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bratzkoo · 16 hours ago

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WGM episode 9 | dk

episode 9: the farewell trip

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 4.3k~ Warnings/note: fluff, fake marriage, and real feelings. final episode tomorrow! yey.

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ateez-atiny380 , @aeerio . @vernons-wifey12 , @odevote118 , @btskzfav , @codeinebelle , @syluslittlecrows , @minghaofied , @ikbennatas , @armycarat2612 , @smiileflower

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[Opening sequence: Highlights from Episode 8, focusing on their amusement park adventures, Seokmin winning the stuffed dog, and their intimate moment on the Ferris wheel]

Narrator: "As their We Got Married journey nears its conclusion, our couple embarks on a special two-day farewell trip to reflect on their time together!"

---

The drive to the coastal town was quiet, the silence filled with thoughts Seokmin couldn't bring himself to voice. The PD had informed them last week that Episodes 9 and 10 would be the finale of their "We Got Married" journey—Episode 9 featuring a farewell trip, followed by Episode 10's closing ceremony back in Seoul.

Two more episodes. Two more filming days. And then... what?

The question had been haunting Seokmin ever since the amusement park date, where he'd finally admitted to himself what he'd been trying to deny for weeks: his feelings for Y/N had long since crossed the line from professional to personal. The realization should have been liberating, but instead, it felt like a ticking clock had been placed beside him, counting down the moments until their manufactured relationship reached its scripted conclusion.

"You're being very philosophical over there," Y/N observed from the seat beside him, breaking his reverie. They were in the backseat of a production van, cameras mounted discreetly to capture their journey. "I can practically hear the gears turning."

"Just enjoying the scenery," Seokmin lied, gesturing vaguely at the passing coastline.

Y/N gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him but chose not to push. Instead, she shifted slightly closer, their shoulders almost touching. "It's beautiful here. I've never been to this part of the coast before."

"Me neither," Seokmin replied, grateful for the easy conversation topic. "The members and I usually go to Jeju when we have time off."

"All twelve of you? That sounds chaotic."

"Controlled chaos is our specialty," Seokmin confirmed with a smile. "Though 'controlled' might be generous. It's mostly just Seungcheol and Joshua trying to prevent the rest of us from accidentally setting things on fire or adopting stray animals."

Y/N laughed, the sound still doing dangerous things to his heart rate even after all this time. "I'd pay good money to see that."

"Maybe someday you will," Seokmin said without thinking, then immediately regretted it. The implication that she would still be in his life after the show ended hung awkwardly between them.

Before either could address it, the PD called from the front seat. "We're almost there! Get ready for your first look at the villa."

The production van rounded a curve, revealing a stunning beachfront property nestled against a backdrop of pine trees and ocean. The villa was modern but warm, with large windows overlooking the water and a spacious deck that wrapped around the building.

"Wow," Y/N breathed, leaning forward to get a better view. "That's... not what I was expecting."

"Too nice for a couple about to get fake-divorced?" Seokmin joked, though the words stung as he said them.

"Maybe they're trying to remind us what we'll be missing," Y/N replied with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

The van pulled up to the entrance, where the rest of the production crew was already setting up equipment. The PD handed them each an envelope as they exited the vehicle.

"Your mission for this trip," the PD explained, "is to reflect on your journey together. These envelopes contain specific activities for you to complete during your two days here. They're designed to help you process your experience and prepare for your final episode."

Farewell activities. Seokmin's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought. It was all so... final.

They entered the villa together, cameras tracking their reactions as they explored the space. The interior was as impressive as the exterior—open and airy, with comfortable furnishings and tasteful decor. A large living room with a fireplace opened onto the deck, while a modern kitchen and dining area occupied one wing. Down a hallway, they found two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom.

"Two bedrooms?" Y/N questioned quietly, raising an eyebrow at Seokmin.

"Apparently even fake marriages have boundaries," Seokmin replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the odd disappointment he felt. Not that he had expected to share a room with Y/N—they never had during previous episodes—but something about the separate spaces underscored the artifice of their relationship in a way that felt particularly pointed.

Once they had settled in, the PD gathered them in the living room for further instructions.

"Today, you'll complete the first activity from your envelopes," he explained. "The crew will follow at a distance to capture footage, but we want this to feel natural and reflective. Tomorrow morning, you'll do the second activity, followed by a farewell dinner in the evening. Then we'll return to Seoul for your final episode."

Everything so carefully planned, even their goodbyes. Seokmin nodded, trying to maintain a professional expression despite the heaviness in his chest.

When the PD left them to prepare, Y/N opened her envelope, reading the card inside. "My first activity is a sunset beach walk where we write messages in the sand about what we've learned from each other." She looked up at Seokmin. "What's yours?"

Seokmin opened his envelope. "A boat ride to the nearby cove. It says we should use the time on the water to discuss how the show has changed us." He glanced at Y/N. "Looks like they've scheduled your activity for this evening and mine for tomorrow morning."

"Very poetic," Y/N observed. "Sunset reflections and sunrise revelations."

"The PD does have a flair for the dramatic," Seokmin agreed. "Almost like they're producing a television show or something."

Y/N laughed, some of the tension dissipating. "What should we do until sunset? We have a few hours."

Seokmin glanced out at the clear blue sky and the inviting beach below their deck. "Want to explore? The cameras can follow, but we don't have to be 'on' yet."

"I'd like that," Y/N agreed, already heading toward her room. "Let me change into something more beach-appropriate."

While Y/N changed, Seokmin stepped out onto the deck, taking a deep breath of salt-tinged air. The setting was undeniably romantic—the perfect backdrop for declarations of love or tearful goodbyes. He wondered if that was deliberate, if the producers were hoping for some dramatic revelation during their final episodes together.

What would happen if he actually told Y/N how he felt? The thought sent a jolt of panic through him. Would she laugh it off as method acting? Would she gently explain that she saw him only as a colleague, a friend at most? Or was there a chance, however small, that she might feel something too?

The sliding door opened behind him, interrupting his thoughts. Y/N stepped out onto the deck in a simple sundress, her hair loose around her shoulders, looking so naturally beautiful that it made his chest ache.

"Ready to be terrible tourists?" she asked with a smile.

"Born ready," Seokmin replied, pushing his complicated feelings aside for the moment. "I excel at looking confused in new places."

They spent the next few hours exploring the small coastal town, cameras following at a discreet distance. They browsed local shops, sampled street food, and wandered along the harbor, falling into the easy companionship that had developed between them over the past eight episodes.

In a small art gallery, Y/N lingered in front of a painting of the ocean at sunset, the colors vibrant and alive against the canvas.

"It's beautiful," she said softly. "Reminds me of the view from our villa."

"You should get it," Seokmin suggested. "A souvenir of our trip."

Y/N glanced at him, something unreadable in her expression. "Maybe I will."

While she arranged the purchase with the gallery owner, Seokmin found himself drawn to a different painting—a simple depiction of two people walking along a beach, their figures small against the vastness of the sea and sky. There was something achingly poignant about it, a sense of both connection and impermanence that resonated with his current emotional state.

Without overthinking it, he purchased the painting, arranging to have it delivered to his dorm in Seoul after the trip.

When they reunited outside the gallery, each carrying a wrapped package, they exchanged knowing smiles but didn't comment on their purchases. Some things, it seemed, they were keeping private, even from each other.

As the afternoon waned, they made their way back to the villa to prepare for the sunset beach walk. The production crew was already positioning cameras along the shoreline, creating the illusion of privacy while ensuring every moment would be captured.

"Ready for some deep reflection?" Y/N asked as they removed their shoes at the edge of the sand.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Seokmin replied, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of nerves in his stomach. "Though I should warn you, my handwriting in sand leaves much to be desired."

"I'll try not to judge," Y/N promised with a smile.

They began walking along the water's edge, the setting sun painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. The ocean lapped gently at their feet, the rhythmic sound of waves creating a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"So," Y/N began after they'd walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, "what have you learned from me? That's the mission, right?"

Seokmin considered the question seriously. "I've learned a lot, actually. More than I expected to."

"Like what?"

"Like how to navigate disagreements without either avoiding conflict entirely or turning it into a bigger issue than it needs to be," Seokmin said, thinking back to their decoration argument. "You taught me that it's okay to have different opinions, and that compromise doesn't mean someone has to lose."

Y/N looked surprised and touched by his answer. "That's... really thoughtful."

"I have my moments," Seokmin replied with a self-deprecating smile. "What about you? What have you learned from me?"

Y/N was quiet for a moment, watching the waves wash over their footprints. "I've learned about authenticity," she said finally. "You're so genuinely yourself in every situation, even when it would be easier to put on a persona or hide behind professionalism. It's made me braver about showing my real self too."

The sincerity in her voice made Seokmin's heart tighten. "Even when my real self is screaming like a pterodactyl on roller coasters?"

"Especially then," Y/N laughed. "The willingness to be embarrassed or vulnerable and just own it—that's rare, especially in our industry."

They continued walking, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted memories and more profound reflections. When they reached a secluded stretch of beach, Y/N stopped, gesturing to the damp sand before them.

"I think this is where we're supposed to write our messages," she said, glancing at the camera crew positioned discreetly on a dune behind them.

Seokmin nodded, kneeling down to write in the sand with his finger. After a moment's thought, he carefully traced the words: "Thank you for making pretend feel real."

Y/N read it silently, her expression softening. She knelt beside him and wrote her own message: "Some shows end, but some feelings remain."

Seokmin stared at her words, heart pounding. Was she implying what he thought? Or was he reading too much into a vague statement that would sound good on television?

Before he could analyze it further, a larger wave rushed up the beach, washing away both their messages and leaving only smooth sand behind.

"Well, that's symbolic," Y/N said with a small laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Impermanence at its finest," Seokmin agreed, trying to ignore the uncomfortable parallel to their relationship. Here today, gone tomorrow, leaving no trace behind.

They stood watching the ocean for a moment longer, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. Finally, Y/N turned to him with a smile that seemed slightly forced.

"We should head back," she said. "It's getting dark."

"Right," Seokmin agreed, falling into step beside her as they retraced their path along the shore.

The walk back was quieter, both lost in their own thoughts. As the villa came into view, illuminated against the deepening twilight, Y/N surprised Seokmin by reaching out and taking his hand.

"For the cameras," she said softly, though none were currently visible.

"Right," Seokmin replied, entwining his fingers with hers and trying not to read too much into the gesture. "For the cameras."

---

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair, served on the villa's deck under the stars. The production team had arranged for a local chef to prepare a seafood feast, which they ate at a candlelit table with the sound of waves as their backdrop.

"This is nice," Y/N commented, gesturing around them. "They're really going all out for our farewell."

"Making sure we end on a high note," Seokmin agreed. "Though I'm slightly terrified about what they might have planned for the final episode."

"Probably something overly dramatic," Y/N suggested. "Maybe confetti cannons while we return our rings."

"Or doves released as we sign fake divorce papers."

"Perhaps a montage of our 'journey' set to emotional music."

They laughed, but there was an edge to it, a shared acknowledgment of the reality waiting for them after this bubble of pretend domesticity popped.

As they finished dinner, the PD approached their table. "Great work today, both of you. The beach footage looks beautiful. We'll start tomorrow with the boat ride at 9 AM, so make sure you're ready."

After the crew had cleared away the dinner dishes and retreated to their separate accommodations down the beach, Seokmin and Y/N found themselves alone on the deck. The night was clear, stars scattered like diamonds across the velvet sky, the sound of waves creating a peaceful backdrop to their conversation.

"Want to build a fire?" Seokmin suggested, gesturing to the fire pit nestled in the corner of the deck. "It's getting a bit chilly."

"Sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

They worked together to arrange wood and kindling, Seokmin eventually producing a small flame that grew into a cheerful fire. They settled into the comfortable chairs surrounding the pit, the flickering light casting warm shadows across their faces.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/N said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Anything," Seokmin replied, perhaps too honestly.

"What will you remember most about this whole experience? When it's all over and you're back to your normal life."

The question caught Seokmin off guard with its directness. He considered it carefully, aware that his answer might reveal more than he intended.

"Honestly? The in-between moments," he said finally. "Not the big, produced segments or the challenges, but the small interactions that weren't necessarily for the cameras. Like our text conversations about DK Junior, or that coffee we had after the second episode, or even just now, building this fire together."

Y/N smiled, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. "I think those are my favorite memories too. The real stuff around the edges of the show."

"What about you?" Seokmin asked. "What will you remember most?"

Y/N was quiet for a moment, gazing into the flames. "The wedding, I think," she said softly. "When you sang instead of reading your vows. That was... unexpected. Special."

Seokmin felt his ears warming, and it wasn't from the fire. "Pure panic response," he tried to joke. "My brain short-circuited and fell back on the one thing I know I can do well."

"Well, it worked," Y/N replied, her voice gentle. "It felt genuine in a way that written vows might not have."

There was that word again—genuine. Real. Authentic. The thread that kept weaving through their conversations, the implicit acknowledgment that something true had developed within their manufactured relationship.

"Y/N," Seokmin began, his heart pounding, "I've been thinking—"

"Don't," she interrupted softly, her eyes still on the fire. "Not yet. Let's just... enjoy this moment. We can talk tomorrow, after your boat activity."

Seokmin nodded, recognizing both the gentle rejection and the promise in her words. Not yet. Which implied a later, a future conversation about whatever was happening between them.

They sat in companionable silence after that, watching the fire slowly burn down to embers. When it was time to retire for the night, they stood at the doorway to their separate bedrooms, an awkward moment of uncertainty hanging between them.

"Goodnight, Seokmin," Y/N said finally, her voice soft in the darkened hallway.

"Goodnight," he replied, resisting the urge to reach for her hand, to prolong the moment. "See you in the morning."

As he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of waves through his open window, Seokmin found himself mentally rehearsing what he might say to Y/N during tomorrow's boat ride. How did one confess developing real feelings during a fake relationship without sounding completely ridiculous?

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, illuminating the darkness with its soft glow.

Y/N: Still awake?

Seokmin smiled, typing back immediately.

Seokmin: Apparently. You too?

Y/N: Can't sleep. Too many thoughts.

Seokmin: Want to share any of them?

There was a long pause before her response came through.

Y/N: I'm going to miss this.

Three simple words that conveyed so much. Seokmin stared at them, heart thumping painfully in his chest.

Seokmin: Me too. More than I expected to.

Y/N: What happens when the cameras stop rolling for good?

The question he'd been avoiding, laid bare between them.

Seokmin: What do you want to happen?

Another long pause.

Y/N: I don't know. But I don't want it to just end.

Seokmin took a deep breath, fingers hovering over the screen as he considered his response.

Seokmin: It doesn't have to.

Y/N: Doesn't it? We live in different worlds, Seokmin. After next week, you go back to SEVENTEEN and I go back to my next project, and this becomes a line on both our resumes.

The pragmatism in her message stung, even though he knew she was right. Their lives were complicated, their careers demanding. Whatever had developed between them would face significant challenges in the real world.

Seokmin: Unless we don't let it.

Y/N: Let's talk tomorrow. For real, not for the cameras. After the boat ride.

Seokmin: Okay. Goodnight, Y/N.

Y/N: Goodnight, Seokmin. Sweet dreams.

He set his phone aside, both more anxious and more hopeful than he'd been before their exchange. Tomorrow, they would talk—really talk, without cameras or scripts or careful evasions. The thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

---

Morning arrived with a sudden change in weather. What had been a clear, starry night had transformed into a gray, drizzly day, the ocean churning with white-capped waves beneath a stormy sky.

"We might need to modify today's plans," the PD announced at breakfast, looking concerned as he checked the weather radar on his phone. "The boat captain says it's safe to go out, but it's going to be choppy. Are you both okay with that?"

Seokmin looked at Y/N, remembering her fear of heights. "Would rough waters be a problem for you?"

"I'm not seasick easily, if that's what you're asking," Y/N replied with a small smile. "I think I can handle it if you can."

"I've survived Hoshi's dance practices," Seokmin said seriously. "A little rough water is nothing."

With the decision made, they prepared for the boat ride, donning raincoats provided by the production team and making their way down to the small harbor where a modest fishing boat awaited them. The captain, a weathered man with kind eyes, greeted them warmly.

"Should be fine," he assured them, eyeing the clouds. "Just a bit of rain, nothing serious. We'll stay close to shore and be back in an hour or so."

The camera crew boarded with them, positioning equipment under waterproof covers. As promised in the activity card, they would maintain a respectful distance during the ride, allowing Seokmin and Y/N space for their conversation while still capturing footage.

As the boat pulled away from the dock, Seokmin and Y/N stood at the railing, watching the shore recede. The rain was light but persistent, creating a misty veil over the landscape.

"Dramatic weather for dramatic conversations," Y/N observed, pulling her hood tighter around her face. "Very on-brand for our finale."

"The PD probably arranged it specially," Seokmin agreed, earning a laugh from Y/N.

They fell silent as the boat navigated around the coastline, the engine's hum and the splash of waves against the hull creating a soundtrack to their journey. When they reached a sheltered cove, the captain reduced speed, allowing the boat to drift gently in the protected waters.

"So," Y/N said after a moment, "we're supposed to discuss how the show has changed us."

"Right," Seokmin nodded, gathering his courage. "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

"I'll start," Y/N offered, turning to face him more fully. "The honest truth is that this experience has changed me more than I expected it to. I went into it thinking it would be good exposure, a fun project that might expand my audience. I didn't expect..."

She paused, seeming to search for the right words.

"Didn't expect what?" Seokmin prompted gently.

"I didn't expect to connect with you so much," Y/N admitted, her eyes meeting his with an honesty that took his breath away. "I didn't expect to find myself looking forward to filming days, or texting you at midnight just to share something silly, or thinking about our conversations when I should be focusing on other things."

Seokmin's heart hammered in his chest. "I know exactly what you mean."

"The show was supposed to be pretend," Y/N continued, her voice soft but steady. "But somewhere along the way, parts of it started feeling very real to me."

"Which parts?" Seokmin asked, needing to hear her say it explicitly.

Y/N's smile was small but genuine. "The way I feel when I'm with you. That's real. Has been for a while now."

The admission hung between them, as significant as the rain falling around their sheltered spot on the boat. Seokmin felt like he might float away with the lightness suddenly filling his chest.

"Me too," he said simply. "I've been trying to keep reminding myself it's just for the show, but... it hasn't felt that way for a long time."

