hi, author! can i request dk + biceps worship. y/n rides him while squeezing and kissing his arms. also, size kink with y/n showering him with praises about how big his body and dick is.
idk how to word them but im not rushing u or anything hehe i love reading all of your works <3
You’re straddling Seokmin’s lap, your fingers skimming his shoulders like you’ve been aching to touch him all day. His biceps flex slightly beneath your touch, and you can’t help yourself. You lean down and press a kiss to the curve of one arm, then the other, slowly and deliberately.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” you whisper, voice teasing against his skin. “Do you even realise how big you are?”
Seokmin blinks up at you, half shy and half smug. “You mean my arms?”
Your lips trail upward again, grazing his shoulder, and your hands smooth over his chest, down to where his shirt clings to his torso. “Everything,” you murmur. “Your arms, your chest, your cock...all of you. You're built like a dream. How am I ever supposed to concentrate when you walk around like this?”
He laughs softly, he's breathless now, and rests his hands on your hips, grounding you, but letting you explore at your own pace. You feel him tense beneath you, just slightly, like he’s trying not to lose it under the attention.
“You're so strong,” you add, kissing the base of his neck. “So big... and I love that I get to have all of you like this.”
Your praise leaves him flushed, his jaw clenched tight, and his pupils blown wide with heat. He grips your waist a little harder now, not roughly, but possessively, like he can barely hold himself back.
“You’re killing me,” he mutters, voice low and rough. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not letting you leave this bed tonight.”
You smirk and shift your hips just enough to make him groan. “Good,” you whisper, brushing your lips over his again. “That was kind of the point.”
and it's hereeee. can i just this story has one, if not my most favorite line i've written. like ever🥺 won't say what it is since i don't want to spoil it but i hope you like it!!
Eunbyeol has her hands on her hips, pout deepening by the second as she stares down the pink bicycle your aunt gave her. Training wheels off, a challenge declared.
“You promised you’d teach me,” she says, sharp and insistent in the way only six-year-olds can be.
The problem? You don’t know how to ride a bike either. Never learned, never told anyone, and now you’re standing here caught between disappointing her or… admitting it. So you do the only thing you can think of. You call him.
Lee Seokmin answers on the second ring, his voice already a smile.
“Hey. What’s up?”
You hesitate, because you always do with him. Because Seokmin is sunshine bottled into a person, the kind of gentle that feels undeserved in your hands. He’d cry if someone else stubbed their toe. He’s been showing up for you for months now. Carrying groceries, waiting outside your work, slipping you little notes that say eat well or don’t forget to rest, all without asking for anything back. Courting you quietly, patiently.
And you? You’ve never let yourself give in, not fully.
But Eunbyeol’s glare could cut steel.
“I, um,” you start, shifting the phone against your cheek. “Do you… maybe know how to ride a bike?”
There’s a short pause. Then his laugh bright, delighted, like you’ve just given him the best news all day.
“Of course I do. Why?”
And just like that, you’ve dragged him into it.
Now, at the park, Eunbyeol is wriggling impatiently as you tighten the strap on her helmet. She looks like she’s about to take off for the Olympics instead of wobbly first attempts at pedaling.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” you ask for what feels like the tenth time, glancing at Seokmin who’s crouched down checking the bike’s wheels.
“I mean—you don’t have to, I don’t want to bother you—”
“Y/n,” he cuts in gently, looking up at you with that easy smile that always manages to disarm you.
“If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t be here.”
“But still—”
“I want to be here.” His tone is soft but steady, like he knows exactly what you’re doing—trying to make sure you’re not a burden. And he won’t let you get away with it.
You swallow, focusing instead on adjusting your sister’s knee pads. Eunbyeol beams at Seokmin like she’s known all along he’d come save the day. Kids always seem to trust him instinctively, and you can’t blame them. Sunshine, in human form.
“I’m ready!” Eunbyeol announces, wobbling as she straddles the bike.
“Not yet,” you say quickly, trying to tug her elbow pads tighter. “You need—”
“She’s good,” Seokmin assures, standing now and brushing off his hands
He takes the handlebars, steadying the bike while Eunbyeol grips them. “Okay, champ. Here’s the deal. You pedal, I’ll hold on, and we’ll go slow. No rushing, promise.”
She nods, practically vibrating with excitement. You step back, suddenly useless, watching as he jogs alongside her, one hand steady at her back, the other keeping the bike upright. He’s laughing, she’s shrieking with glee, and you’re standing there realizing just how natural he looks here. With her. With you. Like he belongs in this picture you’ve always been too scared to frame.
From where you stand a little ways off, you probably just see him jogging alongside the small bike, grinning and calling out encouragements.
To Seokmin though, this is everything. The little girl’s laugh, the way her hair bounces in the wind, the weight of her trust in his hands.
“See? You’re doing it!” he cheers, steadying the bike as she pedals. Eunbyeol looks over her shoulder, face smug, dimples flashing in a way that makes him think oh, so that runs in the family.
When they’re a bit farther away from you, Eunji looks at him
“I know how to ride a bike already,” she declares matter-of-factly.
Seokmin blinks. “Huh?”
“The ahjumma and ahjeossi at the bakery near our apartment taught me.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, focusing on her pedaling.
Then, without missing a beat, she says, “But unnie really wanted to ask you. She won’t call you first unless she really, really needs to, but… I know she misses you.”
Seokmin nearly trips over his own feet. For a second, he can only stare at the back of the little girl’s head, his grip on the bike faltering before he steadies it again. And then, unbidden, the laugh comes. The kind of laugh that squeezes his chest because Eunbyeol, in all her six-year-old bluntness, has just cracked him open.
He bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying not to let it spill into something wetter, heavier. But still, he feels it. The rawness of being told, in the simplest way, that you miss him. That maybe all his waiting, all his patience, isn’t just one-sided hope.
“Thanks for telling me, champ,” he murmurs, voice thick but warm. “That means a lot.”
Eunbyeol just grins like she’s won something, legs pumping harder now, and Seokmin can’t help but glance toward you across the park, his heart full and breaking all at once.
Eunbyeol’s legs wobble a little, but Seokmin steadies the bike easily, jogging beside her. She’s quieter now, thoughtful in that way kids sometimes get, like she’s holding a secret too big for her small body.
Then she says it.
“Unnie gets sad all the time.”
The words are so soft, so matter-of-fact, they slip past his guard before he can brace himself. His chest tightens, his throat dries.
“But,” Eunbyeol continues, turning her head just enough to catch his eye, “she smiles when she’s with you.”
Seokmin nearly loses his breath. He feels it, like a string pulled taut inside him, one that’s been straining for months but finally snaps under the weight of something so unbearably honest. He knows your situation, knows the nights you’ve had to be both mother and sister, knows the weight you never let anyone else carry.
That’s why he never pushes. That’s why he waits, why he lets you decide when to reach out, why he’s content being the steady presence at your side. Because he knows you’re already carrying more than most people could bear.
But hearing it from Eunbyeol, it’s almost too much.
He laughs, but it’s broken at the edges, trembling. Not the loud sunshine laugh people expect from him, but something quieter, rawer. His eyes sting, and he blinks fast, because the last thing he wants is for Eunbyeol to see him cry and worry.
When he glances down, she’s blinking up at him with those wide, unflinching eyes.
“Do you really think so?” he manages, voice thick, trying for lightness but not quite reaching it.
She nods, solemn in a way that makes her look older than six. “I know so.”
And Seokmin feels his heart break and heal all at once. The noodle shop is warm and noisy, steam fogging the windows as bowls clatter and conversations hum all around. Eunbyeol is perched beside you, legs swinging under the table, happily slurping her noodles like it’s the best meal she’s ever had.
