows what that means.

seokmin doesn't care if it's the best photo he's ever taken. he doesn't care if it will feed in to the delusions of his many fans, if it's likely to make the internet go wild. if you call a photo off-limits, then he won't post it. it's yours. wholly yours.

seokmin, who, after all this time, still falls for your one favorite tricks. when you're trying to get him smile a certain way? sometimes, instead of saying cheese, you'll say i love you!

seokmin, whose grin is bright and wide in those photos. and, sometimes, if you squint just enough— you'll notice that he's actually looking at the person behind the camera.

[woozivrse]

ways you show love to svt

it's always ways svt shows love to you, so i decided to do this! wrote it in 40min with some help of a friend :) thank u pooks!

cheolie— you indulge him

❣︎ okay that may sound weird but, when he's feeling a little whiny? you coddle him and kiss him better. he's dressing up kkuma and calling her his pretty princess? you agree and buy some lil accessories for her! you get the idea.

hannie— opening a bottle for him

❣︎ whether it be a water bottle or some other drink, these things can be a lil tough. it's a cute way to care, opening a drink for someone before handing it to them. he’ll always give you a cute smile when you do, thanking you with a kiss on the cheek.

shua— trying new hobbies with him

❣︎ we’ve seen how much he tries new hobbies, so you join him! he's making beaded bracelets and jewelry? you make some too! trying out air dry clay? you make a lil pinch pot to join his own. whatever it is, you're sitting there with him trying it out and laughing with him at any small mistakes you two make.

junhui— sending him messages throughout the day

❣︎ you know he's busy most of the time, but you want him to know how often you think of him. it could be a small thing, a picture of a flower you saw, or even just an emoji, you'll still send it to him, hoping he can feel all the love you're trying to convey. good morning and good night messages are sent daily, and a “hope you're eating well!” whenever you update him about your own meal is expected.

soonyoung— tucking him in when he falls asleep

❣︎ he's tired from his various schedules throughout the day, so sometimes he just falls asleep on the couch or on the bed, so you tuck him in! you’ll turn off whatever he was doing– watching tv, scrolling through his phone– and pull a blanket over him with a kiss to the forehead, hoping he rests well. it's likely you’ll wake him up within the hour too, just so he can get more comfy, doing his nightly routine with you and also getting into bed. even then, you tuck him in, hoping he knows how much you love him.

wonwoo— you game with him

❣︎ a lil cliche? yes, but i think he enjoys playing calmer, simpler games with you, like animal crossing new horizons or similar co-op games. maybe you two will even play a puzzle game together, as two minds are better than one and he enjoys doing these types of exercises with you.

jihoon— bringing him food

❣︎ he's busy and maybe a lil forgetful at times, so you take it upon yourself to make sure he's eating well. he might be locked up in the practice room– and if so, you’ll bring food for all the members, not just him– or in the universe factory so you bring him some food and company! you're there so often that those working at the company recognize you and give a friendly greeting.

minghao— you watch his little fashion shows

❣︎ with how well this man dresses, i have no doubt in my mind that he likes to create outfits at home and try them on, and whenever he does, you watch him! he’ll put together an outfit and walk out into the living room where you give him your compliments and tell him what you do and don't like, i think he’d like your honesty with it too. shower him in praise, yes, but give him your honest opinion on the outfit along with it.

mingyu— you'll keep him company while he's cooking

❣︎ personally, i don't cook, but i feel like it could be lonely? at times, doing it on your own. so, you decide to sit in the kitchen with him while he cooks! or if you can't be in the kitchen due to its size, you sit near it so you can talk to him comfortably. he likes having you taste test things, trying to make it perfectly to both of your tastes.

seokmin— you write things to him

❣︎ it's usually little notes, stuck in with his lunch or somewhere in his bag, but sometimes you like to write love letters to him. you could be the worst writer out there, or the best, and he'd keep and cherish every single one you give him. maybe this is how you show your affection best, as saying things to his face might make you shy.

seungkwan— peel oranges for him

❣︎ it's boo seungkwan we’re talking about here, so ofc i have to give him a peeled orange hello? it's a small gesture, peeling an orange for someone, but i think it's cute! you care for this person enough to get some orange peel under your nail and give them the fruits of your labor.

vernon— you listen to his music

❣︎ when i say this, i don't mean svt’s music or music he's personally taken part in, but his music taste. he’ll talk about an artist he’s recently been listening to and if you have the time, you'll immediately pull them up on your phone, ready to try them out. if you don't have the time, you note it down so you can listen to them and tell him your thoughts!

chan— you watch him dance

❣︎ yes, this could go for all of them, but i think since chan has spent most of his life dancing, it's a bit more meaningful for him. maybe you even join him sometimes! it doesn't matter either way, just you being there, enjoying the music and his dancing is enough for him. whenever he finishes a routine and you clap for him, he can feel his love for you grow more and more.

[dokries]

this life and the next

pairing: lee seokmin (dokyeom) x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 288

warnings: kissing, sleeping together (literally in a bed beside each other), seokmin is a sweet boy

author note: i’m going to go back to disappearing but i wanted to drop this off first :) i sincerely hope you enjoy reading ‎♡

masterlist

“you know, you’re not hard to love at all,” seokmin says, and you glance up at him, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly as the two of you lay in bed together.

you hum, his heart beating steadily by your ear as you snuggle in closer but he pulls away from you, a grin on his face when you make grabby hands at his chest. 

“i’ll love you in this life,” seokmin grabs your hands gently, kissing both of your palms with ease. 

“the next life,” he cups your face and places a peck on your cheek before continuing to the other one, seokmin’s lips leaving gentle reassurances on your face. “and the one after that.”

he narrows his eyes, pulling back to see your reaction and placing a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, even as it’s stretched wide with a grin. “you’ll always be the biggest reason i smile, even in all those lives.”

lastly, seokmin places his lips on your forehead, a comforting warmth on your temple before he ruffles your hair fondly, his hand falling to cup your cheek against the pillow again. “i swear on all my baseball jerseys.”

you scoff, reaching up to mess up his hair and cupping his jaw after. 

“your baseball jerseys are worth the high honour of loving me?” you say as a joke but the tenderness in seokmin’s eyes make you falter.

“they’re nothing if you’re not there to wear them,” he says, pulling you into his chest once more with a yawn.

you pat the arm encircled around you gently as his eyes flutter open and closed before he finally nuzzles closer to your face, a soft smile still on his lips.

[hoshifighting]

      seokmin + window sex

— fucking with seokmin pressed on a window in Venice.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, window sex, penetrative sex, public sex, clit stimulation, smut under the cut.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

the air outside is humid and heavy, the scent of the venetian canals filling your lungs as you lean out the window, hands gripping the wooden frame for balance. the old, creaking glass rattles slightly as seokmin presses his weight into you from behind. you can hear the faint sounds of voices below in the narrow streets, people moving along as if nothing wild is happening just a few floors up.

“keep still, baby,” he whispers into your ear, breath hot against the back of your neck. his voice is sweet, all teasing laced with that honeyed tone that usually makes you weak. his hands roam over your hips, gripping tight, pulling you back into him, the cool air from outside brushing against the heat between your thighs and his body.

you let out a small gasp as he shifts, his lips tracing down the curve of your back, teeth grazing just enough to keep you on edge. “you know people could see us if they looked up?”

“shut up,” you hiss, though there’s no bite behind it. you try to focus on the view—the canals, the way the water glistens under the moonlight—but it’s impossible with the way seokmin’s hands are sliding down your thighs, the way he’s toying with you.

he lets out a quiet laugh, fingers finding their way between your legs, circling the wet throbbing clit making you bite your lip, trying to muffle the moan that threatens to spill out. “c’mon,” he presses, his lips now by your ear again. “don’t be shy. let them hear you.”

you can’t help it; the way he moves, the way he knows exactly how to touch you, it’s driving you crazy. the risk of being caught makes you even more eager, and before you know it, you’re pushing back into him, desperate for more, feeling the cool wood of the window frame press into your stomach.

“fuck, seokmin,” you pant, your hands gripping the frame even tighter, the rough edges digging into your palms, grounding you as he finally gives you what you’ve been aching for. his hips snap forward, and the feeling of him sliding into you pulls a gasp from your lips, one you can’t contain even if you tried.

“that’s it,” he growls, his voice lower now, more serious. his pace quickens, each thrust pushing you harder against the window, the soft breeze cooling your overheated skin. “you’re so good for me, babe,” he breathes, hands gripping your waist so hard you’re sure there’ll be marks in the morning.

the sound of the canal water lapping below, the distant murmur of voices, it all feels so far away, drowned out by his cock filling you and his balls slapping your clit.

and then he leans forward, his breath hot on your neck as he whispers, “look down, see if anyone’s watching.”

you don’t. not because you’re scared—but because you’re pretty sure someone is watching.

you don’t look, but the thought alone makes your knees to buckle. seokmin catches it, notices the way your breath hitches, the way your grip on the window tightens.

“yeah, i know you’re into it,” he says. “they’d be lucky to see you like this,” he continues, panting now as he fucks you harder, deeper. “all spread out, bent over this window, letting me fuck you raw like this.”

you let out a broken moan, your knees nearly buckling, but his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you back into him, giving you no escape, no way to pull yourself together.

“shit—fuck, seokmin,” you gasp, hips pushing back into him, your mind a mess. his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes cross. the open air outside feels obscene, like you’re putting on a show for the world, but it only makes you wetter.

“look at you, can barely fucking stand,” he groans, his pace quickening, the slap of his skin against yours echoing through the room. “you’re dripping for me, baby. you want everyone down there to know how good i’m fucking you, don’t you?”

you don’t answer, can’t answer, too lost in the way his fingers are working you, the way every thrust is sending you lost lost. but he doesn’t let it go. his grip tightens, his hand leaving your waist to fist into your hair, tugging your head back just enough so you can’t avoid the view anymore.

“look,” he growls, a wicked smile in his voice. “look down at them.”

your eyes flutter open, and the sight below is dizzying—tourists strolling by, the water gently lapping at the sides of the walls. no one’s actually looking up. but the thought that they could, that anyone could just glance up and see you like this—fucked out, bent over a window in venice with seokmin pounding into you from behind—it makes your whole body clench.

“that’s it,” he groans, feeling your reaction, fingers pressing harder against your clit, moving faster. “god, you’re fucking filthy, you know that? all they’d have to do is look up, and they’d see how fucking desperate you are for me.”

his words send you over the edge. you cry out, your body tensing as the orgasm rips through you, legs shaking, barely able to keep yourself upright. seokmin’s pace doesn’t falter, his hips slamming into you harder, riding out your high, pushing you past the point of no return.

“fuck—yes, just like that,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. “gonna come all over this pretty ass, baby, gonna mark you up so they know exactly who you belong to.”

the thought of it, of him claiming you like this, in front of the whole damn city, has you gasping, body trembling, unable to think of anything but the filthy words spilling from his mouth. with one last rough thrust, he buries himself deep inside you only to pull back and spirt his cum on the skin of your ass, his grip on your hips bruising as he groans your name.

[nonranghaes]

heads up: poly 97z :3

"none of us look like we're going to the same place." minghao adjusts his wire frame glasses, turning to the three of you. "this is why i can't trust any of you."

to be fair, he has a point. minghao's dressed cozily, with a long cardigan and warm tones, like he's about to go to a coffee shop for a poetry reading or to a wine tasting. which is probably appropriate, considering you are going to his poetry reading alongside the rest of your boyfriends. mingyu's dressed like he's about to go for a ride on his yacht (or whatever--you don't know what rich people do) with that navy blue and white sweater, complete with a pair of sunglasses that college you would have been gawking at the price tag of... and a big ass watch that you don't even know the brand of, but screams luxury. seokmin looks like he just wandered off the set of grease with his leather jacket, almost like he's about to bust out into "greased lightning" at any second. and you... well, you're dressed head to toe in black, stylish enough that you look like you just walked away from your wealthy spouse's funeral and you're already planning on how to spend their money. mingyu's sunglasses would complete the look, now that you're thinking about it.

"i don't see anything wrong," mingyu says, sunglasses lowered. "we look good."

"we do, but..." minghao shakes his head. "you know this isn't a fancy place, right?" he adjusts the edge of his sweater again, clearly a little nervous for what's to come. he's never done a poetry night at this new place, after all.

you're by mingyu's side, leaning against him as you look in the nearby mirror. yeah. definitely going to two different places: he's too colorful. "do you want us to change?"

minghao turns, taking in the sight of the three of you, so mismatched from one another. seokmin wraps his arms around his shoulders, and minghao just leans into his touch before shaking his head. "it's fine."

"think of it this way," seokmin says, already beaming with joy, "you won't lose us in the crowd."

and he's right: minghao's eyes find you easily in the crowded coffee shop that evening, and you see the subtle way he smiles, put at ease. the pictures you'll take later might get playful comments from his friends about how mismatched the four of you are, even with seokmin's jacket hanging over his shoulders... but minghao thinks you fit together perfectly.

[ashonheavenscloud]

read it. read it. read it. read it. read it. read it. read it. read it. why are you still here READ IT

because even then, i knew — l.sm { 1 }

You have (1) new voicemail from: seokmin <3 

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 0:58

“Hey. I know we haven’t talked in a while but… I wanted you to know that I miss you, and I miss us. And… I’m in love with you, if that means anything to you now.”

✰ genre: non idol! seokmin x reader, stanger to lovers / kdrama au

✰ cw: female reader, petnames, cursing, seokmin is desperately down bad, slowburn, pining, so much fluff, mentions of alcohol, consuming alcohol, nsfw, mentions of cheating, angst

✰ wc: 21k

✰ tracklist: {spotify} {apple music}

✰ navigation: {one} {two}

✰ note: this story is my absolute baby. i stared writing it one day with no plot in mind, and ended up with 45k. it's supposed to feel like a kdrama as you read it (and i mean this in every sense of the word—you will see), so please listen to the tracklist as you scroll. the songs are carefully timed in order to play as you read certain parts, but if you're not sure you're listening to the right song, part two will tell you where you should be and you will resync.

please love this story, it was written with an unbelievable amount of care, detail, and intention.

≡;- ꒰ ° one ꒱

Love at first sight is undoubtedly the biggest fabrication that the media and modern culture has ever tried to push on society. It only happens in the movies, and even then, it’s barely done right. There is no such thing as happy endings, because that’s not how things are in the real world. 

Make no mistake; Lee Seokmin is not a pessimist, nor is he a bitter person. He’s the kind of guy who helps old people cross the street during rush hour, or helps kids pluck their balloons out of trees so they won’t cry. He actually does like long walks on the beach, as a matter of fact, and he happens to be a casual enjoyer of rom-coms, something his other male friends would rather die than admit to. 

Once upon a time, he used to be a hopeless romantic, but that rug was pulled out from under him on a few too many occasions, and while he’s still a positive, amicable guy, he had learned that sometimes, things were too good to be true. 

For example: when he was 7, he fell in love.

His 20 year old babysitter, who his parents had hired to watch over him on evenings while they were at work, was absolutely perfect—he knew from the moment he met her, she would be the girl he’d marry. 

She was Korean, and a freshman in college with a major in business management. Every week, she would walk hand-in-hand with him to the corner store to buy him sausage sticks and sticky tteokbokki at the food cart with the money she could spare from her part time job as a tutor, since his parents would only leave money for emergencies. In return for her generosity, he’d sit still and play while she finished her homework, and occasionally, Seokmin would even pick flowers from his mom’s garden for her. This earned him a few scoldings, but that didn’t matter to him, because she was, and would always be worth it. 

Until one day, where he had promised to behave while she finished a practice test. Poor, unsuspecting, seven-almost-eight-year-old Seokmin with his cheeks stuffed full of sausage and rice cake, overheard her calling another boy (albeit a boy her age who could actually reciprocate her affection) a sweet name over the phone. He dropped everything and stomped over to her, bursting into tears and rambling on about how she broke his heart. She was fired the very same evening as a consequence of his tantrum. 

When he was 14, he fell in love again. And this time, it had to be love… right? 

A family of foreigners had moved in across the street, and their daughter, who was the same age as him this time around, would come over to study with him after school and on the weekends. She’d teach him English, and he’d teach her Korean. She was his first kiss and his first girlfriend—they lasted a reputable two months—until they moved back overseas. Apparently, her parents had only moved there for the summer as part of a work-related trip, and when they said goodbye and promised to write, little Grace revealed she didn’t want a committed, long-distance relationship at the ripe age of fourteen.

In retrospect… maybe she was right, but Seokmin would never forget the way his heart shattered. 

The only real, long-term girlfriend he’s had was a little over two years ago. They dated for over a year, she met his parents and he met her’s, the two of them even exchanged promise rings. At the time, he would gush to his friends about how he’d never met anyone as funny and brilliant as her, and how lucky he feels to have done so. 

Then, the week before his birthday, Seokmin found out she had been sleeping with her best friend for months. 

Love at first sight—true love—It was a flat out lie, and he refused to fall for its charm ever again. 

So why, he thinks to himself, why can’t he stop looking at you? 

He noticed you for the first time last week after his car had been totaled during an impromptu road trip the day prior. Soonyoung, one of his best friends, had gotten on the subway while drinking and somehow ended up eight stops away from his apartment at an ungodly hour in his wasted state. Seokmin was the only one that answered the phone. He picked him up, but on the way back, Soonyoung tried to crawl out the window of the passenger seat and Seokmin, whilst trying to pull him back inside, had crashed into a tree.

The car was old, and he was saving up for a new one anyway. That, and the insurance gave him some chump change for the wreckage, which was more than he’d thought he’d get, so it wasn’t too bad. The biggest inconvenience he faced now was getting to and from work. 

Every night, after his shift at the flower shop, Seokmin would take the bus transit home. The first night, he only saw you in passing, because he practically had to run after the bus to catch it after arriving late to the stop. He took the first seat he could find, panting and exhausted after his long shift and the blip of a marathon he just ran, and sunk down into it. 

Since he had never needed to take the bus until now, he spent some time glancing out the window and studying the route, discovering the stop near his apartment was the very last one, arriving at nearly 10:00 P.M. Yours was the second to last one, only a few blocks over. That evening, he only barely caught a glimpse of the side of your face as you climbed off, crossing the street and strolling out of sight with way too many things clutched within your jacketed arms. 

The following night, he made it to the bus on time, thankfully, and spotted you sitting near the back, though that didn’t mean much to him yet. He took his same seat near the front, despite the many empty spots throughout the vehicle. And just like before, at the second to last stop, you walked down the middle aisle to exit. 

This time, while wrestling your books, laptop case, walkman, and coat, your headset wire had snagged on the seat in front of him. He watched as you turned around and detangled it hurriedly, your gaze barely flickering up to meet his curious one for a split second. You flashed him a ghost of a smile and then, you were gone again. 

Seokmin found himself looking forward to seeing you every single night from then on. 

He decided to start sitting in the back of the bus too, blaming his avid interest in you purely on the distorted conclusion that it made no sense to sit in the front! He was always the last one aboard, and the back had so many more seats for him to get comfortable. 

That’s what he convinced himself of, at least for the first few days. He tried sitting in a couple different spots, though he wouldn’t dare sit too close to you—he’s not that bold.  He did, however, decide after his trial and error period that his favorite seat was the far left one on the last row. Your seat was forever unchanging, on the second to last row and all the way to the right. 

This way, he could watch over your shoulder as you typed away on your computer. You seemed to be writing something personal, because night after night, you’d create paragraph after paragraph, working tirelessly to craft whatever it was that you were working on so extensively. He figured it couldn’t be just any assignment or work-related exposition. This meant something to you, and that only spiked his curiosity more. The only pause in your routine of clicking away at keys was skipping a song or two on your walkman or glancing out the window for inspiration.

He’s never sat close enough to actually read the words on your screen, but then again, that might be overstepping a bit. The urge does frequently bug him, though, especially when he notices how immersed you become the moment you lift the screen of your laptop and open your document. Every night, he watches you do the same thing, and every night, he fights the urge to strain his neck and catch a glimpse of a single word on your screen. 

He contains himself, though, on the principle that eavesdropping is wrong, and he intends to never do you wrong. 

On the sixth night he spends in his new seat, he notices about twenty minutes in when your fingers stop clicking away. At first, he considers the possibility that you may be thinking or planning your next sentence. But, as the bus nears your stop, you don’t move to start picking up your things. It immediately alerts him, and he sits up straighter as he realizes, you’ve fallen asleep. 

He’s never given something so simple so much thought in such a short time. He can feel the bus slowing down, and he can hear the brakes screeching and wheezing. Would he feel worse for disturbing your rest and making an inevitably awkward first impression, or letting you continue to sleep and possibly (definitely) miss your stop? 

Certainly the latter.

Without a second thought, Seokmin hurriedly slides out of his aisle and climbs down the two steps of the back row to reach you at your seat, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving it a light shake. You don’t budge, even when he calls out to you. 