Y/N reached out, her hand finding his on the railing. "So what do we do about it?"

"I don't know," Seokmin admitted honestly. "Our lives are complicated. Our schedules are insane. The media attention would be... intense."

"All true," Y/N agreed. "But I'd regret it if we didn't at least try to figure it out."

"Me too," Seokmin said, squeezing her hand. "Maybe we could start slow? Real dates without cameras. See where it goes."

Y/N smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. "I'd like that."

Before Seokmin could respond, the skies opened up, the light drizzle transforming into a sudden downpour. They both let out surprised laughs as the rain soaked them despite their raincoats.

"We should go below deck!" Seokmin shouted over the sound of rain pounding against the boat.

"In a minute!" Y/N called back, her face tilted up to the sky, eyes closed as the rain washed over her. "This feels symbolic somehow!"

Seokmin laughed, watching her with a surge of affection so strong it nearly overwhelmed him. She was beautiful like this—unguarded, joyful, embracing the moment with the same authenticity he'd come to adore about her.

Without overthinking it, he stepped closer, his hands finding her waist. Y/N's eyes opened, meeting his with a question in them.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, barely audible over the rain.

In answer, Y/N rose on her tiptoes, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a kiss that was sweet and tentative at first, then deeper as Seokmin pulled her closer. The rain continued to fall around them, but neither noticed or cared.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Y/N was smiling. "For the record," she said, "that was definitely not for the cameras."

"Noted," Seokmin replied, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face. "Though I'm pretty sure they got it anyway."

They glanced toward the camera crew, who were indeed filming from their sheltered position, the PD giving them a thumbs up that was equal parts professional approval and personal congratulations.

"Well," Y/N laughed, "at least Episode 9 will have a dramatic climax."

"The viewers will be thrilled," Seokmin agreed, still holding her close. "But I'm more interested in what happens off-camera from here on out."

"Me too," Y/N said softly, her eyes meeting his with a promise that had nothing to do with television and everything to do with the real connection they'd found within their manufactured marriage.

As the boat turned back toward the harbor, rain still falling around them, Seokmin couldn't help but think about the message Y/N had written in the sand the night before, now washed away by the tide but etched permanently in his memory:

Some shows end, but some feelings remain.

And in that moment, soaked to the skin but warmer than he'd ever felt, Seokmin knew with absolute certainty that whatever had started between them during these past nine episodes was only the beginning of their story—the real story, no cameras required.

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studioeisa · 7 months ago

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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.

#seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #seokmin imagines #dokyeom imagines #dk imagines #seokmin fluff #dokyeom fluff #dk fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #( screaming crying THROWING UP . )#( every time dk makes an ig post i want to d13.. but thats just me )#(💎) page: svt #(🥡) notebook

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highvern · 4 months ago

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Totally Scrooged

Pairing: Lee Seokmin x f!reader

Genre: neighbor!au, idiots to lovers, fluff/angst/smut

warnings: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), protected sex, lots of crying, mentions of cheating (not reader or seokmin), theater nerd Seokmin

Length: ~16k

Note: I was hoping to post this way earlier but alas. I got sick back to back over the holidays. ANYWAYS thank u my sweet @gyuswhore for beta reading and talking me down from the edge and @miniseokminnies for all the theater knowledge. And @ugh-yoongi bc words are hard. CHECK OUT the rest of the fics on @camandemstudios and keep an eye for our next project

summary: When your ex decides to propose to his best friend he told you not to worry about only eleven months after your breakup, you decide the holidays aren’t worth it this year. You’re dedicated to ignoring the red and green splashed on every surface, but your neighbor has a way of convincing you maybe the holidays aren’t totally bad.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Shot number four is about the time you realize drinking your sorrows alone in your apartment on a Saturday night is a little bit pathetic. But you unlock your phone out of habit and the same picture of your ex down on one knee in the middle of the street in marathon gear stares back at you and a fifth shot sounds exactly like what you need.

At least the burn of peppermint schnapps is festive.

Ten months. You and Sam split barely ten months and he’s already engaged to Carson.

After three years of dating, getting Sam to talk about plans further than a month out was like pulling teeth. When he asked you to move in with him you thought there was a very real chance he suffered some head injury that day. Sam and long term commitment didn’t mix. Your entire relationship felt like borrowed time. His engagement proved it was the truth.

In hindsight, you should’ve trusted your gut about Sam’s “platonic” “childhood” “best” “friend.”

They did everything together. Their families vacationed in Montauk every summer, they alternated who hosted which major holiday despite living next door, there isn’t a single milestone either achieved without the other. Every time you visited his parents house the plethora of photos of your boyfriend and his best friend from cradle to present day seemed to grow exponentially.

She’s like my sister.

Most people would frown upon dating a sibling after breaking up with their long term girlfriend, who was sick at home with the flu during Christmas, via text but what do you know? You’re the one sitting on your couch in a tiny apartment you can barely afford wallowing in drunk sorrows while they’re out celebrating.

It’s addicting. Scrolling through all the comments on their engagement photos, with a blanket over your head like some fairytale witch. Sam’s friends you tried so hard to bond with flood the comments, gushing about how cute he and Carson are, how happy they are for them.

Your friends text you how much of a jerk he is, a few call but you ignore them. All you want is to wallow in self pity.

Like the judgemental diva she is, Shinx watches from her tower in the corner, green eyes disdainful. She never liked Sam anyway.

It’d be better if Carson wasn’t objectively likable. Everyone liked her, you included. At least, until your boyfriend dumped you in a three sentence text and she posted a picture of them together on her Instagram not twenty four hours later with the caption “the best things take a while” – color coordinated for the Spencer family photo shoot in front of their lake house.

Assholes.

Even when she isn’t dolled up for pictures, you can’t even pretend she isn’t pretty. Carson looks like she belongs on a Hollywood set, even after running a 5k at the crack of dawn. Perfect messy ponytail, face rosie but not too red. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.

Shot number seven empties the bottle.

Through the living room wall your neighbor belts the lyrics to Celine Dione’s “All By Myself.”

It was ignorable the first few times he replayed it – a little poetic even given the circumstances – but it’s been nearly twenty minutes and you don’t need to be reminded how alone you are. You rocket off the couch and land against the wall with a thud.

“Keep,” knock. “It.” Knock. “Down.” Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

Mr. Neighbor, because you don’t know his name, sings louder.

In the months you’ve lived in this apartment you’ve met your neighbor exactly twice. When you first moved in only two weeks after your break up because Sam’s name was on the lease - not yours – and this was the only place you could find on such short notice in the middle of winter. You had the unfortunate privilege of riding the elevator with him in complete silence, only the sound of your pathetic cries as you moved soggy box after box. He was at least polite enough to take the stairs afterwards. And last month, during a building-wide fire drill because someone on the second floor fell asleep while making boiled eggs. Neither of you felt very chatty at four in the morning.

You couldn’t care less about splotchy cheeks or if your eyes were bloodshot. In your drunken righteousness, you don’t care that there’s mascara running down your face or the sweatshirt billowing around you has grease stains. Something snapped in you. Gritting your teeth, you rush out to the hall and straight for the neighboring door.

Your knuckles sting with each knock but he doesn’t answer until you escalate to pounding against the metal door like the police.

Mr. Neighbor must hear that because Celine cuts off mid-belt. Seconds later the door flies open.

He’s taller than you remember, your eyes level with a hole in the collar of his sweater. When you drag your gaze away from the dip of his throat the combination of tears and booze make deciphering his face incredibly difficult because he has four of them and they keep moving back and forth in blurry circles. His dark hair sticks up in a million directions. Like he put his finger in an electric socket and then tried to fix the mess himself.

Mr. Neighbor stares at you, expression unreadable. “Can I help you?”

“You know,” you start, teetering on drunk feet as you shove an indignant finger into his chest. “Some of us just want to come home from work and relax! Not listen to their neighbors screaming at the top of their lungs.”

“I didn’t realize it was that loud,” he hiccups. “I’ll turn it down.”

It’s hard to be angry when he looks like a mirror image of you. Wet, red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling nose. There’s booze in the air which could be yours but with the state he’s in it’s doubtful. Who listens to “All by Myself” ten times if they aren’t also sobbing alone in the dark?

Guilt squeezes your chest. “Sorry, I’m just…rough day.”

Mr. Neighbor doesn’t say anything for a long time, appraising you silently. If you weren’t drunk off your rocker then the fact you aren’t wearing a bra and the old sweater you tossed on does nothing to hide that fact might be embarrassing. Or how you aren’t even wearing shoes, just fuzzy socks with a hole in the ankle. You also smell like a drunk elf who escaped the North Pole.

“It’s okay. Sorry about the music.”

Mouth moving before you know what comes out, you stop him from leaving just yet. “Why are you crying?”

“Stupid shit,” he says. “Why are you crying?”

You want to brush it off. You’re not looking for pity. Sam objectively sucked and your relationship would’ve ended one way or another. While most people preferred not to be humiliated via social media, it showed his true colors and firmly shut the door. But sometimes, it just feels good to cry all the frustration out and wish the worst on people who deserved it. And you really would prefer not to do either of those things with your neighbor you hardly know.

Especially, when you realize he’s objectively hot even through the blur of tears and intoxication. But alcohol has a way of losing even the tightest lips.

“My ex got engaged.”

His eyes widened in shock before softening in pity.

“Do you wanna come in?”

You don’t sense any ulterior motive. Mr. Neighbor has the vibe of someone who never met a stranger, one of those people you tell your life story to in the airport when your flights are delayed only to leave and realize the only thing you learned about him was he also hated airline food and thought flying first class on domestic flights was a waste of money.

Maybe whatever “stupid shit” he was crying over can be a distraction from your own baggage. If it can’t, at least the invite to complain to a person completely unexposed to the drama of your love life wasn’t half bad.

But you don’t know him. His stupid shit could be infinitely worse and then you look like the asshole while he’s crying over his childhood pet passing away back at his parents house while he’s stuck in his apartment because flights during Thanksgiving were ungodly expensive.

Either way, another person to whine about the world with sounded nice.

You say yes, following him inside.

Mr. Neighbor’s apartment is similar to yours; mirrors the layout of your cramped one bedroom except with neutral colors and a lot more decor. The couch divides the living area from the kitchen. Comfy blankets and pillows littered around. Someone actually lives here, unlike your place where the most personalized thing is fridge magnets. You didn’t feel the need to decorate an apartment you didn’t see yourself staying in very long. Even if it’d been almost a year and the lease renewal sat on your countertop, signed and ready to drop off at the leasing office.

He walks into the kitchen, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room while he fishes in the cabinet for something. You sink into one of the leather barstools and watch as he pours water from a pitcher in the sink and slides it across the counter.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You drink it all in one go while he waits, sobering up enough to realize how embarrassing this all is. You’re drunk, in your mysterious neighbor's kitchen, crying about your ex-boyfriend. But he was drunk, listening to one of the most depressing songs in history, crying about “stupid shit.” Mutually assured destruction.

“We only broke up at Christmas last year.”

“And he’s already engaged?”

“To his best friend.”

At that, Mr. Neighbor procures another glass and pours a little bit of whiskey before presenting it to you. “That’s rough.”

This time, you don’t even wince when you swallow.

He stares, waiting for some sort of reply, tipping the bottle into his own cup but not drinking it just yet. Now that he only has one face instead of four, your face heats. Drunk, sad and a little horny because he has really nice hands, and an even better face.

You tug your phone out and push it across the counter as a distraction for you both. Not that he probably needs it, you’re a wreck. “Here look at this picture.”

Mr. Neighbor scrolls through each picture methodically. Zooming in on strangers he doesn’t even know. Mouthing the caption in silent horror. In effort not to stare at his fingers, you focus on everything else in his apartment.

His fridge is covered in magnets and take out menus, but mixed into the collage are pictures. Photobooth strips in black and white, some large normal photos better suited for a frame. You’re too far away to decipher any of it but curiosity itches you to get a closer look. Postcards from different places, sport theme magnets. Baseball seems to be his favorite.

“He proposed to her at a Turkey Trot?” he says, like the idea is incredibly alien.

“Their families have done it since they were born. Like their moms ran it pregnant and pushed them in strollers until they could keep up.”

“That is….”

You laugh. “Insane.”

“I’m glad you said it,” he chuckles. “Who proposes after running a marathon?”

“I know!” you cry.

You tip the bottle of whiskey into your once again empty mug. There will be hell to pay in the morning but you need something to do to distract from the way your heart pinches at the sound of his laugh. The sad drunk stage is tapering into the horny drunk stage and you really don’t need to ask your nameless neighbor if he wants to make out on his couch. Although, it looks leagues comfier than the second hand lump sitting a wall over. Drinking any more will only make it worse but you need something to do with your hands that doesn’t involve touching him, or thinking about touching him.

He circles the counter and takes the barstool next to yours. Close enough you can feel the heat from his body, the smell of soap and citrus faintly tickling your nose. You want to dive into his shirt and breathe it in until you fall asleep.

Mr. Neighbor is just a decently attractive man that has been overly generous with his time and not been a creep. That is the only reason why your brain is latching onto him right now; you know it. In a few hours, when your head hangs limp over the toilet bowl, you’ll regret this entire interaction and even more if you make it weird.

You balk, rushing away from the thought and looking for a distraction. “I’m not like…pining over him, if that's what you’re wondering. It just sucks seeing your ex who was staunchly against any long term commitment make it clear he was only against long term commitment with you.”

Mr. Neighbor seems to believe you. So many of your friends thought you harbored feelings for Sam this long after the break up but the truth is, you almost expected things to end. Not on Christmas with nothing but a text message, but it always felt like you and Sam had one foot out of the relationship. The end brought certainty and for that you almost felt relieved.

“If it’s any help, I don’t think it was a ‘you’ problem.”

For a second, you want to believe he actually believes that. He’s not just saying it because he’s being nice and letting you cry in his kitchen and drink his booze. Everything about Mr. Neighbor screams PERPETUALLY NICE. Like he saves kittens from trees and walks old ladies across the street in his spare time.

“You don’t even know me.”

“No, but he’s the one that kept you around while waiting for someone else. Sounds like an asshole to me,” he says.

“He is an asshole,” you whisper like a secret. Mr. Neighbor smiles back and you remember you don’t know his name.

He tells you without a shred of judgment.

“Seokmin.”

“I’m YN.”

“I know,” he blurts. His ears tinge pink just before his cheeks. “You had a friend come over one time, she yelled it pretty loud.”

Lydia only had two settings when talking: loud, and louder. Seokmin probably knew a lot more than just your name but was too polite to mention those sordid details.

“So, Seokmin. My drama aside, why were you crying? Or do you listen to depressing music to pregame a wild night out?”

Seokmin nods at your offer to top off his cup and chugs half of it with a wince.

“It feels kinda dumb now but I volunteer at the city theater downtown.”

That explains the framed playbills and theater tickets splashed across the living room walls. A story of all the productions he probably attended or participated in. You only recognized a few of the names. Perpetually Nice, indeed.

“Did one of them dump pig's blood on you while on stage?”

“No, nothing like that.” His mouth unzips into an amused grin. It looks much more fitting than the tears from earlier. “The director won a month-long European cruise and now I’m in charge of the winter production.”

What do people even do on a boat for that long?

“And I’m assuming you don’t want to be the director.”

“I did!” he groans. “But everyone is already emailing me and calling me, trying to bribe me into giving them bigger parts. Have you ever dealt with theater parents?”

Shaking your head, Seokmin grabs your hand with wide, terrified eyes. “They’re like dance moms on crack. I can’t handle it. Not to mention - surprise! - there’s no money for it and I have to do all the fundraising myself.”

Instead of responding, you fill each cup with another generous shot, clink glasses, and swallow them in tandem. The burn is long gone. Now, you feel like you're standing in the ocean, bobbing at the mercy of the waves as he keeps talking about the theater. How someone held him hostage after a meeting for an extra thirty minutes trying to convince him they didn’t need to audition. Someone else proposed an original production of Dracula as a break from the holiday slush every other theater planned. It glides right over your head, until he forces a glass of water into your grip.

“Sorry about my music,” he says.

“Sorry for being a bitch.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Your ex also broke up with you for their childhood best friend?”

“No. The last one broke up with me for her dog walker.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well he’s bald now.” He shrugs and takes another swig. Water not whiskey by the lack of grimace. “She’s also trying to audition.”

At least you have the privilege of watching your ex’s new courtship through the filter of social media. Seokmin is watching it play out a few feet away from him with a constant reminder that his ex-girlfriend was onto seemingly better things with a man who picked up dog shit for a living. Small mercies.

“How long have you two…” you trail off.

“Three months.”

His tone makes it clear there is nothing else he wishes to share on the matter. You get it. Three months after Sam you weren’t ready to talk about it, still kept all the shared memories you two had together in one of the boxes shoved deep in the hall closet. It wasn’t until nearly eight months passed that you finally donated what you could of the gifts he bought you and threw the other half away. Now, you can laugh at the way you sobbed over the ugly monogrammed dish towels from your shared apartment. When his mom gifted them for your birthday, the first thought you had was to burn them.

“So what’s your play?”

Seokmin looks grateful for the swift change in topic. “A Christmas Carol.”

“Never seen it.”

“What?” he gasps. “It’s a classic!”

Below the counter, his knee presses firmly against your thigh. Seokmin doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because it stays there. Warm and grounded and all too tempting but you don’t move away either. A trickle of embarrassment heats your body when you realize you’re wearing the pajama pants Lydia got you for Secret Santa last year. The ones with cartoon gingerbread people fucking in small print all over them. If Seokmin looked down he’d see them in flagrante.

It didn’t mean anything but it felt nice. No way he saw your frumpy clothes and puffy face, crying over your ex and thought I want a piece of that. Typically, drinking only had two paths. On a normal night, you’d go from pleasantly buzzed to “wooo girl drunk,” as Lydia put it, then horny drunk shortly before falling asleep. Tonight, crying drunk meant no woo-ing and definitely no inappropriate thoughts. But Seokmin is the first real man to stoke a tiny ember of interest in months.

It’d be messy. Not the act itself. Maybe. You’re tipsy and he doesn’t look any better but a sloppy makeout wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. However, making out with your neighbor and then dealing with the fall out of such a clumsy entanglement probably wasn’t worth whatever his hands were capable of.

So you snuff it out.

You shrug. “Not really a big Christmas person.”