You glance across the table at Seokmin, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “Thank you again—for today. For everything. I know I keep saying it, but really—”
He shakes his head, cutting you off with that smile that makes your chest ache. “Hey. Don’t thank me. Any time I spend with you is better than anything else I could be doing.”
The words are simple, easy, but they land heavy in you.
Then he shifts his gaze, softer now, toward Eunbyeol, who’s making a small mountain of kimchi on the side of her bowl. “And honestly… it’s more fun when she’s around.”
Your breath catches, heart pulling painfully tight. Because that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you’ll never deserve him. Not when he doesn’t just see you, but sees her too—accepts her as part of the picture without hesitation, without pause.
You shouldn’t want someone this good, this gentle, this selfless. You shouldn’t, but you do. With every fiber of you, you do.
And sitting here, watching him laugh when Eunbyeol makes a noodle moustache, you realize just how dangerous it feels—loving him silently, wanting something you’ve convinced yourself you can’t have.
Eunbyeol skips a few steps ahead, humming to herself, her helmet bouncing slightly with every hop. You’re walking slower, pushing her little bike along the path, the late afternoon sun painting everything in gold.
Seokmin falls into step beside you, hands in his pockets, glancing at you every few seconds. “You good?” he asks softly, his voice low enough so only you can hear.
You glance at him and give him that smile. The one you’ve mastered—gentle, practiced, reassuring. The one that says I’m fine, don’t worry about me.
But he knows better. He’s seen that smile too many times to believe it anymore.
“Yeah,” you say, adjusting your grip on the bike handles. “I’m fine.”
And there it is again—that same smile. The one that hides the weight you carry, the exhaustion you’ll never voice, the ache he knows you tuck away so no one else has to see.
Seokmin’s chest tightens. Because he wants so badly to take that burden from you, to tell you you don’t always have to smile through it, not with him. But he doesn’t push. He never does. He just walks beside you, steady and quiet, hoping that one day you’ll let him be the place where you don’t have to hide.
The path winds toward the park exit, gravel crunching under your shoes. Ahead, Eunbyeol darts from one patch of flowers to the next, singing under her breath, the sound carrying like little bells in the breeze.
Seokmin keeps pace with you, his shoulder close enough to brush yours but not quite touching. He glances sideways again, catching the curve of your smile as you watch your sister. It’s soft, but it carries that same edge, that practiced brightness he’s learned to read like a second language.
“You don’t always have to,” he says quietly.
You blink, turning to him. “Don’t always have to what?”
He hesitates, then gestures lightly at your face. “Smile like that. Like it’s your job to make the whole world believe you’re okay.”
Your hands tighten slightly on the bike handles. You open your mouth, maybe to deflect, maybe to laugh it off, but he keeps going, voice low and steady.
“I know you’re tired. I know it’s been… a lot. Taking care of her, taking care of yourself. And I know you don’t like leaning on people.” He swallows, forcing down the heaviness in his throat.
“But you can, you know. On me.”
The words hang between you, heavier than the setting sun.
Up ahead, Eunbyeol turns and waves at the two of you, her laugh cutting through the quiet moment, and you lift your hand to wave back, your throat tight.
Beside you, Seokmin doesn’t press. He just walks a little closer, close enough that if you leaned even slightly, you’d find him right there. Always there.
=
The café smells faintly of roasted beans and sugar, the last traces of warmth clinging to the air even as you lock the register, wipe down the counters, and pull the lights one by one until only the faint glow from outside remains. It’s nearly midnight, the streets outside quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your shoulders sink a little heavier.
You push open the door, bag slung over your shoulder, keys jingling in your hand. The cool air bites against your skin. You’re ready for the long walk home, ready to just melt into bed—when you stop dead in your tracks.
He’s there.
Leaning against the lamppost just across the street, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, hood pulled over his hair. Lee Seokmin.
For a second you just stand there, blinking, because you hadn’t called him, hadn’t texted him, hadn’t said a word. But that’s the thing about him, isn’t it? He shows up. Even when you don’t ask. Especially when you don’t.
Your chest tightens before you force a smile, lifting your hand weakly. “Seokmin? What are you—what are you doing here?”
He pushes off the lamppost, crossing the street in a few easy strides. His grin is wide but soft, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? Making sure you’re not walking home alone at this hour, obviously.”
You shake your head, already protesting. “You didn’t have to. I can manage—”
“Mm.” He cuts you off, tilting his head as if to weigh your words.
“You could. But why should you have to? When I can be here?”
Your throat feels tight again, the kind of tight that makes it hard to look at him directly. So you focus on fumbling with the strap of your bag instead.
“You must be tired. Don’t you have schedules early tomorrow?”
“I’ll survive.” He shrugs, falling into step beside you as you start walking. “Besides, I’d rather be tired from seeing you than rested from not.”
You glance up at him at that, startled, and he just laughs, eyes crinkling, like he didn’t just casually drop something that makes your heart stumble in your chest.
The two of you walk in silence for a while, your footsteps echoing on the pavement. Seokmin glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’re working too much.”
You let out a breath, a small laugh that isn’t really amused. “You sound like my aunt.”
“Then your aunt is right.” His tone isn’t sharp—it never is—but there’s a firmness there, a quiet plea woven into the gentleness.
“Two jobs, running after Eunbyeol, taking care of everything by yourself… You never stop, do you?”
You grip the strap of your bag tighter. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
“I know.” His voice drops, softer now. “I know you don’t. And I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But I just—” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck before looking at you fully. “I just wish you’d let someone make it a little easier. Even if it’s just walking you home.”
Your steps falter for a moment, and he notices—of course he does. He always notices. You don’t answer, not right away, because if you open your mouth, you’re not sure what might come out.
Instead, you finally manage a small, tired smile, one that doesn’t hide quite as much this time.
“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you,” he says simply.
And with that, he takes the bag from your shoulder before you can argue, slinging it over his own like it weighs nothing, his free hand brushing close enough to yours that your fingers nearly touch with every step.
For once, you let him.
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hum faintly as you step inside, the sharp chill of the air-conditioning sweeping over your tired skin. The shelves are mostly full, the place quiet at this hour, and you reach straight for the aisle you know best—the one with the snacks you promised Eunbyeol.
“She’s going to be out cold by now,” Seokmin says lightly as he follows you. “But you’re still bringing her something, huh?”
“Of course.” You reach for her favorite gummies without hesitation, then crouch to grab the chocolate milk boxes she always insists taste better than the cartons. “She’ll ask first thing in the morning.”
Seokmin just shakes his head, smiling to himself as he wanders down the next aisle. You don’t think much of it until you join him at the register a few minutes later, arms full of Eunbyeol’s treats—only to see his pile.
Your favorite chips. The iced tea brand you always choose without thinking. That one sandwich with the egg salad filling no one else ever touches, except you.
You blink. “You—”
He shrugs, placing his items on the counter. “What? You’re allowed to spoil your sister. I’m allowed to spoil you.”
Your lips part, but no words come out. Because it’s so simple for him, so natural, this way he balances you without even trying. You, always remembering what Eunbyeol likes, always putting her first. And him, remembering what you like, putting you first without making you feel guilty for it.
The cashier rings everything up, and you stand there with your hands clasped around your bag strap, that voice in your head stirring again. The one that always whispers when moments like this happen.
You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him.
You force a smile, thanking him again, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. He just shakes his head, sliding the bag of snacks into your arms like it’s nothing, his fingers brushing yours in a way that makes your heart ache.