“Excuse me, Miss. Miss?” 

As the bus comes to a full stop and the engine’s roar becomes suppressed, he can hear the music playing through the headset that sits still over your ears. With a grimace, he softly slips them off, and the action is enough to stir you awake. You blink in confusion as you adjust to the brightness of the lights inside the bus, and your eyes land on his widened ones. 

“Sorry for waking you, but,” he gestures outside, “this is your stop.” 

You look around to confirm, and upon seeing the familiar intersection and corner store, you realize what he’s saying is true.

A few things go through your head: First of all, the stranger in front of you has the kindest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Secondly, his nose is absolutely huge, and for some reason, he knows your stop, which makes you wonder where else he’s capable of poking it. So naturally, you ignore the sweet charm behind his eyes and shrug off his arm, grabbing your things quickly and booking it for the door that the bus driver has to reopen when he sees you approaching. 

You climb off and consider taking a different route, but if he knows your stop, he likely knows which way you walk every single night. You curse at yourself for even falling asleep in the first place, then drag your feet along towards your apartment after accommodating your headphones back over your ears, your walkman clutched in hand, its music swirling in your ears once more.

Because of this, you miss the way Seokmin shouts after you for leaving your phone behind, and the way the bus driver then shouts at him for holding him up. 

“I’ve got a wife to get home to, kid. Get back on the bus or I’m leaving you here.” 

He looks between the device in his hand, you, and back at the burly bus driver who raises a threatening brow his way. 

In defeat, he gets back on board and walks down until he’s reached his seat, but not before stopping at yours, or rather stumbling there with how aggressively the driver steps on the gas and sends him flying. He does a quick once over your seat to make sure you haven’t left or dropped anything else, but your phone is the only thing you forgot in your rush. 

The drive to his street is rather short, and when he does some calculations on the maps app, he discovers it’s at most a half-hour walk from his place to yours. That revelation makes him regretful, because as he dismounts the bus, crosses the street, and climbs the flight of stairs to his apartment, he realizes he could’ve run after you and given you your phone and just walked home after. It would’ve allowed him to explain that he’s not a creep, and that he only knows your stop because you’re the only other person on the bus at that hour. 

He thinks about his encounter with you the whole way to his apartment, and even at home while he takes his shower and brushes his teeth. And still, when he plugs your dead phone in, so that he can give it to you fully charged the next day. As it comes to life, half a dozen messages come in with a series of ‘dings’ from a contact you have saved as just a heart. He can’t read what the messages say because of the privacy settings you have in place, so he just silences it as more messages come in. He would have tried to let them know your phone isn’t with you, but the person with the heart alias never tries to call, and so there’s nothing Seokmin can do about it but hope tomorrow comes quickly. 

That thought brings him back to you, and as he lies down, he finds himself tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep because he’s mulling over the way you shrugged him off. It’s only the long day at work, where he spent eight hours on his feet watering ficuses and making arrangements with daisies and lilies, that manages to silence his brain and lull his eyelids to a close so he can get some rest. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

His shift at the floral shop had gone by painfully slow today. The hours that usually pass relatively quickly with the friendly faces of Korean grandmas that stop by after going to the market, have dragged on for an eternity. 

He reminds himself that he’s going to see you tonight and that thought gets him through the day. He’ll at last be able to redeem himself of the interaction that’s been haunting him for the last twelve hours. He even dreamt about you, specifically about the conversation going a completely different way than it did. 

“Sorry for waking you, but this is your stop.” 

“Oh, my god,” you said. “Thank you. I didn’t even realize I drifted off.”

“No worries,” Seokmin would flash you a smile and help you with your things, since he had noticed your tendency to travel with more than you could carry. “Here.”

“Thanks again, uh…”

“Seokmin.”

“Seokmin,” you’d repeat, and even in his dream, he had reeled over the way his name rolled off your tongue.

In an extra effort to mend things over with you, Seokmin dips into his weekly paycheck at the end of his shift to buy you a tote bag from the shop. That way, you’d have a place to pack your laptop when you weren’t typing up stories, and your coat that you insisted on draping over your arm? It could go in there, too! 

Why you chose to listen to music on a walkman in today’s modern age, he has no idea—but now you’d have a place to store it so you won’t leave it behind like you had your phone. 

The tote bag he picks out for you is the nicest, most sizable one in stock. It’s the first time he’s bought anything from the floral shop, so the measly ten percent employee discount he got was rather underwhelming. Still, it would be worth it. He’d hand you your phone, explain himself to clear up the previous night's confusion, and offer you the tote bag as a gift. 

When he climbs on the bus later that evening, you’re sitting in the same spot as always, except this time, you’re expecting him. Your eyes flash up at him then fall back to your laptop. Subsequently, you slump further down in your seat, and Seokmin quickly realizes you’re trying to avoid him. 

Now—he had talked himself through the plan of approaching you all day, it’s all he thought about during the less busy hours of his shift to pass the time. He had walked through the process once, twice, and then again in hopes of nailing down every detail, but he didn’t once account for your very obvious disinterest. 

It offsets his mood entirely, which was confident and sociable just moments ago, and he trails down the aisle, past your seat, and to his own instead with discouragement. 

The moment he sits, it’s as if someone winded up his leg: it starts restlessly bouncing, and his mind mirrors the action, his inner monologue providing no relief for his grief. 

If he was any other rational person, he would’ve taken your coldness with a grain of salt; he’d hand you your phone, say “you left this.” and go on about his day—no, his life, as if this moment, as if meeting you, was nothing more than an insignificant scene in the story of his life. He wouldn’t spend every hour overthinking your first impression of him, or feeling disappointed that it wasn’t what he wanted it to be. And he certainly wouldn’t be here, talking himself up to the task of walking over to you once more. 

Even his own forgiving conscience is embarrassed when he readies himself to stand, chanting “Ok. 3…2…” and then sits back down in defeat. 

This goes on for the better part of an hour, until Seokmin remembers you’d be getting off soon. This realization materializes as the last person besides the two of you gets off, and the familiar buildings that are just a few blocks away from your stop come into view. At the same time, a new string of messages come in from the same individual who was writing to you last night, and Seokmin decides it’s about time that he returns your phone to you—for real this time. 

With a nod to himself, he pushes off the chair with his legs and forces them to move him over to you, where he stands for a few seconds, waiting for you to notice him. In one hand, he’s holding out your phone, and under his other arm is the folded tote bag he’s planning to give you. He can’t get his tongue to comply, making his feet work was hard enough, so hovers over you a little longer until you practically feel his eyes on you and look up. 

“Hi–” 

You slide your headphones off one ear, and he clears his throat. 

“Hi.” He repeats, “My name is Seokmin. I’m the guy who woke you up last night.” 

“I know.” You cast your eyes down to your phone and he leans it closer to you.

“You left your phone here.” 

Your lips purse contemplatively as you take it, mumbling out a quick “thanks,” and unlocking it to inspect your pile of notifications. Seokmin only clears his throat again.

“I also wanted to apologize for yesterday. I didn’t mean to come off as a weirdo, It’s just–”

You seem to lose focus of what he’s saying as you read through the messages on your phone, a deep frown molding over your features. The fact that you’re not listening at all trips him up, especially when he’s trying so hard to recite the mental script he prepared for this very moment. 

“Uh, I just… The only reason I know your stop is because it’s only you and me on the bus this late. So, you know–” 

As he points this out, you perk your head up and look around, as if to check for yourself that this is, in fact, true. It doesn’t ease your apprehension about him, but his kind eyes look so desperate in their plea for your understanding that, for a fleeting instant, you manage to hone in on his explanation and dismiss your suspicions about his nosy tendencies. 

“Naturally, I just noticed, and I didn’t want you to miss your stop.”

When you nod once and say “ok,” he almost wishes you hadn’t said anything at all. That’s it? That’s all you have to say to ease his discomfort? 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he didn’t almost forget, he just wanted to sound nonchalant, “I got you this since you’re always–” 

“Well, Seokmin…” It’s even better than in his dream, hearing you say his name, “You should know better than me by now that,” you point outside and the bus reaches a halt, “this is my stop.” 

Hurry up, Seokmin. “I got you this bag for your things.” 

You take it from his outstretched hands with the smallest mutter of gratitude, but don’t bother to inspect it or put it to use. You simply pile it atop of your laptop and coat with pursed lips, not sparing it a second glance. He’s almost confused about why you’re still staring him down expectantly after that, until it becomes clear to him that he’s blocking the aisle and in turn, your exit. 

Somewhat awkwardly, Seokmin moves aside, and you waste no time in passing right by him and heading for the door with all your trinkets stacked up in your arms. 

Dejection is an appropriate word to describe how Seokmin feels right about now. So is frustration. 

Even after you leave, cross in front of the bus, and make your way home, Seokmin stands in the same spot, dumbfounded. He stays like this for a few seconds, even when the bus moves and messes with his balance. It’s not until his annoyance really settles in, nestling in his bones and making his face glow red, that he manages to stomp back over to his spot and plop down. 

You are easily the most irritating person he has ever met; ill-mannered, ungrateful, rude, and downright selfish. Seokmin stopped going to therapy months after he recovered from his ex, but he finds himself regressing in the ‘self-recognition’ area at this moment. Although he can consciously acknowledge that his anger stems from your interaction not going as he wanted it to, he still decides to dump the blame on you and call you all these names in his head. Why he so desperately wants to be liked by you, he doesn’t know. Why he’s irrationally spiraling in the absence of your approval, he also doesn’t know. 

What he does know is that the next twenty-four hours are going to be just as bad as the last, and he’s going to be kicking himself until he sees you again and gives you a piece of his mind. 

Tonight, he rolls around in bed longer than usual, until the clock strikes two and he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

The next day, when Seokmin boards the bus, you’re nowhere to be seen. You’re not at your seat, nor anywhere else for that matter, which he decides is for the best, because he’s able to swallow down his explosive complaints for another day instead of possibly causing a scene on the bus. 

Ha! You’re lucky you didn’t get on tonight, he thinks, I'll spare you from my lecture for another evening. 

Except the following night, you aren’t there either. 

As it turns out, you aren’t on the bus for the next six days straight. 

And instead of recovering from his emotions like a normal person, Seokmin is only spurred on, tormented and pursued by his thoughts of you. They've shifted, because now he can only help but wonder what you’re up to. He’s back to square one, wondering if he weirded you out so much that you resorted to finding another means of transportation with the sole intention of avoiding him. 

Then, he reproaches himself, his rationale telling him that surely, there must be another reason for your absence—one that isn’t at all related to him. He ponders this as he piles a few stems of lilies and eucalyptus on one another, wrapping them and tying them closed. 

“Seokmin-ah. What’s the matter?”

He turns quickly to face Ms. Boo, the owner of the flower shop and the grandmother of his best friend. On more than a few occasions, she had acted as a grandmother to him, too—bringing him lunches and pestering him about eating enough, or nagging him for not dressing properly in cold weather. 

“Nothing!”

“Look what you’re doing to my flowers.” She narrows her eyes, extending a wrinkled finger out in his direction. 

Seokmin glances down to find that his knuckles have gone white against the stem of the baby’s breath he's been unconsciously shaking like a rattle. The delicate white flowers have been pulverized, reduced to white fuzz on the arrangement he was attempting to make and the surrounding surface of the work station. 

“Ah, shi-“ She gives him a glare, “Sorry.” He quickly rephrases, “I’ll clean this up.”

As Ms. Boo straightens out some gardenias in a vase, she asks him again, “What’s wrong?” 

He takes a deep breath, reaching for the dustpan under the counter. “It’s just… Someone I met on the bus.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Very.” He nods, then sighs. “I just wish the conversation we had went differently, that’s all.” 

“Well,” She seems to be mustering up her years of wisdom, eyebrows raising as she fixes her apron, “You’re a handsome boy, Seokmin-ah. And you’ve got good sense. God knows you’ve got more than Seungkwan,” she grumbles the last part, and it makes Seokmin’s lips curl up a bit. “Your car isn’t fixed yet, right?”

He shakes his head, “No.” 

“So, then get back on the bus tonight and talk to her.” She insists with the assurance only an 85 year old grandmother could have. 

“I would, but…”

“And stop moping. You’re making the flowers sad. They feel these kinds of things.” She nods, feeling the petal of the lily between her fingertips. Suddenly, she snaps her fingers, “Finish this arrangement and get back to work.”

He finishes brushing the white fuzz of the carnation into the dustpan and discarding it before tackling the bouquet he was previously working on with a tad more care. He finishes after deciding the pale flowers need a touch of color, so he adds a few pink roses and places it in a bucket near the front window of the store on display. 

He takes a moment to glance outside at the busy street, watching the people that pass by. Couples stroll hand in hand, and more often than not, the girls will stop their partner to point out the flowers. This was a common occurrence, and if Seokmin was lucky, the displays would draw in a few more customers than usual. 

Not today, though. As he does a once over every arrangement he’s chosen to display on the window, he realizes they all lack something besides effort. He can’t put his finger on exactly what they’re missing, but Ms. Boo was right— the plants do feel emotions—and these weren’t particularly joyous creations. 

As he sprays the leaves with a little mist bottle he carries around in his apron, he watches through the window each person that passes by in an effort to pass the time. It isn’t like there’s much to do during the less busy hours, and there’s only so many arrangements he can make when they’re all coming out dull and lifeless to match his gloom. 

So, Seokmin opts for people watching, until a specific individual catches him by surprise. 

At first, he thinks he’s seeing things. 

Not only have you stopped outside the shop to gaze and gawk at the flowers while wearing a soft, admiring look, but soon enough, the bell above the door has chimed, meaning you’ve actually come inside. 

He would greet you, as he’s supposed to do when a customer enters the shop, but he… can’t—at least not from where he is now, ducking behind the sales counter.

Before you could have spotted him, his fight or flight reflexes, or in this case just flight, had kicked in. He could’ve easily ran behind the curtain to the room where some of the flowers are stored, but then he would’ve ran into Ms. Boo, who would have questioned his reasons for leaving the counter unattended.

Then, he realizes that Seungkwan wouldn’t be coming in until later, and their other part-timer Eunchae didn’t work today because she had an exam at school.

The service bell at the counter rings once and he grimaces, full of hopeful thinking that you’d just go away if no one appeared. Instead you ring it again, and he ducks lower, until some shuffling behind him and the voice of his best friend’s grandmother gives him away.

“Seokmin-ah, there’s someone at the counter!”

There’s a pause, and though he can’t see how your ears perk up at the sound of the familiar name, he knows he’s absolutely busted because even if you didn’t correlate that ‘Seokmin’ was also the same guy who woke you up on the bus, he’d be forced to show himself before long. Ms. Boo continues to ramble, much to his dismay.

“Are you still sulking over the pretty girl from the bus?” Yeah, that’ll do it. “Ah, Seokmin-ah… I don’t pay you to sulk.”

At this, Seokmin covers his face with his palm. 

He has no way of knowing that as he’s willing and pleading with the ground to swallow him whole and spare him from the incoming embarrassment, Ms. Boo’s comment had brought a little smile to your face. You’re peering around the shop for him when you see someone start to peek out from the other side of the counter. 

First, his fingers. They land on the marble surface, and less than a second later, his dark mop of hair follows, appearing past the slope. Then, his kind eyes, big nose, and his teeth, clenched together tightly in reluctance as he takes in your amused gaze.

You cross your arms over your chest and Seokmin scoffs, shooting up suddenly. 

“This is unbelievable!” His laugh is loud and theatrical, though a touch ironic, given the whole ‘hiding-from-you-behind-the-counter’ situation just seconds prior. He doesn’t let his obvious preposterousness stop his rampage, though. In very Seokmin fashion, he commits to the bit, puffing up his chest a little. “You call me a stalker and now you go and stalk me to my place of employment!” 

“I never called you a stalker.” You say simply, and his face falters only slightly. “Nor did I stalk you.” Seokmin rolls his eyes as you continue. “Also, who even says ‘place of employment?’” 

As if straight out of a bad middle school play, which Seokmin had plenty of practice at back in his day, he regains his confidence at his turn to speak his line, scoffing again at your nonchalant attitude. Why were you so unbothered about the way you treated him? He ignores your question, and readies his next comeback.

“Yeah? Well, then how did you know where I work, huh?”

When you wordlessly turn to show off the tote bag slung over your shoulder, a few things occur. 

The color of Seokmin’s cheeks become very red, very fast. His ears quickly glow a similar shade to match. He completely deflates—letting up on his accusations and dropping the theatrics. There’s a reason he’s a florist and not an actor. 

Then, he realizes what you’re showing off—the tote bag! You’re wearing the bag he got you! You’re actually using it! He can see the wire of your headset poking out of the top, and the square mold of your laptop filling the material!

At the same time, however, his eyes land on the only design or pattern it has. Sewn in black, the bag boldly displays the name of Ms. Boo’s flower shop. At this, Seokmin smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck.  

“I figured I’d find you here.” You mumble, taking a look around, “it’s a pretty place.”

“Yeah.” He nods, but he’s still eyeing you suspiciously, waiting for you to announce the reason for your visit. 

“I came to…” your fingers reach over the counter to brush off the fuzz of the baby’s breath that remained on his dark green apron, and Seokmin tucks his chin to his chest, exposing all of his chins as his eyes shift between your hand and eyes that are both set on his torso.

”There.” You sigh, “I came to apologize. I was going through a… Well, anyway, I wasn’t exactly nice to you, so…” 

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” Seokmin grumbles.

“Sorry. And thank you.” 

“For?”

You swing the bag around again, “It came in handy.”

”Oh,” He knew it would, “I’m glad.” 

“Seokmin-ah… There’s someone at the—Oh, hello.” Shuffling over with a wad of eucalyptuses in her arms, Ms. Boo smiles warmly at you, as she does with all customers who stop by the shop. 

”Ms. Boo, this is…“

”Y/N.” 

“Y/N.” Both of them echo your name, though Seokmin does it under his breath, in a quiet affirmation to himself. He decides instantly that it’s perfect, and that it suits you perfectly. He doesn’t intend for it to be a Tony and Maria situation, but the way it sounds, rolling off his tongue, is seamless and simply, right.

”It’s lovely to meet you,” Ms. Boo adds.  

���Likewise. Excuse me, I wanted to know if I borrow Seokmin real quick? I owe him a coffee.” 

Seokmin hisses apprehensively, reinstating his act momentarily as he begins rolling up his sleeve to search for the time on his watch. “Yeah, well, my break isn’t for another—“

”Take him, please. But only give him back when he’s in a better mood.” She gives him a light-hearted glare as she scurries away, calling out, “every plant he’s walked past today has wilted.” 

“I plan to do just that. Thank you.” 

He makes it look like he’s in some kind of distress when he unties his apron and lifts the neckloop over his head, but really, he can’t wait to cut work for a coffee with you. There’s a little cafe nearby, and he’s almost sure that’s where you’ll be taking him. He also can’t wait to recommend his favorite drink to you, though part of him worries you might not enjoy it and consequently bruise his ego a little—given the fading but still ever-present grudge he’s holding against you.

Seokmin can’t help but prolong the act of clocking out: changing shoes, grabbing his wallet and phone from his cubby, folding his apron (instead of hanging it up in whatever state it’s in, as he usually does), while you shift your weight between your heels and gawk at him in wait. He does all this in an effort to extend the minutes he has with you. His break is fifteen minutes, but those fifteen minutes can’t go by if the clock technically hasn't started counting.

You stand by patiently, following him around with your eyes as he tidies up a single flower out of place or wipes his hands down on a rag. When he’s finally ready, and can’t be bothered to pretend that lacing his sneakers actually takes longer than two minutes, he joins you on the other side of the counter and follows you to the door. 

Feeling a little nervous, he clears his throat. “You don’t have to do this, you know. We can just go our separate ways.” 

“I do. This way, I can properly convey my apology and gratitude. You know: two birds, one stone.” 

“Those are two separate things… It’s only right that you would owe me two coffees then.” The way he grumbles under his breath unveils some of his bitterness, though you can tell by the half-hearted side-eye he gives you as he fights back a grin, that he’s really only messing with you.

So you laugh, and Seokmin feels his heart do a somersault in his chest. With a shake of your head, you turn to him, defeated. “Alright. You can get a coffee and a muffin.” 

Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see your smile again, he brings his hand up to rub his chin, “Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t really like muffins.” 

“Well, then I’ll just have to stop by tomorrow, too.” 

At this, Seokmin smiles from ear to ear, tilting his head away towards the street so that you don’t catch the way he lights up at the prospect of possibly seeing you again. 

As the two of you cross the street, you notice a bus stop a little up the way, nodding towards it so he can look. “Is that where you catch the bus?” He nods. “Funny, my stop is only two blocks down the street we came from.” 