“I would invite you to come see it but at this rate I doubt we’ll even have a show to begin with.”

You discover that given the chance, Seokmin talks a lot. Shares his entire life story about moving to the city with a group of friends from college, most of them living with their partners. How he found the theater while on lunch break from his job that he didn’t hate but didn’t like. Started volunteering. Met Martha, now ex-girlfriend, there.

He also asks question after question about you, and somehow it doesn’t feel like he’s prying even though he hardly shares about himself. Probably because you’ve reached sleepy drunk and your eyes drop shut, responding while half asleep. You tell him everything. It’s not like you can embarrass yourself any further. But Seokmin doesn't make you feel the slightest bit of shame.

How you met Sam at a friend’s wedding and Carson was his plus one. How Carson’s boyfriends never seemed to meet Sam’s standards. How she was a little too friendly towards you but Sam swore Carson liked everyone. And from your experience, everyone liked her. Then, last Christmas, you stayed at home with the flu while the annual Phan/Spencer celebration took place and woke up to a nice heartfelt text message.

“That’s so fucked up.”

“Yeah, well what’s even more fucked up is his mom posting a picture of her with Carson captioned ‘the daughter I always wanted.’” you huff. “That really sucked.”

Seokmin doesn’t say anything. Not that he can. How do you comfort a stranger about a shitty relationship with even more beneath the surface?

Instead, you both sit in comfortable silence, locked in separate trains of thought. It isn’t until he messes with his phone and Celine Dion materializes into the room once again that you realize how weird it is to be sitting there, sharing woes with a complete stranger.

“Well, I’m just gonna…” you start, sliding off the bar stool.

“Yeah…”

You don’t look back, making a beeline for the door. “Have a goodnight! I hope you aren’t eaten by steroid fueled theater nerds.”

You’re in the hallway, lock latched firmly behind, before he can respond.

You don’t see Seokmin for another week. Not like you saw him much before but now you have a name to the face, along with hobbies and a personality. And his hands. Which don’t seem to leave your memory despite the desperate effort you put into doing so.

Even if you don’t see him though, you hear him on the other side of your living room wall shuffling around when you get home from work.

He keeps his sad playlist to a minimum, and his singing about the same, flat rumbles through the shared wall you can easily ignore. Sometimes you don’t. Occasionally, you’ll pause whatever Netflix dating show poisoning your brain and listen, eyes closed as your mind wanders.

You hear him humming as he passes your door on the way out to work in the morning while you sip coffee and answer emails from your kitchen counter. Sometimes it's showtunes you don’t recognize, others it's Christmas carols. Seokmin has a lovely voice you realize, now free from irritation. It’s weird you never noticed before.

Apparently, Lydia noticed him long before you did.

You finish telling her about the entire debacle with Sam and Carson. Lydia doesn’t believe in social media of any kind so all of her life updates come over Bananagrams and face masks during your semi-weekly Thursday girl’s night at her apartment.

“You just hang out with your hot neighbor drunk and don’t make a move?” she tsks.

“How do you know my neighbor is hot?”

“Unlike you, I pay attention to my surroundings.”

Part of the reason she deleted all her social media was because she wanted to be more ‘in the moment.’ This proves that maybe it actually worked.

Grabbing more letter tiles, you brush off the taunt. “Well, unlike you, I can keep it in my pants.”

“How long has it been since you let someone under the hood?”

“Not that long,” you grumble.

“Really?” Lydia rolls her eyes at the next word you spell, S-A-D.

“Shut up. It was the only one I could find.” You take another sip of hot cider. The hangover from last week's bender still haunts you. “Horny isn’t spelled with an ‘I’ or an ‘E’.”

“It’s been so long I thought you’d forget how it's spelled.”

A few hours and a couple of episodes of Temptation Island later, you're back home. The chilly air creeps into the mailroom, numb fingers struggling to unlock your mailbox. Bill. bill, catalogue, not yours, bill…

As the elevator carries you up to your floor, you find the last letter. A gold wax seal, velvety envelope. No. No, no, no, no, no.

But it is real and it’s exactly what you’re afraid for it to be when you rip it open right there in the hallway. The picture of Carson and Sam staring deep into each other’s eyes, love-soaked down to the finest details. His hand on her knee, both oblivious to the camera and not in the faux staged way of so many wedding announcements.

Michael and Dena Spencer along with

Jason and Zoya Phan

Invite you to celebrate the marriage of their children,

Samuel Spencer and Carson Phan

You fling the card away like a venomous snake.

What the hell is wrong with them? Is it not enough you were the collateral damage in their whirlwind romance? Now they go and rub it in your face how happy they are together. You were the last obstacle to make them realize they couldn’t live without each other, the catalyst for their happiness. And now you have a tangible reminder of the fact.

Thankfully, the hallway is empty so no one witnesses your mental breakdown. A silent stand off with a glossy wedding announcement. You’re tempted to leave it there, let Sam and Carson get trodded on until they’re nothing but limp confetti.

But you can’t. You snatch the announcement from the floor and bolt to your door, key scraping the lock again and again. You just need to get inside. Get inside and then you can go DEFCON 1, shred the entire letter and do something else rash like give yourself bangs you’ll regret in the morning.

The key still won’t find home in the lock and you’re on the verge of giving up when you realize Seokmin is singing along to some record just a few feet away.

You don’t know him well enough to go banging on his door. One drunken bitch session did not a friend make. Even if the drunk bitch session involved recounting life stories and embarrassing childhood moments. Or pajamas with gingerbread people fucking which he definitely noticed.

But you can’t be left alone with this bomb.

Seokmin is standing before you barely a second after knocking, eyebrows scrunched together. You shove the invite into his chest and wait.

“How does he have your address?” he asks.

You shrug. “I made him mail most of my stuff.”

“Why?” Seokmin turns back into his apartment, the door open in invitation as he falls onto the couch.

“Because he cheated on me. The least I could get was him paying three hundred bucks in shipping.”

“You are a very scary woman.”

You follow. This time, you notice more details. His record player is tucked in the corner, crates of vinyl stacked next to it. The candle burning on the coffee table fills the room with the scent of teak and orange. You recognize it as the same one Lydia got you for your birthday; ‘the boyfriend scent’ as she called it. Of course, he’d have it.

“Thank you.”

Now that you’re here, you’re not sure what to do. Seokmin keeps looking at the invite like some puzzle. Like some underlying explanation is written in invisible ink. There isn’t one. The reason for the invite is clear: your feelings don’t matter and they never did.

“I can’t believe they sent you a wedding invite. That’s so fucked up.”

“I’m probably gonna see all the pictures on Instagram soon anyway. At least, this ripped the band aid off. It just sucks they get to rub it in my face.”

“You still follow them, do they follow you?”

They do. Carson and Sam both follow you but you haven’t posted a single picture since the break up so it’s not like they’re reminded of your presence. Not the same way they remind you. There hasn’t been much worth posting either. You go to work, come home, shower, sleep, repeat. The occasional weekend at the farmers market or trip to the bookstore breaks up the monotony don’t inspire you to post.

“Why?” you ask.

“You want something to rub in their faces.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“Is there anything he hated doing while you guys dated?”

You laugh at the irony of the one thing Sam hated more than anything else. “He hated being posted on social media.”

“I have an idea.”

“Does it involve more Celine Dion and whiskey?”

“No,” he smiles. “It’s called a ‘soft launch'. One of the high schoolers explained it to me today.”

“Why are you talking to highschoolers about relationships? Actually, nevermind.” You snatch the invite away from his hands and flip it face down onto the couch. “And what is the point of me soft launching a nonexistent relationship?”

“He sent you a wedding invitation.”

“Okay?”

“So he’s either insane or isn’t completely over you. This is a way to show him you don’t care.”

“He broke up with me on Christmas while I was dying of the stomach flu. I don’t think he cares.”

Seokmin rises from the couch and heads towards the kitchen. “Do you want some wine?”

“Just water.”

He’s wearing the same costume as last week, sweatpants and a sweater. But his hair is a little wet and falls over his glasses. The look, the boyfriend candle, everything Lydia suggested… You should go home before making an idiot of yourself.

Seokmin returns with two glasses, places them both on the coffee table before tossing you a blanket. How can you leave now? It’d be rude. Besides, you want to find out where his offer is going.

“As I was saying: soft launch.”

“I still don’t understand where this is going.”

“You post it on your story, he sees, feels like a huge idiot, and then—”

“And then what? I don’t want him back.” But the thought of making Sam squirm is a validating one. Let him see you the way he’s forced you to see him. Happily moved on with someone else. Even if it isn’t real. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

It’s an easy photo. In theory. Nothing too suggestive, nothing that shows his face. But should you be touching? How much touching is appropriate for a man you’ve talked to twice? Seokmin doesn’t seem to know either. He searches the internet for inspo, some far too intimate for you to dream of. Sitting on his lap? Absolutely not. Having him hold you around the waist? No way. None of it would be believable.

“Okay, what about this one?” he asks after twenty minutes of scrolling.

On the surface, it’s nothing bad. The picture is relatively innocent with Person A’s legs draped over Person B’s lap, hand placed on Person A’s shin. Nothing crazy. At this point, you just want it over with.

“Fine.”

You wore semi-decent sweatpants this time so you don’t worry about that. It’s the entire premise of touching Seokmin so casually and having him touch you in return. But you take it in stride as you both maneuver and twist until you're a perfect copy of the already existing image.

Opening the camera on your phone, you snap a pic and hand it to Seokmin for approval.

“Eh…”

“‘Eh’? What does ‘eh’ mean?”

Apparently, ‘eh’ means Seokmin is wrapping his entire hand around your knee, the other hand on your ankle, and pulling you closer until your butt rests flush against the outside of his thigh. And then he doesn’t move either hand while waiting for you to snap a new picture. It feels like a thousand pounds.

When you’re done, he leans over to assess the photo and you’re stuck with the image of him hovering over you. The picture goes up on your story, embellished with a heart emoji and Seokmin leaves your space but only barely.

“Should I RSVP too?” you joke. It’s weak, your voice thin because you don’t know if he can tell your sweating.

He leaves even more space between you at that, scratching the back of his neck. “Ugh—”

“I wouldn’t actually go but I like the idea of them wasting money.”

“You know what? Do it. Did they give you a plus one?”

You jolt at the idea of Seokmin filling in the role. Focus.

Their wedding site is filled with Pinterest inspiration level engagement photos. You ignore the fact it’s at the park Sam took you to for your first date. You don’t own Emerald Park, or the fountain in the background of their pictures where you and Sam first kissed, and you certainly didn’t own the botanical gardens frozen around them as they walked hand in hand. Hundreds of other couples, you and Sam included, visited Emerald Park all the time. It just feels tacky they would do a full photoshoot where half a dozen of your relationship landmarks lay. But Carson probably owned those spots well before you came into the picture.

Once you hit ‘Yes’ on the RVSP, including your fake plus one, things peter out into awkward silence. You’re still draped over Seokmin’s lap, his hands absentmindedly running up your shin, smoothing the wrinkles in your pants.

Who gets turned on from having their shin fondled?

“How is your play going?” you ask.

“Not horrible.”

“But?”

“Our sets are old, we don’t have costumes and we open in three weeks.”

Seokmin seems to be in the acceptance stage of his grief. At least he isn’t wailing any more Now That’s What I Call Depressing music.

“So it’s not too late for that space idea then?”

He cracks up at that and you feel glowy from the sound of his laugh, the way his chest shakes. He squeezes your ankle. You preen. He still has his hand on your knee, thumb burning uneven circles through the thick fabric.

“I don’t know if anyone wants to see Scrooge in a space suit.”

“Who?”

Seokmin takes the question as a personal affront and decides you can’t leave his apartment without watching at least one version of A Christmas Carol.

You try not to read into things but there aren’t many explanations available. The TV plays the animated version with Jim Carry starring in almost every role which is apparently second only to the muppets version.. Seokmin popped popcorn. And when he came back to the couch, he pulled your legs back over his lap like it was normal. You’re rusty on dating but the amount of times your hand brushes his in the popcorn bowl is starting to border on ridiculous.

Instead of focusing on how this feels a lot like a date, you focus on the movie. Or try to. It helps that Seokmin remains unaware of your inner turmoil, he’s too busy gauging whether you hate or love the movie and looking for your reaction every time one of the ghosts appears.

The angle isn’t conducive to watching the movie either. You can’t turn without straining your neck, unless you pull away from his hold which you don’t want to do at all. And Seokmin is so focused on your reactions that he isn’t catching much of the film either.

He clearly loves it, and wants you to love it too. So you act extra interested but it’s not difficult because clearly he sees something spectacular happening on screen and it makes you eager to see it too. Even if only to distract from his thumb slipping beneath your sock and circling the knob of your ankle.

The movie fades to black, Scrooge is redeemed and your neighbor is watching you with bated breath.

“So…”

You smile at his eagerness. “It was good.”

“Isn’t it? It’s a classic.”

Something about his sheer enthusiasm tugs at your heart strings.

“I’ll help you.”

Everything in your body screeches WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Seokmin must think the same thing, face slack in disbelief. Too late, you’ve already committed.

“My company is always throwing money at stuff during the holidays,” you rush, face heating. “Maybe they could sponsor you guys to help with the sets or something.”

He keeps staring and you keep talking because you’re not sure if this crosses some invisible line. Unlike the touching, or the picture, or the ugly crying last week. Slowly, amazement rooted on his face. Even in your rumpled clothes, he looks at you like you’ve dropped nothing short of a miracle in his lap.

In a flurry of motion, Seokmin drags you into a hug, arms tight around your back, crushing you into his chest. The baggy sweaters you’d seen him in all of once hid firm ridges of muscle. You try not to indulge but your hands are wedged tightly between your bodies, and you’re practically sitting in his lap at this point.

And as fast as it happened, he lets you go and nearly flings himself off the opposite end of the couch.

“Sorry! I just—” His head cocked to the side. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

“I love taking money from people who don’t need it. It’s one of the few joys in my life actually,” you say. “And if they don’t sign a check, we can always try armed robbery. Do you own a ski mask?”

He pretends to think before smiling. “Funnily enough, I don’t. But something tells me you do.”

“A woman never reveals her secrets.”

The next few days pass uneventfully. You hear Seokmin come home later and later, pointedly aware that you’re aware of his coming and going. Occasionally, when it’s still early, he knocks an odd rhythm on the wall separating your living rooms and you learn it's a summons. He wants to watch a movie, or share dinner because he made too much, or hear something about your day that didn’t involve a six year old attempting an accent for their character and sounding like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.

Even when you give him your number, he still knocks. Everytime you fight the urge to squeal like you’re back in high school.

The show is going as well as it can. People have their parts (with minimal complaining). Most of the costumes are free of mold (he sent you pictures wearing half the wardrobe). And Seokmin is maintaining his sanity. Barely.

In the rush of it all, you made a promise not to fuck where you eat. One messy break up requiring a move was enough for a lifetime. While Lydia took every update as another sign he was into you, the risk was too much. What if you misread everything? What if Seokmin wasn’t completely over his ex-girlfriend? She hadn’t come up again since that first night but that didn’t mean anything. At that stage of your break-up you hardly talked about Sam. Maybe Seokmin was still pining for her and you were just there. Or vice versa. He could see you were having a difficult time with the engagement and offered a shoulder to cry on.

Even worse, what if you did sleep with him and it was bad. So bad you could never look him in the eye again. Or he could have a weird dick. Or cry after sex. What if he secretly had a piss kink and that was the real reason Marta broke up with him? The lack of red flags only point to some flaw below the surface you hadn’t learned about yet.

Lydia thought it was ridiculous.

“I will bet my first edition Hobbit that his dick is completely normal,” she huffs through the speaker, the sound of her stationary bike echoing in the background.

Your Friday nights are usually spent curled up on the couch with wine and a movie but you couldn’t wait to give Seokmin the envelope containing a metaphorical golden ticket. The downtown streets are crowded near the theater where the entire cast and crew are spending the evening polishing up the existing set pieces but you brave it, if only to see the look on his face at the number of zeroes on the check.

“You just want me to sleep with him.”

“Is it so wrong I want my best friend to sleep with a nice, attractive man? Do you know how rare those are in this city?”

Your eyes roll. “He is my neighbor.”

“Your hot neighbor. Who has a normal dick and listens to Celine Dion when he’s sad.”

Something stopped you from telling her about the picture, and how Seokmin stayed cuddled up to you the rest of the night. Probably because you know she’d add it to the mounting pile of reasons to ruin whatever tentative friendship built between you.

You find a parking spot and bid Lydia goodbye.

The building lobby, with sleek marble archways and a dusty chandelier the size of your living room, is empty sans a lone security guard scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t try to stop you as you stroll right past and into the auditorium. You don’t want to be a creep that watches from the dark but the sight of your neighbor stops you in your tracks. To hear about his work was one thing, however, seeing him in his element is another.

He’s got paint all over his shirt and jeans and his hair is a mess from running his hands through it but he addresses the entire cast with confidence. Answers their questions, points the crew in the right direction, scans his binder next to someone with a headset who must be important.

Everyone is caught up in their work so they don’t notice as you approach from the aisles, footsteps muffled by the carpeted floors. You’ve never been here before but the history of the building isn’t lost on you. The walls and ceiling stretch high above, intricate moldings weaving up to frame large murals of greek-style motifs. The cushioned seats had seen better days. Red velvet crushed flat, ripped seams and stained with time. But it has a charm to it.

It was easy to imagine Seokmin finding home in this place. Losing himself on stage, spending hours and hours hidden away with a script.

He finally notices your presence when you approach one of the side stage staircases.

“And what do I owe the honor?” he asks, lips unzipping into a grin you can’t help but return.

You wave the white envelope in response, bowing comically low. “I come bearing a gift.”

“Is that—“

You nod solemnly, forcing it into his hands. “Open it!”

Seokmin stares at the envelope the same way he stared at you the night you offered to help him out. A small miracle in the palm of his hand. Your boss signed the check without question. It was a good look to sponsor local events, great publicity and a tax write off. The second you mentioned there were children in the cast and it was volunteer only he doubled the donation.

Seokmin opens the envelope, pausing to read. His eyes bulge. “Two grand? Are you serious?”

“Yep. All it took was the promise of two pages in the back of the program. So if you could get that message passed along.”

He hasn’t looked away from the check as a flush rises up his neck. “I’ll get their logo tattooed on my forehead if they want.”