“Come on,” he says gently, as though he doesn’t notice the war behind your smile. “Let’s get you home.”
=
The late afternoon sun is mellow, casting long golden streaks across the park. You and Eunbyeol sit side by side on a worn wooden bench, her legs too short to reach the ground, kicking idly while she licks at the melting vanilla swirl in her cone. Yours drips too, but you’re more focused on making sure she doesn’t drop hers all over her dress.
For a while, it’s quiet—just the hum of cicadas and the squeals of other kids running past. Then, in that sly, too-wise way she gets sometimes, Eunbyeol leans closer, her voice muffled around a mouthful of ice cream.
“You like Seokmin oppa, right?”
You nearly choke on your bite, coughing as the ice cream goes cold and heavy down your throat. “W-what?”
She turns her head, cheeks puffed out, blinking at you like you’re the silly one.
“You like him.”
You laugh too quickly, too nervously “Eunbyeol, eat your ice cream before it melts.”
But she doesn’t let up, just shrugs and licks at the dripping edge of her cone. “It’s okay. I like him too. He’s nice. He always makes you smile. Not your fake smile, the real one.”
Her words hit sharper than she’ll ever know, sharper than she should know at her age. You freeze, caught off guard, your chest tightening with that familiar ache.
“Byeol-ah…” You start, but your voice is softer, tired in a way you can’t disguise.
She swings her legs harder, as though to punctuate her point, eyes still on you. “It’s true. You’re less sad when he’s around.”
And just like that, she goes back to her ice cream, like she hasn’t just dismantled all the walls you’ve carefully built.
You stare at her, at her sticky cheeks and too-big helmet hair that still hasn’t quite settled, and you can’t decide if you want to laugh, cry, or both. Because of course she’d see it. Of course she’d know.
You glance down at your own cone, melting too fast in your hand, and let out a shaky breath.
That voice returns, you don’t deserve him. But louder, buried somewhere under the ache, is a whisper you can’t ignore: maybe you want him anyway.
You sigh, slumping against the back of the bench, your ice cream already melting down your fingers. Eunbyeol is watching you now, chin propped in her hand like she’s just cracked some kind of mystery and is waiting for your confession.
Finally, you let out a tiny laugh and say, “I like him too much. That’s the problem.”
Her brows furrow, her little face scrunching. “Why?”
You glance down at her, at the seriousness in her eyes, and can’t help but chuckle again, shaking your head.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“Unnie.” She draws out your title like she’s scolding you. “That’s not fair. If you like someone, and someone likes you back, why is that a problem?”
You blink at her, surprised by her logic, and then laugh outright, the sound helpless. “You’re six, why are you asking me these questions?”
“Because you’re not making sense,” she says matter-of-factly, licking the ice cream threatening to drip onto her hand. “If I like strawberry ice cream and strawberry ice cream likes me back, that’s good, right? That’s easy.”
You press your lips together, trying not to laugh at the comparison. “People aren’t ice cream, Byeol.”
She huffs, swinging her feet harder. “Well, maybe they should be. Then you wouldn’t look so worried all the time.”
That knocks the air out of you for a second, the way she says it so innocently, like she hasn’t just exposed the one thing you’ve been trying to keep hidden. You reach over and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling softly despite the lump forming in your throat.
“You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”
Eunbyeol grins, satisfied with herself, and takes another big lick of her cone. “I know. But I’m right too.”
And you can only shake your head, laughing softly as you turn your gaze back to the park, wishing for once that the world really were as simple as your little sister believed it to be.
=
The restaurant is lively, buzzing with the chatter of after-work crowds and clinking glasses. The warm light reflects off wooden tables crowded with dishes, the savory smell of grilled meat wrapping around you the moment you step inside.
You hadn’t planned to come. Yyour first instinct had been to politely decline, to say no, Eunbyeol needs me home. But Seokmin’s voice had been so certain, so gentle. Take her. It’ll be good.
And now here you are, tucked into a booth with him, Mingyu, and Hao. Eunbyeol sits between you and Seokmin, her little legs swinging, wide-eyed at the spread of food filling the table.
Mingyu leans over first, grinning like he’s known her forever. “You like tteokbokki? Spicy?”
She shakes her head with all the seriousness of a six-year-old. “Not too spicy.”
“Got it.” He carefully scoops the sauce off one end of a rice cake before sliding it onto her plate.
Hao, ever the calm one, smiles softly and nudges the small plate of dumplings closer to her. “Try these. They’re not spicy.”
Eunbyeol beams, already won over, and you can’t help the laugh that slips from you. “She’s going to think you two are spoiling her.”
“That’s the plan,” Mingyu says, grinning, and Hao just shrugs like it’s only natural.
Meanwhile, Seokmin has been quiet beside you—not withdrawn, just steady. Every so often, he slides a piece of grilled pork belly onto your plate, adds a wrap of lettuce with sauce already tucked inside. When you fuss over Eunbyeol’s food, making sure her rice is mixed just right, he nudges your elbow gently.
“Eat too,” he murmurs.
You glance at him, flustered. “I am—”
He raises a brow. “One bite in thirty minutes doesn’t count.”
Heat rises in your cheeks, but you obey, taking the wrap he’s made for you. He doesn’t press the matter after that, just keeps quietly tending to your plate, watching you in that way he always does—like he notices every small thing, every moment you forget yourself.
Across the table, Mingyu leans toward Hao, muttering not-so-quietly, “Is it just me, or is this the softest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Hao smirks, eyes flicking between you and Seokmin. “It’s not just you.”
You pretend not to hear them, busy cutting Eunbyeol’s dumpling in half, but your ears are warm.
And still, that voice lingers in the back of your head, whispering with every quiet gesture Seokmin makes—you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him.
But then Eunbyeol laughs at something Mingyu says, sauce on her cheek, and Seokmin reaches over instinctively to hand you a napkin, as though he knows you’ll want to wipe it away for her.
The streets are quieter now, the dinner rush fading into the hum of late-night traffic. Neon signs glow soft and hazy, and the air has that faint crispness that means autumn is just around the corner.
Up ahead, Seokmin walks easily, Eunbyeol fast asleep against his shoulder, her arms looped loosely around his neck. Her little shoes dangle with each step he takes, completely at peace in his hold.
You hurry after them, your bag bouncing against your hip. “Seokmin, let me—seriously, she’s heavy. I can carry her.”
He doesn’t even slow down, just glances back with that bright, teasing grin. “Heavy? She’s light as a feather. You think I’m gonna let you carry her after you’ve been working two jobs all week? No way.”
You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in exasperation as you catch up. “I’ve carried her plenty of times.”
“Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze forward again. “And tonight, you don’t have to.”
There’s no room for argument in his voice—not harsh, but certain, gentle in the way he always is with you. Like he doesn’t just say things, he promises them.
You walk a little slower then, falling into step beside him. From this angle you can see Eunbyeol’s face pressed into the curve of his neck, the way his arm cradles her with such care it makes something ache in your chest.
He looks natural like this. Too natural.
You hug your arms across yourself, eyes fixed on the ground. “You really don’t have to do all this, you know.”
“What, carry her?”
“Carry her. Show up. Help. Everything. You don’t have to.”
He chuckles softly, not loud enough to wake your sister. “I know I don’t have to.”
“Then why?” Your voice is quieter now, uncertain, like you’re afraid of the answer.
He shifts Eunbyeol slightly in his arms, adjusting her weight, and then glances down at you, his smile gentler this time. “Because I want to.”