Seokmin reaches for the door of the cafe, holding it open for you to walk through. To his delight, you seem to be fascinated by the space—meaning it’s likely you haven’t been here before. He watches as you study the rustic lights on the ceiling, the shiny wooden tables, and the botany at the window. 

“These look like the ones from your shop.” 

“That’s because they are.” He stands beside you. “The owner of the cafe loves the classics. So do I. So, in exchange for a floral arrangement or two, he lets me borrow a book.”  He watches your gaze leave him to face the singular bookshelf he had gestured to, a tall collection of literary classics neatly sorted by author. Your eyes almost bulge out of your head as you take it in, mouth agape as you slowly step toward the shelves. 

Not yet grasping the extent of your fascination, and with the line to order clearing out, Seokmin remembers he’s on a schedule. “Do you wanna order?” 

“I…” You shake your head, fingertips ghosting over the spine of the books without grazing them, because you know better than to touch an antique collection. It doesn’t stop you from admiring them, mumbling out a response to the boy next to you without giving it much thought. “I usually get… You know what, just order whatever for me.” 

You dig for your wallet in the tote bag, handing your card to him without tearing your eyes away from the sight before you. Seokmin only laughs and takes it without the slightest intention to use it. He orders you the drink he thinks you might like the best, as someone with a taste for the traditional things--like classic literature and walkmans--and orders himself a more sugary poison to nurture his sweet tooth. 

When he pays, he doesn’t use your card, but he wraps the receipt around it anyway so you won’t holster any suspicion that he did exactly what he did. He only checks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still distracted, and you are, ogling the books as if you had never seen anything as marvelous as the contents of this bookshelf before. 

He feels something fluttering in his chest, and he knows very well what caused it, but he pays it no mind—opting instead for leaning into the cashier who he’s frequently talked to during his coffee breaks with his caffeine crazy friend, Boo Seungkwan. 

“Hey, Josh. Do you know if Mr. Kim is in today?” Kim Jongdae, the owner of the cafe, had a soft spot for the flower shop boys ever since they helped make him a beautiful bouquet for his wife’s birthday. Then, for their anniversary and every celebration thereafter. 

Joshua shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he starts on the drinks. “He’s out for the day. It’s the little one’s birthday.” 

“Shame. I wanted to borrow a book.”

“I mean… You know you can just grab any off the shelf.” He mumbles, hissing as he nearly burns his finger with the steaming espresso maker, “Which one do you want?” 

“Whichever one she does.” He turns to you,“That’s why I wanted to ask. It’s not for me, but for her.” 

“Ah.” Joshua looks between the two of you, without missing the gentle smile on Seokmin’s face as he watches you. He only manages to look away when the older boy at the counter sets both drinks down and clears his throat. “Here.”

“Right.” 

“And about that book,” he gestures to you, “I’ll ask Mr. Kim when I see him tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” With both drinks and your card wrapped in his receipt all clutched in his hands, he makes his way over to you quietly, as if any abruptness would disturb your studying of each and every title. But you hear him coming—that, or you smell the fresh coffee nearing you—so you spin around on your heels quickly, whisper-shouting as if he wasn’t right beside you now.

“This is incredible. I’m usually at the library until I get on the bus but–thank you,” You take the drink and instantly bring it to your lips for a sip, “Even the library doesn’t have this good of a–ah, hot!” 

“Be careful!” Seokmin fights the urge to beckon his hand closer to you, but his shoulders still jolt up in concern that you may have burned yourself.

“–good of a collection–wow, this is really good.” Your shift in focus makes him hold back a snort. 

“You like it?” 

“Yes, thank you. Should we sit?” He follows you to a table by the window, where the two of you can glance out at the bustling street as you chat. 

“Ms. Boo is nice.” You comment, as you notice one of the displays from the shop sitting at the sill.

“She is. She nags, but it’s only because she cares. I wouldn’t change anything about her.” 

You wear a warm smile on your lips as you take another sip, savoring the rich taste of your coffee. “I really like my drink. What did you get for yourself?”

Seokmin’s fingers move lazily to push the cup towards you. “Do you wanna try it?”

You hesitate, your gaze flicking between his inviting smile and the drink. After a moment’s pause, you reach for one of the wrapped paper straws sitting near the sugar and salt. You peel it open, pop it into the cup, and take a sip. You seem to like it at first, but then, the overwhelming sweetness hits, a syrupy storm that floods your taste buds, and you immediately regret your decision.

Your face scrunches up in disbelief as you try not to choke on the sugary onslaught, your throat resisting the thick sweetness. “Oh god,” you gasp, your eyes wide.

Seokmin’s laughter bubbles up effortlessly, and he rolls his eyes, clearly entertained by your reaction. You slide the drink back across the table to him, still reeling from the shock of it. “That’s—how can you even drink that?” you manage between soft chuckles.

“Really? It’s not that bad,” he says with a teasing grin, unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly struggling. “I’d say your drink needs an acquired taste.”

“Mine? I’m drinking coffee.” You set your cup down, now fully convinced that whatever he’s drinking is a bizarre concoction. “I don’t know what you’re drinking.”

Seokmin shrugs, his grin only widening. “Agree to disagree.” His cheeks aching from the persistent smile that seems to be permanently affixed to his face now.

You laugh in disbelief before taking a few large gulps of your own coffee, feeling its familiar warmth wash over you and effectively wiping away the remnants of Seokmin’s sugary disaster from your palate.

“So,” you begin, eyes narrowing slightly as you shift your focus to him, “how long have you been working there?”

“For a year now.” He leans back slightly in his chair, clearly more relaxed than before.

“Do you like it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

He pauses, as if considering his words carefully before answering. “It’s… I mean, yes.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I spotted some hesitation there.”

He sighs, a quiet exhale of air as he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not like I wanna be there forever.” His tone shifts, like he’s trying to brush off the weight of the subject, but it lingers.

Glancing down at your cup, you swirl it around absentmindedly to cool the contents. You try to lighten the mood, teasing him, “Not taking over Ms. Boo’s position in the future?”

Seokmin smiles, clearly amused by the suggestion. “I’ll leave that to her grandson. He works there, too.” He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture, but there's a quiet finality in his words.

Feeling the need to dig a little deeper, you sit up straight, eyes bright with curiosity. “Okay, so what is it that you wanna do?”

Seokmin’s smile falters just a fraction, and for a brief moment, the easy-going confidence he always wears slips. His fingers fiddle with the edge of his cup, and he looks off into the distance, his expression turning distant. “It’s nothing,” he mutters, his tone dropping low.

You pause, sensing something behind the simplicity of his words, but you don’t press further. “It isn’t nothing.” You shake your head, “It’s what you wanna do with your life. I wouldn’t call that nothing.” 

After a brief pause that consists of looking between your eyes and playing with the syllables stuck thickly in his mouth, Seokmin mumbles a single word. “Music.” 

“Music?” You echo him, then stay silent so he can elaborate. You can tell he feels some degree of discouragement, obvious in the way his shoulders slump down. His hands start fidgeting and he looks out the window again as he seems to recall some memory. 

“But it’s nothing serious right now. I mess around with my guitar and write stuff every once in a while, but… I haven’t really played since—“ 

“I would love to hear,” you cut him off, leaning forward, “If you ever feel like showing someone, I would love to listen to you play.” 

There’s a sudden bitterness in his throat (that definitely isn’t his coffee) as he recalls a slightly stirring memory. It’s not as distant as he would like it to be, despite his attempt to store it in the ‘do-not-open’ file of his mind, but it doesn’t stop him from nodding along and agreeing to your offer with some apprehension, because truthfully, you had no part in carving that scar.

Simply put: you were not her. 

“I haven’t played in a while,” he rephrases, “but when I pick it up again, you’ll be the first person I show.” 

It doesn’t take long before you start telling him about your studies, now that you had succeeded in interrogating him with a few of your burning questions, and it becomes apparent to Seokmin very quickly how easy conversation flows with you. Each word you utter is warm, welcoming, almost familiar, as if he had known you for longer than he did–and he suddenly feels very guilty for having misjudged you. 

It’s not like you know of the way he bad-mouthed you in his sensitive mind, so there really is no need to compensate for it. Even then, he feels he owes you something—like he should make it up to you for thinking such things about a person of your nature. 

He learns that you’re a student who’s majoring in English literature, with the aspiration to be a writer. The two of you agreed that he’d show you his music, and you’d show him what you’re working on—the last of which delighted him, seeing as he’d spent weeks trying to guess what your fingers typed away on your computer each night on the bus. You hate sugary drinks, that much you made clear, and you had a strong distaste for the smell of holiday candles. 

Every word you’d spill left him on the edge of his seat, wanting to know more about you. If it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to go back to work, he’d have sat with you for the whole afternoon listening to you talk. 

But instead, you join him on his walk back to the flower shop, unknowingly having fulfilled your promise to bring him back in a better mood. 

“Ms. Boo?” 

“Seokmin-ah? You’re back right on time. There’s a customer who needs a graduation arrangement for their son.” Seokmin can tell she’s in the backroom, wrestling the hose to fill the watering can from the strain in her voice.

“I’ll get my apron on!” He calls, then spins around to face you, “Thank you for today. I liked my coffee, even if you didn’t think it was great.” 

“Good to know. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow? Won’t I catch you on the bus tonight?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he hopes you didn’t catch the disappointment behind them.

“Tonight’s the last night of my study group, and those usually run late.” So that’s why you hadn’t been taking the bus lately, “So, tomorrow it is. Unless you don’t want that second coffee…” 

“I do.” He insists, and your lips curl up as you reach for the doorknob. 

“Alright, then.” 

The instant the door shuts behind you, he starts counting down the hours until he can see you again. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin’s shift could not have gone any slower. Unlike any day before, the hours could not seem to pass, despite how badly he willed them to. Aside from Seungkwan’s occasional side-eyed-glares and complaints of his uncharacteristically fast work pace today, Seokmin has managed to complete his tasks for the day and more: he prepared two graduation orders placed last minute and a walk-in customer who was uncertain of what ‘I’m sorry’ bouquet to get his girlfriend, all while trying to appease potential buyers who entered the shop, drawn in by the six new bouquet’s he’d made this very same morning and displayed at the window. 

All that, and it’s only fifteen past eleven in the morning.

“What has you in such a rush? I’m like four orders behind you. Usually, it’s the other way around.” The last part is but a grumble under his breath. 

Unable to explain, because he isn’t exactly sure of the answer either, Seokmin brushes Seungkwan's suspicious raised brow off and mentions something that would pique his interest instead, in hopes of changing the topic. 

“You know Soonyoung said Chan blew him off for a date? They were supposed to go out drinking and then—” 

“And then Minji called him and he bailed, I know. Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“And then—” 

“Slow down!” Seungkwan all but yanks the scissors from his best friend’s hands, which is, needless to say, not the safest thing to do, and puts them at his own station. “You’ve been hogging them for the last hour.” he hisses, “If my grandma comes in and sees that I’m this far behind, she’ll make me skip my break.” 

“I just need time to pass by quickly. I figure if I keep myself busy, it just might.” 

“Time doesn’t work like that, idiot.” 

“Actually, it does. Idiot.” He sneers back, and Seungkwan could not look more offended if he tried—eyes wide, lips puckered to shape a word he doesn’t quite get to say. He swings back his arm, but before Seokmin could get smacked by the handful of tulips in his grip, Ms. Boo comes bustling through, humming a mindless tune as she clutches a pen and a few envelopes in her arms. 

“Boys, I've got your pay for this week and the next. I have an appointment with Dr. Hong next Friday, so I won’t be here. I expect you’ll take care of the shop while I’m—these arrangements are lovely. Who made them?” 

The boys look between each other, and Seokmin huffs out before answering. “We both did, Ms. Boo.” 

“Good work. Lovely…” She starts mumbling to herself again as she shifts her attention from the flowers at the windowsill to the bills in her hands, counting them and separating them into two even piles. 

At Seokmin’s reply (call it an unspoken truce), Seungkwan visibly relaxes, releasing the flowers before he could ruin them and scurrying over to his grandma. “Have you been taking your medicine? You know he’ll scold you otherwise.” 

“I’m too old to be scolded,” She replies stubbornly, and their conversation fades momentarily as the door chimes again. 

“Welcome to Botanical–oh.” Seokmin’s scripted introduction is cut short as he notices that it’s you who has entered the shop, wearing a small smile. 

“Hi.” You greet him, “and hello, Ms. Boo.” 

“Hello.” She chirps, “Y/N, was it?” 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“Hey,” Seokmin’s wide smile, which nourished the moment he laid eyes on you, suddenly falters as he realizes the time. “Shit, are you here for-” 

“Language.” 

“Sorry,” he bows his head apologetically at Ms. Boo, then grabs your arm to drag you a little further from the pair, “I can’t take my break right now.” He tells you, regretfully. Your smile falls a little.

“Really? I was looking forward to our coffee time. Plus, I desperately need some caffeine. I’ve been reading this boring manuscript since seven.” You scowl, gesturing to the stack of papers overflowing from your bag.

That pout, the one on your lips: it needs to be fixed as soon as possible. Seokmin holds a single finger up as he scours his brain for a plan, “Wait here a second. Let me see what I can do.” With that, he turns around and speedwalks over to Seungkwan, who hands him his half of the money. 

“Here.” 

“Thanks.” Seokmin takes the bills, not quite meeting Seungkwan’s eyes as he pockets them. “Hey, listen…” His voice drops, just low enough that it almost feels like a secret. “I need to take my break now.”

Seungkwan blinks in confusion, his brow furrowing. “What?!” 

“Shh!” Seokmin urges, his face a mix of impatience and pleading. He tugs at his sleeve, leaning closer so only Seungkwan can hear. “Please.”

“No way,” Seungkwan protests, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “I take the morning breaks, you take the afternoon. That’s how this works.”

Seokmin’s expression hardens just a fraction, the edge of desperation creeping in as he stands a little taller. “Seungkwan, I’m begging you to switch with me just this once.”

Seungkwan stares at him, weighing his options. His arms remain crossed, a stubborn defiance settling into his posture. “No way.”

With no other option, Seokmin huffs and crosses his arms firmly over his chest. 

“Fine,” Seokmin finally says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll just go tell your grandma how many customers I’ve helped today and that all the displays were my doing and—”

“Okay, okay!” Seungkwan interrupts, throwing his hands up in surrender. “God, dude, you really suck. Don’t make this a habit, yeah?” 

Spoiler alert: he would.

Seokmin’s face lights up with a grin. “Thank you!” he exclaims, not even giving Seungkwan a chance to protest before his apron is untied with a swift yank. It’s tossed into Seungkwan’s arms, and Seokmin is already dashing toward the back, his shoes clacking against the floor with each hurried step.

He doesn't wait for the usual stream of complaints to catch up to him, knowing full well that they’re coming. Quickly, Seokmin kicks off his non-slip shoes in one fluid motion, leaving them in a pile as he slides into his own sneakers. 

Less than a minute later, he joins you by the door. 

“Coffee time?” His tone is playful, and you mirror it as you nod once.  

“Coffee time.” 

The cafe has a few students scattered around with their laptops when you enter. There’s also a few others, people who Seokmin knows work in the stores and buildings nearby. They stop by occasionally for their lunch and coffee breaks, but even then, the cafe is emptier than it is most days at this time. Mr. Kim is alongside Joshua, tending to something on the register, when the two of you approach them. 

“Morning,” 

“Good morning, Seokmin.” Kim Jongdae offers the boy a warm smile. 

There’s a bit of small talk exchanged between them—Mr. Kim asks about Ms. Boo and Seungkwan, Seokmin asks about his son’s birthday—until Seokmin goes to introduce you, but turns around to find you near the bookshelf once more. This seems to remind Mr. Kim of something he discussed earlier with Joshua. 

“My answer is yes, by the way.” He starts, “Joshua asked me this morning. He said you, or rather, she wanted to borrow a book. Go ahead. It’s the least I can do to repay you boys for the hard work you do to make this place look nice.” Mr. Kim gives him a firm nod, patting Joshua on the back after briefly explaining a new menu item on the screen. He walks off, and Seokmin calls out to him. 

“Thank you, really!” He turns to Joshua, “and thank you, too. I’ll get the same two drinks as yesterday. ”

“You got it.” 

He pays quickly and turns around, pausing for a few moments to admire you before taking two long strides over. When he’s beside you, he lowers his head so it’s by your shoulder and speaks quietly, so as to not disturb you. “Which one piques your interest?” 

“Which ones,” you correct, marveling up at him before looking back to the shelves. “There’s so many. I wouldn’t know which one to grab first if I could.” Your index finger comes up after a pause, “Maybe this one.” 

“Go on, then.” 

“I wish.” you sigh, and he can no longer withhold his smile.

“I’m serious. Grab it. I asked the owner for permission.” 

Your head cranes slowly over to him, eyes so wide he swears he could have seen his reflection in them.

“Are you serious?” Your voice is soft, unsure, surprised, grateful. You’re almost not sure whether to believe him or not, but when his gentle brown eyes look between you and the book, and he gives you a little encouraging nudge on your shoulder as a go ahead, you finally move to reach out slowly and pick it off of the shelf, cradling it in your hands as if it was a precious thing. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” His voice is calm but sincere, and there’s a small, almost thoughtful smile tugging at his lips as he watches you. The shelf you’d been looking at earlier, once so absorbing, now feels distant as your attention shifts entirely to him.

You blink, unsure how to respond, and for the first time in a while, you find yourself lost for words. “Gosh, I-I don’t… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He mutters with a crooked smile.

“Thank you.” You repeat the words, quieter this time.

“Anytime.” He shrugs. For a moment, the two of you are caught in a quiet, comfortable pause.

It’s only Joshua calling Seokmin’s name from across the room that snaps the two of you back to reality. You blink and suddenly remember—you’re the one who owes him a coffee, not the other way around.

“Wait, you ordered already?”

“I kinda had to.” Seokmin shrugs sheepishly, his eyes flicking over to the counter before returning to you. “Honestly, I’m more scared of going over my break time while Seungkwan is there than when it’s just Ms. Boo.”

“That’s your friend, right? Seungkwan?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. 

“Yep,” Seokmin replies. “The one with the dyed blonde hair who always looks like he’s about to complain about something.”

“That’s Ms. Boo’s grandson, then.” You piece it together with a grin, and Seokmin hands you your drink. You take it but find your thoughts drifting again.

“What’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, noticing your distracted gaze.

“I still owe you,” you admit softly, looking down at the drink in your hands. “For the bag and the book.”

Seokmin bumps your shoulder lightly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess you’ll just have to keep stopping by.” 

“I guess I will,” 

To his delight, the rest of Seokmin’s shift was effortless and quick. There was the occasional bickering with Seungkwan, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. And, for some reason, he didn’t seem to mind it as much today. Because, waiting for him at the bus stop when he arrived later that very same evening, was you, eager to tell him all about the book you had started reading. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

Seokmin had never been a fan of routines. His personality was spontaneous, and so the things he did on a day-to-day basis were too. Up until now, the only constants in his life were the flower shop and his friends, who provided their own random spontaneity in the form of unpredictable weekend plans or an ever-changing work environment that depended solely on which side of the bed Seungkwan woke up on that morning. 

Seokmin gets bored easily, an issue he resolves with movie marathons or long walks or hangouts—just about anything will suffice, if it means his mind is occupied and distracted the majority of the time. 

Lately, though, a new element has been introduced to his daily life. A routine. 

A routine where, during every shift, you stop by after your time studying at the library and pick him up for ‘coffee time’ during his breaks (much to Seungkwan’s disappointment, coffee time was usually during the first half of the day). Then, you’d stay at the coffee shop reading the book—because despite Seokmin insisting that it was okay for you to take home, you’d always refuse—until his shift was over. He’d find you at the bus stop, waiting for him, and the two of you would chatter on until you were dropped off at your stop. 

In a way, he had become dependent on this routine—something he thought could never happen. It was admittedly his favorite part of the day, catching up with you, hearing what you had to say or what thoughts you had cultured after your time reading the book. And when you finished that one a few weeks in, he made sure to take some new potted plants and flowers over to Mr. Kim in exchange for another. 

And for some time, that’s the way things were. He had contemplated asking to do something with you outside of the usual bus or coffee shop pattern, but everytime he intended to ask, he’d cower and procrastinate. Next time, he’d tell himself.

Early on a Sunday morning, Seungkwan came into the shop rambling about how his Grandma was at his older sister’s house and wouldn’t be coming by. It’s not like the two of them couldn’t handle the shop alone—they had done it countless times before—but her presence was primarily longed for when it came to getting the two of them back on track. Especially on Sundays, where the task at hand was to clean, fertilize, and redecorate wilted displays. For obvious reasons, this was something neither of them enjoyed doing. 

At the moment, it’s just him in the store. Seungkwan was taking his morning break that he insisted was non-negotiable today and Seokmin only agreed so easily because Sundays are the only days he doesn’t see you. 