“Tried that…” you joke. “They went up to two thousand with the promise you wouldn’t..”

“This is…”

You’re swept into a hug tight enough to pop something in your back. Too tight, with your arms wedged between your chests like the first time but you don’t mind. Seokmin is warm

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chants, spinning you around.

You soak in the contact for as long as you can. Seokmin gives great hugs, better than great. You didn’t realize you craved the firm comfort of his arms until you had it once again and now that you do, you don’t want him to stop.

You notice someone watching over Seokmin’s shoulder. She’s pretty. Dark curly hair, button nose, big doll eyes boiling with indignation.

“Is that her?” you whisper into his neck.

“Her who?”

“Mrs. Bald dog walker.”

Seokmin loosens his grip just enough to look. “Yeah. Why?”

You bury your face back into the crook of his and give him a squeeze. Seokmin returns it instinctively, arms slug across the small of your waist like a puzzle piece.

“Marta isn’t the jealous type,” he whispers.

“Huh, that’s weird.” Your lips purse. “Because she just stormed off.”

Seokmin whips around to look at the now vacant spot where his ex-girlfriend once stood.

“Consider it as my thank you for the soft launch.”

“Did that actually work?” he asks.

You can’t admit you forgot to check if either Carson or Sam looked at your post. Coincidentally enough, you were too wrapped up in thoughts of the man before you to remember the entire reason he touched you so casually that night was for petty revenge and not because he actually wanted to.

“Who cares?” you bluff. “Anyway, I was thinking of another fundraiser. Maybe it can give you guys some money for some updated set pieces.”

They could definitely use it. One of the stagehands staples fabric across a hole in the couch so wide you’d bet money the next person who sits on it would sink straight through to the ground, another slathers a thick layer of white paint on a dry rotted board. What good are new costumes without good props?

“If you keep helping us out, they’re gonna have to change the name of the building.” Seokmin smiles down at you. His hand is still at the small of your back but even through the many layers protecting you from the chill you can feel the heat of his touch.

“I’ve always wanted a theater named after me. Like a Rockefeller or something.”

“So what is this idea?”

You gaze at him expectantly. “How many of your friends are single?”

It took little convincing for your plan. Seokmin turns out to be a bartender and his boss agrees to host it (pending a small cut of the proceeds), and several of his friends volunteer to help a good cause.

You’ve never been to this bar either but it somehow fits him too. Not a complete dive but cozy and well weathered. Multicolored string lights hang from the rafters so thick you can’t even see the ceiling, and posters, neon signs, and other decor obscure the walls. A low platform in one corner clearly meant for live entertainment becomes the auctioneer block with a banner strewn above reading THEATER FUNDRAISER in painted bubble letters.

Most of the people in the crowd are involved in the theater one way or another. Volunteers, cast and crew, a few parents coming for the drink specials and a show. A few outsiders mix in with the batch; regulars, people who saw the chalkboard sign on the street and got curious. Seokmin’s friends linger around the pool table in the corner, nervously shuffling around.

You’re on your way over to finalize the order when Seokmin and Lydia intercept you.

“Small problem,” he says.

“What?”

Lydia sighs. “Mingyu has a girlfriend.”

“Since when?” you ask.

“Apparently fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh,” you say. “Good for him.”

“Except we’re a man down.”

“I’ll do it,” Seokmin interjects.

Your gut curls. The idea of someone, not you, going on a date with him leaves a sour note in your mouth. But you’re not in a position to say anything.

But it doesn’t stop you.

“You can’t!” you blurt.

“Why not?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Lydia looks down right maniacal at your outburst. No way are you going to admit whatever feelings you have for Seokmin right now.

“Who is gonna be the host if you’re busy?”

“I’ll do it,” Lydia says. There’s a dare in her gaze. She can smell bullshit a mile away. “Unless there’s some other reason Seokmin needs to host.”

She bats her eyelashes with all the innocence of the devil.

“Fine,” you nod.

Lydia snags the mic from Seokmin and bolts for the stage. “Alright, settle in! Tonight we’re raising money for a good cause. So let’s get this show on the road, and remember—no refunds, no takesies backsies, and no funny business! We take Venmo or cash. No checks! Now, first up, we have Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol steps up to the stage, body lax as the crowd eyes him up and down. He was the first person to volunteer when you explained your idea – spawned from many sorority fundraisers in college – to Seokmin. The others followed suit shortly after, giving you six men in total willing to go on a date (no funny business) in the name of supporting the arts.

“Twenty dollars!” a woman in a dark jacket calls.

“At least let me tell you about him before going at him like a piece of meat!” Lydia jokes.

Someone else interjects. “Forty dollars!”

Lydia ignores her. “He enjoys camping, sports, and long walks on the beach,” she reads off the notecard. “And he can fix your car courtesy of Choi Mechanics.”

“Seventy five.”

People keep increasing their bids, Seungcheol clearly enjoying the attention as he jokes and winks towards the more eager ones. He’s preening while you and Seokmin watch in giddy amusement by the pool table, faces hidden in your drinks.

“Two hundred dollars!” someone near the back calls.

“Two fifty!”

“That’s Seungcheol’s girlfriend,” Seokmin whispers from your side.

You try to get a better look but Seungcheol’s girlfriend remains hidden at a table behind several others.

“Then why is he doing this?”

Seungkwan comes up beside you. “Because they’re exhibitionists.”

“Sold!” Seungcheol yells.

“I’m the one with the gavel,” Lydia objects. She pounds the gavel to emphasize her power. “Sold for two hundred and fifty dollars!”

Seungcheol drops a wad of cash from his own wallet into the bucket at the front of the stage and disappears into the corner of the room where his girlfriend waits. You make a mental note to avoid that side of the bar for the rest of the night, just in case.

The other guys go easy, thriving on the momentum of Seungcheol. Soonyoung gets a date with a woman old enough to be your mother but he looks positively thrilled. Even Mingyu stops by to drop a couple bucks into your hand as an apology. Then it’s Seokmin’s turn.

“He can cook, he’s good with kids, and he makes a mean mojito,” Lydia announces. “Give it up for our favorite bartender, Seokmin!”

The crowd has mellowed out but remains enthusiastic, regulars and theater people alike clapping as he comes forward. Even his boss behind the bar rings a large bell mounted on the wall reserved for good tippers. Someone wolf whistles and Seokmin goes red.

“Let’s start the bidding at thirty bucks,” Lydia says.

“Fifty!” someone calls.

By some feat of the universe, Seokmin transforms into a maroon faced mess.

You look around the bar and spot her at a table close to the edge of the stage. That ugly gut punch from earlier rears its head again at the gleam in her eyes, like she can’t wait to sink her teeth into Seokmin the first chance she gets. You don’t want Seokmin going on a date with her. You don’t want him going on a date with anyone.

Your mouth is open before you realize. “A hundred.”

Seokmin, Lydia, and just about everyone else in the bar whip their head in your direction. You refuse to look at any of them, staring down your competition as she raises her hand to counter.

“One fifty.”

“Two hundred.”

“Three fifty,” she says, smirking at you.

Lydia levels you with expectant looks. Seokmin watches you like you’re a wild animal, unsure of your next move. You’re in too deep now.

“Four hundred dollars.”

Your competition opens her mouth to rebut; however, Lydia is already swinging the gavel, “Sold! To the beautiful woman in the ugly sweater. Come get your man!”

Seokmin catches your arm before you can open your purse. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, think of it as a thank you for saving me from spending all my money on take out.”

He stares at you for a second too long, frozen in his own disbelief. You’re lying and you both know it but to admit that him going on a date with someone else, even for a good cause, made you jealous ventures over a line you’re not ready to cross just yet.

“Alright, that was our last man of the night,” Lydia announces into the mic. “Which means we’ve raised a whopping two thousand six hundred dollars for our local theater.”

Everyone cheers once again. The atmosphere is light but the bubble surrounding you and Seokmin is anything but.

He raises an eyebrow skeptically as you shove bills into the collection bucket, pointedly looking anywhere but him lest your face match the red of his own. It doesn’t matter though. You can feel the heat on your cheeks, the sweat at your hairline. Four hundred dollars to go out with a guy.

At least it’s for a good cause.

Seungkwan saves you from whatever questions Seokmin has, pushing his friend back to work behind the bar before cornering you into conversation.

“You,” Seungkwan says.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I’m having a pre-game at my house tomorrow night. You’re invited.”

“Oh,” you blink. “I’m not really a partier.”

“It’ll be a small thing. Most of the guys here and my roommate. We’re going to Jane’s after.”

“I’ve never been there before.”

Seungkwan stomps indignantly. “You’ve never been to Jane’s? Jane’s is a neighborhood institution.”

“I guess I never got around to exploring much,” you shrug.

“Why not?”

A creature of habit such as yourself, you rarely went to new places. You liked the places you already knew, the ones you didn’t have to guess if you liked. Besides, you hadn’t felt like going out much in the past few months, something always coming up including reasons, such as: you liked your apartment with cheaper drinks, less cigarette smoke, and no strange men trying to mansplain American Psycho.

Lydia appears at your side, new drink in hand. “Did someone say party?”

“It starts at eight thirty, but don’t come until nine. Seok will give you the address.”

Seungkwan disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Lydia hovering at the edge of the stage all alone. If there was one person besides Seokmin you didn’t want to be left alone with, it was her. But it’s too late to escape.

In the face of total mortification, you try to put on a brave face.

“Four hundred? Really?” Lydia asks.

“Shut up,” you mumble into the cup of melted ice.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I’ve met your friends before,” you snort.

Seokmin rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, but they can be a lot and that’s coming from me.”

You refused to let the car ride on the way over be awkward, plowing through whatever cobwebs lingered between you two. Luckily, Seokmin went along, recalling horror stories from Seungkwan’s yearly holiday pre-game. There was the year Soonyoung attempted making hot cider and gave everyone food poisoning. The year after where Mingyu ended up breaking the bathroom doorknob resulting in the fire department coming out to free him because he got stuck trying to crawl out the window above the shower. And most recently, Jeonghan – who you haven’t met yet – hid under the couch for the sole purpose of grabbing people’s ankles as they walked by; except he fell asleep and Seungkwan found him the next morning while cleaning.

Nothing you couldn’t handle.

“Well, if it's too much I’ll send you some code to leave.”

“What should I be looking for exactly?” he asks, lips quirked.

“I’ll start making ghost noises.”

Seokmin snorts when you start demonstrating. “But that happens so frequently. How about morse code?”

“How about I scream at the top of my lungs?” you grin.

“Works for me.”

Seokmin knocks against the dark wood door leading to Seungkwan’s apartment.

“COME IN!” Seungkwan belts, flinging the door open wide. “For me?”

You hand over the bottle of wine with flourish. Heaven forbid you show up anywhere empty handed, a habit hammered in by your mother. “For you.”

Seungkwan pulls you inside. “I like you more and more. Come on, everyone else is already here.”

The doorway leads straight into the crowded living room. You recognize Seungcheol, a woman his same height tucked into his side as they chat with Lydia on the couch. Coincidentally, she lives two floors above Seungkwan and Vernon and was thrilled to discover mailroom guy had a name and good taste in music.

You quickly scan beneath the couch for any full grown men and are mildly disappointed to find none.

Seokmin gets caught up in ‘hellos’ while you pad down the hallway after Seungkwan; into the kitchen where Mingyu stirs something on the stove. Cocoa and vanilla flood your nose, the warmth of the kitchen driving away the lingering chill from outside. Seungkwan puts the wine on the counter before pulling mugs out of the cabinets.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“Spiked hot chocolate,” Mingyu says. He adds a splash of peppermint schnapps to the pot and starts stirring again before pouring two mugs: one for you and one for Seokmin. “There’s whipped cream over there.”

You’re shaking the can of whipped cream when an arm reaches over your shoulder and pulls it out of your grip.

“Just say when,” Seokmin says.

He piles a comical mountain of whipped cream into your mug, and then a matching one on his own. There are sprinkles as well as chocolate shavings and you both artfully decorate your drinks with handfuls of each.

“I think we have more whipped cream than hot chocolate,” you say.

“There’s no such thing as too much whipped cream.”

You both take a long sip and when he’s done you choke. He’s got whipped cream on his nose, his lips, and his cheeks.

“What?” Seokmin asks.

“You’ve got,” you laugh. “Let me help.”

He stands perfectly still as you wipe his face with a paper towel. You’ve been this close to Seokmin before but with amusement instead of nerves clouding your system, you notice details you hadn’t before. The mole of his cheek. Two. One a little more pronounced than the other. Cute.

“Alright, all done,” you announce, finally noticing the way he stares down at you softly. So much for not having any nerves. “C’mon, I wanna see if Jeonghan is hiding under the couch before we leave.”

You lead him out of the kitchen, looking for anyway to cut the tension—

“KISS!” Lydia demands.

You scan the room for who she’s screaming at in an apartment full of strangers only to find her finger pointed straight above your head.

Mistletoe.

Mingyu barrels out of the kitchen to join in on the chaos.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they all chant. Soonyoung cups his hands around his mouth and belts it loud enough your heart lurches.

“We don’t have to,” Seokmin whispers, cheeks and ears bright red.

“It’s fine.”

You plan for a quick peck on the cheek but Seokmin goes for his left while you go for your left and you’re not kissing but something dangerously close to it. The sticky residue of sugar and chocolate registers against your lips, a little bit of stubble missed when he shaved this morning. Barely a second of contact, just the edge of his mouth against yours but the world spins backwards and you nearly fall over.

As fast as it happens, you both draw back, staunchly avoiding eye contact but staying pressed close.

Seokmin wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you against his check. “You okay?”

His breath skims over your lips. The temptation to roll on to your toes and kiss him for real sends your heart racing. Your chin lifts. Seokmin looks at your mouth. And…

“Who's ready to party?” Chan calls, breaking the atmosphere.

The walk to Jane’s is nothing short of hell. Snow falls in thin sheets, frigid air sneaking past the lining of your coat and straight into your bones. In the middle of the pack you aren’t as exposed thanks to Seokmin to your right, Lydia on the other side, and a gaggle of the others walking in front.

Your hand keeps accidentally brushing Seokmin’s, sending a rush of pins and needles up your arm each time. You both pretend to ignore it.

The barren street outside the bar doesn’t hint at what waits within except for the dull hum of life sneaking past the door. It feels like half the city is packed inside, forcing everyone to slither past each other because there is simply no room.

Seungkwan wasn’t lying when he said it was a neighborhood institution. A stage is set up at the far wall, drunks belting their hearts out. Your group fans out to the bar, snagging drinks before taking the pilgrimage to a small table near the stage. Seokmin keeps you close the entire time. Guiding you to a seat, insisting on standing right behind the chair and talking to his friends over your shoulder.

You sag in your seat, content to soak in everyone else's conversations. The edge of your mouth still burns from the contact of the kiss, the same sensation everywhere Seokmin touches. You crave more. Like a sunflower searching for the sun. You lean against the back of the chair for a chance to feel his chest against your back. He doesn’t shy away when you do either. You can’t see his face but Lydia sits across the table watching with a pleased smirk.

“A toast,” Seokmin starts as the song fades and the next group to the stage. Someone wrangled a tray of red and green shots to the table and Seungkwan passes them around. “To Y/N. We wouldn’t have a show without her.”

“Yes, you would,” you correct.

“But we wouldn’t have new costumes,” says Seungkwan. “Do you know how old the costumes we were gonna wear are?”

“And we have new sets. We haven’t bought a new set piece in like fifty years,” Chan interjects.

Soonyoung speaks up next. “And I got a date!”

Seokmin slings an arm over your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. “You’re a miracle worker.”

Cheeks hot, you hide your smile at the bottom of the shot glass.

Focus shifts as Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan take the stage for “No Scrubs” the entire bar signs along to. They’re born performers. Soaking in every minute of attention, riling the crowd up until your ears go numb.

You try not to think of the almost kiss but it’s hopeless. Two drinks down and the only thing on your mind is the eclectic feeling on his mouth on your skin.

You’re so deep in your thoughts, you don’t notice Seokmin has come back to the table with a new drink for you until he’s nudging your shoulder with his.

“How do you like it?”

“Way better than the depression playlist,” you joke.

“Celine Dion is a classic.”

“Yeah, but after the first five times she loses her edge.”

Seokmin shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Blasphemy.”

Vernon and Seungkwan are singing Crazy in Love. Or, Seungkwan is singing and Vernon is head banging to the beat. Just watching makes your neck hurt.

Someone bumps into you from behind, sending you reeling straight into Seokmin’s chest.

“Woah, you okay?”

You nod into his chest but don’t let go.

The shots earlier were a mistake. Seokmin looks good under the neon lights of the bar, better with the swirly haze of alcohol. You want to kiss him so bad it’s embarrassing.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, voice husky.

When you look up at him, something dances across his face. There and gone before you can figure out what it is. Home sounds like a great idea. Better to lock yourself in your apartment where your mind can run wild before you do something stupid – like drag Seokmin into a corner to make out – in front of all your new friends.

You step out of his grip. “I can get home on my own. You don’t have to come with me.”

“I’m good to go. Promise.”

Not willing to brave a thirty minute walk home in the snow, Seokmin orders an Uber while you say goodbye.

Once outside, Seokmin wraps his arm back around you. Away from prying eyes, you let yourself indulge with the excuse of sharing body heat. Friends share body heat all the time. There is nothing wrong with a platonic penguin huddle.

Too soon, he pulls away as a car pulls up to the curb. “This is us.”

Seokmin makes conversation with the driver while you stare out the window as the city whips by. He’s just being nice, treating you the same way he would all his friends. Touching and almost kissing aside, Seokmin is your friend and you don’t want to jeopardize it with complications.

“YN?”

“Huh?’

“We’re home.”

You stumble through the cold, Seokmin hot on your heels through the lobby and into the elevator. It’s a fragile type of silence between you.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Night,” Seokmin says.

“Goodnight, Seok,” you murmur back, pushing open your door.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I left my keys at Kwan’s.”

“Should we call them?”

You invite Seokmin into your apartment while he tries to get ahold of his friends. Shinx offers timid emotional support by curling up in his lap, purring loudly as scratches under her chin. Now you’re jealous of a cat.

How dmbarrassing.

Calling proves futile. Seungkwan’s phone goes straight to voicemail and Vernon doesn’t answer either. He tries texting them with the same results.