The words sink into you, deeper than you mean them to. And you can’t bring yourself to argue anymore. Not when he’s walking steady beside you, carrying what you can’t, both literally and in ways you’re still too afraid to name.
For a while, the only sound is his footsteps, steady and strong, and your own heart pounding louder than it should.
You glance at him. At the way he doesn’t even look strained, at the way his hand holds her securely like she belongs there. And that’s when it slips out.
“I don’t deserve you.”
The words are so low you almost convince yourself they won’t reach him. But his head tilts just slightly, steps faltering for half a beat. He heard.
Your stomach drops. Panic claws up your chest. Before he can open his mouth—before you can see whatever’s written on his face—you move.
“Let’s go,” you say quickly, brushing past him, walking faster, your bag bouncing against your side. You don’t dare look back. You already know. You know he’d argue, he’d tell you otherwise, he’d say all the things you’ve secretly wanted to hear but don’t think you deserve.
So you walk ahead, the sting in your chest sharper with every step, hoping he’ll let it go. Hoping he won’t press.
Behind you, Seokmin adjusts Eunbyeol carefully, his gaze fixed on your retreating back. His throat tightens with everything he wants to say, everything he’s been holding back for months.
But he doesn’t call out. Not yet. Instead, he follows. Steady, quiet, carrying what you can’t, like always.
The apartment is hushed once Eunbyeol is asleep, her little body curled under the blanket, clutching the stuffed rabbit she never lets go of. You smooth her hair back once, twice, then quietly close her door.
Seokmin is waiting by the entryway, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his expression as warm as ever. You walk him out, the night air cool against your skin as the two of you step into the hallway.
“Thanks again,” you murmur, trying to sound casual, like your heart isn’t still beating from what slipped out earlier. “For dinner. For… everything.”
He smiles at you, but this time, it’s a little different. There’s weight in his eyes, something steadier, heavier than his usual brightness. And before you can retreat into another polite thank you, he says it.
“You know you’re wrong.”
You blink. “Huh?”
He takes a breath, then meets your gaze, unflinching. “About what you said earlier. About not deserving me.”
Your chest goes tight, heat rushing to your face. “Seokmin, I—”
“No.” His voice is quiet but firm, cutting off your protest. “I’ve been holding back because I know you’ve got enough on your plate. I didn’t want to push, didn’t want to make you feel cornered. But I can’t let you keep believing that.”
You stare at him, stunned, as he steps closer—not too close, just enough that you can’t ignore the warmth radiating from him.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” he says, every word steady, deliberate. “You’ve taken care of your sister, you’ve worked yourself to the bone, you’ve carried things most people would have collapsed under. And still, you smile. Still, you show up. Do you have any idea what that means? What that looks like to me?”
Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Your throat feels too tight.
“You think you don’t deserve me?” His voice softens, gentler now. “Y/n, I’m the one who wonders every day what I did to deserve you.”
It breaks something inside you. Because it’s everything you wanted to hear, everything you never let yourself believe. And it terrifies you.
“That’s exactly why I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You’re kind, and gentle, and you say things like that, and it just—it proves it. I can’t give you what you give me, Seokmin. I can’t.”
His jaw tightens, but his eyes never leave yours. “If only you could see yourself the way I see you.”
You shake your head, but he takes another step forward, his voice lower, almost pleading.
“You see flaws, burdens, exhaustion. I see someone who’s fought every day for her sister, someone who still finds a way to laugh even when she’s tired, someone who makes people around her feel safe just by being there. That’s the person I see. That’s the person I—” He stops himself, swallowing hard before finishing. “That’s the person I want.”
Your breath hitches, tears stinging your eyes, but you still try to argue. “You’re making me sound like I’m more than I am—”
“You are more than you think.” His voice is fierce now, not loud but burning with conviction. “And if you can’t believe that yet, fine. Then I’ll believe it for you. As long as it takes.”
Silence stretches, heavy between you. You can hear the thrum of your heart in your ears, can feel the way his words have carved straight through every wall you built.
And for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.
=
It’s been a few days since then, he doesn't push, doesn't try to ask. He texts every now and then, reminding you to watch or checking if you're working late again.
One day He's just getting something from the store when he bumps into Byeol. He was just running a quick errand, slipping into the corner store for some ramen and drinks. But fate has a strange way of finding him, because as he rounds the aisle, he nearly collides with a small figure in a pink jacket.
“Whoa!” He steadies the bag of chips in his hand before smiling down. “Byeol-ah?”
Her little head tilts up, wide eyes brightening when she recognizes him. “Seokmin oppa!” she chirps, and the ahjumma with her bows politely, explaining she’s watching Eunbyeol while you’re at work.
Seokmin kneels a little, smiling so she doesn’t feel like he’s towering over her. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re getting milk.” She proudly holds up the carton in her hands, and he laughs, ruffling her hair gently.
It’s then she leans in, like she’s about to tell him a secret. “Oppa,” she says, lowering her voice even though the store is quiet, “unnie cried yesterday.”
Seokmin’s smile falters. “…She did?”
Byeol nods solemnly, her tiny lips pouting. “She always cries when she thinks I’m asleep. I don’t know why.” She fidgets with the carton in her hands
“Unnie doesn’t tell me things. She just works and smiles and… she gets sad when she thinks I don’t see.”
His throat tightens. He already knows. He’s seen glimpses of it, the tired curve of your shoulders, the way your smile sometimes doesn’t quite reach your eyes. But hearing it from your little sister, so plainly, so innocently, it breaks something in him.
“She really likes you, you know,” Byeol suddenly adds, her voice lighter, as though she’s connecting dots in her own childlike way. “She smiles more when you’re there.”
Seokmin laughs, but it’s quiet, shaky at the edges. Half joy, half heartbreak. He presses a hand over his chest for a second, like he needs to keep himself steady.
“I like her too, Byeol-ah,” he says softly. “More than she knows.”
Byeol tilts her head, curious. “Then tell her.”
Seokmin’s lips part, but no words come out. He just looks at her and wonders if maybe, just maybe, she’s braver than her unnie ever allows herself to be.
He swallows, managing a smile as he taps her nose gently. “Maybe I will.”
But inside, he’s already made the decision: he can’t keep holding back, not when the weight you carry keeps breaking you in quiet, hidden ways. If he can be the one to ease it, even a little, then he has to try.
=
Seokmin’s phone buzzes against his desk, the caller ID flashing your name. He freezes. It’s been days since you last spoke—days of silence, days where he forced himself not to push, not to demand. And now… you’re calling.
His chest squeezes tight. He answers immediately.
“Hello? Y/N?”
At first, all he hears is your uneven breathing, the sound of you trying and failing to steady yourself. His heart races. Then your voice—small, broken.
“Seokmin—” A sob cracks through. “I—I can’t find her—Eunbyeol—she’s—”
That’s all he needs.
He’s already on his feet, grabbing his coat, his keys. “Where are you?” His voice is sharp with urgency, but still gentle, grounding. “Y/N, tell me where you are.”
You choke out the name of the place, words trembling, scattered. He doesn’t even wait to process. He’s out the office doors, coworkers glancing up in surprise as he rushes past.
Traffic blurs, the world reduced to the thundering of his heart, the desperate grip of the steering wheel. Your crying echoes in his ear, every ragged breath tearing at him.
“Listen to me,” he says firmly through the phone, trying to keep his voice steady for you. “I’m on my way. You’re not alone, do you hear me? Just hold on, Y/N. I’ll find you. We’ll find her.”
He drives faster than he ever has, every second stretching like an eternity, praying—begging—that you and Byeol are both safe by the time he gets there.