The doorbell jingles softly as you step into the flower shop, and Seokmin glances up from behind the counter looking for a customer or Seungkwan, his hands momentarily pausing in their careful arrangement of flowers. A surprised look crosses his face as you poke your head in.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lifting with a bit of surprise, but the smile that quickly forms softens his expression. “I didn’t think you’d stop by today.”

“Actually, I only came by to see Ms. Boo,” you tease, and Seokmin hisses through his teeth. 

“I regret to inform you, she’s not in today.” 

You grin, stepping further into the shop, the familiar floral scent filling the air around you. “I’m kidding. I was nearby and I thought I’d keep you company for a bit.”

“It’s not usually this quiet around here,” he says, his hands brushing against the flowers almost absently as he talks. “It’s kind of nice when it’s just me, but I guess I don’t mind the company.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s easy to see right through him when he’s so clearly beaming that you're here.

Your presence, standing so casually by the counter, feels like something he didn’t know he was waiting for. He’s used to the steady hum of the shop, the quiet buzz of the day, the mildly irritating sounds of Seungkwan, but with you here... it’s different. He can’t quite pinpoint why, but there’s a feeling in his chest that settles somewhere between contentment and something else he’s been trying to ignore for a while now.

Before he can dwell too much on it, the door jingles again, and Seungkwan strides in, looking as effortless as ever. His eyes dart between you and Seokmin, already catching the shift in the air. 

“Why, hello,” Seungkwan says, grinning widely as he crosses the shop and leans against the counter. “I was wondering when we’d be properly introduced.”

“You must be Seungkwan,” you say, arching an eyebrow at Seokmin, who rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.

“And you must be Y/N. It seems like I took my break right on time.” Seungkwan continues, throwing an exaggerated glance at Seokmin. “He can’t shut up about you.”

Seokmin groans as he shifts uncomfortably behind the counter. “Seungkwan, please. You don’t have to make it sound so weird.”

You smile at the light teasing, the way Seungkwan’s attention naturally shifts to Seokmin with that familiar comfort only best friends seem to have. It’s clear they’ve known each other for a while. Seokmin, though, is less than amused by Seungkwan. His cheeks glow pink as he glares.

“Well, you are weird,” Seungkwan mutters.

“Alright, Seungkwan,” Seokmin says with a sigh. 

“Okay, I’m off to the back to unload fertilizer.” He announces and you give him a polite wave as he turns to you, “It was nice to meet you.”

As Seungkwan heads out the back door, Seokmin lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head. The shop feels quieter, now that it's just you and him. It’s strange, but Seokmin finds himself oddly aware of the space between you two.

He glances over at you again, trying not to seem too obvious, but there’s something about the way you’re standing there—easy, comfortable, but somehow still pulling at him in a way he can’t ignore. His fingers hesitate over the vase in front of him, caught in the motion of arranging flowers but not quite focused on the task.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “I guess you get to work in peace for now, huh?”

“Yeah, it seems that way.” Seokmin huffs. He takes a step toward you, to reach for something behind you. His hand brushes over a batch of roses, then pausing as if he’s suddenly unsure of the next move, painfully aware of how close he’s gotten. He clears his throat, the casual tone of his voice not quite matching the thoughts swirling in his mind. “So, um... you like flowers?”

You tilt your head, a teasing smile on your lips. “Is that a serious question?”

“I-” Seokmin laughs softly, his fingers running over the petals of the flowers before grabbing them and attempting to focus on his station. 

You lean a little closer, your voice light but playful. “Well, I like you, don’t I?” The way you say those words with a teasing tone makes Seokmin nearly choke, “So I kind of have to like flowers. Otherwise, how am I meant to hang around you?” You gesture at the shop. 

Seokmin’s breath catches, and for a moment, he feels like he’s losing the thread of the conversation.

"I didn’t expect to find you working today. I didn’t even know the shop opened on Sundays," you say casually, glancing up at him. “I’m sure the flowers appreciate the extra attention.”

"I’m pretty good with the flowers, but I think they’d appreciate the company more if you came by more often."

You arch an eyebrow, “Oh? You think they’d enjoy my company more than yours?”

“I know Seungkwan would.” You laugh at this, and Seokmin revels in the sound, joining you. 

After a pause, he shifts his attention back to the flowers, showing you the final product. “What do you think?” 

“They’re pretty.” 

“I think so, too.” He decides, not necessarily talking about the flowers, “Even though I was a little distracted.”

"Distractions can be good, though,"

"Well, you’re a pretty good distraction," he tries for the words to sound casual, but his tone betrays him. He also said it much quicker than he intended to, and he’s grateful for the chance to turn around while grabbing another pot because it offers him a means to hide his reddening cheeks. 

You let the words hang in the air for a beat longer than usual, enjoying the teasing, the way it feels easy between you two. "Good to know," you reply, smirking.

Before Seokmin can respond, the door swings open and Seungkwan walks in again, wiping his hands on his apron and immediately launching into his usual dramatic self. 

"I swear, I’ll never get used to that fertilizer smell," he complains, tossing his apron on a hook. He looks over at you and Seokmin, "Glad to know you two haven’t burned the place down."

You grin, "Not yet, but we’re working on it."

Seungkwan scoffs half-heartedly, glancing between you. "Nice to see him finally making some friends outside of the plants."

As Seungkwan heads toward the back, he gives you both a knowing look. “Don’t let him get too distracted, alright?” he calls over his shoulder with a grin.

“I’ll try my best.” You give Seokmin a wink and he shakes his head, showing you an idea for another potential bouquet.

The last hour passes seamlessly fast, now that you’re here. Before Seokmin knows it, you, him, and Seungkwan are locking up the store and parting ways from the blonde as the two of you walk side by side to the bus stop. 

As he sits beside you on the bus later that night, looking over your shoulder at your collection of tapes for your walkman, he wrestles with the invitation that sits in the forefront of his mind. Spending time with you at the shop was great, but it somehow still feels like it follows your usual pattern. That, and Seungkwan’s presence, albeit lively and entertaining, keeps him from being able to spend as much time as he’d like with you—without the time constriction of a fifteen minute break or a forty minute bus ride. But like always, he decides to ask a different question in place of the one he really wants to. 

“How come you use a walkman? I always meant to ask you.” 

“I like the way the music sounds on it. I don’t know. It was my dad’s.” You smile warmly, “He used to let me borrow it when I was younger and I just kind of… inherited it.” 

“It’s cool. Makes you look all mysterious. Like you’re from a different time.” 

“You think?” He nods fervently, but your shoulders still sink in doubt as you fumble with the multicolored tapes. “Everything sounds nicer on it. When you listen to music on it, it’s like a mini time-machine. Or, it might just be me, I don’t know.” 

“I’m sure it’s not just you. Here, let me try. Pick one for me.” 

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards for a second as you ponder which song to play. Delicately, your fingers brush over each tape, hovering in thought like they had with the books on Mr. Kim’s shelf, until you finally land on one.  

“It’s my favorite.” You tell him shyly, “I think you’ll like it.”

Carefully, you pull the cassette out of its case and click it into the audio player with a low snap. Seokmin watches as your hands slip the headset off from around your neck, watching as you shift in your seat and place them gently over his head. He tries not to think about how close your face is to his but… how can he not? You’ve leaned in to ensure that both spongy cushions are perfectly sat over his ears, and now you’re only a few inches away—close enough that he can catch the faint scent of your shampoo. It lingers, soft and floral, wrapping around him like the embrace of something he hadn’t realized he’d miss until you finally sat back, asking “ready?” 

You press down on the play button and look up at him, eyes full of expectation.

There’s that familiar, comforting crackle of the cassette winding into motion, a sound that makes Seokmin feel as if he’s in an old-timey dream. And then, the music starts: your song—your favorite song—something you had chosen specifically for him to hear. Every note feels warm, intimate, melodic. For some reason, it temporarily diminishes his burning curiosity about you, but not because he finds himself any less intrigued, but because it finally feels like he’s taken a real peek inside your mind.

As someone who loves music, Seokmin is a firm believer that a person’s favorite song says a lot about them. The more it plays, the more he realizes that this song, in every sense of the word, is an extension of you. 

As the melody flows, you watch him, eyes studying his reaction with that same teasing smile. You lean closer again, and he subconsciously holds his breath as you whisper, “Do you hear it?” He nods.

There’s a warmth in it, a rawness that makes it feel like more than just music. This was something deeply yours, a piece of your world that you were letting him in on, if only for a few minutes.

He listens with his eyes closed, letting himself drift along the rhythm, feeling the weight of each tone and key change and lyric the artist sings, full of intention. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds you still looking at him with a kind of question in your gaze, a quiet hope. The song fades out, but Seokmin keeps the headphones on for a second longer, letting the last notes dissolve into silence. He looks up again, meeting your gaze. 

For a moment, he’s not sure what to say. Anything he could say feels too small, too plain for what he wants you to understand. So he starts with the only words that come out easily, his voice low and sincere. “I… I think I get it.” He pauses, then adds, “And this song… it feels like you.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, a playful gleam in your eyes. “What do you mean?” you ask, though there’s a softness in your tone, like you’re hoping he’ll really answer.

He glances down at the walkman, watching your thumb tracing along the edge as he gathers his thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s just… this song is so warm. It’s like the way you laugh, the way you make everything feel a little bit lighter.” He feels his cheeks warm but keeps going, his words coming out before he can second-guess them. “It’s like a piece of you, and I can feel it, even with my eyes closed.”

You go still, your expression shifting, the playful smile that played on your lips softening into something more serious. Neither of you say anything for a moment.

The bus begins to slow, and you both glance out the window, realizing this is your stop. You reach up, fingers brushing his ear as you gently pull the headphones from him, careful not to disturb the sense of closeness still hanging in the air. You slide the walkman back into your bag, a little slower than necessary, as if that might make the night last, if just for a few seconds longer.

“This is me,” you say softly, feeling the finality in the words as the bus comes to a gentle stop and the doors sigh open. You start to stand but pause, glancing down at him one last time. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, as if he’s searching for the right thing to say, something more than just “goodbye.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, your voice soft, almost hopeful.

He nods, his smile widening just a little. “Yeah,” he says, gentle but certain. “Tomorrow.” You’re about to turn around when he adds, “but not here. I want to go somewhere else with you. I mean, if you want to, that is.” He finds his breath catching again, “The flower shop closes early on the weekends. I was thinking... Maybe we could go to the beach?”

With a grin playing on your lips, you nod, “Yeah. I’d like that.” 

Giving him one last glance, you turn and step off the bus, feeling the warmth of his gaze linger behind as you walk down the street. As the bus pulls away, you catch his face framed in the window, waving until you’re out of sight. And though the music has stopped, the tune of this moment plays on, promising something to carry with you both until tomorrow. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

The sky stretches out in a hazy blue as Seokmin walks toward the beach, his guitar case slung over his shoulder. His fingers tap a nervous rhythm against its side as he looks around, hoping to spot you before you see him.

He barely slept the night before, having spent the better part of the morning hours contemplating and talking to himself with his guitar on his lap. It hadn’t been touched in nearly a year and a half, so he had to spend some time wiping it down, re-tuning it, and even fixing a string that had managed to come loose in the process.

He said he’d play for you, but then again, he hadn’t played for someone in a while and naturally, that made him extremely nervous, though that feeling didn’t even fully capture what he felt when he remembered he’d be playing for you. What would you think? Did you actually mean it when you said you wanted to hear him play? Or was that some automated response to boost his spirits? Would you even remember? It was weeks ago, on the first day at the coffee shop. Needless to say, he mulled over it endlessly.

Seokmin sighs, trying to calm himself down. By now, he had to slip off his shoes that were sinking in the cool sand, so he chooses to focus on the sensation of it against his skin instead of overthinking any longer. 

He finally spots you standing by the water, arms wrapped around yourself as a light breeze blows through your hair. When you turn and see him, your face brightens, and that smile of yours—bright and open—fills him with warmth instantly. “Is that—” you begin, your eyes widening as you notice the guitar.

“Thought it was time,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal despite his heart thundering as he sets the guitar down and dusts off a spot in the sand beside you. You sit next to him eagerly, your excitement spilling out in the way you lean closer, eyes sweeping between him and the guitar case, as if you’re finally being let in on a long-held secret. And, in a way, you are. 

He stretches his legs out, digging his heels into the cool sand. He watches you rummage through the tote bag beside you, and a curious smile tugs at his lips.

“You came prepared,” he chuckles, watching as you pull out a couple of neatly wrapped sandwiches and a small container of fruit.

“Of course I did,” you say with a smile, offering him a sandwich and holding out the fruit container. “I figured we’d get hungry eventually.” You shrug, glancing out toward the waves. “Besides, I thought it would be nice to have a little picnic.”

Seokmin accepts the sandwich with a grin, unwrapping it and taking a bite. He’s pleasantly surprised by the fresh crunch of lettuce and the perfect balance of flavors. “Did you make these?” he asks between bites, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, a bit of pride flashing in your eyes. “I did. You think I’d risk buying store-bought for a beach day?”

“Touché,” he laughs, grabbing a few grapes from the fruit container you’ve placed between you. “Honestly, this is already ten times better than what I packed.” He gestures vaguely to a plastic bottle and an uninspired granola bar that now seem almost laughable compared to your carefully prepared spread.

The sun has settled lower in the sky, casting the beach in a soft, golden haze. Seokmin leans back, resting his hands behind him as he glances over at you, a lazy grin playing at the corners of his mouth. The two of you have polished off the sandwiches, and now the empty wrappers lie folded beside the fruit container. He pops one last grape into his mouth, savoring the refreshing sweetness as he watches you tuck the food away with a little, satisfied sigh.

“So, did I earn any points for bringing the snacks?” you tease, dusting a few crumbs from your hands before looking over at him expectantly.

Seokmin laughs, squinting a little in the sunlight as he tilts his head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I’ll give you extra points for the sandwiches. But for the fruit,” he says, grabbing a couple of the last grapes with a mischievous smile, “I think you’ll need to try a little harder.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, leaning back beside him. “You’re just mad you didn’t think to bring anything.”

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing as he looks out at the waves. “But next time, I’ll bring something better.”

“Alright, big shot,” you say with a smirk, crossing your arms. “What’s on the menu then? A charcuterie board?”

“Definitely,” he says, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. “Maybe even some tiny, fancy desserts, the ones that look way too pretty to eat.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to impress someone.” You raise an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air just long enough that Seokmin can’t miss the playful edge in your tone. Not like he could have missed it anyway, with the way he hangs on your every word. 

He laughs again, but there’s a slight flush to his cheeks. “Hey, I’m just saying I know how to put together a memorable picnic,” he says, attempting a casual shrug. “But, you know, only if you’re there to witness it.”

You grin, unable to help the smile that breaks through at his subtle, almost shy attempt at flirting. “I’d hate to miss such an extravagant spread,” you reply, matching his casual tone with your own. “Guess you’ll have to invite me.”

Seokmin pretends to think it over, tapping his chin. “Hmm, alright, you’re in. But no backing out,” he says, his smile widening. “I’m holding you to this.”

There’s an ease between you, a lightness in the conversation that feels effortless, and for a while, the two of you just sit there, chatting about nothing and everything. He asks you about your favorite places to visit and listens as you share stories about the other hobbies you have. In return, you ask how he met Seungkwan, and he tells you about him and Soonyoung, recounting each memory he has made with them with an enthusiasm that makes you feel like you were right there with him.

Then, as the conversation dips, he glances down at the guitar case beside him. He reaches for it almost absentmindedly, brushing his fingers along the edge of the case, but there’s a faint look of hesitation in his eyes that you don’t miss.

“You don’t have to, even if you brought it all the way out here. It’s up to you.” 

Seokmin lets out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he glances away. He’s more grateful for your patience than you could ever know. 

 “Yeah… I haven’t really played in a while,” he admits, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s been over two years, actually. I brought it… Well, because I think it’s about time I get back into the habit.” He trails off, watching the waves again, his mind flickering to a different time, a different place, one he’s not sure he’s ready to revisit.

There’s a quiet understanding in your eyes as you nod. You don’t press him, don’t ask for more details. Instead, you just let the silence stretch out between you, the sound of the ocean filling the space where words might have gone. It’s almost as if you’re giving him permission to take his time, to decide for himself if this is something he wants to do.

After a moment, he takes a breath, exhaling slowly. “I used to play a lot, actually,” he says, almost to himself. “Just… haven’t felt like it in a while.”

The air feels thick with unspoken things, but Seokmin pushes past it, fingers brushing the guitar case almost impulsively. The weight of the past lingers for a second, but with a quick glance at you, he lets go of the hesitation clinging to him. This is different, he reminds himself. This isn’t for anyone else, no memories he needs to cling to. Just the open beach, the sun dipping low, and you, waiting beside him with a patient, easy smile.

He pulls the guitar from its case, its weight grounding him, though it feels different today than it had last night. It’s less scary, now that he’s with you. 

He glances over at you, a grin tugging at his lips. “Ready?” he asks. You nod, your eyes wide, leaning just close enough for him to catch the faint, floral hint of you drifting in the salt-laced air.

Seokmin strums the first couple of notes, letting the music rise and blend with the gentle crash of the waves. His fingers move on instinct, but his mind is all on you, capturing every little reaction—the way your eyes soften, the way your shoulders relax, reassuring him that his music is something you’ve been waiting to hear. He’s suddenly very relieved.

“I wrote this a few years back. It’s… Well, yeah. I think the lyrics speak for themselves.” 

It takes a few seconds and one or two badly played chords for him to regain a little bit of the confidence he had lost some time ago. But his fingers find their place quickly enough, and he parts his lips to sing. 

As Seokmin's voice fills the space between you, soft and hesitant at first, he notices the subtle shift in your expression. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, brows lifting in quiet surprise as if you hadn’t really expected him to sing so well. There’s a moment of stillness, only filled with his voice, warm and unpolished, floating in the air.

Your gaze flickers to and from him, watching the way his lips move to form each syllable, and then back to the water, where the waves blur in a streak of light. You can’t help but notice the way his face softens when he sings, his features loosening as he melts into the words. 

You look back at him, your lips parting in surprise. There’s a shy kind of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth, like you're unsure if it’s okay to smile just yet, but the quiet joy you feel is evident in the warmth that floods your chest. You tilt your head slightly, caught between admiration and a soft, disbelieving smile.

I should’ve told you I’m in love with you

Then I wouldn’t have been regretting right now

The longer you listen, the more the words he’s written seem bound to him, something like an itch he couldn’t reach. You find your lips curving upward again, but there’s a sad sentiment behind your smile this time, eyes full with a kind of quiet affection. Something tugs at your heart just then, causing your brows to furrow slightly. Maybe it’s from the lyrics he wrote, or maybe it’s the simple, unguarded way he sings, you’re not entirely sure.

When he looks up, your gaze meets his, soft and steady. You don’t speak when he finishes. Instead, you reach over, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers as light as the spring breeze.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and in that moment, Seokmin realizes he doesn’t need to say anything at all.

You sit back, letting the sound of the water fill the space between you, the silence stretching just long enough for Seokmin to look out at the horizon, his fingers still idly plucking at the strings of his guitar. His expression has changed slightly, distant, like he's somewhere else for a moment, lost in thought.

You turn toward him, studying his profile. “Why don’t you play anymore?” you ask softly, not wanting to break the calm vulnerability of the moment, but still unable to ignore the quiet curiosity rising inside you. “I mean, you’re really good. Why keep it to yourself?”

He freezes for a second, his mindless strumming halting abruptly. He exhales, the sound almost like a sigh.

“I used to,” he begins to explain. His voice is quiet, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Back when I had someone to play for. It didn’t work out.” He swallows thickly. “She… She had been hooking up with her best friend practically since we got together.” 

You wait, letting him speak, but his lips press together for a moment, unsure if he should say more. His gaze turns toward the ocean, but there’s a shift in his eyes, which are normally so kind and full of spirit—something like a hard edge, as if a memory he had thought of has sharpened into something more painful. “I played for her all the time.”

You can’t hide the surprise that flashes in your eyes, and Seokmin glances at you. He doesn’t want pity. He’s not asking for it.

“I stopped playing after that,” he continues, “It just... didn’t feel the same anymore. It was something I gave to someone who didn’t deserve it.” He shrugs, as if the words are too heavy for him to carry all at once.

You can feel the hurt in the air, hanging around him like a shadow. You want to reach out, but you don’t know how to offer comfort without crossing a line, so you just sit still beside him, close enough that he can feel your presence but far enough to give him space.

And at the time, you didn’t know it, but for him, it was enough. 

After a long pause, you finally say, “I’m sorry. That’s... that’s a lot.”

He nods, and the tightness in his jaw softens slightly. “Yeah,” he says, his voice a little steadier. “But... maybe it’s okay.” Seokmin’s eyes flicker to you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Today felt right, you know. Playing for someone who’s actually listening.”