“You can sleep on the couch,” you offer.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re sitting in the hall all night,” you say. “Let me get you a blanket.”

In your room, you quickly change out of your bar clothes and into pajamas. It takes some time to dig out a pair of sweats and a tshirt that’ll fit Seokmin but you eventually find something for him. Snagging a pillow from your bed and an extra blanket from the linen closet. you head into the living room.

You force the clothes into his chest. “Here. Get changed and I’ll make your bed.”

A dark look glazes his face and for a second you think he might kiss you. Or you hope he’s thinking about it half as much as you are. But the moment passes. He locks himself in your room while you busy making the lumpy, itchy couch somewhat comfortable for him.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

You settle on Krampus. Neither of you have seen it but even after tonight you doubt you’d be able to recall a single detail. Seokmin pulls your legs over his lap like second nature, covering you both in the blanket, his hands resting on your shin. Choosing shorts over pants was a mistake. The heat of his thigh against the back of yours makes you squirm. The calluses on his palms scratch an itch leading straight between your legs as he rubs up and down absentmindedly, never trailing higher than your knee.

You’re shaking. His hand squeezes and you nearly heave.

“Cold?”

No.

But you nod anyway.

Seokmin pulls another blanket off the back of the couch, carefully layering it over the first, tucking you in tight before putting his arms back over your legs.

“You know, you’re a really good guy, Seok.”

“Thanks.”

It’s shameful. How bad you want to kiss him, for him to kiss you.

“I mean it.”

“I don’t know if it's true though.”

Instead of asking what he means, you lean closer. Then Seokmin does too. You’re too busy staring at his mouth to notice him doing the same. All your thoughts hone in on if he was as good a kisser as you imagined. And if you kissed him right now, would he kiss you back? If you touched him, would he touch you too?

Someone moves first. It doesn’t matter who because his nose nudges against yours, then you're swallowing his sigh, and you both practically melt at the relief.

It’s better than anything you could have cooked up in your head. His lips are soft, the rough pads of his fingers gentle as he tips your chin. You like it. You like him.

Your lips catch on his bottom lip by accident but it's the first domino to topple into a chain reaction. Seokmin’s lips part, your hands bury in his hair. His thumb hones in on the strip of skin between your top and your shorts. You maneuver into his lap, fingers cataloguing the expanse of his shoulders, his neck. Back into his hair. Close as you are, it isn’t close enough. You arch into him, dragging your lips across the line of his throat when his head falls back.

His hands are everywhere. The small of your waist, the base of your spine, lifting your shirt until it’s tossed to the floor and your topless in his lap, shaking with anticipation.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. His eyes lock on your nipples, tight from just a few light touches.

Seokmin pulls you back down, kissing you slow and heavy while his hands touch you with gentle reverence.

Clothes come off. The borrowed sweater he’s wearing reveals so much skin you don’t know where to start. But Seokmin doesn’t let you linger too long because he’s taking off your bottoms until you’re completely naked. Seokmin eases his body over yours, heavy between your thighs.

A particularly harsh pass of his hips pulls a wire down your spine, back arching painfully, moaning at the ceiling.

“Ha,” you waver under his teeth, his tongue worshiping your chest, leaving broad strokes you imagine will feel amazing on other parts of your body. Head tipped back, you display yourself openly for him to touch and tease.

“Take your pants off,” you beg.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay,” he says, mouthing against the sensitive spot below your jaw. His smile is clear. “We don’t have to do anything.”

You make a sound between a whine and a grunt. You want to have sex with him. Right here, on your shitty couch. But you aren’t willing to take the risk, no matter how badly you want it. Even if he does have a weird dick which you doubt based on the feeling of it against your naked cunt.

“You think my dick is weird?” he asks, half shocked and half amused.

“No! I—” you scramble. “I don’t think your dick is weird.”

“But you’ve thought about my dick?”

“I’m not supposed to.”

Seokmin grins, clearly amused. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my neighbor.”

“Oh.” He rushes to rise off you, kneeling between your spread legs. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“I do want to. That's the problem,” you whine.

He hums in acknowledgment, body shaking with barely suppressed giggles.

You thrash. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not, I've just…never had someone be so eager.”

He kisses you like he’s the eager one, tongue tracing your bottom lip until you welcome him in with a lewd suck. It only lasts for a second before he’s back down your chest and then kneeling in front of the couch, nuzzling the meat of your thigh while his fingers stroke against your wetness timidly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yep!” you choke. “Great.”

Your legs verge on numbness from being bent in half for so long but Seokmin keeps finding those spots that make it worth it. You need something to hold onto; his hair, the cushions, your own breasts. Seokmin seems to love that the most. Grunting into your pussy as he watches with reverence as you play with yourself.

“Taste so good,” he rasps. “You’re so hot.”

Fingers thrusting, Seokmin strings you out. When he crooks the digits buried deep inside you, your back breaks in half. The hand pinning your waist down holds tights, the lean muscles flexing in your view.

“J-just like that,” you hiccup.

He never falters. Seokmin does exactly as you ask until you curl and come wet and hot on his face with a cry. It’s not until you push him off that he stops completely, rubbing the mess of his fingers on his pants and crowding you back into the couch cushion to taste yourself off his tongue.

You moan against his mouth. “Wanna taste you.”

“I’m good.”

“I want to,” you beg.

“No like—”

You paw at his crotch only for the enticing hardness to be absent. He’s soft. Confusion furrows your brows for a brief second until the rosy tint to his cheeks registers.

Seokmin hides in the crook of your neck, sigh ruffling your hair as he gets cozy in the warm space and allows his nose to trace the curve of your shoulder. “It usually doesn’t happen like that. I don’t—”

“That's so hot,” you mumble. The heat of his body combined with an orgasm and the last bit of your blood lulls you closer to sleep with every second.

Seokmin tugs your shirt back over your head before pulling you close, his bare chest against your back, legs tangled beneath a quilt. Pure content tickles across your senses, followed by the warm drag of sleep.

Seokmin is gone by the time you wake up.

Shuffling from the couch into the bedroom, you accept he probably left early to get his keys from Seungkwan and didn’t want to wake you. Your head pounds in time with your pulse, stomach turning at the thought of getting off the couch. Thank God he didn’t try to wake you. There’s nothing less attractive than wanting to lay on the floor and wait for the sweet release of death.

The second time you wake up is to the sound of Shinx shredding a scrap of paper at the foot of your bed.

“You bastard,” you groan.

A set of large eyes stares back at you for a moment, before she meows and gets back to work on her kill. You nudge her off the edge of the bed with your foot. She bolts for the living room while you hide back into the pillows until it’s dark outside once again.

When you start feeling human enough to shower and eat, you check your phone. A text from Lydia and a few other notifications greet you but none from Seokmin. Not a call, or a text, or anything. Complete radio silence.

You hear him come home, the shuffle of his feet down the hallway and the slam of his front door. But there's no singing; not even so much as a hum. No knocking on the shared wall. You can’t hear a single thing from his side even when – embarrassingly – you press your ear against the wall like an eavesdropper.

It’s like that for days.

Seokmin leaves his apartment after you get home. Or when you come back from work you hear him rush to turn down his music like he wants you to believe he’s out. He’s avoiding you. And you don’t know why.

You’ve thought about trying to catch him in the act; waiting by the door and popping out to ask him what his problem is. But you’re not sure if you want the answer to that question. He probably regrets kissing you. He definitely regrets kissing you if he's acting like this. But you don’t want to rush to conclusions either. The show opens Friday night and being director requires all hands on deck. Seokmin probably doesn’t even have time to brush his teeth let alone think about whatever it is between you too. Add the fact the actor for Scrooge broke his leg just before the auction and the only person comfortable enough with the role is also directing, he’s under a lot of pressure.

But none of the reassuring thoughts get you to leave the house the night of the show.

It wasn’t as if you had to be there. You helped fundraise but you weren’t cast or crew so your attendance was optional, even if there were two tickets waiting for you at willcall. Missed calls and texts rack up on your phone screen. Lydia, Seungkwan, Chan… But none from Seokmin. You should have turned your phone off to avoid the fall out from ditching.

Instead, you accidentally pick up Lydia’s call.

“Where are you?” Lydia screeches through the speaker. “The show's about to start.”

“I’m…I’m sick.”

You even fake cough but Lydia doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Get your ass down here or I swear to god I’ll drag you by your hair.”

“Why would I go? He hasn’t talked to me all week?”

“So? Who cares!” she huffs, “You worked really hard to make sure this all got done. They wouldn’t have costumes or a set without everything you did. Forget Seokmin, come see it for yourself.”

“I—”

“Listen. Whatever happened between you two happened. But don’t let that chase you away from this. We can plot revenge tomorrow but tonight you should celebrate how hard you worked to make this happen.”

“Alright.”

You race to dress somewhat appropriately. Sweater, leggings, and a nice coat are all you can manage if you want to make it before intermission ends. It’s a miracle you’re not pulled over for speeding or running through yellow lights at the last minute but you get downtown in record time.

The street outside the theater is quiet, fog rising from the damp pavement. Through the glass doors into the theater, people mill about. You missed the first half of the show but there’s still time.

Lydia waits on the steps, exhaling a foggy breath when she finds you. “Thank god.”

“How's it so far?”

“Good. I can’t believe I’ve never come to one of these before.” She types furiously on her phone before locking it and tossing it back into her purse. “The costumes look so good.”

The theater is packed to the brim, the lobby practically bursting at the seams as people chat through intermission. The costumes look better than good and so do the sets. Seokmin plays a more than convincing Scrooge, even better than the ones you’ve seen in the million movie versions of the play you’ve watched together. There’s no way he can see you with the bright stage lights but more than once it feels like he’s staring right where you sit, looking for someone. Looking for you.

Your eyes remain glued to the stage, unable to blink just in case you miss a second. It's dizzying watching him perform, as if you're staring up at the sky for too long and starting to feel unmoored; like you can't look away, can't accept that something so captivating exists.

After another hour, the lights go up, the cast take their bows. Without warning, you’re blinking into a harsh spotlight.

“Stand up,” Lydia whispers, prodding your side.

“What the hell is going on?”

“This production wouldn’t have been possible without Y/N. We’re so thankful for someone like her.”

You smile awkwardly and wait for the clapping to die down as the spotlight moves back to the stage. The second it's over, you’re up the aisle and into the lobby.

Straight into Seungkwan, who is subtly guarding the door like he knew you’d run at the first chance.

“You’re coming to the after party, right?” he asks.

Other people start filtering in from the auditorium. Maybe, you can lose him in the chaos and go home.

“Of course she is,” Lydia interjects. Her arm weaves through yours, a firm threat that she’ll drag you if she has to.

The after party is for cast and crew of legal drinking age at Jane’s. Lydia and Seungkwan ride with you, another silent threat looming in the air. They chat the entire way, undeterred by your silence. It's nice having friends that care but all you want is to hide under a blanket on your couch and spend the rest of the night crying while Shinx watches you with unveiled disgust.

Outside the bar, you promise one drink, claiming that you really are sick and want to go home. Which might be true. You’re off kilter, head spinning, stomach twisted into untangleable knots. But that might be because you can hear Seokmin’s laugh as you enter and your muscles twitch to dive beneath a table until he leaves.

You manage to find a stool in the corner. Even in an attempt to remain unseen more than half the bar stops by to thank you; crew members you haven’t met or cast you’ve seen in passing. Lydia stays by your side throughout, a steady presence as you lose yourself in the party. You can almost forget who is floating around the outskirts of the bar like a ghost.

“Vernon sent me to ask if you want to play pool,” Seungkwan says to Lydia.

She sends you a sideways glance. Not asking for permission but like you’re a kid she can’t leave alone.

“Go,” you say, brushing her away. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t leave without telling me.”

“I’m leaving right now,” you tell her.

“Fine,” she sighs. Then she pulls you into a hug. Lydia isn’t a hugger, in the years you’ve known her you can count on your fingers the number of times it’s happened. “But you should clear the air before you go.”

“I live next to him. There are plenty of opportunities.”

She gives you an extra squeeze, fully aware you’ll continue pretending he doesn’t exist until everything smooths over and you and Seokmin are back to neighbors who tolerate each other's existence in fragile silence.

Which would work if the second you turn around to leave you don’t run straight into him.

He rubs the side of his head. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say. “Can we talk?”

He nods before turning to leave the bar, not waiting to see if you follow but you do.

The party inside the bar echoes out onto the snowy street. It seems no one else is crazy enough to have an overdue conversation in a snowstorm, but better here than anywhere else. At least after Seokmin lets you down, you can run back to your apartment and pretend he doesn’t exist anymore.

Seokmin stands a few paces away, barely illuminated in neon signs and string lights strewn across the street. You aren’t drunk, not even tipsy. Alcohol would make this conversation worse but it’d take the edge off your nerves and dull a little bit of the cold.

You shove both hands in your pockets, unsure what to say now that you have him all alone.

“The play was good.”

“Thanks. Next time you’ll have to see the first act.”

It comes out like a joke but you can feel the vitriol like a bucket of ice water. Ouch.

“I—”

“If you’re not over your ex it’s okay,” he winces. “We can stay friends.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Sam. You still have feelings for him. It’s fine if you do, I get it. I’m not mad or anything I just thought…”

“I am over Sam.”

“Well, congrats on getting over him I guess,” Seokmin shrugs but his grin is forced. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Are you serious?” you scoff, venom stinging the tip of your tongue.

His face glazes with annoyance. “What else is there?”

“Why did you leave?”

“I had work.”

You want to smack to frown off his face.

“But you didn’t text me or leave a note. I woke up and you were gone and then didn’t hear anything from you.”

“I did leave a note. You iced me out,” he argues.

“Where? Because from where I’m standing you left as soon as you could and then ignored me like it never happened.”

“My phone died so I left a note on the counter. And you never texted me or anything so I thought you were trying to let me down easy.”

He left you a note. The shredded paper on your bed…

“Oh my god,” you gasp, ire evaporating. “Shinx.”

“Your cat?”

Laughter bubbles out of your throat, so thick you choke on your next words. “I think she ate your note.”

The realization hangs in the air, Seokmin froze as your words sink in. He stares at you for a moment, still recovering from the absurdity of it all, before he finally exhales a long breath.

“I thought she liked me,” he whines, face lit up with the beginning of a smile.

“Shinx is loyal to no one.”

His body meets yours, like cards precariously leaned against one another to prevent a topple as you both shake with laughter. The cold of the street disappears in the warmth of his touch.

“You’re not that kind of guy. I know that. I shouldn’t have—”

“I could’ve texted you after I went to Kwan’s,” he interjects.

“I could’ve called you.”

Seokmin’s gaze roams across your face. “How about we start over?”

“I’d like that,” you smile, closing the scant amount of space left between your bodies.

“Me too.”

Your lips brush against his, the faintest contact sending a storm of butterflies through your stomach. You’re both smiling too much for it to count as a real kiss but neither of you seem to care. His hand slips around the back of your neck, holding you closer just for a moment longer.

Seokmin convinces you to stay at the bar for a few more hours. He holds your hand, keeps you under his arm, looks at you after each joke to make sure you’re laughing too. Seokmin is nothing like Sam. You’ve known that all along but the fear lingered and you refused to acknowledge it. He’s someone you actually could fall for if you let yourself.

He might hurt you but the potential for something great outweighs the bad in spades.

As the night drags on, you end up closer; sitting on his laps, his hands protectively wrapped around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder and you lean back against him. The slow burn between you roars to a boil when you trace mindless shapes against his palm, Seokmin’s breath shaky in his chest.

“Ready to go home?” he whispers huskily. His breath rushes down your neck, goosebumps bloom in its wake.

You shift closer – the seam of your jeans only further worsening your arousal – and nod.

Once outside, you’re tangled in each other once again, limbs indecipherable. The sudden chill of midnight air has you turning back into his chest, the arm previously on your back curling low on your waist. Seokmin orders an Uber and immediately focuses back on you the second he can. You catch a text on his screen before he can lock his phone. Seokmin holds you the same as before but it’s different this time. You’re both waiting for the damn to break and the flood to wash away whatever tension lingers between you.

[10:56PM] Mr. Boo: do not fuck this up

[10:56PM] Mr. Boo: lydia said she would kill you and i think she’s serious

The cab ride home is a blur. You’re focused on not scandalizing the drive while Seokmin keeps a hand firmly on your knee, perfectly proper if it wasn’t for the grit in his jaw when you return the touch just high enough for your pinky to graze his zipper.

The second the car stops, you throw the door open and pull Seokmin out and inside the lobby, straight to the elevator where he grabs your waist and uses the leverage to kiss you with so much heat you sweat.

He tries pressing you into the wall but you beat him to the punch, crowding him into the corner, front flush with him from head to toe. Seokmin groans, pushing back as you grind over his thigh. One of you pushes the button to your floor.

When the doors open, he gains the upper hand. Tugging you down the hall, he bypasses your door and goes straight for his own. He fumbles with the keys from the way you suck at his pulse but after a few tries he succeeds, pulling you inside and pressing you into the wall of the hallway.

“I like you,” he admits, rushing to unzip your coat and stuff his freezing hands inside, curling them against your waist. “This isn’t just sex.”

You nod dumbly. “I know. I like you, too.”

“And we should – hmmm – go on a date sometime.”

“Okay,” you rasp.

His thigh slots back between yours. All those memories of his mouth and fingers rush to the forefront, teasing you with the fantasy of Seokmin on his knees right here, eating you out next to his front door.

He presses hard against your core, fingers tracing the seam of your pants. Your hands reach beneath his shirt; pulling, squeezing. Nails digging into his tense stomach with each bump against your covered clit.

“Seokmin,” you whimper.

You're pulled off the wall. A trail of clothing is left in your wake to his room. Hats, coats, sweaters, undershirts. Seokmin manages to keep his pants on but allows you to unbutton them for a weak handjob over his briefs.

“God,” he exhales close to your ear.

In all the nights you two have hung out you’ve never been in his room. You try to take in as many details as possible but Seokmin dedicates himself to driving you insane with his lips on your neck, gently nipping and sucking until you shiver.

If you had any foresight this was going to happen then you would have at least picked matching underwear. But he seems thrilled as he crowds you into the bed.

His mouth replaces his hand, lapping at your nipple, completely disregarding the fabric of your bra, before sucking it into his mouth. The hand that was on your chest dips beneath your panties. Fingertips circle your clit, gliding through the wet mess, dipping shallowly inside you.