Your legs feel like they might give out at any moment. You’re standing just outside the school gates, hands shaking as you grip your phone to your chest, tears blurring everything. The teacher’s words keep echoing in your head—she’s not here, she never came in today.
But that’s impossible. You remember. You remember her hand in yours, the way she turned back to wave at you, her pink ribbon bouncing with every skip of her little steps. You remember.
So why isn’t she here?
You’re still unraveling, chest heaving with sobs, when someone grabs hold of you. Strong, warm hands. Seokmin.
“Y/N!” His voice cuts through the fog in your head, urgent, desperate. He pulls you into his chest, anchoring you as your legs buckle. “Hey, hey, look at me. What happened?”
“I—she—” You can barely get the words out. You clutch at his shirt like it’s the only thing holding you together. “I dropped her off, I know I did. She waved, she—she waved goodbye—and they said—” Your voice cracks, tears spilling faster. “They said she never came in.”
Seokmin’s arms tighten around you, and for a moment he just holds you while you break against him, his jaw clenched against the rush of fear crashing through him. His hand strokes over your hair, steadying even though inside he’s anything but.
“Okay,” he says finally, gently but firmly, the way he always speaks when you need grounding.
“Okay. We’re going to find her. Do you hear me? We’re going to find Eunbyeol.”
You shake your head, gasping. “What if—what if something happened, Seokmin, what if—”
“Don’t.” His voice is sharp this time, cutting off the spiral before it swallows you whole. He cups your face, forcing your wet eyes to meet his. His own are glassy, terrified, but resolute.
“Nothing’s going to happen to her. We’ll get her back. I promise.”
And even though panic still claws at your chest, something in the way he says it makes you cling to him harder, because if there’s anyone you can believe right now, it’s him.
Seokmin doesn’t waste a single second. One arm stays firm around your shoulders as if he can shield you from the world, the other gesturing quickly as he speaks to the teacher again.
“When was the last time you checked attendance? Did no one see her at all? Pink ribbon, white shoes, small pink backpack—please think.” His voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, tight with urgency but never cruel.
The teacher stammers, “N-no, she wasn’t in class. We thought maybe she was sick, that’s why—”
“She wasn’t sick,” Seokmin cuts in, hand tightening on yours when he feels your body jerk with another sob. He lowers his tone then, trying to hold back the anger rising in his chest. “If a child isn’t in class, someone should’ve called. You can’t just assume.”
You whisper, broken, “I—I dropped her off. I saw her go inside—”
He squeezes your hand immediately, eyes flicking down to you. “I believe you. I believe you, Y/N. We’ll retrace, okay? Just breathe for me.”
You try, but every inhale shakes. He doesn’t let you stand frozen. With his arm still anchoring you, he leads you down the street, scanning every corner, every little shop near the school. He stops at the crossing guard, describing Byeol in detail, asking if she’d seen her this morning. He moves to a street vendor, then another.
Every time, he keeps you close, his thumb brushing across your knuckles, grounding you.
At one point, he digs his phone out with one hand, still holding onto yours with the other. You hear him, clipped but steady:
“Mingyu? I need you. Eunbyeol’s missing. I’ll explain later—just drive around the neighborhood near Y/N’s place, near the school. Check parks, convenience stores, anywhere she might wander. Bring Hao too.”
Your knees buckle again at the word missing, but Seokmin’s arm is instantly around your waist, keeping you from falling. He tucks you into his side, his jaw clenched, but his touch never harsh.
“Seokmin…” your voice cracks. “What if I—what if I lost her?”
He stops walking. Turns you to face him. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away your tears even as his own eyes brim red.
“You didn’t lose her. Don’t say that. This isn’t your fault, Y/N. We’ll find her. Together.”
And then, softer, almost breaking, “Just—don’t shut down on me, please. Stay with me. She needs both of us right now.”
You nod shakily, because if there’s anything holding you together in this unraveling moment, it’s him.
About an hour later, when Hao called and said they found her.
Mingyu was the one carrying her when they came into view. Her little pink ribbon was still bouncing against her shoulder, that tiny backpack hugging her back like nothing in the world had gone wrong. Minghao trailed behind, his expression unreadable but his steps quicker than usual, like he didn’t want to let her out of sight again.
The moment you spot her, you’re already running forward, voice breaking, “Eunbyeol!”
Mingyu crouches down fast, setting her on her feet just in time for her to barrel straight into your arms. You drop to your knees on the pavement, clutching her so tightly she squeaks.
“Where were you—do you have any idea how worried I was?!” your voice trembles, part relief, part panic. You pull back just enough to search her face, checking if she’s hurt, if there’s even a scratch. “I told you to go to school, Byeol. You can’t just—just disappear like that!”
But she just blinks up at you, wide-eyed and calm. “Unnie, you were crying so much… I just wanted you to smile again.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “So I went and looked for Seokmin oppa.”
The words hit like a blow, knocking the air out of the night. You freeze. Even the street noise feels quieter.
Minghao exhales, soft but heavy. Mingyu looks down at her, then away, like he’s trying to give you privacy but can’t shake off the sting of what she said. Seokmin… Seokmin just stands there, a few steps behind you, his chest rising unevenly as he tries to process that this six-year-old, with all her bright stubbornness, thought of him first.
You grip Byeol tighter, tears brimming again. “Eunbyeol…” your voice cracks, but she only nestles into your shoulder like she’s already forgiven herself.
And none of the four of you—Seokmin, Mingyu, Minghao, or you—say anything for a long moment. Because it’s not just about her wandering off anymore. It’s about what it meant, what she revealed without even realizing.
That in her little world, the person she believes can make you smile again… is Seokmin.
Seokmin moves before anyone else can.
He doesn’t rush, doesn’t let panic show on his face. He just lowers himself slowly, crouching beside where you sit on the curb with Eunbyeol in your arms. His knees brush the pavement, one hand steadying himself on the ground, the other reaching carefully toward your little sister as if she’s something fragile, precious.
“Byeolie,” his voice is soft, so soft you almost miss it beneath the buzzing of the streetlamps. “You scared unnie today, you know that?”
She pulls back from your shoulder just enough to look at him, lips pressing together like she’s deciding whether to pout or nod. Finally, she says, “I’m sorry. But… unnie was sad. And you make her smile.”
Your breath catches, but before you can react, Seokmin smiles—gentle, aching. His thumb brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face. “You’re really smart, aren’t you?” he murmurs, and she beams at the praise. “But, Byeol-ah… even if you wanted to see me, you can’t just walk off on your own like that. The world out there is big and sometimes scary. If something happened to you…” His voice falters for the briefest moment, then steadies. “…If something happened, your unnie would never stop crying. And neither would I.”
Her eyes widen, not used to him sounding serious. She tilts her head. “You’d cry too?”
He chuckles, watery, his dimples not hiding the way his eyes glisten. “Of course I would. You’re my favorite little sister.” He says it like it’s a promise, like he’s claiming her as family without hesitation.
That makes her grin. “Then I’ll be careful next time,” she declares, childlike but sincere, reaching out her tiny pinky finger. “Promise.”
Seokmin hooks his pinky with hers without missing a beat, his big hand dwarfing hers completely. “Promise,” he says, and seals it with a light tap of his thumb on hers.
You can’t speak. You’ve been sitting there the whole time, your arms still wrapped tight around Byeol, but your gaze is fixed on Seokmin—on how patient he is, how steady, how he never once let his voice sharpen or scold too harshly. How he looked at your sister like she was his own.
And then, as if sensing you, he shifts his gaze. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, you see everything he hasn’t said. His relief at finding her safe. His quiet heartbreak at your tears. His longing—no, his choice—to always be there, even when you think you don’t deserve it.