And in the quiet that follows, he feels something shift between you, the weight of unspoken things starting to lift.

“Seokmin,” you say, your voice gentle, as if careful not to disrupt the quiet peace he’s settled into. He can tell you’re about to say something, maybe offer some comforting words about his story, but he’s already lost in thought.

It hits him, then, so suddenly it almost makes him laugh at himself. The way the late afternoon light catches in your hair, the soft curve of your smile, the way you’re watching him with that steady, thoughtful gaze. It’s all so striking that it feels like something he’s never noticed before, and yet it feels so familiar at the same time.

He decides then, that this is the prettiest you’ve ever looked. 

Suddenly convinced you might be able to read his mind, he clears his throat, feeling a warmth creeping up his neck as he looks back down at the guitar, trying to hide the smile that’s fighting its way to his face. He wants to say it—wants to tell you that you look beautiful, that sitting here with you feels like some kind of dream he didn’t know he was allowed to have. But the words don’t come out; they sit, caught in his throat, trapped by the sudden nervousness that’s settled over him.

Instead, he finds himself brushing a hand over the guitar strings again, as if that small action might keep him grounded. “Thanks… for listening,” he manages, hoping it’ll distract from the fact that he can feel his cheeks warming.

You smile, nodding gently, still looking at him in that quiet, understanding way, and it only makes him want to blurt it out more. But for now, he lets the moment stretch, watching as you lean back in the sand, your gaze shifting back to the waves. The sun is sinking lower, and everything is bathed in that soft, warm light that makes the world feel as if it’s been suspended in time. And Seokmin realizes, right then and there, that this is one of those good memories he’ll hold on to; one he doesn’t intend to forget any time soon. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

It starts with a simple conversation over coffee, the two of you tucked into a cozy corner booth at the cafe, each with a steaming cup in hand as usual. It has become the norm, seeing you like this, nearly every morning and evening. Seokmin stirs a bit more sugar into his drink despite the crazed look you give him, then glances up at you with a warm, toothy smile as you tell him about your latest read. He leans in, listening intently, nodding as if every word you say is the most fascinating thing he’s heard all week. 

When you pause, taking a sip of your drink, he takes a chance to jump in, “You know, I’ve been meaning to go to the art museum downtown. It’s supposed to have this new exhibit.” He hesitates, looking down at his cup for a moment, then back at you with a shy, hopeful glint in his eyes. “If… you’d want to check it out with me?”

You perk up at the suggestion, grinning. “I’d love that! Museums are kind of my weakness.”

Relieved, he chuckles, “Then we’re in good company,” he says, the words coming out a little softer than he intends. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool, but his heart beats a little faster as you chuckle.

“Alright, Mr. Museum,” you say, teasing. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Great,” he replies, glancing out the window at the overcast sky. “How about today, then?”

With a nod, you grab your things, sliding out of the booth as Seokmin hurriedly follows, waving goodbye to Joshua. As you both step out onto the sidewalk, he can’t help the familiar rush of excitement at the thought of spending the rest of the day with you. The two of you stroll side by side down the bustling street, exchanging small talk and the occasional smile, his heart lifting with every step closer to the city.

The walk to the museum is a mixture of laughter, subtle glances, and playful nudges that neither of you can seem to resist. The air is crisp, a light breeze tugging at your sleeves as the two of you meander down the busy street, dodging the occasional cyclist or dog walker. Every few steps, one of you makes a half-serious comment—maybe about the art you’re about to see, maybe about the bizarre mannequin display in a shop window you pass—and it doesn’t take long before both of you dissolve into laughter, your steps momentarily slowed as you lean into each other, trying to catch your breath.

Seokmin, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, finds himself glancing your way more often than he’d like to admit, watching as you tuck your hair behind your ear or lift your face to the sky for a second, enjoying the clouds. He doesn’t know why he feels like a kid right now, heart skipping with each shared smile and laugh, but he can’t seem to shake it. The closeness of walking side by side with you makes him almost giddy.

At one point, you nudge him with your elbow, a light-hearted challenge in your eyes as you try to keep a straight face. “So,” you say, feigning seriousness, “ready to become cultured?”

He rolls his eyes, laughing as he nudges you right back. “Please.”

Seokmin steps into the museum lobby with you by his side, wandering across the high ceilings and polished floors. There’s almost a sacred quietness to the place, the kind that makes every sound seem amplified, even the shuffle of your footsteps. 

You hand him a ticket that you get from the booth, brushing his hand lightly, and he tries to hide his smile, hoping you don’t notice the faint flush that blooms in his cheeks. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous; he always is around you, but he never knows why. Somehow today, he’s more nervous than other days. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or maybe it’s just you—standing there beside him, glancing around with the same sort of wide-eyed curiosity that makes him want to see everything through your eyes.

The two of you wander through the galleries, pausing in front of each painting and sculpture, taking your time. Every so often, you glance at him to see his reaction to something particularly strange or fascinating, and catch him already looking back, smiling at your expressions just as much as he is admiring the art.

“Do you think they meant to paint it like this?” you ask, leaning closer to a particularly loud modern piece that’s all bright, chaotic lines. Your voice is soft, as though you’re afraid of disturbing the tranquility.

Seokmin leans closer, squinting as if trying to unravel some secret meaning, though he hasn’t a clue what he’s looking at. “Maybe they were just… feeling inspired,” he replies, lips quirking with a grin he can’t suppress.

“Or maybe they dropped their paintbrush,” you add, matching his grin.

The sound of your laughter echoes slightly in the otherwise silent gallery, and for a moment, he’s aware of how close you’re standing. The space feels smaller, and though there are other visitors around, it feels for a moment like the museum is yours alone. You move on to the next painting, your eyes bright with curiosity, and he follows, longing to shorten the distance once more. 

He notices a stray piece of hair that’s slipped from behind your ear, and without thinking, he lifts a hand to tuck it back. But at the last second, he hesitates, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder as he pulls his hand back, a shy red spreading over his complexion. You don’t seem to notice, lost in thought as you step closer to the next painting, tilting your head to take it all in.

At one point, you point out a painting of a starry sky, something dreamlike. “Imagine being under a sky like that,” you murmur, almost to yourself, your gaze soft and wondrous as you look at the canvas.

More and more often throughout the visit to the museum, Seokmin finds himself staring at you instead of the exhibits. On this specific one, he can’t seem to look away from your face, your expression so captivated, as if you’re somewhere far away.

“Maybe one day we can find a place like that,” he says softly, almost not meaning to say it aloud. When you turn to look at him, a bit surprised, he clears his throat, pretending to be suddenly very interested in reading the placard beside the artwork.

Seokmin finds himself feeling almost weightless, caught up in the dizzying whirlwind of his own thoughts for a minute. There’s something about you—something he can’t quite put a name to—that makes him feel like he’s constantly walking on a tightrope, and with each step, he’s leaning a little further in, a step closer to letting go of the balance he’s tried for so long to keep.

You whisper an eager “come on,” and grab his sleeve to drag him further into the maze of galleries. 

As you wander into a room filled with ancient statues, he catches you examining one with a particularly serious expression. “Thinking of getting one of these for your place?” he teases. 

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Only if you help me carry it,” you reply, and he finds himself grinning again.

Soon, you reach a new room, filled with work from the Renaissance, each painting rich with detail and vibrant colors that have held their vibrancy for centuries. You lean in slightly, admiring the delicate brushstrokes, and Seokmin watches you, his gaze drifting from the artwork to the fascinated look in your eyes—possibly for the hundredth time today. 

“I feel like I’m supposed to be having some deep, life-changing revelation right now,” he whispers by your ear, half-joking.

“Who says art has to be that serious? Sometimes, it’s just… pretty.”

You’re just pretty. 

As you move through the quiet museum halls together, Seokmin catches himself watching you again, realizing just how pretty you look in the warm glow of the exhibit lights. It’s not the first time he's felt this way; he remembers the flutter in his chest when you’d gone to the beach, and the way his thoughts had lingered a little too long on the curve of your smile. He watches as you lean a bit closer to a painting, eyes narrowing in focus, oblivious to his gaze. There’s a calmness to you here, the way you examine each piece as if it holds a secret, and he finds himself drawn to the little things: the way your fingers rest on your chin in thought, the faint lift of your brows when something catches your eye, and the gentle concentration in your expression.

He watches you for longer this time, taking advantage of the fact that you’ve busied yourself reading a plaque, and noticing things he hadn’t paid attention to before right now: today, your smiles linger a little longer, your laughter rings out just a bit brighter, and he finds himself captivated by these subtleties, like he's uncovering new pieces of you with each glance. When you look at him, eyes crinkling in a way he hadn’t dared imagine was just for him, his heart stirs, and he can’t shake the thought: Have you always been this lovely, or am I just starting to see it now? 

His mind drifts, painting scenes of possibilities—fleeting, half-formed images of laughter, of late nights talking, of small moments shared just between the two of you. Each image feels almost real, so vivid he can practically reach out and touch it.

There’s a spark in his chest, a sensation that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. Part of him wants to pull back, to reel himself in, a quiet warning in the back of his mind whispering not to get carried away like he had before. But he can’t help it; there’s something magnetic about this, about you, something that pulls him closer despite himself. 

He steals another glance at you, his heart racing as he does. You’re just looking at the art around you, as though this is any other day, but for him, it feels monumental. His thoughts get lost again, imagining what it might be like to hold your hand right now, to simply be beside you without any of this hesitation.

And then, you look at him and laugh, catching him staring, and his ears go red, a little embarrassed but somehow happy to be caught.

By the time you reach the last hall of artwork, the sun has started to set outside, casting a warm glow through the large windows. Seokmin watches as the light catches in your eyes, making them shine in a way that leaves him a little breathless. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you look around.

As you both step outside into the cool evening air, he catches your eye, intentionally this time, his smile small but genuine. “Thanks for coming here with me,” he says, his voice soft, almost shy.

“Anytime,” you reply, and the word feels like a promise. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 

The night starts with laughter and neon lights as Seokmin leads you through the bustling street to the karaoke room, his two friends, Seungkwan and Soonyoung, trailing just behind and rambling on about something indiscernible. The place is lively, bursting with music from rooms down the hall, each one echoing snippets of songs and off-key shouts. 

Seokmin can’t help but beam when he sees how easily you fall into conversation with his friends, joining in their jokes and even taking a dig at Seungkwan when he hypes himself up as the “true vocal talent” of the group. Having heard Seokmin sing just a few weeks back, you couldn’t help but feel defensive on his behalf. 

Once everyone’s settled, drinks start flowing freely. The first few songs are cautious, each of you easing into the familiar, buzzing rhythm of karaoke night. But as the night goes on, any sense of shyness melts away in the glow of pulsing lights and laughter.

Seokmin watches with undeniable fondness as you and Seungkwan bicker over song selections, and he tries not to grin too widely when he catches you belting out the lyrics with Soonyoung during a duet. 

At some point, he notices how naturally you fit with his friends—the way you make Seungkwan laugh with a remark about his questionable song choices, or how you nod along enthusiastically as Soonyoung gives a dramatic toast, proclaiming you as “one of them now.” For Seokmin, it’s everything he hadn’t realized he wanted: his closest friends getting along with you.

As the night hums along, Seokmin picks up the microphone, sending you a lopsided, slightly tipsy smile that makes your heart flutter before selecting a song. His choice surprises you—it’s one of those classic ballads that’s probably too high for anyone but the original singer to sing. The melody starts slow, and his voice flows soft and easy, but with a control that reminds you just how talented he really is. You practically feel your admiration soar, and as you watch him, his hazy, glossed over eyes settle on you. 

Every so often, he adds a bit of exaggerated flair, trying to coax a laugh out of you, playfully stretching out the notes or adding dramatic hand gestures to match the lyrics. It’s impossible not to smile, and you feel yourself relax as his antics draw you in. The song suddenly feels a little less serious, a little more fun, as he throws in a wink here, a knowing grin there.

As he finishes, you clap, unable to hide your smile. "You know," you say, a little breathless, "it’s honestly unfair that you’re this good."

He laughs, cheeks pink from both the praise and the drinks. “What can I say? Talent just comes naturally,” he jokes, a little bolder, that playful gleam returning to his eyes. Then he looks at you, his expression softening. “How about we do one together?”

“Oh no,” you protest with a laugh, shaking your head, “I can’t follow that.”

“Come on,” he coaxes, handing you a microphone and grabbing you by your hand to pull you to your feet,  “I’ll sing the verses, you can handle the chorus. It'll be easy.”

With a mix of reluctance and excitement, both of which mix together with the alcohol in your system, you take the mic, scrolling through songs until you settle on something you both know—The music starts, and the two of you exchange a grin before starting.

At first, you both sing a little awkwardly, tipsy laughter interrupting every other line as you stumble over the lyrics and try not to trip over each other’s parts. But as the song goes on, you find a rhythm, and every so often, Seokmin leans into the mic to harmonize with you, his voice blending with yours. By the end, you’re both laughing, the microphones forgotten as you clutch your sides and stumble around, out of breath and giddy.

Seokmin looks at you, eyes bright, face flushed, smile so wide that you could count his teeth if you wanted to. He reaches out, touching your hand ever so lightly, his fingers warm and steady. “You did amazing,” he says, voice soft, his smile a little shy despite everything.

“Likewise,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you that’s more than just the drinks. And as you both sit there, you realize that there’s other people in the room. 

Before you even have time to catch your breath, Soonyoung jumps up, grabbing the microphone. “Move over!” he declares with a grin, completely ignoring the indignant look Seungkwan shoots at him as he stands up to join him. “It’s duet time for real now.”

Seungkwan, rolling his eyes, snatches the other mic and leans in with a smirk. “Prepare yourselves. You two are about to be outshined.” He cues up a song with exaggerated flair, and the upbeat tune starts, loud and impossible to take seriously as they start belting the opening lines completely off-time.

“They’re usually better than this,” Seokmin tells you, “especially Seungkwan. I think it’s the alcohol.” 

You laugh as you watch the pair start to coordinate with each other, finally managing to sing to the beat of the song. 

“It’s good!” You argue, “Are you all just super talented?” 

Seungkwan’s voice suddenly cuts through, loudly. “Hey! I can’t hear myself over you two!” He shoots you both a look, his mock glare breaking into a grin as Soonyoung pulls him back to belt out the chorus.

Seokmin shakes his head, laughing as he leans in closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “I warned you about them, didn’t I?” he says, his voice soft, he’s close enough that you feel his breath beside you, gaze lingering as he speaks. He’s a little past the point of tipsy, cheeks and nose slightly flushed, but somehow the hazy glow of the karaoke lights makes him look even softer, easier to smile at.

You giggle, feeling a little light-headed yourself, but whether it’s from the drinks or the warmth radiating between the two of you, you’re not entirely sure. Your eyes subconsciously bat at him as they trace his features, tugging at his heartstrings as Soonyoung and Seungkwan sing with wild abandon in the background.

Seokmin’s arm rests casually on the back of the booth behind you. “You know,” he murmurs, leaning just a bit closer, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The words are simple, but somehow they send a warmth spreading through you, making the whole room seem to slow down. “Me too,” you say, a little shy but meeting his gaze, feeling that same unspoken something settle around you.

Then, somewhere between another toast and Soonyoung’s next drink, things start to get a little fuzzy for him. Soonyoung has, predictably, taken things a bit too far, eyes glazed as he sways to the music, occasionally belting out lyrics that don’t match the song on screen. Seungkwan sighs knowingly, standing and giving Seokmin a helpless shrug. “I’m taking him home before he tries to start chugging Soju.” He nods at you, adding with a smirk, “Good luck with this one.” And then, with a wave, they’re gone, leaving the two of you in the dimly lit room, half-empty drinks scattered on the table.

Alone with you now, Seokmin’s pulse races, the soft glow of tipsiness making him feel both bold and nervous. The room feels quieter, somehow more intimate, with just the two of you here. He reaches for the remote, scrolling through song choices, trying to keep his eyes on the screen and not on the way you’re leaning back on the couch, your gaze drifting over to him with a glint he can’t quite decipher.

“Do you want to pick the last one?” he asks, his voice a little more shy than he intended.

You smile, shrugging casually, but he doesn’t miss the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Only if you promise not to laugh if I butcher it.”

He grins, feeling his own face warm. “I make no promises,” he teases. But there’s something in his gaze—a hint of anticipation that he can’t quite hide, even if he tries.

As you start singing, he watches, captivated by the way you let loose, tipsy confidence making you bolder. The words are a little off-key, your voice rising and falling with the tempo, but to him, it’s perfect. When you’re finished, he can’t help but clap, cheering as if he’s at a concert.

“You sounded amazing,” he says, his voice softer than the playful bravado he’d intended. He feels a little too exposed under your gaze, a little too aware of just how close you’re sitting. 

“Thank you, thank you,” you reply with an exaggerated bow, but your eyes linger on his a little longer than they should, and the tension between you feels thick, heavy with possibility. 

He clears his throat, laughing nervously. “You’re going to put me out of a job with that voice.” But his words sound almost sincere.

There’s a lull in the conversation, a quiet beat where neither of you says anything, just looking at each other, the warmth of the drinks and the moment settling over both of you. You move a little closer, your knee brushing against his, and Seokmin swears he feels his heart stutter.

“Seokmin,” you say, voice barely a whisper, eyes bright with that boldness that only alcohol can provide.

“Yeah?” His voice comes out breathier than he intended, and he has to resist the urge to reach for your hand.

You smile, almost shyly, but there’s a warmth in your gaze that reassures him. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. I had… a really great time.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours. His hand, almost on instinct, drifts a little closer to yours, his fingers brushing against your knuckles.

As you step out of the karaoke bar, the cool night air feels refreshing, and Seokmin falls into an easy rhythm beside you. The streets are quiet, the lights soft and glowing, casting a warm hue on everything around you. He insists on walking you home, and you can see a bit of that familiar determination in his expression—a mix of sweetness and subtle nerves, the kind that makes him even harder not to smile at.

The two of you talk softly as you walk, laughter spilling into the night as you recount moments from earlier, but the conversation drifts into a quiet calm. Seokmin feels a little tipsy, though he knows it’s not solely the drinks making him feel this way. It’s the warmth in your laugh, the way your gaze lights up when you look at him. Everything feels a little brighter, softer, like the world’s colors are blurring into a hazy glow.

Eventually, you pause, looking over at the buildings below the hill you’ve climbed, and above them, the faint sparkle of stars cutting through the city’s glow. Seokmin stops beside you, following your gaze, but when he looks back down, it’s not the skyline he’s mesmerized by. It’s you, standing there with that quiet, contemplative look in your eyes.

At that moment, he’s overwhelmed. Something about this night, this moment, feels like a dream—one he’s afraid might slip away if he blinks too long. He wants to say something, to tell you how lovely you look standing there, bathed in city lights. He can feel his heart pounding. He’s been trying to find the right words for some time now, something that could capture the feeling building up in his chest when he’s with you. He’s not sure if it’s the night, the laughter still echoing in his mind, or just the way you’re looking up at the sky. Before he can overthink himself out of it, he takes a breath and speaks, his voice just a little unsteady. “You know… you look beautiful right now.”

It’s the first time he’s said something so openly to you, and he can feel his cheeks heat up the second the words are out. You turn to him, a bit taken aback, your eyes wide with surprise before a smile slowly spreads across your face, soft and a little shy.

The moment stretches between you, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to fill it with laughter or play it off. He’s content just looking at you, watching that glow in your eyes as his words settle in. 

A soft laugh escapes you, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down for a second before glancing back up at him. “I was going to say the same about you.”

He can’t help but laugh, his own nervousness melting away a little. You both stand there, caught in the gentle pull between you, feeling a little bolder, a little lighter.

When you start walking again, his hand brushes against yours, and this time he doesn’t pull away, letting his fingers linger close enough that if you reached out, they’d intertwine. It’s a simple gesture, but it says everything he’s been holding back, and as you walk together through the quiet streets, he knows something has shifted.

The stone path thuds beneath your footsteps, clumsy and unsteady as you both navigate the uneven terrain, sharing quiet laughter over your shared lack of coordination. Seokmin, glancing down, suddenly stops.

"Look!" he says, his finger pointing at a small penny on the ground, glinting faintly in the light. “What’s this doing all the way out here? Take it. For good luck.”

You shake your head, amused, and explain, “It’s only good luck if it’s face up when you find it.”

“Ah.” Seokmin considers this, then immediately drops into a crouch, carefully flipping the coin over so Lincoln’s head is proudly facing the sky. He straightens up with a grin as if he’s just accomplished something important.

“What’d you do that for?” you ask, your tone laced with affection.

“Now someone else can have good luck,” he replies.