Your hips rut into the touch. You want more. Need more. And you know Seokmin can give you what you need.

You guide his mouth to your neglected nipple, pushing the cup out of the way and arching as he gives it the same attention. “Please.”

“I got you,” he promises.

Seokmin melts down between your legs, kneeling at the side of the bed; one on his shoulder, the other pressed up your chest. Your hands bury in his hair as he licks a long strip up your core. Each pathetic sound fleeing your lips is rewarded with a deeper curl of his fingers, a harsher lap of his tongue. He leaves wet kisses on your thighs, spreading the mess of arousal and spit before diving back.

You squeeze tight on his fingers. “O-oh, oh fuck.”

Your hips stutter into his mouth. It washes over you, muscles clenched so hard it hurts. The way your heels dig into his back must hurt too but you don’t care. Neither does Seokmin. He doesn’t stop as you claw at him, following that inferno scorching through every tissue, begging him to keep going until you wilt into the sheets.

The ceiling comes slowly into focus, dots floating across your vision. You’re sweating despite the chill hanging in the air. Thankfully, Seokmin blankets you in his heat as he kisses across your hips, then your sternum, then buries his face into your neck. Your shivers have nothing to do with the cold.

“Wow,” you pant.

Seokmin’s face cracks into a tired grin. Fatigue ghosts over the room but you're not done yet. The weight of his cock between your legs demands attention, and you’re all too eager to touch him.

He doesn’t object when you push him onto his back, or to the trail of soft kisses down his front, allowing you to mark up the smooth expanse of his chest and belly how you see fit. You savor the warmth of his body with each touch. Allow your fingers to gently wash away each press of your lips and warm him up for what's to come.

You suck the head of his cock through the fabric, teasing him with your tongue until the taste of pre-cum floods your mouth.

He sinks into the bed. A hand finds its way into your hair, unsure if he wants to pull you off or sink deeper into the heat of your mouth, even if it is just a tease. You tug his underwear out of the way and continue torturing him. Thrilled by the way his stomach tense with each desperate whine from the way your tongue traces every ridge.

He gently guides you back and forth, taking the strain off your neck as you take more and more before he pulls you off. “Wait, shit.”

“What–”

“I was gonna come,” Seokmin explains, pulling you up his chest to drop placating kisses against your chin.

“That’s okay,” you smile. “I want you to.”

“But I want to fuck you.”

“Next time?”

“Fuck yes, next time,” he pants as he rolls you on to your back.

He keeps his mouth on yours, tongue sliding hotly against your own while blindly searching for a condom in the bedside table.

Your hips angle and so do his, a little wiggle and then he’s inside you and it ruins your life. Just the first inch seals your eyes shut, vision filled with stars. You can feel everything; full in a way you’ve never felt before.

Seokmin draws back timidly, allowing you both to watch the way your body takes him so easily.

Somehow he manages to rock deeper, stretch you at just the right angle. Surges right into that spot that curls your chest tight with rough fluidity. The muscles in your thighs are at war with whether to spread wider or squeeze around his waist.

“I wanna ride you.”

There are so many things you want to do with him. To him. But you start with this, taking command of his lap, sinking back on his dick with another tight stretch; glowing as Seokmin watches slack-jawed.

“God, you’re perfect,” he praises.

You fuck yourself on him, knees digging into the mattress as you grind back and forth and all Seokmin can do is watch. A loose grip on your hips as his face glazes over. Your thighs cramp but the way he looks against the pillows, hazy around the edges, hair flat at one side and wild on the other, encourages you to finish what you started.

“Touch me,” you beg.

His neck goes red, ears too, when his hand wedges back between your thighs. “Wanna see you come again. Fuck, you’re so pretty when you come for me.”

Your hips cant wildly, stuttering under his free flowing praise. Too full, too much. You nearly scramble off his lap to snatch at your sanity drifting away.

He kisses you gently, sweet praise ghosting over your lips. “That’s it. Just like that.”

You’re not even moving. Seokmin works your clit raw, fucks up into you with limited motion as you choke on another orgasm that leaves you wet at the eyes and the room spinning.

“U-ugh. Fuck,” you shiver, collapsing into his chest.

“Can,” he chokes. “Can I—”

An imperceivable dip of your chin and Seokmin rolls you back over and flattens your thighs open; hard rushes of his hips, stomach taunt.

“Come for me. Want you to come inside me,” you sigh.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he chants as he shakes beneath your hands before slumping over.

You rebound faster than Seokmin; he’s almost snoring against your chest as you rake a hand through the tangled mess of his hair, melting under the weight on your lips against his hairline.

“You’re pretty when you come, too,” you tease.

He swats your hand away, rising off you to dispose of the condom in the bathroom before rushing back into bed to clean you with a washcloth. When he’s done, he throws it into some forgotten corner of the room where the rest of your clothes hide and dives under the covers with you in tow.

Your limbs lace with his, all nude skin on skin.

“I would like to take you out for real sometime,” Seokmin whispers.

“Good thing I have a four hundred dollar date to cash in on.”

“You know,” he smiles into your cheek. “You could have asked me for free.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @/miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @wobblewobble822

@futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @scoupsjin

@isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy @lukeys-giggle

@aaa-sia @tinkerbell460 @gyuhao365 @ourkivee @bokk-minnie

@cookiearmy @moonlightwonu @kyeomofhearts

@melonacco @lllucere @wwjagabeee @syluslittlecrows @yourbimbohope

@whrryuu @wonrangwoo @xchaenx @champagnenoona

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monamipencil · 8 months ago

Text

───── “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!)

#svt fluff #svt reactions #svthub #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #minghao fluff #seokmin fluff #dokyeom fluff #vernon fluff #seungkwan fluff #chan fluff #dino fluff

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jinmindeulle · 22 days ago

Text

support | lee seokmin

“Ugh, I hate this color”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not the one”

You gave Seokmin a side smile, proud of his character development in the world of make-up.

At first, you have had to drag him into the store to help you buy new products to review them for your YouTube channel, with him understanding no more than the difference between the eyeliner and eyeshadows.

But as time went by and your channel became more and more successful, Seokmin started paying more attention every time you asked him to go with you, especially after he made some appearances in your videos and was now regarded as the beauty boyfriend.

Your followers had started to ask for him more and more often, and he took pride in that.

“What’s my next schedule?”

“It’s a secret” you wiggled your eyebrows, taking his hand in yours to swap a lipstick. “Do you like this one?”

“It goes well with my skin” he nodded, looking at you when you chuckled “What?”

“You’re about to take over the channel at this point, babe” you squished his lips with your free hand and planted a kiss on them. “Mwah”

“I just don’t like disappointing your followers” he gave you a proud smile, and you knew he was already deep into this new sense of responsibility he had gained over being the beauty boyfriend.

“They keep asking for you to do my make-up in a livestream”

“Will you let me?”

The hope in his eyes made you think twice about your initial decision, because you were scared. Although most of the people had loved him and his bubbly personality, of course there were hate comments. You always got them, and you knew they were never going to go away — but as long as you were their target, you were fine.

With Seokmin, however, you had a problem. He was your treasure, and you had promised yourself to keep him safe, away from the haters. He was the only piece of your life that you needed to protect.

“I don’t know, babe” you sighed, placing a couple of eyeshadow palettes into the basket he was carrying.

“I promise I won’t read the comments if you don’t want me to” he reassured you, interlacing your hand in his as you moved to the payment line.

“It’s not only that” you pouted, hugging him with your free arm and leaving a kiss on his clothed chest “People are mean and you didn’t ask for this exposure. I can deal with it because I made the decision to pursue this”

“And I made the decision to support you and your dreams. So if that’s what it takes, I don’t care. I love doing this with you, love. We’ve connected in so many new ways.”

Your eyes filled with tears as he spoke, soft and sweet. He kissed your head and pressed his cheek on the same spot, embracing you to reassure his words.

“I love you” was all you could say. But Seokmin knew those words meant more than that.

“And I, you”

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ seventeen masterlist ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

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hanniescookie · 1 month ago

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a guide to applying lip balm - lsm

pairing - seokmin x f!reader

genre/warnings - best friends to lovers, fluff, lots of kissing, implied makeout session, cursing, use of petnames

wc - 1.3K

summary - your best friend asks you to teach him how to apply lip balm, but that spirals into something else.

A/N - seokmin applying lipbalm with one hand and then blowing a kiss will never leave me, but i failed to Inspire this fic completely from that. nevertheless, i am happy to finally post 😣🤍

| @maestro-net

“That is not how you apply lip balm, Seokmin.”

You remark with a sigh, watching your best friend move his lips around as if trying to catch the balm, rather than smoothly gliding the stick across his lips. It's a bit awkward and humorous but cute at the same time.

He grins, popping the lid back on and turning to you. “Teach me how to apply it then.”

You can't help but laugh at his request, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he hands the lip balm to you. You stare at it for a second longer, before mindlessly scooting closer on the couch.

“Okay, let me show you," you say, taking the sleek tube from him without much thought. You twist off the cap, revealing the soft, shiny balm inside.

"First, you want to make sure your lips are clean and dry," you explain, gently wiping Seokmin's lips with your thumb. He sputters a little at the contact, and only after seeing his expression do you realize what's happening.

Your first instinct is to blush furiously, and your hand falters against his jaw. You refuse to look straight into his eyes for more than a second because the look that he's giving you makes your stomach flip.

How could you be so dumb? Why in the world were you teaching him how to apply a stupid lip balm?

“You can use tissue paper,” he says in a low voice. His lips move against your thumb and your whole hand vibrates. It's nearly like an electric shock.

It dawns on you rather late that he's implying he wants you to go on and also that his lips are messily moisturised because he applied lip balm some minutes ago.

You don't want to go on. You don't think you have that kind of self control—being in such close proximity to your best friend who you've loved for years and not kissing him.

You swallow, backing away a little to find some tissues but he's already holding one for you to take. Though you can't tell when he grabbed it, you take it and carefully begin dabbing it on his beautiful lips.

Once the balm is somewhat removed, you hold the stick up to his lips. "Next, you want to apply a small amount of balm to your lips," you continue, demonstrating the correct technique. "Just glide the stick across your lips, making sure to cover them evenly."

You hope he fails to catch the way your hand is shaking, but you successfully see how his cheeks have turned pink. It gives you a little boost of confidence. Is he affected too?

"Now it's your turn," you say, handing the lip balm back to him. Seokmin takes it, his fingers brushing against yours, and you guide his hand to help him apply it smoothly.

However, he stops. You raise your brows questioningly.

His words are all over the place when he speaks, his finger pointing to his mouth. “I— uh I already have lip balm on, so…”

Your eyes widen slightly, realizing that you indeed just applied it for him.

“I'll wipe it off.” He reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table, and you don't know what, but something stirs inside you. Something so intense that you grab his wrist to stop him.

“I have another way to wipe it off.”

Stupid stupid stupid. Why would you say that?!

Seokmin genuinely looks confused, his eyes turning bigger as he stares at you. He looks adorable, and much more kissable now. You want to dump every common sense in your body and do what your intrusive thoughts are telling you.

Stupidly, you do exactly that.

You lean closer to him, fingers tightening around his wrist as your lips press against his glossy ones. You can't believe the sigh that leaves your mouth at the touch—you feel like you have starved for his lips.

Seokmin seems a little frozen at first, his eyes widening even more if it's possible. Then he shuts them tightly, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest. He can't seem to move, because as much as he has wanted it for years, he can't take any risks. Not with you.

He waits till you pull away without kissing him at all. It was just a firm press of your lips together, and both your ears are hot.

The look on his face makes you assume that you have fucked up. Your heart drops and you sputter out apologies that he can't hear. Seokmin is too busy staring at your lips, and reminiscing how they felt against his own.

Your train of apologies is interrupted by his sudden voice. “I think my lips aren't completely wiped yet.”

You pause. Everything in Seokmin's living room feels dead still. The whole world falls silent. Until he speaks again, his voice so low you fear you would've missed it. “You could–you could try again.”

Your lips find him in the next second. This time, you can't tell if it's his sigh or yours, because you're too engrossed in the feeling of his soft, glossy lips gliding against yours.

It's a gentle kiss, soft yet urgent in a way that tells you he's waited as long as you. Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer by the waist, almost in his lap.

By the time you pull away, you're both breathless. His forehead rests against yours as you both try coming down from the high.

Now it hits. You've crossed this line that you both had carefully drawn over the course of your friendship.

You pull your head back a little, staring at him. His lips are slightly puffy, and his hair are messy on his forehead. He looks more kissable—it almost feels insane. But you do not let your intrusive thoughts win this time.

“Seokmin.” You call out gently. He hums, big eyes meeting yours in a way that makes him look incredibly small. You have so much to say, yet what comes out is entirely stupid and baseless.

“Do you want to continue learning?”

“Learning what?”

“How to apply lip balm.”

Seokmin giggles. The sound makes your head cloudy. You don't know what has caused him to laugh like that, but you know you would do anything to continue making him laugh.

His large hand cradles your face, suddenly making you feel smaller. “Will you wipe it off like this again?”

You fail to control the smile that takes up your features. It's a little shy, a little goofy and mostly surprised. “Does this mean you like me?”

He raises his eyebrows, his warm face lighting up more. Slowly, he nods, making you gasp.

“Fucking hell, dude.”

He bites his lip, and tries to contain his beautiful smile. “Don't dude me. I prefer baby now.”

You stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe how things have spiraled in a matter of few minutes.

It's stupid of you to look like a deer caught in headlights after kissing your best friend and hearing his confession, because now he's starting to look unsure.

“I mean—you don't have to call me baby. I was just saying it as a joke. I don't—do you even like me?”

It's your turn to giggle. You all but throw yourself on him, holding his face in your hands and pecking his lips. “I have liked you for years, baby.”

Seokmin thinks he can faint. If somebody were to tell him that the world is ending right now, he wouldn't bat an eye. He will die gladly in your arms with the memory of you calling him baby.

When his lips find yours again, you know that once this high is over, you both will likely have a lot to talk about. But for now, you let the lip balm in his hand poke your back as you kiss him. You'll deal with the practicality as it comes.

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babyleostuff · 4 months ago

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― BLACK AND BLUE

"glad he didn't overreact", but the one where seokmin, in fact, overreacts after seeing your bruised up arm on a sunday morning.

𝜗𝜚 THEME: reader is (lightly) bruised and seokmin freaks out, comfort (mostly reader comforting him), fluff 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!dk x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 828

💌 natalia’s note: this deeefinetly didn’t happen to me like two days ago… [when i catch u skiers]

“what is that?”

the soapy cup you were washing slipped out of your grip and slammed against the marble sink (seokmin decided to replace the old one right before christmas, because in his words - it was an adult thing to do) making the water splash all around, as your heart threatened to stop from the sudden commotion.

there went your “romanticise your morning by following this easy 50 step routine”.

“seokmin,” you grumbled, turning off the water. “what the hell?” you reached for the towel to wipe your hands and turned around to face your boyfriend, who, for once, seemed very much awake for such an early hour. “you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“what,” your boyfriend seemed unbothered by your words and extended his arm to point at you with a sour expression, which again; so unlike him, “what is that?”

if not for the “8 am” displayed on your kitchen clock (the numbers were blinking so faintly you almost couldn’t see them anymore, because apparently changing the batteries was not an adult thing to do), your boyfriend’s massive nest of curly bed hair and his outfit which consisted of a grinch t-shirt that has definitely seen better days and boxers in puppy print, you’d be startled by his panicked expression, but… you couldn’t take him seriously with all of that.

“what is what?” you asked amused, and leaned your hip on the kitchen counter.

he blinked twice, his brown eyes groggy from sleep. “the bruises on your arm.”

ah.

that makes sense.

you came back from a skiing trip with your friends the night before and because seokmin didn’t come home until early in the morning because of rehearsals, you didn’t really have time to catch up before… well, now. technically you could’ve told him about your little incident on the phone, but you knew how he’d react; he’d either tell you to set your snowboard on fire and throw it out of the window or he would’ve bought the earliest plane ticket to save you from the dangers of snow and ski lifts.

“baby, close your mouth and drop your arm or you’re going to have a cramp,” you sighed, shaking your head. despite your gentle tone that you hoped would soothe his worries at least to some extent, seokmin still stood in the middle of the kitchen as stiff as a board, with a scowl on his handsome face. “come here,” you held out your hands for him to grab.

with no hesitation he quickly made his way across the kitchen, and ignoring your extended hands, engulfed you in a bear hug. “why are you so calm about it?” you could hear the pout in seokmin’s voice, as he pulled him closer to his chest. “your whole arm is black and blue,” he gently ran his fingers along the back of your left arm, ”how did it even happen? what were you doing out there? fighting the yeti?”

you couldn’t help but giggle. exactly why you decided to keep it a secret.

“if you consider skiers yeti, then yes,” you propped your chin against his chest and looked up at him, “and i’m glad to inform you that i won.”

seokmin’s muscles suddenly tensed under your fingertips and he looked even more terrified than a second ago. “what do you mean y-,”

“i was joking, baby. i didn’t fight anyone.”

“then how did you get those bruises?”

“just let me finish, yeah?” you said and brushed his bangs away from his forehead. “someone ran into me, that’s all. i got up after strapping the bindings and someone skied into me and, well, that left some bruises.”

“what an asshole,” seokmin grumbled, his brows drawn together in an angry frown.

“okay there mister, calm down,” you laughed and patted his shoulder. “accidents happen-,”

“yeah, but i’d expect people who ski on red slopes not to crash into others,” his expression stilled and grew serious.

good thing you didn’t mention you ended up with your chin hitting the icy slope, then.

“relax, honey.” as much as you found this situation amusing, you knew seokmin was really worried about the bruises, and to be honest he had every right to do so; three big splotches covered the entirety of your left arm and if you noticed something like that on him you’d freak out for sure as well.

“i know it looks bad, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. and what happened, happened. there’s no point in being angry, yeah?”

your boyfriend’s eyes seemed to soften, the gentle puppy-like expression gracing his features.

“there we go,” you smiled, cupping his cheeks. “i’m okay, min, so please stop worrying so much.”

featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, as seokmin smiled, nodding his head. “just didn’t expect to see my girlfriend all bruised up after being weeks apart,” he leaned his forehead against yours, his arms protectively wrapped around your waist. “but if you say you’re okay, then i trust you.”