But he doesn’t press. He never does. He just reaches out, resting his hand lightly over yours where you’re clutching Byeol, grounding you with the same gentleness he gave her.
“Let’s go inside,” he murmurs. “She’s tired. You are too.”
You nod, because your throat is too tight to answer. You let him help you stand, let him take some of the weight when your knees almost buckle, and for once, you don’t argue when he steadies you.
The door to your room creaks open quietly, a soft knock against the frame before Seokmin steps inside. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, shoulders hunched, eyes red and swollen. You’ve tried to muffle the sound of your crying in your hands, but it’s useless—he can hear every sharp inhale, every trembling exhale.
He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he takes in the sight of you, his chest tightening. It’s been weeks since you last let him close, and yet here you are now, raw and breaking in front of him.
You drag your palms down your face, muttering between shallow breaths, “God, I feel like an idiot.”
That’s what finally gets him moving. He crosses the room in a few steps and kneels in front of you, the way he had with Eunbyeol earlier. His hands hover for a moment, hesitant, before he rests them lightly on your knees. His voice is low, steady, careful.
“You’re not an idiot,” he says.
“Yes, I am.” Your voice cracks, and fresh tears slip down your cheeks. “I lost her, Seokmin. For hours I didn’t know where she was, I thought—” You choke on the words, pressing your fist against your mouth. “I thought something horrible happened and it was my fault because I’m all she has and I still—still messed it up—”
“Stop,” he cuts in gently, but firmly enough to make you pause. His hands squeeze your knees. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
You shake your head stubbornly, eyes squeezed shut. “You don’t get it. I’m supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to be strong, but I can’t even keep it together for her. And then you show up—like you always do—fixing everything, being…” Your throat tightens. “…being perfect. And it just makes me realize how much I don’t deserve you.”
His breath leaves him in a shaky laugh, though there’s no humor in it. He shifts closer, his hands sliding gently from your knees to hold your trembling hands. “You’re still saying that,” he murmurs. “Even now, after everything.”
You look at him finally, eyes glassy and lost. “Because it’s true.”
“No,” he says, his voice quiet but unyielding. “You don’t see yourself, do you? You don’t see the way you hold everything together with your bare hands. The way you love Byeol so fiercely that you’d break yourself a thousand times over just to keep her safe. The way you… the way you still find space to care for everyone else, even when you’re running on empty.”
He swallows hard, eyes never leaving yours. “Do you know what I see, every time I look at you? I see someone stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Someone who keeps going, even when it hurts. Someone who doesn’t even realize how much light she gives off, even when she thinks she’s drowning.”
You’re crying again, but this time it’s silent—tears slipping steadily down your cheeks as his words sink in.
He squeezes your hands tighter. “You don’t have to deserve me. That’s not how this works. I’m here because I want to be. Because there’s no one else I’d rather be with. You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself. And that’s enough for me.”
The room is heavy with the weight of his words, but also light—like he’s taken some of the burden you’ve been carrying and shouldered it himself.
You swallow hard, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Your voice is small, cracked.
“What, I get too much for you?” you whisper, looking anywhere but him. “I come with a lot of baggage, Min. You don’t—”
“Don’t,” he cuts you off, sharp enough that you freeze. His tone isn’t angry, but it’s firm, commanding your full attention. His eyes lock on yours, intense in a way that makes your breath hitch.
“Don’t you dare say I don’t want you because of that,” he continues, his voice lower now, but steady. “Your baggage? Your scars? Your tears? They’re part of you. And I want all of you. Every messy, complicated, beautiful part.”
You blink rapidly, fresh tears threatening again. “But it’s not fair to you—”
“Fair?” He lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m here because it’s easy? I’m here because I choose you. I knew what I was walking into the first time I saw you carrying Byeol’s backpack that was twice her size while juggling three things at once and still smiling at her like she hung the moon. I knew you had burdens. I knew you carried more than most people ever should. And you know what I thought?”
You just stare at him, lips parted, breath caught.
He leans closer, his words deliberate, unshakable. “I thought—God, I want to be the one to stand beside her. I want to be the one she can lean on. I want to be the one she doesn’t have to be strong with all the time.”
Your throat closes up. You can’t breathe, can’t speak.
Seokmin softens, his voice breaking just slightly as he says, “So don’t push me away by calling yourself baggage. You’re not a burden. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Both of you are.”
The silence that follows is deafening, filled only by your uneven breaths and the pounding of your heart.
Seokmin doesn’t stop—he can’t. Not when he sees the way you’re crumbling in front of him, the way your hands twist into the hem of your shirt like you’re holding yourself together by threads.
His voice is steady, but there’s a tremor underneath, one born of too much love and too much fear of losing this moment.
“You’re never too much,” he says firmly, leaning forward until you can’t escape his gaze. “And you’re never not enough. Not to me. Not to Byeol. Never.”
You shake your head, half in disbelief, half in defense of the walls you’ve built for so long. But he doesn’t let you look away.
“Do you hear me?” he presses, softer now, but so sure. “All the things you think disqualify you from being loved, they’re the reasons I admire you. The reasons I love you.”
Your breath catches audibly, and for a second you think maybe you misheard him. But his eyes, dark and unshakable, tell you he meant every syllable.
“You take care of everyone, even when you’re breaking. You give pieces of yourself away like you’ll never run out. And you still think you’re not enough?” He shakes his head, almost angry at the thought. “You’ve been more than enough since the first day I met you. To Byeol. To me. To anyone who’s lucky enough to know you.”
Your lips tremble. You want to argue, want to push back with every insecurity screaming inside you, but the words die in your throat because—God, he means it. Every word.
He sees your silence for what it is and steps closer, voice barely above a whisper now.
“Please… stop telling yourself those lies. Let me prove you’re worth everything. Because you are. You always have been.”
The moment his words sink in, it’s like something inside you finally snaps. Your chest caves under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in—every sleepless night, every worry about Byeol, every ache you buried because you thought you had to stay strong.
You stumble forward before you even realize you’re moving, and Seokmin is already there, arms wrapping around you like he’s been waiting—like he was built for this very moment.
The sobs come out broken, ugly, louder than you wanted, but he doesn’t flinch. He just holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing against your back, keeping you anchored when you feel like you’re unraveling in his arms.
“Shh,” he murmurs into your hair, but it’s not the kind of shh that tells you to stop—it’s the kind that says I’m here, cry if you need to, I’m not going anywhere.
Your fists clutch at his shirt, desperate, like if you let go even for a second you’d drown. “I—I can’t do this alone anymore,” you choke out between sobs, voice raw.
“Then don’t,” he answers immediately, pulling you in closer, his own voice thick. “You don’t have to. Not with me here.”
You shake your head against his chest, words tumbling out in fragments. “I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, Min. You deserve—someone who isn’t—”
“Stop,” he cuts in, firm but gentle, tilting your face up so you have to see the way his eyes shine with unshed tears. “I deserve you. Just you. The way you are. With Byeol. With everything. Don’t you get it? I don’t want easy. I want you.”
Something inside you breaks again, but this time it’s not from pain—it’s from the terrifying, breathtaking relief of finally letting yourself believe him.
You sag into him fully then, your tears soaking his shirt, your breathing ragged as he rocks you slightly, like he’s trying to soothe you the way you soothe Byeol. His lips press against the crown of your head in the gentlest kiss, lingering there as if he could transfer his steadiness into you.
For the first time in years, you stop fighting. You let yourself lean, let yourself be held. And Seokmin holds you like it’s the most natural thing in the world—like it’s all he’s ever wanted.