You feel something warm tug at you in response, watching him as he stands there, content with his small gesture of kindness.  Suddenly, you see very clearly the kind of person Lee Seokmin is. It’s so like him—turning even the smallest, most mundane thing into something significant. As he begins walking ahead, you linger just a moment, looking back at the coin on the ground, then up at him.

You don’t move to follow him. Seokmin halts, slightly startled, his gaze questioning as he glances at you. But before he can ask why, you step closer, closing the space between you. You’re both quiet, caught in a bubble of giddy anticipation, his eyes searching yours, wide with surprise. And then, without a word, you reach up, resting a hand lightly on his chest, and lean in.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like everything else falls away, replaced by a feeling that’s as soft as it is electric. He lets out a small, breathless laugh amidst his shock, hands stuck to his sides as your mouth presses to his.

When you pull back, you find him grinning, a little dazed, his eyes bright with surprise. Then he closes the space again, meeting your lips in another kiss, quick but more eager, like he’s savoring the feeling.

And then another. His hand drifts to your waist, drawing you in just a little closer each time your lips meet, each kiss growing a little bolder, a little sweeter, until the space between you disappears entirely. By the fourth kiss, his fingers have settled at the small of your back, warm and sure, and this time he lingers, letting the kiss deepen. It’s slow, unhurried, something unknown flooding through him as he feels your hand slide up to cup his cheek, tilting his face toward you so you can taste his mouth with ease.

You both feel a little unsteady, leaning into each other for balance, your hands anchoring each other as the world spins quietly around you. His heart races, thrumming against yours, and there’s a shy smile on his face when he finally pulls away, keeping his forehead close to yours, his eyes searching yours, dazed and happy and overcome with affection.

“I… I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice a little unsteady but full of quiet excitement.

“I wasn’t planning it,” you admit, your cheeks flushed, but you don’t pull away, savoring the closeness.

For a moment, you both just stand there, eyes locked, breaths mingling in the cool night air, as if tethered to each other by an invisible string. Then, without thinking, you lean back in, your lips finding his once more. This time, there's no hesitation, no pause, just a shared need to be close—as close as possible. His hands tighten at your waist, pulling you in with a touch that’s both careful and desperate, as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

He lets out a quiet laugh against your lips, a sound that’s soft and breathless. It makes you laugh too, and you pull back for a moment, catching your breath, only to find his lips chasing after yours again. There’s something almost frantic in the way you keep returning to each other, like you’re both overwhelmed by the discovery of this closeness, unable to let it end just yet.

His hand moves gently to the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel the tenderness in his touch, in the way he’s holding onto you. 

His voice is barely a whisper, warm and a little breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His words, shy and sincere, only pull you closer. Hand in hand, you start walking, the quiet night around you filled only by the soft sounds of your steps. He keeps his grip loose, fingers intertwined with yours, thumb brushing along the side of your hand as if he can’t bear to let go ever again. You walk in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering touches, both of you stealing glances, unable to stop smiling.

Every so often, he pauses, as if some thread is tugging him back to you. He leans in to press a brief kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw, reeling over the way your eyes flutter closed from the feeling, and before you know it, his lips are back on yours. You laugh against his mouth, feeling both light-headed and grounded in a way that’s wholly new and otherworldly. He pulls back with a grin, his eyes crinkling, looking both bashful and thrilled, like he can’t believe this is real. You’re unreal, you have to be. A fabrication of his imagination, so delicate, so perfect, so you. 

As you continue walking, his arm slips around your shoulders, drawing you closer to his side. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and the quiet contentment that settles over you feels as natural as breathing. When he stumbles slightly, you catch him, and he grins sheepishly, pulling you close again in a half-hug that turns into yet another kiss.

“I might never get home at this point,” You say breathlessly.

“Would that be so bad?” Each word is mumbled into your mouth as his fingers weave into your hair, holding the back of your neck and letting his tongue shyly lick your bottom lip. 

The hum that you let out, either as a response to his rhetorical question or his tongue now moving against yours, makes his head spin. Your nails, raking down his chest over the material of his shirt, your hips pressing to his—it’s all too much and at the same time, not enough. 

The closer you get to your doorstep, the slower your steps become, as if prolonging the walk will somehow stretch this night just a little further. Every so often, Seokmin pulls you close, and you laugh as he wraps an arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, each one deeper and more unhurried than the last. 

Neither of you speak, as if words would break the fragile spell cast over the night. Instead, you stand there, wrapped up in each other, exchanging soft, dizzying kisses that grow lazier, more lingering. 

There’s a pause, a beat of hesitation, as he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes warm and soft, and he murmurs, “I should probably let you go.” But even as he says it, his hand remains on your cheek as if he’s not quite ready to leave.

“Probably,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his, but neither of you moves. It takes a moment, maybe two, before he reluctantly lets out a quiet laugh and pulls away, his hand slipping from your cheek to squeeze your hand, holding onto you just a moment longer. He gives you one last look, filled with a warmth and tenderness that leaves you breathless.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asks softly, already a few steps down the hall, as though he’s hoping for just one more promise to look forward to.

“Soon,” you reply, his gaze lingering on you as he walks away. You watch him go, the warmth of his kisses still lingering, the last few moments of the night settling over you as you turn to head inside, feeling light, tipsy, and wonderfully, utterly alive.

[click here to continue]

[holdinbacksecrets]

can we please get nervous reader staying overnight at seventeens house please for fake texts?

thank you for requesting!

seventeen boyfriend texts: nervous reader spending the night - jeonghan, seokmin, mingyu

[babyleostuff]

─ meaning of pet names w/ lee seokmin 𝜗𝜚 hc's under the cut

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ sunshine

whether you are a sunshine or not, seriously - you can be the biggest black cat to ever cat, to seokmin you’re still the biggest sunshine there is. he sees you as his personal, little ray of sun because you are the one to light up his gloomy days and you are the one that gives him this fuzzy feeling of warmth and comfort. the pet name feels just so right for you, he loves it so much, truly. he adores how naturally it rolls off his tongue, seokmin genuinely sometimes forgets you have a government name.

„hi, sunshine”

„sunshine, come here” (insert: whiny tone)

„how was your day, sunshine?”

nothing can stop seokmin from viewing you as his sunshine.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ baby

another pet name that makes his heart beat a bit faster whenever he uses it. it's so tender, loving and gentle, and that's exactly what seokmin wants to convey with his words. for some reason, he uses it the most when he's either sleepy or when he's extra whiny, the word "baby" just feels so natural then. besides, you are his baby, so...

if you, for example, take too much time on your night time routine in the bathroom, it's guaranteed that seokmin will whine at some point for you to hurry up, so you can cuddle, and he will use the word "baby" at least ten times.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ your name / any shortened version of your name

to seokmin, your name is the prettiest name to ever exist and as much as he loves using the pet names, your real name is like a pet name in itself. usually, when people say your name, you don't feel much, because, well - it's only your name. but when seokmin says it... he does it with so much love and adoration and it never fails to make you melt on the spot.

another thing he does very often is shortening your name to any kind of nickname he can possibly come up with. sometimes they don't make much sense, but he loves to call you them regardless.

now, we know seokmin can get into a menace-y mood from time to time and that's exactly how he'd tease you - with the made up, cutified nicknames that more often than not drive you crazy.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEOKMIN INCLUDES…. — sfw

• loud, loud, LOUD mornings.

• he will definitely wake you up by singing.

• you bought him a karaoke machine for his birthday one year and you really, really regret it.

• he notices even the slightest change in your mood and voice — he typically becomes a worry wart after this and wracks his head for things he could have possibly done to piss you off.

• lets out a huge sigh of relief when he realizes it has nothing to do with him.

• he will a hundred percent drag you out of the house to play baseball with him.

• he doesn't laugh at you when you aim the ball the wrong way and teaches you instead.

• y’all order pizza A LOT.

• people may call him sunshine as a nickname, but you're HIS sunshine.

• his happiness is contagious so whenever he's around, you always seem to be in a good mood.

• has random moments in which he serenades you.

• one year for your birthday he asked woozi to help him write a song for you — it was truly one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done.

• he ALWAYS sends you a good morning and good night text.

• he would drop anything for you — he would rather be with you twenty-four seven anyways.

• dokyeom will NEVER catch an attitude with you. he absolutely refuses to take his anger out on you, especially if you have nothing to do with the situation.

• whenever he's on tour he's constantly thinking of you. he has no control and ends up coming back with a bunch of trinkets from different countries as gifts.

• whenever you seem him it's like all your problems and worries immediately vanish into thin air, he is your comfort person.

• if you asked for a piggy back ride, he could have a broken leg and still would not care — whatever his princess wants, she's going to get.

• he's the type to promise to protect you before going through a haunted house together, but then ends up hiding behind you and using you as a shield the entire time.

• whenever you scold him or get angry, he always looks like a kicked puppy and it has you immediately feeling guilty afterwards.

• dokyeom would be the kind of guy who would watch romcoms with you and actually enjoy them.

• he LOVE, LOVE, LOVES to hold hands.

• you have never felt so admired and loved in your entire life until you got into a relationship with him.

• dokyeom remembers everything about you, no matter how simple or little.

• he would show genuine interest in your hobbies — if you like ballet he would insist on taking a class with you, if you like to swim he would recommend taking a beach trip, if you like to read then he will read an entire series within a few days just so you can talk to him about it.

• you two say "i love you" about a hundred times a day.

• you can tell him absolutely anything because you know he would never judge you or see you in a different light.

• he gives you a lot of reassurance and is constantly making sure you feel good about yourself.

• if you cry then he for sure might tear up or cry with you. seeing you in such a state breaks his heart.

• he was SO SO SO nervous when meeting your parents for the first time that he showed up in a suit and tie to a barbecue — you definitely make fun of him for it to this day.

• he's so in tune and sensitive to your feelings. he never wants to hurt you in any way and always thinks before he speaks.

• whenever you two get into arguments, it is over rather quickly. you both agree that you two would rather spend the night cuddled up on the couch together than sleeping back to back in the bed with complete silence.

[chheolie]

dad seokmin forgot to keep his promise

seokmin was having one of those days where he planned to spend the entire afternoon entertaining his son with the most outlandish games he could think of. full of enthusiasm, he turned on the toy fire truck, which started zooming across the floor with its lights flashing and siren echoing throughout the room.

"look at this, buddy!" he exclaimed, excitedly, calling his little one over to watch the toy in action.

but to his surprise, his son, sitting on the floor with a surprisingly firm look, just crossed his arms and put on an expression that looked way too serious for a three-year-old. his little lips pushed out into a dramatic pout, as if he was experiencing the worst day of his life.

seokmin raised an eyebrow, confused, trying to decipher the unexpected reaction.

“is he mad about something? or maybe he just doesn’t like fire trucks anymore?” he thought, watching his son curiously.

determined to keep trying, he brought the truck closer and attempted to get him excited again.

"let’s put out the fire, son!" he said in an upbeat tone, waving the toy from side to side, trying to make it as fun as possible.

to his complete shock, the little boy, still with his pout intact, kicked the truck with his chubby foot, sending it sliding across the rug until it bumped against the couch leg. the kid’s angry face only grew, and the pout? somehow, it looked even bigger.

seokmin had to try really hard not to laugh. he felt his lips tremble with the urge to let out a chuckle, but he held it back. he didn’t want to make his little one any more upset.

"okay, my love… you don’t want to play with the fire truck," seokmin said in a softer, more paternal tone. "how about we go for a walk outside?" he suggested, smiling as if it was the most amazing idea ever.

the boy looked at his dad with a mix of disapproval and stubbornness, then turned his face away, crossing his arms even tighter.

seokmin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling clueless. he tried everything he could think of – he even offered to go outside and watch the “big trucks” his son usually loved to see, but nothing worked. feeling at a loss and a little desperate, he finally picked up his phone to call for help from the real expert: his wife.

with quick fingers, he typed a message, and soon his phone buzzed with a reply.

seokmin: babe, help.

he saw the typing bubbles pop up and then the message appeared.

seokmin: i think i just became our son’s number one enemy. 😩😩

y/n: 🤨 really? why?

seokmin: he won’t talk to me. won’t play with his favorite fire truck, doesn’t even want to go outside…

y/n: did you ask him why? maybe it’s something important

seokmin: babe… he’s only three. how’s he supposed to know how to explain what he’s feeling? 🥺

y/n: 🙄 ASK HIM, seokmin.

seokmin was ready to finally fix the situation, but he couldn’t resist asking his son one more time, now that the little boy seemed a bit less upset.

"son, did daddy do something wrong? why are you so upset?" he gently held his son’s tiny shoulders. "is there anything daddy can do to make you not be mad anymore?"

the little boy looked at him, still pouting, and said in a slightly teary voice, "you… you pwomised… stwawbewwy ice cweam… and you fowgot!"

seokmin had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter. of course, it was about food! and he vaguely remembered mentioning something about ice cream the night before, but with all the excitement and games, he’d completely forgotten.

"oh, son… i’m really sorry! daddy forgot about the ice cream!"

seokmin quickly grabbed his phone and texted his wife, almost as if he needed her to witness what he’d just discovered.

seokmin: babe, he said it

seokmin: i promised him strawberry ice cream after lunch, can you believe it? 😩😩

almost immediately, her reply came in.

y/n: really? i’m a witness.

seokmin: i forgot i’d promised that 😳

seokmin: but… how could he remember that? he’s just a baby!

y/n: he’s your son, seokmin. your legacy: selective memory for sweets and pizza.

seokmin: 😅😅😅😅😅

y/n: give him his ice cream before he packs his bag to run away from home.

laughing at the thought of his son packing a bag and searching for a new home that took ice cream promises seriously, seokmin headed to the kitchen to prepare the long-awaited treat. he grabbed a small bowl, added a few scoops of strawberry ice cream, and went all out: strawberry syrup, colorful sprinkles, and of course, a cherry on top. he carried the bowl back to the living room like it was a trophy, still imagining which uncle his son might ask for refuge with. maybe vernon? surely he wouldn’t forget a promise.

"here it is, buddy! your strawberry ice cream, with everything you deserve!"

the little boy, now with bright eyes, immediately dropped his pout and grabbed the bowl with both tiny hands, amazed by what he saw.

"yummy!" he said, fully focused on the ice cream and visibly happy.

seokmin crouched down beside him and asked hopefully, "so… do you forgive me for forgetting?"

the child nodded, but he was so engrossed in the ice cream that seokmin wasn’t sure if the forgiveness was genuine or just temporary. the ice cream was clearly priority number one.

he quickly sent another message to y/n.

seokmin: he forgave me…

seokmin: but i’m not sure we’re totally okay yet… i think his heart’s still divided between the ice cream and the grudge.

y/n: hahaha, i’m glad for you, babe.

seokmin watched as his son enjoyed the ice cream, and with each spoonful, the little boy let out a happy “mmm!” while seokmin watched, relieved to have made things right.

when his little one finished, he held up the empty bowl and grinned.

"was it good?" seokmin asked, smiling back at him.

"good, good!" he replied with his sweet little voice and eyes shining with joy.

suddenly, the boy got up, handed the bowl back to seokmin without much ceremony, and ran over to the fire truck still sitting on the floor.

"wooo woo woo woo!" he started imitating the fire truck siren with excitement, waving his dad over to join the game.

seokmin wasted no time. he ran to the kitchen to put the bowl down and, in seconds, was back in the living room, ready for the new mission to save the world. he pretended to put on an invisible firefighter helmet and gave his son a salute.

"firefighter seokmin reporting for duty!" he announced with a determined, goofy expression. "what’s the emergency, chief?"

his son held onto the toy truck, looking at him with serious little eyes.

"fire! big fire! daddy, come!" he shouted, running around the room with the truck while seokmin followed, pretending to turn on a siren.

the house transformed into a "fire station," and the two of them spent the next several minutes saving stuffed animals from the imaginary blaze.

seokmin: babe, we’re friends again

seokmin: we’re playing firefighters

y/n: alright, mr. firefighter, don’t make promises you won’t remember to keep

seokmin: 🫡🫡🫡

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: Do Stars Collapse Into Black Holes, Or Fall Into Something Unknown? Pairing: TA!Seokmin x TA!gn!reader Genre: uni au, rivals to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn romance Wordcount: 7.7k Rating: PG 15

Synopsis: Starting your second year of your master’s degree in astrophysics, and your first year as a TA, you were stressed enough - but the universe knows no bounds for your suffering. Seokmin, your handsome and annoyingly smart classmate, just had to become your colleague. As if you weren’t hard on yourself already, Seokmin’s presence only proved to fuel your self-loathing. But does he hate you too, or do you need to open your eyes and come back down to Earth?

Warnings: angst, mentions of stress, academic pressure, self-conciousness

A/N: this is a collab by @gyuswhore and @highvern! thank you to @gyuswhore for helping me with planning for and reading through this fic! see the Back to School masterlist here!

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

Join my taglist // Masterlists

Seokmin stood outside his supervisor’s slightly open door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The questions he had written down in his notebook were now floating around in his mind, lingering at the tip of his tongue. The golden light of the August sun filtered through the tall windows, casting long, cool shadows on the polished linoleum floor. He had come here to discuss a few pressing issues with his thesis, but as he approached, he heard a familiar voice from within the office.

Your voice.

Seokmin knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but curiosity got the better of him. He inched closer, careful not to let his presence be known. The door was left slightly ajar, and Seokmin decided to peek through it. Through the narrow gap, he saw you sitting opposite the professor, your posture tense, hands fidgeting with the edge of your notebook. It was how he saw you most of the time, other than the few times he would see you in the library - then, your shoulders were always relaxed, your nose was in a book so big that Seokmin seriously worried for the librarian’s back, and your eyes made it seem like you were in a different dimension, completely focused.

“What do you think about becoming my TA for the undergraduate class this semester?” the professor asked, his tone encouraging yet firm.

You hesitated, your eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. “I’m not sure, Professor. I mean, I have my thesis to focus on, and I’m not sure if I can handle the extra responsibility.”

The professor leaned back in his chair, a patient smile on his face. “I understand your concerns, but I believe this experience could be invaluable for your academic and professional growth. Plus, you’ve always been one of my top students. I have faith in your abilities, you should too.”

After a moment of silence, you nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Seokmin's mind raced. This was an unexpected development. He had always admired you from afar—you're beautiful, absolutely, but more importantly he admired your dedication and your passion for astrophysics—but he never had a reason to interact closely with you. Until now.

An idea sparked in his mind. If you were going to be a TA, maybe he could be one too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to be near you, to finally break the ice.

Just as you started gathering your things to leave, Seokmin quickly moved back, pressing himself against the wall to avoid being seen. You walked out of the office, your face a mixture of apprehension and determination. You don’t see him.

Seokmin took a deep breath, steeling himself. Any thoughts of his thesis vanished as he stepped forward and knocked lightly on the open door.

“Come in,” the professor called out.

Seokmin entered the room, his heart pounding in his chest. “Professor, do you have a moment?”

The professor looked up, a hint of surprise crossing his features. “Of course, Seokmin. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if there are any open TA positions for this semester,” Seokmin said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I think it could be a great learning experience for me, especially if I decide to continue on my academic career after graduation.”

The professor's eyebrows rose in mild surprise, but he quickly nodded. “As a matter of fact, there is an opening… and I appreciate your initiative. I’ll put you with one of my other students for the undergrad course in astrophysics. The other TA was worried about it, I’m sure they’ll appreciate your help.”

Seokmin couldn't help but smile. This was his chance—not only to assist in the course but to get to know you better. As he left the office, he felt a sense of excitement bubbling within him. The semester was about to get a lot more interesting.

You step into the classroom on your first day as a TA, and a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through you. The room is bright and spacious, with large windows letting in the morning light. The faint smell of chalk and old books fills the air. A smile appears on your face as you take it all in. Although you were nervous, this was your dream– or at least one step on the way to it. You set down your bag and begin organizing the materials for the lecture, trying to focus on the tasks at hand to calm your racing thoughts.

As you arrange the papers on the desk, you hear the door creak open behind you. Turning around, you're surprised to see Seokmin walk in, a confident smile on his face. He looks perfectly put together with his glasses on the tip of his nose, his button-down neatly tucked into his trousers, and his hair adorably messy. His presence catches you off guard, and you feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. You had seen him around before, always talking with someone in a way that you could never execute. People often told you, when you confided in them about your awkwardness, that people who were good at academics often had a harder time socially. Therefore, Seokmin stood out to you as an enigma - a goal that you could never meet. An irritating paradox of a human.

“Hey,” he says casually, setting his own bag down and pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I—uh, the professor asked me to be his TA,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “What about you?”

“Same here,” Seokmin says, his smile widening. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

You force a smile in return, but inside, a sense of dread begins to build. Working with Seokmin is not what you had anticipated - and not what you needed.

As the students start to file into the classroom, you watch Seokmin with growing unease. He moves through the room with an easy grace, greeting the students warmly and making small talk with them. His confidence is palpable, and it sets you on edge.