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monolotus · 2 months ago

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to be loved is . . .

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒

includes: reader gets referred to as a girlfriend, seventeen adores you so much

When seventeen adores you so much that they can’t help but make you feel so loved even with the smallest gestures

Scoups ⨾ ﹙ to be able to take care ﹚

Scoups, the good leader. He’s always taking care of everybody around him- the staff, his family, his members. He will neglect himself in order to help somebody else, no matter how big or small the help may be.

So, when is late at night, and he allows himself to ask you to help him, you can’t help but smile softly, pulling him closer to your body as you comfort him trough his crying.

He allows you to help him.

When he comes late after practice, he knows you will prepare a tasty dinner for him, with a warm bath afterwards. You will help him with his clothing, as he is ever so tired to change into his pajamas. And you’ll cuddle, and he will be the one being hugged, you all over him｡

Jeonghan ⨾ ﹙ to be childish ﹚

You can’t help but to be yourself around him. How could you not? If he is so unapologetically himself. Your love for the silly games and pranks can’t help itself when you are around your lover. He created a space where your childish jokes can be heard, a space where no matter how dumb the hobby may seem, your lover is always ready to support you｡

Joshua ⨾ ﹙ to be soft ﹚

Ever the gentleman, Joshua can’t help but see you as the most sweet thing in the entire world. He encourages your aftercare routine, doesn’t matter the time nor the problem- you had a fight? a bad day? you stressed yourself out? He’s already in his pajamas, ready to help you with your aftercare routine.

Whenever you feel the world’s expectations on your shoulders, too heavy to let your walls fall, he’s already there: ready with a warm smile, and sweet words towards you.

When the worlds feels like too much, he’s ready to help｡

Jun ⨾ ﹙ to be seen ﹚

You said once you hated the world’s view on you- how people could perceive you wrongly. Since then, Jun has taken it as a full time job to learn you; your hobbies, your freckles, your expressions lines and even the colors that you think makes your eyes pop.

He’s ready to show you that, even if the world has a wrong perception of you, he’s had taken his time to see you for who you are. Not your money, connections, friends or anything alike. He will take his time to know why you frown when you listen to good music, or why you are so scared of cockroaches｡

Hoshi ⨾ ﹙ to be too much ﹚

Too loud, too emotional, too soft, too impulsive. There’s nothing wrong with being too much, that’s something that Hoshi made sure you’d understand early on your relationship.

You are being too emotional? fine! he’ll cry with you while watching the final episode of your latest favorita k-drama. You can’t take Jeonghan’s teasing today? Fine, he’ll shield you from the eldest jokes! There’s nothing wrong with feeling too much. You two take pride in creating a space where both of you could be too hyper, and nobody would have the right to say anything about it｡

Wonwoo ⨾ ﹙ to take space ﹚

Always making yourself feel small. You would physically make yourself smaller when two members would sandwich you, you would lower your voice whenever someone else spoke while you talked. That’s something Wonwoo couldn’t take lightly.

He would encourage you to speak louder when someone would interrupt you, he would make himself look even bigger just so you wouldn’t feel bad about taking even the smallest space between members.

He doesn’t allow his partner to feel small, not when she is full of good things to showcase to the world｡

Woozi ⨾ ﹙ to take time ﹚

“Good things take time” That’s what he said when you couldn’t stop complaining about your assignment taking too long to be finished by your group.

He explained, slowly and surely, how the other groups had their own times to work on their assignment- Everybody had their own schedule, yours been as busy as ever.

He made sure, after this, to encourage you to take time to do your things- your homework, your hair, your night routine.

Without realizing it, he started to take time to plan his own schedule. Sure to say, you made sure he also took time to eat and cuddle with you｡

Minghao ⨾ ﹙ to being taken cared of ﹚

To being able to love, you have to love yourself first. How can you take care of Minghao, if you neglect yourself so much? How could you learn about which herbs can help the stress you both go under, if by the smallest mistake you are trowing hard words at yourself?

He didn’t complain when his tea (made by you) was slightly sour. He didn’t complain when he got sick after taking care of you and your fever. And he would never complain about helping you through your meltdowns.

Why? Because he loves you.

Why would he complain about taking care of his partner? He knew you would drop everything for him if he called you sick, so why wouldn’t he do the same for you?

He did｡

He poured his favorite tea, his most fluffy blanket and pulled his best recipes from Mingyu. He took care of you, even when you wouldn’t stop complaining about it.

Easily, and without thinking too much about it. Because he loves you｡

Mingyu ⨾ ﹙ to be spoiled ﹚

You can’t look at something twice, say “it’s pretty” or even send him a new caffe than opened downtown, or he would be taking action into buying everything that you could lay your eyes on.

Oh, you liked a new foundation at Olive young? Good thing he’s ambassador of the brand! Craving something sweet? Snickers are right there!

There is no need to worry about your plate being nothing short of delicious: he cooks just the way you like it- the meat, the veggies, even the side dishes. He doesn’t mind eating a little bit less meat if that means you get to enjoy your food for a little longer｡

You complained, once, that you didn’t really like your work’s lunch. You bet he took matter into his own hands to learn how to make cute lunch boxes, always sending it with a cute note (“Missing your smile”; “hope you miss me as much as i miss you”; “listen to this song, it made me think of you”)

Seokmin ⨾ ﹙ to be a part of ﹚

Game night? Late after-work-drinks? Behind the scenes of a photo shoot? He makes sure you are included. Let it be through pictures, messages, video calls or even inviting you to the place.

He loves getting a picture of your lunch, a short OOTD video or even a complaint of the weather- it makes him feel part of your daily routine, even when you are in different continents. So, he does the same.

He sends a selca when is late at night and he has just gotten out of the shower, or when the boys decided to order some chicken, or even when he saw a CD of your favorite band while taking a walk with his friends: he makes sure to send a picture, to make sure you know you’re always on his mind｡

Seungkwan ⨾ ﹙ to be emotional ﹚

Growing up you didn’t let many things affect you, you couldn’t cry easily.

Until you met Seungkwan, who would always talk sweet nothings to you “i love doing nothing with you” “i appreciate you doing this for me” “it means a lot that you took time to help me”. His tongue would held so many sweet words towards you, that it was only a matter of time until you started to imitate him.

When he would stay awake to wait for you on a friday night, you would drop a “it meas a lot that you decided to wait for me, that’s why i love you” and he would be shocked, not used to you saying things like that.

He didn’t push it, not at all.

He was his emotional self, and with that, you learnt that being outspoken and letting people around you know how you felt for them, meant a lot.

How could you not? If it was so easy for him to cry out of pure love for his fans, for his friends, for his family｡

How could you not have your eyes filled with tears, as you mumbled about your love towards him?

Vernon ⨾ ﹙ to be shared ﹚

“Yeah, my girlfriend really likes that band” “Have you seen this movie? My partner is the biggest fan” “You know, my girlfriend told me how they did this scene…” Are some common phrases when it comes to Vernon.

He is a little nerd when it comes to his favorite niches, and so are you.

It slipped from your tongue before you could stop yourself “You know, they were actually drunk when filming this scene…” And, later, when a carat would ask about a TMI, he would answer with a fun fact you told him about a movie, a record, an artist.

More often than not, he would make a new playlist inspired by you. He has multiple by now.

In letterbox, he has a watchlist named “to watch with her” And another, called “Her watch” As you don’t really use the app. He rates the movies for you- mamma mia having a 5/5 star｡

Dino ⨾ ﹙ to be heard ﹚

Always the youngest, the overlooked. He can’t bare the thought of not hearing what his partner has to say. Let it be the dumbest opinion in the entire world, he would look at you with big eyes, waiting for you to finish your train of thought.

When you pause the episode of the latest drama you two are watching, he looks down, ready to hear your opinion on how the plot could be resolved.

When you send an album to his chat, with the text “Wait a sec”, he knows he is in for a rant opinion about each track, talking about how you would change it, or why you loved it so much.

You’re first person he sends every draft to: A cover, a coreography, even the instagram pictures. He values your opinion, and he hears it.

He doesn’t just listen, he hears it. He takes his time to process your words, even if it cuts the flow of the conversation, as he really wants to make sure he understands you｡

–sorry for any errors, first time writing long paragraphs for a fic! lol. let me know what you think. Xoxo, gi

– requests and asks are open!

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nonranghaes · 3 months ago

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the once-warm compress on the back of your neck gets lifted as gently as it can, and you can feel seokmin's fingers graze your skin as he replaces it with another one. your face scrunches in pain still when you peek up and see the light is on, and you bury it back into your sleeves. a click punctuates his action as the room is cast back into near-darkness, his apology as soft as can be as he presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

"just needed to see what i'm doing," he keeps his voice low, all too mindful of your headache. "how do you feel?" he's kneeling beside your bed now, a hand on your arm. "still nauseous?"

so you turn your face, finding his eyes in the low light. "do we still have any of that ginger tea minghao gave us...?"

he smiles, already leaning in to kiss your forehead as he starts to get up. "i'll make a cup, then."

yet he doesn't get far before you stop him by catching his hand, tethering him to you for a moment longer. "actually... can you stay here for a minute?" your head hurts, you feel sick, but you just feel lonely most of all. "i still want the tea, but..."

so he lowers himself back onto the floor, drawing your hand to his lips so that he can kiss your knuckles. "okay," he says, thumb running over your knuckles. "then i'll stay."

#nonranghaes.thoughts #seventeen x reader #nonranghaes.svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #svt imagine #svt x you #lee seokmin x reader #seokmin fluff #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #dk fluff

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seokminfilm · 1 month ago

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crybaby 🤍 lee seokmin

🤍 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🤍 warnings, idol au, very short, hurt/comfort, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, crybaby seokmin, seokmin calls reader lovie, kissing, reader calls seokmin baby boy, lowkey just really soft

🤍 summary, caratland made your soft boyfriend cry, and you did your best to comfort him without crying too.

🤍 author's note, been obsessed with caratland 2025 recently and this seokmin is one of my favorites �� the fluffy hat and outfit is everything LMAO also seokmin's just such a pretty crier 😞 makes me want to cry just looking at his watery eyes and reddened nose and squishy frown and UGH i'm tweaking out. gonna pour out my heart and soul into this just watch

🤍 now playing, if you leave me (seventeen)

🤍 word count, 502 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"it's okay to cry seokmin. you didn't look stupid at all." smiling at your boyfriend's wet face, you cup your palm under his cheek, wiping the tears away with your thumb.

seokmin had just come backstage from finishing the second day of caratland, and you had expected him to cry at the end─you were tearing up yourself, especially with the way all of the members were so soft with wonwoo, realizing that their time with him was coming to an end.

seokmin was one of the more uncontrollable criers of seventeen, and he proved it even now; tears were dripping down his sharp jawline as he quietly sobbed to himself, lips downturned into the meltiest frown you think you had ever seen.

"lovie, i'm sorry, i really am sorry, i─" seokmin's apologizing for the third time in the past twenty minutes, and you shake your head, moving closer to your boyfriend as you cradle him towards your chest. he clings onto your shirt like he has nothing left, and your heart melts a little more, pressing a kiss to his scalp as you sigh.

"are you crying because you're going to miss wonwoo, baby boy?" you ask softly, and seokmin nods, head still on your chest as he sniffles.

"i honestly don't know why i'm crying anymore." seokmin lifts his head up from your chest, adjusting his hat as he sighs, looking down at his hands as he plays with his team ring.

"that's okay too. you know what i think?" you inquire quietly, and seokmin looks at you, big brown eyes glossy as he shakes his head.

"i think you're crying because you miss jeonghan, you're gonna miss wonwoo, and you just love carat so much, you can't help but give them everything." you take seokmin's hand in your own, tracing his knuckles as seokmin falters a bit, eyes watering again as he nods.

"am i right?" you question, and seokmin nods again, hand going to his eyes as he gently wipes away the tears, trying to be careful of his makeup. "mhm...i think you're right, lovie."

"what should i do? i don't know if i can go on without them." seokmin sighs, and you know who he's referring to; jeonghan and wonwoo. if you were being honest, you didn't know if you could go without them either. since they were seokmin's best friends, they were yours too.

"you can go on without them, seokmin. i know you can─even though you don't want to, you're a strong person. you'll hold on for them, and they can trust you with their positions while they're gone. you'll be the man in the gap while they're absent." you pat seokmin's thigh, pressing a kiss to his tear-stained cheek as he nods.

"i will. i'll do it for carat." seokmin whispers softly, leaning his head on your shoulder as you squeeze his thigh reassuringly.

"that's my baby boy." you smile softly, pressing a kiss to seokmin's forehead as he sniffles once more, finally calming down.

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bratzkoo · 2 days ago

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WGM episode 8 | dk

episode 8: amusement park

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 4.8k~ Warnings/note: fluff, fake marriage, and real feelings. cursing, seokmin curses a lot in his head.

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

requests are close, but you can just say hi! | masterlist series masterlist | previous episode | next episode

[Opening sequence: Highlights from Episode 7, focusing on their intimate photoshoot moments and the surprise cheek kiss]

Narrator: "After showing their sweet side to the world in their magazine feature, our favorite couple is heading out for a day of fun and thrills at the amusement park!"

---

Seokmin arrived at the designated meeting spot outside Lotte World twenty minutes early, as had become his habit whenever he was meeting Y/N. He blamed it on professional courtesy, but the members had taken to calling it his "pre-Y/N panic time"—a chance for him to get his nerves under control before the cameras started rolling.

Not that it ever worked. Seven episodes in, and his heart still did that ridiculous flutter when he saw her approaching.

The magazine photoshoot from last week had complicated things further. The physical closeness, the staged intimacy that hadn't felt staged at all, the surprise cheek kiss that he could still feel tingling on his skin days later—it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the mental barrier between reality and the show.

And now they were going to an amusement park. A classic date location straight out of every K-drama ever made. Seokmin had a sneaking suspicion the PD was working through a romance cliché checklist at this point.

"You're thinking too loud again," came Y/N's voice, startling him out of his thoughts.

Seokmin turned to find her standing beside him, looking casual and pretty in jeans, a light sweater, and a baseball cap—a far cry from the glamorous styling of their photoshoot, but somehow even more appealing for its naturalness.

"I wasn't thinking," Seokmin defended automatically. "I was... strategizing."

"Strategizing what? Optimal cotton candy consumption techniques?" Y/N teased.

"Exactly that," Seokmin agreed with mock seriousness. "It's all about the fluffy-to-sugar ratio. Very scientific."

Y/N laughed, the sound still doing dangerous things to his cardiac rhythm even after all this time. "Well, I'm glad one of us is prepared."

The production crew approached, cameras already rolling to capture their meeting. The PD handed them each a small envelope.

"Today's mission is simple," the PD explained. "Enjoy a day at the amusement park together! But there's a twist—in these envelopes are three challenges you need to complete throughout the day."

Seokmin opened his envelope, reading the card inside:

1. Win a prize for Y/N at a game booth

2. Take a selca at the top of the Ferris wheel

3. Share one cotton candy (one stick, two people)

Easy enough. Though the Ferris wheel part made his stomach flip with nerves—not because of the height, but because of the romantic implications. Ferris wheels were where drama couples confessed feelings or shared first kisses. The setting was laden with expectations.

Stop overthinking. It's just a theme park date for a TV show.

Y/N showed him her card, which had similar couple-oriented challenges:

1. Buy matching accessories to wear

2. Feed each other some amusement park food

3. Hold hands on a scary ride

"Looks like we're hitting all the couple clichés today," Y/N observed with a wry smile.

"The PD is nothing if not thorough," Seokmin agreed. "Shall we start with the matching accessories? Get that one out of the way early?"

"Lead the way, fake husband."

The term "fake husband" had become something of an inside joke between them, but lately it had started to pinch a little each time she said it—a reminder of the temporary, manufactured nature of their relationship.

As they walked through the entrance gates, cameras trailing discreetly behind them, Seokmin was acutely aware of the public setting. Unlike their previous filmings in controlled environments, this one would have regular people in the background, potentially recognizing them.

Sure enough, he caught the whispers almost immediately.

"Isn't that Lee Seokmin from SEVENTEEN?"

"And Y/N Y/L/N? The actress?"

"They're the couple from that marriage show!"

"Are they filming right now?"

"Ignore them," Y/N murmured, noticing his discomfort. "Just focus on me."

Focus on me. As if that wasn't what he'd been doing helplessly for the past seven episodes.

"Right," Seokmin agreed, straightening his shoulders. "Just us, having fun. Nothing to see here, folks. Just your average idol and actress fake-married for television, wandering around an amusement park with a camera crew. Totally normal Tuesday."

Y/N laughed, linking her arm through his with casual ease that made his heart skip. "Exactly. Now, about those matching accessories..."

They found a souvenir shop near the entrance and browsed the options. Couple headbands? Too obvious. Matching t-shirts? Too committed. Finally, they settled on simple matching wristbands with the park's logo.

"Subtle but identifiable," Y/N approved as they tied them on each other's wrists. "Perfect for a couple who's been married for approximately five minutes of real time spread across seven episodes."

"When you put it that way, our relationship sounds very efficient," Seokmin joked. "Most couples take years to go through what we've experienced in a few filming days."

"The wonders of television time compression," Y/N agreed, her fingers lingering perhaps a second longer than necessary as she finished securing his wristband.

With one challenge completed, they headed deeper into the park. The atmosphere was lively, with cheerful music playing through speakers and the excited screams from nearby rides creating a backdrop of joyful chaos. Despite his initial nervousness about the public setting, Seokmin found himself relaxing as they walked, falling into easy conversation.

"What rides do you like?" he asked. "Thrill seeker or more of a merry-go-round enthusiast?"

"Somewhere in between," Y/N replied. "I like rides that go fast, but I'm not a fan of ones that spin or go upside down too much."

"What about heights?" Seokmin asked, thinking of their pending Ferris wheel mission.

Something flickered across Y/N's expression. "Heights are... not my favorite thing."

"Really?" Seokmin asked, surprised. "But we have to take a selca on the Ferris wheel."

"I know," Y/N said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I'll be fine. It's just not something I'd choose voluntarily."

Seokmin filed this information away carefully. "We can save that for last, then. Build up to it."

"My hero," Y/N said with a playful smile, but there was genuine appreciation in her eyes.