When your sobs quiet down into hiccups, he whispers, “You don’t have to earn love. Not mine. Not Byeol’s. You already have it.”
Your fingers tighten in his shirt, and in a cracked whisper, you finally let the words slip out, terrified but true:
“I love you, Min.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months, and his arms tighten once more. “I love you too,” he breathes, no hesitation, no doubt. “So much more than you’ll ever know.”
And there, in his arms, you finally feel what it’s like to not carry everything alone.
=
It's been a few weeks and life, well for once it was good to you.
It’s barely seven in the morning when you stir awake, the faint clatter of pans and a shriek of laughter cutting through the quiet of your apartment. You squint at the clock on your nightstand, groaning when you realize it’s far too early for this much noise. At first, you think Byeol’s just gotten overexcited watching cartoons again, but then you catch the sound of another voice—low, familiar, laughing so loud it rumbles through the walls.
You blink yourself awake, slipping out of bed in your oversized T-shirt, hair a mess, heart already softening because you know exactly who that is.
Padding barefoot into the living room, you’re met with chaos—your kind of chaos. Eunbyeol, standing on a chair pushed up to the counter, is holding a whisk almost as big as her arm, batter smeared on her cheek. Seokmin’s beside her, apron on (where he even got that, you don’t know), trying and failing to stop her from flicking pancake batter in his direction. The whole kitchen smells like vanilla and butter, and the air is buzzing with their laughter.
“Yah! Oppa, you’re supposed to flip them, not burn them!” Byeol squeals, giggling so hard she almost drops the whisk.
“Yah? Yah?? Did you just—” Seokmin gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s been mortally wounded.
“It’s seven in the morning, Seokmin. Why are you this loud? And why,” you gesture to the absolute disaster on your stove, “does my kitchen look like a flour bomb went off?”
They both turn at the same time—Byeol beaming, Seokmin sheepish but grinning anyway.
“Surprise breakfast!” Byeol announces proudly, batter still dripping from the whisk she’s holding like a trophy. “We’re making pancakes for you, unnie!”
“Pancakes and…” Seokmin lifts the pan in his hand, showing a very questionable-looking blob.
“…experimental pancakes.”
You snort, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know whether to be touched or terrified.”
Byeol hops down carefully, scampering to your side and tugging you toward the table. “Sit! Oppa said we have to take care of you today! No cooking, no cleaning—just sit and eat.”
Your chest squeezes at that. She sounds so earnest, and when you glance up, Seokmin is watching you with that quiet, knowing smile—the one that always sees right through your walls.
“I said that,” Seokmin adds, turning back to the stove. “So sit, please. You work too much. Let us take care of you today.”
You roll your eyes but obey, sliding into a chair at the small table. Byeol bounces onto the seat beside you, chattering away about how she cracked the eggs “all by myself” and how Seokmin almost dropped the milk.
“Lies!” he calls out without turning around. “She’s the one who almost spilled it, I saved it like a hero!”
“Oppa is lying,” Byeol whispers conspiratorially into your ear, giggling when he whirls around with a spoon pointed at her like a warning.
“Yah, I heard that!”
You laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. It’s so ridiculously domestic—Seokmin fussing over pancakes in your kitchen, Byeol giggling beside you like this is the best day ever—and for a second you just let yourself sit in it.
A few minutes later, he finally brings over a plate, sliding it onto the table with a flourish. The pancakes are slightly lopsided, some too brown, but the sight still makes you smile. He places a fork in front of you, crouching a little so he’s eye level.
“Go on,” he says, eyes twinkling. “Try it and tell us how amazing we are.”
You raise a brow, cutting into the stack. “What if it’s bad?”
“Then lie,” he deadpans, making Byeol erupt into another fit of laughter.
You take a bite, chew slowly, and hum. “...Not bad, chef. Not bad at all.”
Byeol claps her hands in triumph, and Seokmin beams so wide you swear your tiny kitchen gets brighter. He leans over, brushing a quick kiss against your temple before you can protest, murmuring just for you:
“Get used to this, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”
Your throat tightens, but you smile anyway, because for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel so scary to believe him.
=
The park is quiet in that late afternoon way—sun still warm but dipping lower, shadows stretching across the path. The air is filled with the sound of Eunbyeol’s little bike bell, ringing proudly every few meters as she pedals ahead, pink ribbon on her helmet bouncing with each wobble of the handlebars.
You and Seokmin walk a few paces behind her, your joined hands swinging lazily between you. Every so often she glances back to make sure you’re watching, and each time Seokmin cups his hands around his mouth to shout, “Go, Byeol-ie, champion rider!” like she’s competing in the Olympics. She beams so brightly you can’t help laughing.
“She’s going to start expecting a cheer squad every time she does anything now,” you tease, bumping your shoulder lightly against his.
“Good,” he grins, squeezing your hand. “She deserves it. Besides, I have plenty of energy to cheer for both of you.” He tilts his head toward you, eyebrows wagging in that exaggeratedly silly way of his. “Imagine me on the sidelines of your office, yelling ‘That’s my girl!’ every time you finish paperwork.”
You laugh so hard you have to cover your mouth. “God, Min, that’s mortifying.”
“And romantic,” he insists, putting on a mock serious expression before breaking into that sunbeam smile again. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring a banner with your name on it. Maybe pom-poms.”
You groan, but your heart feels impossibly light. It’s been a long road to here—to this moment of peace, laughter, and quiet certainty—and the thought makes your smile soften. You glance at him, the way he’s watching Byeol with so much love it almost aches, the way his thumb keeps brushing over your knuckles like he’s memorizing you all over again.
“Min,” you say quietly, tugging his hand so he looks at you. “Thank you.”
His brows lift, like he’s about to joke, but when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, his smile gentles. “For what?”
“For…” You swallow, emotions prickling at your throat. “For staying. For seeing me. For loving her, loving me, even when I thought I didn’t deserve it.”
Seokmin slows his steps, pulling you just a little closer until your sides are pressed together. He looks at you like he did that night outside your apartment—open, steady, unshakable. “Hey,” he murmurs. “I told you already. You were never too much, and never not enough. Not to me. Not ever.”
Your breath hitches, but before you can say anything else, Eunbyeol’s bell rings again and she shouts, “Unnie! Oppa! Watch me go no hands!”
Both of you yell “NO!” at the same time, sprinting a few steps forward while she giggles mischievously, hands back on the handlebars immediately. You’re breathless with relief and laughter, and Seokmin is bent over, hands on his knees, pretending like he’s aged twenty years from the scare.
“Yah, you’re going to give us gray hair before we’re thirty,” he groans, shooting her a mock glare that only makes her laugh harder.
When he straightens, he slings an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close as you both watch her speed ahead again. “She’s fearless,” he says softly, pride and awe lacing his voice. Then, turning to you with a grin that makes your chest ache in the sweetest way, he adds, “Just like her sister.”
You roll your eyes but can’t fight your smile as you lean into him, hand tightening in his. And there, in the fading light of the park, with Eunbyeol’s laughter ringing out like music and Seokmin’s warmth beside you, you realize this—this messy, loud, imperfectly perfect little family—is yours to keep.
Can you write about bf DK doing his all silly antics to make you laugh . You are mad at him for some reason . He actually is successful almost everytime to make you laugh but you somehow control it . Something like this. Thank you
Hello! Sorry it took too long to be written. I hope this is somehow what you wanted ✨ lmk what you think.
@teddy0809
My heart can’t take it
Requests are open
Seventeen masterlist
࿔ Genre: Fluff, crack, a hint of angst.