In contrast, you feel more reserved, and your interactions with the students are much more subdued. You can’t help but compare yourself to Seokmin, feeling a pang of jealousy at how effortlessly he seems to connect with everyone.

When the professor arrives, he announces to the students what the course material is and the TAs tasks are for the semester. Seokmin is given the more engaging responsibilities: leading study groups, assisting with experiments, and even giving a few lectures. You, on the other hand, are assigned the more mundane tasks like grading papers and organizing materials.

As the professor continues to outline the responsibilities, you wonder why your professor ever even asked you to become a TA. Seokmin catches your eye and gives you a friendly nod, but you can't bring yourself to return the gesture. He’s been handed all the opportunities you had hoped for. While you aren’t much for small talk, you know that you could hold a lecture–talking about the subject you love most in life in front of eager listeners is all that you want.

The classroom buzzes with anticipation as Professor Jeon prepares for the next segment of the lecture. Today, he’s promised a demonstration, and everyone is eager to see what it would be. The whiteboard is filled with complex diagrams and equations, and the projector displays an intricate star map.

“Alright, everyone, I need a volunteer,” Professor Jeon announces, scanning the room. His eyes twinkle with enthusiasm behind his glasses. Most of the students are sitting still in their chair, their eyes revealing worry—as if the slightest movement would make the professor turn and pick them out of the rest.

Desperate to prove yourself, you step forward without having heard much of what the professor had said. “I can help with that, Professor,” you say, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Professor Jeon smiles warmly. “Excellent. You’ll be representing a star in our demonstration.”

You take your place at the front, slightly confused over what he was doing. The room feels larger and the students’ eyes heavier as they focus on you. Seokmin watches with interest, leaning back in his chair with a curious grin.

“Now,” Professor Jeon continues, positioning you in the center of the room, “imagine that our TA here is a star in a distant galaxy.”

Seokmin can’t resist. “Look at you, shining bright like a star!” he calls out, his voice filled with mock admiration. The class erupts into chuckles, the tension easing slightly.

You shake it off and try to stay focused on the demonstration. Professor Jeon continues, explaining how stars form, their life cycles, and how they interact with other celestial bodies, using you as the centerpiece of his explanations. He moves around you, gesturing animatedly as he describes the various phases of a star’s life.

“Stars, like our volunteer here, go through stages of birth, life, and death,” he explains, pointing to you as he illustrates each phase. “From a protostar to a main-sequence star, and eventually, to a supernova or a black hole.”

Professor Jeon continues to explain the star's relation to other galactic entities, bringing up other students—now less nervous because of your contribution—to play different roles.

Throughout the rest of the lecture, Seokmin continued to refer to you as “Star.” After the class, you stay behind to organize the materials for grading. Seokmin approaches you, a friendly smile still on his face. “Need any help with that, Star?”

“I’ve got it,” you say a bit too quickly, trying to hide your frustration. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem,” Seokmin replies, still smiling. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

You nod curtly and turn back to your work, your mind racing. He continues to complete his own tasks before saying goodbye and leaving. How could someone who seems so perfect be so infuriating? As you stack the papers, you can’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that his presence seems to amplify. Your resentment deepens, fueling a sense of rivalry that you know will only make the semester more challenging.

As you leave the classroom, you take a deep breath, trying to push aside your negative thoughts. But one thing is clear: working with Seokmin is going to be anything but easy.

Seokmin loved the first day of the semester. It was a fresh start, a new opportunity to connect with eager minds—not to mention that he got to work by your side. When he first saw you as he opened the door the the lecture hall he found himself feeling giddy for the first time in a while.

As he moved through the classroom, he made a point to greet the students, asking about their summer and what they hoped to learn this year. His easygoing nature made the students feel at ease, and soon enough, the room was filled with animated chatter.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Seokmin asked one student, who responded enthusiastically about something you couldn’t hear. He laughed and shared a quick, similar story of his own, making the students laugh as well.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you watching, a look of mixed emotions on your face. Seokmin wanted to include you, to make sure you didn’t feel left out. He knew how important it was for TAs to present a united front to the students.

“Hey, why don’t you tell them about that interesting project you worked on last semester? I’m sure they want to know what they could be doing in the future,” Seokmin suggested, turning to you with a smile.

You gave a brief, awkward nod and explained the project, but Seokmin sensed your discomfort. He tried to be supportive, but it seemed to make things worse. Nevertheless, he tried to seamlessly blend your short story with one of his own – taking away the attention from you.

Throughout the week, Seokmin continued his efforts to include you in discussions and tasks. While preparing for a lecture, he turned to you to share your insights.

“What do you think about this theory?” he asked, genuinely curious about your perspective.

You responded with a terse, “It’s interesting,” before quickly diverting back to your own tasks, having barely looked at what he was referring to.

Seokmin furrowed his brow, confusion clouding his eyes. “Have you really considered the implications of this? I’d love to hear more about what you think.”

You sighed, sensing his persistence. “I told you, it’s interesting,” you repeated, hoping he would take the hint.

Seokmin couldn’t understand why his attempts to include you were met with such resistance. He genuinely respected your intelligence and wanted to collaborate. He knew that the professor told him not to stress you out with lectures, but he couldn’t picture you as the type to get stressed out about talking about your thesis topic. Especially not when he had offered to take on the responsibilities that he thought would be the hardest for you to do. Nevertheless, every time he reached out, he felt like he was hitting a wall, further complicating the dynamic between you.

“Is everything okay?” he ventured cautiously, concern lacing his voice. “You seem... distant.”

You paused, looking up from your notes for the first time. “I appreciate your help, Seokmin, really. But I work better alone. It’s just how I am.”

He nodded slowly, trying to process your words. “I understand that, but teamwork is also important. We could achieve so much more together.”

“Maybe,” you conceded, “but I need to focus right now. Please.”

Seokmin sighed, reluctantly stepping back. “Alright. Just know that I’m here if you need anything.”

You nodded, grateful for his understanding but still feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you. As Seokmin walked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration and confusion. He respected your need for independence, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was more to your resistance than just a preference for working alone.

The library had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could immerse yourself in your work without distractions. Other than the librarian, Jeonghan, you didn’t have to speak to many people there–and talking to Jeonghan was hardly a difficult task for you. Although he acted as if he hated you for always asking him to bring out the “biggest and dustiest books he had ever seen,” you knew very well that he enjoyed your presence. But lately, even this haven was being invaded by Seokmin. Every time you saw him, he seemed perfectly at ease, balancing his research and TA duties with an effortless grace that you envied.

One evening, you walked into the library, your mind preoccupied with the growing pile of tasks. As you made your way to your usual spot, you saw Seokmin at a nearby table, surrounded by a stack of books and papers. He looked up and smiled warmly.

“Hey, how’s it going? How’s your thesis coming along?” he asked, his tone casual.

You forced a tight smile and replied, “It’s fine, thanks.” Inside, his question felt like a reminder of your own struggles, and it irritated you that he seemed to handle everything so easily.

Seokmin’s presence, once a minor annoyance, was becoming a constant source of irritation. His casual greetings and questions about your progress felt intrusive like he was keeping tabs on you. You tried to focus on your work, but his presence loomed large, a constant reminder of your perceived inadequacies.

During a late afternoon, as you were going to the professor’s office, you overheard a conversation that stopped you in your tracks. The door was slightly ajar, and the professor’s voice carried into the hallway.

“Seokmin has been doing an outstanding job,” the professor said. “His work ethic is impressive, and his contributions to the class are invaluable.”

You felt a pang of jealousy and frustration. Hearing the professor praise Seokmin so effusively only intensified your feelings of inadequacy and rivalry. It felt like no matter how hard you worked, you were always a step behind, always overshadowed by Seokmin’s achievements. It wasn’t like you could do something about it – the professor never allowed you to show what you were truly capable of. During the times that he had offered for you to hold lectures or seminars, Seokmin came in and took the opportunity away from you. The most you had managed to do was hold a few study groups, and it was only when Seokmin had been away.

As you walked away, your mind raced with thoughts of how to prove yourself, and how to step out of Seokmin’s shadow. The rivalry that had been simmering under the surface was now boiling over, driving you to work even harder, even if it meant pushing yourself to the brink.

The library was dimly lit, the scent of old books mingling with the sterile tang of late-night coffee. Although you appreciated Jeonghan letting you borrow the coffee machine in the librarian’s office, it truly tasted horrible–you were convinced the only reason Jeonghan liked it was that he poured in at least two packets of sugar in his cup. Around you, stacks of papers towered like miniature skyscrapers, each one a testament to the endless stream of work that flooded your life.

Grading papers had become a nightly ritual, sandwiched between frantic attempts to wrangle your thesis into coherence. The weight of it all pressed down on your shoulders like an invisible burden, threatening to suffocate any semblance of calm. Meanwhile, Seokmin got to have the job with all the glory and all the fun – at this point, you were starting to question if your professor had something out for you.

Fingers numb from hours of scribbling notes, you slumped forward, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to alleviate the headache that had been your unwelcome companion for days. The clock on your laptop blinked mockingly, its digits crawling towards midnight with relentless indifference.

It was then, in that hushed sanctuary of knowledge, that the dam finally burst. Tears welled up unexpectedly, blurring the lines of formulas, calculations, and the horrible handwriting of some of your undergrad students. The sound of your own choked sobs startled you, but you were too exhausted, too overwhelmed to care about appearances.

Unbeknownst to you, Seokmin had been nearby, engrossed in his own research until the echo of your distress reached his ears. Concern etched lines of worry across his normally composed features as he approached cautiously, unsure of how to breach the invisible barrier that separated you. 

“Hey,” his voice was soft, tentative, like a gentle breeze through a storm. He offered a tissue from his bag, the simple gesture more comforting than any words could convey. “Are you okay?”

Your initial instinct was to brush him off, to hide behind the façade of resilience you had painstakingly crafted. But tonight was different. Tonight, you were tired—bone-deep exhaustion that rendered you defenseless against the kindness in his eyes.

“I don't know.” The admission was barely a whisper, but Seokmin heard. Without hesitation, he settled into the seat beside you, the library chair creaking slightly under his weight. He didn't pry, didn't offer unsolicited advice. Instead, he simply began to gather the scattered papers, organizing them into neat piles with practiced efficiency.

You watched him in silence, marveling at the unexpected gentleness in his actions. Here was Seokmin, the academic rival who had seemed so untouchable, now offering a lifeline without expectation of reciprocity. He continued working, dividing the papers that you had graded and the papers that were untouched into two piles. Then, he silently started grading the latter. No words were needed. You wiped your tears and picked up your computer to begin working on your thesis again.

Minutes stretched into hours as the two of you worked side by side. Seokmin handled the grading, his elegant script flowing effortlessly across the pages. Meanwhile, you poured your fragmented thoughts about your thesis onto the screen, finding solace in the rhythm of typing keys.

In that shared silence, a subtle shift occurred. Walls that had once stood tall and impenetrable crumbled, revealing vulnerabilities neither of you had dared to expose before. As the night wore on, Seokmin's presence became a lifeline, anchoring you amidst the storm of deadlines and doubts.

By dawn, the library was bathed in the soft hues of morning light. The papers were graded, and the thesis draft was finally completed. Jeonghan came in just as the two of you were packing up, his long hair tied up and his glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. He looked at you with raised eyebrows and a disapproving glance—while he did allow you to stay in the library even after closing, he didn’t exactly encourage it. You sent him a tired, apologetic smile. He started walking towards you and finally spotted Seokmin. Jeonghan cleared his throat, gaining Seokmin’s attention from the pile of graded papers he was organizing.

“I’m assuming you two stayed here all night,” he said, “Otherwise, you’ve broken in before opening hours– and then I’d have to call the police.”

Seokmin immediately got flustered, profusely apologizing. The blubbering mess he became was probably from shock and sleep deprivation, but you had never seen him like this. A smile appeared on your face, and you put your hand on his shoulder.

“He’s joking, it’s fine.” You looked up at the librarian. “Right, Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He waved his hand nonchalantly and started to walk away now that there was no more teasing to be done. “Clean up properly and be out of here in like ten minutes. I can’t have people knowing that I give you special treatment.”

You hummed and started packing up your things. Seokmin put the graded papers into a folder and stood up, stretching out his legs and arms.

“Do you do this a lot?” he asked.

“Not for this long, usually,” you muttered. “But yeah, why?”

“... no reason.” He shrugged and sat back down. “I thought that grading papers was the easier job.”

You scoffed and sent him an irritated glance.

“You’re the lucky one,” you said. “Holding lectures actually seems fun – most of the time, I’m just trying to decipher what most of these students are even writing.”

Seokmin nods solemnly and hands you the file. You stand up and bid him goodbye, before hurrying to administration to get the grades filed.

The lecture hall was almost empty, save for a few scattered students gathering their belongings after Professor Jeon’s rigorous class on quantum mechanics. Seokmin lingered near the doorway, watching you pack up your notes with a furrowed brow. He couldn't shake off the image of you from last night in the library, vulnerable and overwhelmed. Now he had to watch you sit through the professor’s lecture, pretending like you hadn’t just stayed up all night, and soullessly give out worksheets to the students.

Newfound awareness weighed heavily on Seokmin's mind as he replayed the events of the previous evening. He had always admired your intellect and dedication, but now, seeing the toll it took on you firsthand, he understood the gravity of your struggles. The pressure of expectations, both self-imposed and external, seemed to suffocate every moment of your academic life. He thought he had been nice to you, making your life easier by taking care of all the social aspects, but his perspective had been too narrow.

With a resolve born out of newfound understanding, Seokmin decided to act. He spotted you exiting the lecture hall, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion. Without a second thought, he hurried after you, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

“Hey, Star, wait up!” he called out gently, reaching your side just as you reached the exit. “I thought you might need this.”

Exhaustion still fogged your mind, the remnants of last night's breakdown lingering like a dull ache. He was holding a cup of coffee out to you, you looked down at the paper mug and then back up at him. At Seokmin's gesture of kindness, your immediate reaction was instinctive—a defensive snap, laced with frustration and misunderstanding.

“I don't need your pity, Seokmin,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze as guilt flickered in your eyes.

Seokmin's heart sank at your words, but he didn't retaliate. He knew your reaction stemmed from exhaustion and vulnerability, not malice. Taking a deep breath, he waited patiently, understanding that healing wounds of insecurity took time and patience.

The next day, Seokmin found you in the same lecture hall, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes. This time, he approached cautiously, his usual confidence tempered by humility. “Can we talk?” he asked softly, careful not to startle you.

You glanced up, surprise flickering across your features at his persistence. Relenting, you nodded slightly, allowing him to join you at the table littered with equations and diagrams.

“I didn't realize,” Seokmin began quietly, choosing his words with care. “I didn't realize how much pressure you were under. If I had known, I would have never added to it.”

His sincerity resonated in the quiet sincerity of his voice, catching you off guard. 

“Added to it?” you questioned.

“I asked the professor to let me take care of the lectures and study groups,” he admitted. “I was truly only thinking of you, I thought I could make it easier for you.”

A bitter taste lingered in your mouth. All this time, this had been his fault – all of the doubt over whether or not your professor wanted to break your spirit had been nothing more than a request made by Seokmin. However, you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for just a moment before looking back at him.

“You wanted to make it easier for me?”

“I thought, since you don’t talk that much… it was dumb, I’m sorry.” He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up his forehead. “I’ll go tell the professor about it, we can reschedule things.”

“... thanks.”

The days following Seokmin's gesture of understanding were a delicate dance between acceptance and wariness. Despite the lingering skepticism, you couldn't deny the shift in dynamics between you. Seokmin's actions spoke louder than words, his genuine concern slowly chipping away at the walls you had erected. He asked the professor to change some of the duties, as he had promised, and even went so far as to offer to help you with your thesis. You allowed him to proofread it for you, and the two of you started spending more and more time with each other.

Reluctant acceptance crept into your interactions as you begrudgingly allowed Seokmin's presence and assistance. He no longer seemed like an adversary lurking in the shadows of your achievements but a partner navigating the same stormy seas of academia. His willingness to help without expectation of reciprocity was both unsettling and oddly comforting.

Late afternoons in the university's coffee shop turned into impromptu discussions about the mysteries of black holes that you were writing about as well as Seokmin’s thesis on altermagnetism. Your shared passion for space and astrophysics brought you closer together, each conversation revealing layers of depth and curiosity you hadn't anticipated.

One afternoon, amidst a lively debate on the implications of quantum entanglement, you found yourself sharing a piece of your past—the months you spent as a museum guide at the Jeju Starlight World Park and Planetarium. The memories flowed freely, painting a picture of a younger version of yourself enamored with the cosmos and its infinite wonders.

It was during this conversation that Seokmin proposed a trip—an invitation wrapped in sincerity and a hint of nervousness. “There's a free weekend coming up," he began tentatively, eyes fixed on yours with unwavering determination. "I thought... maybe we could visit the museum together."

Surprise mingled with nostalgia as you considered his proposal. The Jeju Starlight World Park held a special place in your heart—a sanctuary where stars glittered like promises against the velvet canvas of the night sky. Seokmin's offer to drive felt like an extension of his desire to understand you better, a chance to revisit a place where your love for astrophysics had taken root.

After a moment's hesitation, you nodded, a tentative smile curling at the corners of your lips. “I'd like that,” you admitted softly, the weight of uncertainty lifting with each heartbeat. In Seokmin's eyes, you glimpsed a flicker of gratitude and relief, a silent acknowledgment of the fragile bond blossoming between you.

The weekend arrived with a crispness in the air, promising a respite from the relentless pace of academic life. Seokmin pulled up in front of your apartment in his modest car, a hint of nervous anticipation in his eyes as you climbed into the passenger seat. He smiled warmly, trying to hide his nerves. "Ready for a little break, Star?"

You nodded, clutching your bag tightly. "I brought some work to catch up on during the drive."

Seokmin chuckled softly. "Of course you did."

The drive to Jeju Starlight World Park and Planetarium was long, and you were determined to work during the entire trip. You pulled out your laptop and began typing furiously, barely glancing up. However, as soon as the car started moving, the soft humming of the motor and the quiet songs coming from the radio lulled you into a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in weeks. Before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, you were just about to roll up to the museum. You noticed that your computer was neatly tucked into your bag again, and that you had Seokmin's jacket draped over your lap. He must have stopped by the side of the road to help you, but you decided not to ask about it. Seokmin noticed you stirring and gave you a gentle smile. "Hey, sleepyhead. We're almost there."

You rubbed your eyes, a bit disoriented. "I can't believe I fell asleep."

"It's okay," he said. "You needed the rest."

Arriving at the museum, you were greeted by the familiar sight of the dome-shaped building, its façade adorned with twinkling lights that mirrored the stars above. Memories flooded back as you stepped through the entrance, the air scented with nostalgia and the promise of new discoveries.

Inside, the museum buzzed with activity. Visitors young and old marveled at interactive exhibits and life-sized models of spacecrafts, their faces alight with wonder. You led Seokmin through the exhibits with the confidence of someone revisiting a cherished haven, explaining the intricacies of stellar evolution and the beauty of the night sky.

In the planetarium, darkness enveloped you both as the dome above transformed into a canvas of celestial wonders. A hush fell over the audience as the narrator's voice guided you on a journey through the cosmos—galaxies swirling, stars born and dying in spectacular bursts of light. Beside you, Seokmin watched in awe, his usual composure giving way to childlike fascination.

After the show, you found yourselves outside under a sky strewn with stars. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the promise of a clear night. Seokmin broke the silence, his voice soft against the backdrop of the universe. “Thank you for coming with me, Star,” he said sincerely, eyes tracing the constellations above.

You smiled, touched by his gratitude. “It's always been a special place for me,” you admitted, your gaze following his to the heavens. “Even after I stopped working here, I used to come here to find inspiration when things felt overwhelming... I don't really have time for that anymore, of course.”

After a day filled with awe and shared moments at the Jeju Starlight World Park and Planetarium, Seokmin navigated the car through winding roads leading away from the museum. The sky had darkened, and stars peppered the canvas above, casting a soft glow over the landscape. Under the stars that had witnessed countless stories of love and longing, of dreams and discoveries, you and Seokmin found a moment of quiet peace.

“We should find a place to stay for the night,” Seokmin suggested, glancing at you with a gentle smile.

You nodded in agreement. Seokmin found a quaint motel nestled on the outskirts of town, its neon sign flickering a warm welcome in the darkness. The receptionist greeted you with a friendly smile, which you couldn't seem to return out of pure embarrassment, as Seokmin checked you in for the night.

“... and here’s your key,” the receptionist said and handed you one key.

“Oh, we’ll need two rooms,” Seokmin said.

“I’m sorry, we only have one.” The receptionist gave you an apologetic smile. “We could contact someone further down the road–”

“It’s alright,” you said. “We’ll just sleep in separate beds.”