They decided to start with some of the gentler rides to warm up. The bumper cars provided an opportunity for Seokmin to showcase his terrible driving skills, while Y/N proved unexpectedly aggressive, targeting him mercilessly.

"I thought we were on the same team!" Seokmin protested after she rammed into him for the third time.

"All's fair in love and bumper cars," Y/N called back, circling around for another attack.

The cameras captured their competitive banter, the PD giving approving nods at their natural chemistry. After bumper cars came the spinning teacups (moderately successful) and a carousel ride (during which Seokmin pretended his horse was in an intense race with Y/N's).

"I think it's time for something more thrilling," Y/N suggested after they'd exhausted the tamer options. "Maybe we can tackle the 'hold hands on a scary ride' challenge?"

Seokmin's heart rate picked up at the thought. "Sure, what did you have in mind?"

Y/N pointed to a massive roller coaster that featured multiple loops and a near-vertical drop. "That one."

"You're sure heights aren't your thing?" Seokmin asked skeptically. "Because that seems very... high."

"Roller coasters are different," Y/N explained. "You're moving too fast to really register the height. It's the slow ascent and hovering at the top that bothers me."

"Like on a Ferris wheel," Seokmin concluded, understanding dawning.

"Exactly," Y/N confirmed with a small smile. "But I'll be brave for the mission."

"We'll tackle it together," Seokmin promised, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "But first, let's see if I scream higher than you on this death trap."

The line for the roller coaster was long, giving them time to chat while the cameras captured their anticipation. Seokmin found himself sharing stories about amusement park trips with his members, while Y/N told him about a disastrous high school field trip where she'd gotten separated from her class and ended up accidentally joining a tour group of elderly tourists.

"They were so nice," she recalled with a laugh. "They kept offering me candies and asking if I needed to rest. I spent two hours looking at flower arrangements with them before my teacher found me."

"That's adorable," Seokmin said, genuinely charmed by the mental image of teenage Y/N being adopted by a group of grandparents.

As they approached the front of the line, Y/N's nervous glances at the coaster's imposing structure became more frequent. When they finally boarded and the safety bars lowered into place, she took a deep breath that was slightly shakier than her usual confident demeanor.

"You okay?" Seokmin asked, suddenly concerned that this might be more than just mild nerves.

"Fine," Y/N insisted, though her knuckles were white where she gripped the safety bar. "Just channeling my inner thrill-seeker."

"We can get off if you want," Seokmin offered, but the ride attendant was already moving down the line checking restraints.

"No backing out now," Y/N said with a tight smile. "Besides, we have a mission to complete."

Right. The hand-holding challenge. Though at this point, Seokmin was more concerned with Y/N's comfort than completing missions.

As the coaster began its initial ascent, he quietly offered his hand. Y/N looked at it for a brief moment before entwining her fingers with his, holding on with what might have been more force than strictly necessary for the show.

"I've got you," Seokmin said softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Y/N's smile was small but genuine. "I know."

And then they were at the top, teetering on the edge of the first drop, and there was no more time for conversation. The coaster plunged downward, and Seokmin found himself screaming at a pitch that would have made his vocal coach weep. Beside him, Y/N's initial scream of terror quickly transformed into shrieks of laughter as they whipped through loops and corkscrews at dizzying speeds.

Through it all, she never let go of his hand.

When they finally jerked to a stop back at the loading platform, both were breathless and laughing, hair windblown and cheeks flushed with adrenaline.

"That was AMAZING!" Y/N exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. "Can we go again?"

Seokmin stared at her in disbelief. "You were terrified thirty seconds ago!"

"And now I'm exhilarated," Y/N countered. "That's the whole point of these rides."

They exited to where the camera crew waited, still holding hands without seeming to realize it until the PD pointedly looked down at their entwined fingers. They separated quickly, both suddenly finding the exit signs fascinating.

"Challenge completed," the PD noted with satisfaction. "What's next?"

"I think I need to restore my dignity by winning something at a game booth," Seokmin declared. "My screams on that ride were not my most masculine moment."

"I don't know, I found them endearing," Y/N teased. "Like a pterodactyl discovering it can fly."

"That's... not the flattering comparison you think it is," Seokmin replied, but he was laughing too.

They made their way to the game section of the park, where various booths offered prizes for throwing darts, shooting water guns, or knocking down bottles. Seokmin surveyed the options, trying to determine which game gave him the best chance of success.

"How about that one?" Y/N suggested, pointing to a ring toss booth where players tried to loop rings around the necks of bottles.

Seokmin eyed it doubtfully. "Those are notoriously rigged, you know."

"All the more impressive when you win," Y/N countered with a challenging smile. "Unless you don't think you can..."

"Oh, it's ON," Seokmin declared, immediately falling for her obvious manipulation. "I am about to ring toss my way into the history books."

They approached the booth, where an array of stuffed animals hung as prizes. Y/N's eyes lingered on a large plush dog with floppy ears and a goofy expression.

"That one's cute," she commented casually.

Message received. Seokmin paid for a round of rings and took aim at the bottles, determined to win that specific prize for her.

His first attempt sailed completely over the bottles and hit the back wall of the booth.

"Just warming up," he assured Y/N, who was poorly concealing her amusement.

The second throw bounced off the rim of a bottle and ricocheted in an impressive series of bounces before landing on the ground.

"Physics is clearly working against me," Seokmin reasoned.

The third attempt actually made it around a bottle, but it was one of the ones that only won a small consolation prize.

"Progress!" Y/N encouraged.

The fourth and fifth attempts were similarly unsuccessful, leaving Seokmin with empty hands and wounded pride.

"One more round," he insisted, paying for another set of rings. "I'm getting that dog if it's the last thing I do."

Six more failed attempts later, Seokmin was beginning to understand why these games had a reputation for being impossible. The booth operator was watching with increasing amusement, while the camera crew had settled in for what was clearly going to be an extended segment.

"Maybe we should try a different game," Y/N suggested gently.

"No," Seokmin replied, a look of determination settling on his face. "I said I would win you that prize, and I'm going to do it. No matter how many tries it takes."

"My hero," Y/N said, and though there was teasing in her tone, there was something warm in her eyes that made Seokmin's resolve strengthen.

Three more rounds and fifteen more failed attempts later, Seokmin was contemplating whether it would be easier to just climb over the counter and steal the plush dog when he finally, FINALLY landed a ring around the center bottle—the one that won the grand prize.

"I DID IT!" he shouted, jumping up and down with more excitement than the achievement probably warranted. "DID YOU SEE THAT? I AM THE RING TOSS CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!"

Y/N was laughing, clapping her hands in genuine delight at his childlike enthusiasm. "That was amazing! I can't believe you actually did it!"

The booth operator handed over the coveted plush dog with a look of mild surprise, clearly not having expected anyone to actually win it. Seokmin accepted it triumphantly and presented it to Y/N with an exaggerated bow.

"For you, my lady. Only took half my yearly salary and possibly the development of a gambling addiction, but totally worth it."

Y/N accepted the stuffed dog, hugging it to her chest with a smile that made all those failed attempts completely worthwhile. "I shall treasure him forever. What should we name him?"

"Persistence," Seokmin suggested. "Or perhaps 'Financial Ruin.'"

"How about 'Lucky'?" Y/N countered. "Since it was lucky throw number twenty-something that won him."

"Lucky it is," Seokmin agreed, feeling oddly touched that she wanted to name it together, as if it were their shared pet rather than just a carnival prize.

With the ring toss challenge completed (albeit at great cost to Seokmin's wallet and dignity), they moved on to the food section of the park. The "feed each other" challenge from Y/N's card was next on their list.

They surveyed the options—corn dogs, ice cream, various fried foods on sticks—before settling on a stall selling hotteok, the sweet pancakes filled with sugar, cinnamon, and nuts.

"These look dangerous," Y/N observed as they received their order. "Very messy potential."

"That's half the fun," Seokmin replied. "Nothing says romance like getting syrup all over your face while cameras document your humiliation."

They found a table and sat down, the hotteok steaming between them. The cameras positioned to capture the feeding moment, which suddenly felt more intimate than Seokmin had anticipated.

"Ladies first," he said, breaking off a piece and holding it up for Y/N.

She leaned forward, eyes locked with his as she took the bite from his fingers. There was something deliberate in the way she maintained eye contact, something that made Seokmin's breath catch in his throat.

"Your turn," she said after a moment, breaking off her own piece and offering it to him.

Seokmin leaned in, hyperaware of her fingers brushing against his lips as he accepted the bite. The sweetness of the hotteok was almost overwhelmed by the rush of emotions flooding his system.

It's just for the show. It's just for the cameras. It doesn't mean anything.

But the soft smile Y/N gave him as she wiped a bit of sugar from the corner of his mouth with her thumb felt anything but staged.

"Two challenges left," she said, glancing at their mission cards. "Cotton candy and the Ferris wheel."

"Let's get the cotton candy now and save the Ferris wheel for sunset," Seokmin suggested. "It'll look better for the photos."

And give Y/N more time to prepare for her fear of heights, though he didn't say that part aloud.

They found a cotton candy vendor and ordered a single stick, the fluffy pink cloud almost comically large between them.

"How exactly are we supposed to share this?" Y/N wondered, eyeing the sugary confection.

"With great difficulty and maximum stickiness," Seokmin predicted. "Want first bite?"

Y/N tore off a piece, the sugar immediately dissolving on her tongue. "So sweet!"

"That's kind of the whole point," Seokmin laughed, taking his own piece.

They wandered through the park, passing the cotton candy back and forth, occasionally tearing off pieces for each other in a continuation of their feeding challenge. It was simple, silly fun, but Seokmin found himself treasuring these lighthearted moments even more than the more obviously couple-oriented challenges.

As the afternoon wore on and the cotton candy dwindled to nothing but a sticky paper cone, they found themselves approaching the final challenge—the Ferris wheel. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, creating the perfect romantic backdrop.

Too perfect, in Seokmin's opinion. It felt like a setup, a manufactured moment designed to push them into something neither was ready to acknowledge.

"We don't have to do this if you're really uncomfortable with heights," he told Y/N quietly as they approached the imposing wheel.

Y/N took a deep breath, clutching Lucky the plush dog a little tighter. "It's fine. I can handle it. It's just a slow-moving wheel, right?"

"Right," Seokmin agreed. "And I'll be right there with you."

The line moved quickly, and soon they were being ushered into a glass-enclosed carriage. The camera crew couldn't join them in the small space, instead giving them a handheld camera to capture their own footage. This created an unexpected sense of privacy, despite knowing the footage would be viewed later.

As the wheel began to turn, lifting them higher into the evening sky, Y/N's knuckles whitened where she gripped the edge of the seat.

"Hey," Seokmin said softly, covering her hand with his. "Look at me, not down."

Y/N's eyes found his, gratitude clear in her expression. "Sorry. It's silly, I know."

"It's not silly," Seokmin assured her. "Everyone's afraid of something."

"What are you afraid of?" she asked, seemingly grateful for the distraction as they continued to ascend.

Seokmin considered this. "Professionally? Losing my voice before a big performance. It's my recurring nightmare."

"And personally?" Y/N pressed gently.

The question caught him off guard. They'd shared a lot over the past few months, but rarely ventured into territory this vulnerable. The privacy of their current situation made it easier to be honest.

"Being forgotten, I guess," he admitted after a moment. "Not just as an idol, but as a person. The thought that I might not leave any meaningful mark on the people I care about."

Y/N's eyes softened. "I don't think you need to worry about that. You're pretty unforgettable, Lee Seokmin."

The simple sincerity in her voice made his heart constrict. "What about you? Besides heights."

Y/N was quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting to the sunset visible through the glass, though she kept her hand firmly in his. "Becoming irrelevant, I think. Not necessarily in my career, though that's part of it. But more... being someone people can easily replace or move on from."

The vulnerability in her admission struck a chord in Seokmin. Without thinking, he squeezed her hand. "Also not something you need to worry about."

Their eyes met, and Seokmin was suddenly acutely aware of how alone they were, suspended high above the world in their glass bubble. The moment felt weighted with possibility, with unspoken words hovering between them.

Then the carriage jerked to a stop as they reached the very top of the wheel, and Y/N's fear resurfaced as she glanced down reflexively.

"Oh god, we're so high up," she breathed, her grip on his hand tightening painfully.

"Hey, it's okay," Seokmin soothed, shifting closer to put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't look down. Look out at the sunset instead. Or at me. I've been told I have a very distracting face."

That earned a small laugh from Y/N, though it was tinged with nervousness. "You do have a distracting face," she agreed, turning to look at him rather than the view. "Very expressive."

"One of my many talents," Seokmin confirmed seriously. "Along with pterodactyl screaming on roller coasters and spending obscene amounts of money on rigged carnival games."

Y/N's laugh was more genuine this time, her body relaxing slightly against his. "Don't forget your superior cotton candy sharing skills."

"A comprehensive skill set," Seokmin agreed. "I'm quite the catch."

"You are," Y/N said, and something in her tone made him pause. There was a sincerity there that didn't sound like part of their usual banter.

Before he could respond, she seemed to remember the camera in his free hand. "We should take that selca now, while we're at the top."

"Right," Seokmin agreed, grateful for the distraction from the suddenly charged atmosphere. He held up the camera, angling it to capture both them and the sunset behind them. "Smile!"

Y/N pressed close against his side, her face next to his, smile bright despite her fear of heights. Seokmin took several photos, wanting to make sure they got at least one good one.

"Perfect," Y/N declared, reviewing the images. "Mission accomplished."

As if on cue, the Ferris wheel began moving again, beginning its descent back to the ground. Y/N visibly relaxed as they moved downward, though she didn't pull away from Seokmin's side.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For helping me through that. For distracting me."

"Anytime," Seokmin replied honestly. "That's what fake husbands are for, right?"

There it was again—that slight pinch at the reminder of their arrangement. But Y/N's smile didn't falter as she nodded. "Right."

When they reached the bottom and exited the carriage, the PD was waiting with an approving smile. "Did you get good footage up there?"

"I think so," Seokmin replied, handing over the camera. "All challenges completed successfully!"

"Great work, both of you," the PD said. "That's a wrap for today's episode!"

As the crew began packing up equipment, Seokmin and Y/N found themselves standing together in the fading twilight, the park's lights beginning to twinkle on around them.

"That was fun," Y/N said, still holding Lucky the stuffed dog to her chest. "Even the terrifying parts."

"Especially the terrifying parts," Seokmin corrected with a smile. "Those make the best stories later."

"True," Y/N agreed. "No one wants to hear about the time everything went perfectly according to plan."

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, neither quite ready for the day to end.

"Do you want to grab dinner?" Seokmin found himself asking before he could overthink it. "The cameras are off, but we could still..."

He trailed off, suddenly unsure if he was overstepping. They rarely spent time together off-camera, though their text conversations had become increasingly frequent.

Y/N hesitated, and for a terrible moment Seokmin thought she was going to decline. Then she smiled, nodding. "I'd like that. I'm starving after all that cotton candy and hotteok."

"A balanced meal of pure sugar," Seokmin agreed with relief. "The cornerstone of any nutritious diet."

They ended up at a small restaurant near the park, tucked into a corner booth away from prying eyes. The conversation flowed easily, moving from reflections on their day to stories from their respective careers to childhood memories. It was the first time they'd spent significant time together without cameras recording their every word, and Seokmin found himself cherishing the authenticity of it.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/N said after their food had arrived. "And you don't have to answer if it's too personal."

"Sure," Seokmin replied, curious.

"Why did you agree to do 'We Got Married'? You mentioned losing at rock-paper-scissors, but was that really it?"

Seokmin considered the question, wanting to give her an honest answer. "Partly, yes. The members volunteered me when the offer came in. But I could have refused if I'd really wanted to."

"So why didn't you?"

"I thought it would be good exposure," Seokmin admitted. "Both for me personally and for the group. And I thought it might be fun, in a terrifying sort of way." He paused, then added, "I didn't expect..."

"What?" Y/N prompted when he trailed off.

Seokmin met her eyes. "I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I have. Or to..."

Like you as much as I do. The words hovered unspoken between them.

"Me neither," Y/N said softly, seemingly understanding what he couldn't quite say. "It's been... unexpectedly nice."

There was that word again. Nice. Such a simple word for the complex emotions swirling between them.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their check, breaking the spell that had settled over their conversation. They split the bill and made their way outside, where reality awaited in the form of their respective managers parked nearby.

"Thank you for today," Y/N said as they prepared to part ways. "For winning Lucky, and for helping me on the Ferris wheel, and... everything."

"Thank you for making it so easy," Seokmin replied honestly. "Being married to you, even just for a TV show, has been... nice."

Y/N smiled at his echo of her earlier word. "See you for episode nine?"

"I'll be there," Seokmin promised. "With bells on, probably, knowing our PD's penchant for increasingly elaborate scenarios."

Y/N laughed, then surprised him by stepping forward and giving him a quick hug, Lucky the stuffed dog squished between them. "Goodnight, Seokmin."

"Goodnight," he replied, watching as she walked to her manager's car.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from Y/N—a selca of her with Lucky the stuffed dog positioned on her pillow.

Y/N: Lucky says goodnight. He also says thanks to his ring toss champion dad.

Ring toss champion dad. The casual implication of shared parenthood, even of a stuffed animal, made Seokmin's heart do a complicated flip.

Seokmin: Tell Lucky he's welcome, and that his Ferris wheel survivor mom is the real hero of the day.

Y/N: We make a good team, don't we?

Such a simple question, laden with potential meanings.

Seokmin: The best team. Even if we disagree on rug colors.

Y/N: Especially when we disagree on rug colors.

Seokmin smiled at the callback to their decoration argument. There was something comforting about these inside jokes they'd developed, these shared references that belonged just to them.

Y/N: I had fun tonight. Both on and off camera.

Seokmin: Me too. We should do it again sometime.

Y/N: I'd like that.

Three simple words that made Seokmin's chest tighten with hope and fear in equal measure. As he set his phone aside, he couldn't help but wonder where this was heading. Two episodes left, and then what? Back to their separate lives, with nothing but memories of a fake marriage that had begun to feel anything but fake?

For the first time since the show began, Seokmin allowed himself to admit what he'd been trying to deny for weeks now: he was falling for Y/N. Not for the cameras, not for the show, but for real.

And that realization was both the most thrilling and terrifying thought he'd had all day—far scarier than any roller coaster or Ferris wheel could ever be.

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