“I’m sorry.” The receptionist paused and let out an awkward chuckle. “There’s only one bed in that room.”

Both you and Seokmin looked at each other. Neither of you were fit to drive, and even if you didn’t want to sleep next to him you realized that you would have to.

Entering the room, you were met with simple yet cozy accommodations—a bed draped in crisp linens, soft lighting casting a warm ambiance. The air hummed with the unspoken understanding that lingered between you, a growing tension that spoke volumes in the silence.

Moments passed as you both settled into the space, the weight of the day's experiences hanging in the air. Seokmin's eyes searched yours, his usual confidence giving way to vulnerability as he spoke softly, “Today has been... incredible.”

You nodded, mirroring his sentiment. “It really has,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You both got into bed, laying on your backs so as to not get too close. But as the night went on, neither of you could fall asleep. It was getting cold, and even the comforter wasn’t enough. 

“I’m freezing,” Seokmin admitted.

“Me too,” you replied.

“Star... do you… want to sleep next to me?” he asked tentatively.

“I already am, stupid.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

“No I mean–” Seokmin sighed. “I don’t want to be a creep, please just tell me if this is weird… but do you want me to… hold you? Just since it’s so cold, that's all.”

“... just because it’s so cold.”

The distance between you closed with each heartbeat, drawn together by an undeniable magnetism. Tentative touches turned into embraces, hands finding solace in the warmth of each other's presence. Words became unnecessary as the night unfolded, emotions spoken through lingering gazes and tender caresses. His heart was beating fast, but with every minute that passed he calmed down. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and he got comfortable under your head and slung around your waist. He smelled of florals, and something expensive and woody. Even his cologne was perfect. You sighed and nuzzled closer to him, and his embrace 

As dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, you awoke to find Seokmins fingers tracing patterns on your skin. You pretended to be asleep for just a little longer. In that quiet morning light, amidst the remnants of dreams and the promise of new beginnings, you both understood that the journey you had embarked upon was far from over. Eventually, he got up and got dressed and you pretended to wake up as well.

Back at the university, the air between you and Seokmin crackled with new energy—a silent understanding that transcended words. Your interactions became charged with unspoken feelings, lingering glances that spoke volumes, and moments of shared laughter that echoed long after they had passed.

In lecture halls and quiet corners of the campus coffee shop, you found yourselves drawn to each other like celestial bodies caught in orbit. Seokmin's kind comments and gestures of support became a lifeline amidst the tumult of academic pressures, each act deepening the connection that had silently taken root.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, you found yourself seated with Jeonghan at the library. Although he would often tease you and be relentlessly cocky, he had always been a calming presence – his gentle demeanor and insightful advice made him a trusted confidant. 

“I've been feeling... confused,” you admitted softly, uncertainty lacing your words as you wrestled with emotions that had blossomed unexpectedly. “Seokmin... he's really been there for me recently, supporting me in ways I never expected.”

Jeonghan listened attentively, his warm gaze encouraging you to unravel the tangled threads of your thoughts. With each word, clarity began to emerge—a realization that the admiration and warmth you felt for Seokmin ran deeper than mere professional respect.

“He's not just a rival anymore,” you confessed, a hint of awe coloring your voice. “He's been impressing me with his kindness, his understanding...”

The admission hung between you like a delicate veil, its weight buoyed by the relief of finally voicing your inner turmoil. Jeonghan nodded knowingly, a reassuring smile gracing his lips.

“You like him,” he said.

“What? No, I don’t– he’s a friend.”

“You slept in the same bed together, didn’t you?”

“Friends can sleep together…”

“Friends don’t describe the way someone smells like you just did,” he argued, referring to what you had told him earlier of your time in the motel.

“But I can’t like him… that doesn’t seem right.”

“Sometimes, the heart finds its way through unexpected paths,” Jeonghan mused, his words carrying the wisdom of someone who had witnessed the ebb and flow of countless emotions within the walls of the library. “What matters most is how you choose to navigate this journey. Trust your heart, but also trust in Seokmin's intentions. He seems like a good guy.”

“I keep forgetting that you can actually give good advice instead of just sly remarks,” you teased him and Jeonghan scoffed.

“What do you want me to say?” He chuckled. “‘Let me know how big his dick is when you get there?’”

“Jeonghan.” You groaned as your friend laughed – you were lucky that no one was in the library at this late hour.

“Seriously, though.” Jeonghan wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Seokmin seems good for you. You’ve definitely been less stressed since I caught the two of you in here-”

“You’re making that sound weird on purpose!” you exclaimed and Jeonghan grinned.

“Whatever, whatever…” He waved his hand as if to swat away his previous words. “Just think about it– by the way you’ve been describing him, he’s probably into you too. Maybe talk to him about it?”

With Jeonghan's words echoing in your mind, you knew that the time had come to confront your feelings, to acknowledge the unspoken connection that had blossomed between you and Seokmin—a connection that promised not just the possibility of romance, but a partnership grounded in shared dreams, understanding, and the quiet strength found in moments of vulnerability and acceptance.

After Jeonghan locked up the library, Seokmin ended up meeting up with you outside the faculty building. He looked tired, probably from grading papers or looking over reports, but he still smiled when he saw you walk past him with Jeonghan.  You excused yourself to the librarian and left to walk home with Seokmin – not without Jeonghan telling you to “Go get him,” of course.

The night draped the university campus in a serene quietness, the lampposts casting gentle pools of light along the pathways as you and Seokmin strolled together. Laughter still echoed softly between you, a rare moment of levity amidst the academic rigors.

In a playful jest you quipped, “You know, Seokmin, Jeonghan suggested you might be in love with me.”

The words spilled out almost reflexively, laced with a hint of nervous humor to disguise the vulnerability beneath. Your heart skipped a beat as you waited, half-expecting Seokmin to brush off your comment with a laugh. Seokmin stopped walking, and you followed suit. 

His expression shifted, his gaze intensifying. “Actually, I think I am in love with you,” he confessed quietly, his tone devoid of jest or uncertainty.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis at that moment, your breath catching in your throat as you processed his words. The playful banter melted away, leaving behind a raw honesty that shimmered between you.

“You... you're serious?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, disbelief and hope mingling in equal measure.

Seokmin nodded, his gaze unwavering as he took a step closer. “I am,” he affirmed, his voice steady and sure. “I've been struggling to find the right moment to say it, but I've known for a while now.”

His confession washed over you like a wave, carrying with it a flood of emotions—joy, disbelief, and a profound sense of connection that surpassed the academic rivalry that had once defined your relationship.

In that quiet corner of the campus, under the canopy of stars that bore witness to your revelation, a shift occurred—a mutual acknowledgment of the feelings that had quietly blossomed amidst shared moments of vulnerability and understanding.

“I don’t know what to say…” you whispered.

“Don’t say anything, Star,” Seokmin said with a sad smile. “I don’t want this to get in the way of what you want out of your career – you shouldn’t be thinking about my feelings for you when you’re about to finish your thesis… we can always take it later.”

“... okay.” You nodded. “Please, don’t take this as me rejecting you.”

“I’m not.” He gave you a big grin. “It’ll be my motivation to finally finish my thesis.”

You smiled at him in return. As you continued your walk, the air between you hummed with newfound depth and possibility—a promise of a future yet to be written, illuminated by the light of a love that had bloomed unexpectedly, nurtured by the guidance of friends like Jeonghan and the quiet courage to embrace the unknown journey ahead. Your hand brushed against Seokmin’s several times on your walk home, but neither of you mentioned it. You only relished in the sparks the small touch ignited – waiting patiently for more.

As the final weeks of our graduate studies drew near, the campus was abuzz with anticipation and fervor. It was the climax of numerous years of hard work, late nights spent poring over books, and scholarly pursuits. Both you and Seokmin immersed ourselves in meticulously shaping our theses, balancing the demands of being teaching assistants with unrelenting commitment and a strong, unwavering sense of purpose. Somehow, you got there in the end. Your theses were approved, your opposition went smoothly, and you finally got to graduate together.

Amidst the excitement and wistfulness on the morning of graduation day, the campus bustled with energy. The sight of fellow graduates dressed in gowns and mortarboards filled the air with a sense of anticipation. In the midst of it all, you and Seokmin were inexplicably drawn to each other, the atmosphere around you filled with unspoken emotions.

As the festivities and goodbyes filled the air, Seokmin decided to take you to a secluded section of the campus garden. His face held a serious, yet affectionate, expression, creating an atmosphere of warmth that couldn't be missed. You couldn’t read through his gaze, but the silence between you was deafening. 

“I heard Professor Jeon gave you a reference for the new doctorate position here, congratulations,” you said to break the silence.

“Ah, thank you… you already got accepted, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Only because I was so pushy with my reference–” You downplayed your achievement but stopped yourself once you heard what you were saying. “I did.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

Confess to you.

“Why did you take me here, Seokmin?” you asked. “Isn’t the ceremony about to start?”

“Just a minute, I won’t be long… I want to say something,” he began, his voice carrying a clarity and certainty that resonated deep within you.

Seokmin, with the depth of intimacy that comes from sharing emotional journeys across galaxies, once more poured out his feelings, this time with an unshakable and unwavering conviction. “I love you, Star,” he declared, his eyes locking with yours, laying bare the depth of his emotions.

When he professed his feelings for you, you found yourself overcome with a rush of emotions. Your response was filled with a deep sense of appreciation and a newfound bravery that filled your heart. “I love you too,” you whispered.

He blinked at you, momentarily speechless, his carefully thought-out plans unraveling in the face of raw emotion. His stunned expression was almost comical, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. The sound of your laughter seemed to break the tension, and you reached up, your fingers gently cradling his face. His skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the slight roughness of his day-old stubble.

Seokmin's eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he savored the delicate touch of your lips. His hands settled lightly on your waist, fingers barely pressing into the fabric of your clothes, as if afraid to break the spell. The kiss was brief, a mere whisper of the deep emotions swirling between you. When he pulled away, you could see a myriad of thoughts floating in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere. Almost immediately, Seokmin groaned and put his palm against his forehead, realizing how awkward his words sounded. You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, the sound light and teasing.

“I don’t want the first thing I say after our kiss to be ‘thank you,’” he muttered, looking embarrassed.

He gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “Don’t laugh at me…”

“Sorry–” you said, still giggling. Then, with a playful glint in your eye, you pulled him down to your face a second time. “That one doesn’t count, then.”

You kissed him again, a quick, soft peck, and then pulled back, looking at him expectantly. Seokmin's mind seemed to be spinning as he searched for something to say. Your kiss had left him so dizzy he could hardly tell up from down.

“You’re out of this world, Star,” he finally managed, his voice breathless and sincere.

You let out a groan, shaking your head at the cheesiness of his words. Seokmin couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine. He then pulled you into a tight embrace, resting his chin on top of your head, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

The tender moment was interrupted by the intercom crackling to life once more, reminding the students to proceed to the grand hall for the ceremony. With a sigh, you both reluctantly pulled apart, the reality of the event bringing you back to the present.

The graduation ceremony was a blur of speeches, applause, and the bittersweet feeling of an era ending. As the sound of applause gradually faded away, you and Seokmin found yourselves standing side by side at the entrance of the university building. The excitement of the moment mingled with a deep sense of nostalgia, the weight of the years spent here settling over you both.

You looked at each other, the shared understanding that this was both an end and a beginning reflected in your eyes. With fingers intertwined, you walked hand in hand towards the grand doors, feeling a profound sense of achievement and anticipation for the future.

Outside, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for you to step into it. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the campus, and as you walked together, you knew that this was just the start of a new journey. The path ahead was uncertain, but with Seokmin by your side, you felt ready to face anything. Together, you stepped out into the world, ready to embrace whatever came next.

feedback is always welcome!

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[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: clueless!seokmin, established relationship, afab reader, he's a lil airheaded but thats fine bc he's cute, reader is a lil pushy, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1690

a/n: tysm to the person who requested <33 i lovelovelove this concept so much its so fitting for seokmin

masterlist

you loved seokmin, you really did. but there was only so much you could take before you went crazy.

he was the perfect boyfriend, truly! he fulfilled every boyfriend duty to an exemplary extent, leaving no part of you dissatisfied. except, well, for one.

you'd only started dating recently. it had been one, no, two months - if you count the talking stage, that is - since seokmin had grown the balls to ask for your number, claiming he had fallen head over heels for you the moment your mutual friend jeonghan had introduced you at a gathering a few months back. at first it had been simple back and forth flirting through text (and occasionally face to face, whenever you'd both had enough drinks to look into each other's eyes without blushing). then it turned into an official proposition from seokmin, who showed up with flowers one day and sheepishly asked if you'd consider being official with him. you, not being an idiot, jumped into his arms with an enthusiastic yes. and that's how you ended up here, two months into the perfect relationship.

and also two months into a sexless relationship. yes, sex was not the most important part of a relationship. you could accept it if seokmin never put his hands on you in that way, loving and respecting him no matter what. except he constantly did. he was an overly excited man, who would consistently touch and caress you (always innocently, in seokmin fashion) in order to express his love. it was never explicitly sexual, but to you it felt borderline. plus, you knew for a fact that the feeling was mutual. you knew that seokmin wanted you in the way you did him. at least going off one of the drunken conversations you had with him at some random gathering during your talking stage. he had made clear the way he saw you (in words you were too flustered to repeat). except that was the last mention of it. he'd never mentioned his sexual desires to you since then. you knew seokmin was a very proper and respectful man, that he would never push you into an uncomfortable position, but you really wished he would just take a damn hint.

you'd tried everything by now, except you were subtle about it, not wanting to come off as desperate. you'd tried extending the quick pecks he gave you every time he said goodbye, but were always met with a sheepish chuckle as he pulled away and gave you a cheeky wink before you could even try to stick your tongue in his mouth. you'd run your hands up and down his chest any time he held you in his arms, but would be promptly stopped as soon as he started tickling you. you'd press your ass up against him as he held you in your sleep, but you'd be met with big arms flipping you over to face him, cocooning you in his embrace.

he'd never outwardly reject you, but he'd absolutely misinterpret your advancements for innocent requests for his affections. you weren't sure if the man was trying to send you a message, or if maybe he was just an idiot when it came to this. you also weren't sure how many more nights you'd be able to walk into your room after your nightly routine to find a very delicious-looking seokmin, arms bare as he laid in your bed waiting to hold you in his arms.

the answer was zero. you weren't sure exactly what had broken the camel's back for you. but tonight you had just gone insane with desire for him. you'd walked into the room, spotting seokmin as he laid on your bed, sleeveless shirt showing off his muscles as he laid one of them behind his head while the other held onto his phone. the position gave you a perfect view of his flexed muscles. you were dizzy just at the sight. it was no surprise to you when your body took control over you, leading you to his side of the bed as you snatched his phone and threw it to the side before straddling him, attacking him with a heavy kiss. this was the first time you'd been so forward, but there was only so much a girl could take.

seokmin's reaction was what you'd expect from any man with a pretty girl sitting atop his lap. he kissed you back just as eagerly, allowing you to let your tongue play with his. you made out for a bit before you allowed your hips to begin sensually canting against his. much to your surprise, his arms wrapped around you, holding onto your ass as he guided your thrusts.

his breathy moans against your mouth were driving you mad. you could tell he had felt just as deprived as you. he must've been trying to be a gentleman all this time, not wanting to pursue you sexually unless you were 100% explicit about you wanting him in the same way. for some reason this made you want to jump his bones even more. thinking about a pent up seokmin holding back from letting you ride him into oblivion due to his respectful demeanor made you wanna sit on his cock until he cried.

you finally pulled away from him, heavy breath as you looked down at him, "seokmin."

"what's wrong?', his breath was just as heavy as yours, "do-do you not want to, baby? it's okay, we don't have to. would never wanna for-"

"seokmin. if you don't let me sit on your dick, i swear to god."

he looked up at you with wide eyes, mouth still open from having been interrupted mid speech, "w-what?"

"minnie, i've been wanting you to fuck me since the day you asked me for my number. you've been dodging me all this time and it's been making me go insane. i want you so fucking bad."

"me?! i-i wanted you too! just .. didn't wanna push you into anything. wasn't sure you wanted to do anything. it's only been one month ..."

"two months! i've been wanting to jump you since day one, minnie."

"o-oh."

"can i fuck you now, baby?"

"yes. fuck. please."

and that was all confirmation you needed to throw off your shorts and shirt, giving seokmin perfect view of your nude body. his reaction had your ego reaching brand new levels of high as he shyly reached out his arms to your chest, audibly moaning at your pretty silhouette. you helped him the rest of the way by placing his palms around your tits and lowering yourself to explore his mouth with your tongue once again.

you only made out for a minute or so, growing too frustrated with desire to have his massive length inside you. you made quick work of his tank top, throwing it aside as if it were your biggest enemy. but the real enemy had been his sweats, which were keeping you from the dick you'd daydreamed about every night for months on end. you must've looked insane, reaching superhuman speed to remove his pants and boxers all at once, leaving a very naked seokmin before you, with his cock taking the role of main character as it stood in all its might before you.

you couldn't help but salivate over it. it was so tall and thick, just as you'd imagined. you had to hold yourself back from begging seokmin to let you gag on it, not wanting to scare him off. you didn't want him to think you were some kind of sex maniac, but the sight of such a pretty cock without a mouth to envelop it made you feel violent inside. but these thoughts could be left for another day. right now all you wanted was for him to bruise your cervix.

"baby ... please stop staring like that, you're making me self-conscious," said the owner of the delicious length standing before you.

"self-concious?? minnie, you're hung as shit! jesus, can't wait to sit on you baby. can i? wanna feel you so bad."

"goddamnit. don't say stuff like that .. i've been waiting so long, you're gonna make me cum."

god, the thought of his cum filling you up was yet another thought that had you humming in satisfaction. but you needed to put the distractions aside. you could not go another minute without molding to his size.

after rubbing his dick a bit as if to ensure exactly what was going to be impaling you in a few minutes, you finally sank down on him, sighing out in pleasure as you threw your head back.

so worth the wait.

"b-baby! fuck. you feel so ... so fucking good."

you sped up immediately upon him entering you, already so pent up you knew your orgasm would find you earlier than it usually did.

"can't believe you deprived me of this for two months, minnie. could've been keeping you warm all this time."

"no ... didn't wa-wanna push you. wanted you to want me first ..."

"minnie ... i've always wanted you. you're so ... you're perfect," your pace had now slowed down, allowing you to angle yourself in a way that had your toes curling, mouth hung open as your words disappeared in your throat.

"gonna cum if you keep saying those things, pretty."

"yeah? gonna cum for me, minnie? want you to fill me up so bad. will you do that?", you were taunting him, fully aware your end was just around the corner. you knew nothing would compare to the feeling of the pretty man filling you up, so you squeezed your walls around him, making him groan out at the feeling.

his hands tightened on your skin, maniacally trying to guide your movements as he finally climaxed, leading you to your own climax almost immediately after. you both shivered against each other, feeling the intensity of your orgasms cruise through you.

it took you a few seconds to regain full consciousness. seokmin had been the one to speak up first after the fact, making you giggle at his breathless statement.

"next time, please just jump me."

[hoshifighting]

No thoughts, head empty, just thinking of seokmin biting and marking my back🫦

seokmin biting your back during sex

WARNINGS: biting, smut, penetrative sex, trying to be quiet, the members r just in the next room.

there’s a thrill in how wrong it feels—having seokmin here, behind you, while the rest of the world keeps moving. you’re on all fours, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white, as the other members are just in the next hotel room. you’re trying to keep quiet, trying to remember to breathe as his hips snap against yours, but every time he pushes deeper, you swear you see stars.

“fuck,” you hiss, “they’re gonna hear us.”

“then keep your voice down,” he groans, breath hot against your skin. his fingers dig into your waist, hard enough to leave marks, and you feel the sharp sting of his teeth as he bites down on your shoulder.

you bite your lip, desperate to swallow the moan that’s building up in your throat, but it’s impossible. seokmin’s hand slides up your spine, his thumb pressing between your shoulder blades, pushing you down until your chest is flush with the bed. his lips trace over the mark he just made, the sting of his bite still burning, the circles he humps on your clit, making you clench with the combo.

“tsk, you're being so loud. u want them to hear how good i’m fucking you?”

you shake your head, biting down harder, his words sinking into you, making you ache in an almost embarrassing way.

“shut up,” you mutter, but it’s weak. you can barely speak, barely think. seokmin’s teeth graze your neck again, then harder this time, biting down on the curve of your shoulder, and your back arches instinctively.

“can’t—fuck—can’t stay quiet,” you gasp, nails digging into the mattress.

his hips slam into yours, and the rhythm is brutal, relentless. every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs, and the wet sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, loud enough that you’re sure someone must hear.

he growls against your back. “then i’ll make you.”