࿔ Synopsis: your man will do anything to make you smile and forgive him, even embarrassing himself.
࿔ Word count: 612
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔ °❀⋆.
You were already lying in the bed, curled up one your side scrolling through your phone, a pout evident on your lips. What happened exactly to make you mad at Seokmin? At this point you don’t even remember, maybe you both just fought over some stupid misunderstanding and stopped talking to each other.
Seokmin entered the room and lied on the bed hugging you from behind, but you shrugged off his arms, making him gasp in disbelief.
“You seriously doing this to me? Will you reject my hug?”
You roll your eyes and kept giving him your back. “I’m still mad at you”.
He let out a loud gasp, again. “Still mad at me? After all these years we’ve been through? After everything I’ve given you?”
You hid your smile against the pillow. “Seokmin, stop being dramatic.”
But that was like telling fire not to burn.
He shifted closer, his chin resting on your shoulder. “What if this is the last hug I ever give you? What if I leave this room and a spaceship abducts me, huh? What if aliens make me their leader because of my voice, and you’ll regret not hugging me when you had the chance?”
“Then good riddance,” you muttered, but your lips were twitching.
Seokmin gasped for the 3rd time, clutching his chest like you stabbed him. He rolled onto his back, groaning as if in pain. “Oh, the betrayal! My heart can’t take it!”
You shook your head, still stubborn. “Not funny.”
But he was already climbing back over to you, throwing one leg dramatically across your body to trap you. “What if I just glue myself here? You can’t escape me, Y/n. You’re stuck.”
“Seokmin- get off,” you protested, shoving at him, but he clung tighter, giggling like a kid.
“Nope. If you’re mad, I’ll stay right here until you forgive me.”
You groaned, trying to keep your pout in place, but then he started tickling the side of your neck with his nose, blowing raspberries against your skin like a child.
“Stop!” you squealed, smacking at his chest.
“Not until you smile,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin.
You bit down on your lip hard, determined not to give him the satisfaction. He noticed. He pulled back to look at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. Then he made one of those ugly faces that never failed to make you laugh your ass off and cringe like crazy.
Your laugh burst out before you could stop it.
Seokmin immediately sat up and pointed at you triumphantly. “HAAAA! CAUGHT IN THE ACT! YOU LAUGHED!”
You tried to shove his hand away, still giggling. “Ugh, you’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” he said proudly, flopping back down beside you and pulling you into his arms, this time not letting you shrug him off. He tucked your head under his chin, his voice softening. “You can’t stay mad at me forever, Y/n. I won’t let you.”
You sighed, finally relaxing into his embrace. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He giggled and caressed your hair. “It’s my charm”.
“And that’s why I fell in love with you, dummy”. You whisper against his neck, hugging him back with just as much love.
Bonus: just so you know, I was thinking about this face.
i tighten the laces on my skates before hopping off the bench. seokmin slipping into his skates and tries to lace them up. i tapped my feet against the foam mat patiently waiting for him. the upbeat pop mix of christmas songs fill my ears. i browse around the ice rink not seeing many people. a few small groups of either friends, couples or families lingered either on the ice or sat on the bench observing everyone.
i notice girl in a fitted black long sleeve dressed with her hair tied into a bun skate a few laps around the rink. she picks up speed as she reaches the back and skates down towards the middle doing a few spins and jumps. she lands easily onto her feet as she huffs a few breaths. i stop myself from clapping for her realizing i might be only one watching her and its weird for me to be staring. instead when she looks in my direction i smile and give her a thumbs up on her run. she smiles and nods her head thanking me before doing another run. seokmin taps my arm signaling me that i could stand and we could walk over tot he ice.
i stretch my legs a little then with ease i skate straight onto the ice. the cold air hits my body making me shiver for a moment growing accustomed to the temperature. i skate a few short lines and look up seeing seokmin was still at the entrance of the rink. a group of three young boys skate past him and into the rink.
“lee seokmin, are you going to join me or what?”
“i am actually fine right here for now. i mean i made it to the rink, i put on my skates. isn’t that enough?” his voice going an octave higher than normal.
before we got to the ice rink, seokmin has been fidgeting with his fingers and taking deep breaths. he didn’t think i noticed but i could hear him mentally prepare himself for getting on the ice before we entered the parking lot.
“you know it’s more fun on the ice. what’s the worst that could happen with you ice skating?”
“i could fall. maybe hit my head and bleed to death or maybe i injure my ankle and can’t dance or walk again.”
“you have such a wild imagination.” i chuckle.
“i like to call it, being more logical and having a brain. i am not spontaneous and reckless like you.”
“okay first off, i am not reckless. second i may be spontaneous but i have a brain too. you’re going to be okay ice skating. it’s easy.”
seokmin examines the ice before lightly tapping the tip of the blade against it. he grips the sides of the rink with extra precaution attempting to get on the ice. his foot slips a little making him wobble and he immediately shakes his head getting back onto the mat.
“nope. nope. nope. i will end up dead by the end of this or injured. i am not risking it.”
“seok, you told me i could plan our day and that includes ice skating. c’mon, there aren’t mainly people right now. which means you’re less likely to crash into other humans. it’s perfect time to get on the ice.” i insisted.
“y/n, i could still get hurt even if this place is empty.”
i held out my hand towards him, “i promise. i won’t let you get hurt. if you do then i will do whatever you want for the next two weeks without complaining.”
seokmin switches glances between the ice and my hand. his eyes widened with worry and caution. however, he mumbles something under his breath and takes a deep breath. his feet gently wobble against the foam mat and he takes my hand.
i gently guide him onto the ice while his fingers give me the death grip. there was a moment where i felt my blood no longer circulating to my hands but seokmin loosens then when he notices
seokmin struggles to find his balance on his feet at first causing him to sway from side to side. every time he leans too far back or forward his hands grip my hands tightly before loosening them. i remind him to glide and push his feet forward while bending at his knees. he does as i told him and starts to pick up a bit of speed. his hands still
“see, i told you that you could do it.” i smile watching his feet glide against the ice.
seokmin sticks his arms out to the side to keep himself in his feet and balanced. he slides slowly around the ice.
“okay, now that you’re comfortable with gliding, i want you to try swizzles.” i bring seokmin over to the side of the rink.
once he holds onto the side leaning is back against the railing. i skate out far enough for him to see the move i want him to try. i keep my upper body straight, bend my knees and start my feet at v. i carefully push my feet turning them both out and in while telling him how he should be moving.
“so point your both toes in then point them out. it’s like a little dance and —— ahh”
before i could even process what is happening to me. i feel a hard chest against my hands. i look up meeting his brown eyes and lopsided smile.
seokmin grabs my arms
“are you okay?” he asked.
“yeah, i am good. i guess i underestimated my speed and distance from you.” i rub the back of my neck. i composed myself together taking a step back from him. “okay, your turn.”
i skate a fair distant from him and waited for him. he arches an eyebrow and bites his bottom lip in skepticism. seokmin shakes off the nerves from his body exhaling a few breath. he mumbles under his breath ‘in and out’. his feet push off sliding across the ice as he turns his feet in and out. it’s take him a minute or two to be comfortable with the movement before he stops mumbling and moves a little faster towards me.
“there you go!” i cheered clapping my hands out of excitement, “soon with a little bit of practice you’ll be able to do this.”
i scan around the area to make sure it’s clear. a few people were walking out towards the exit as i pushed off my feet zooming from one side of the rink to the other. i do a small jump landing backwards. i look back at him flashing him a wink and he chuckles shaking his head at me.
“okay, show off. i get it, you’re better than me.” he scoffs crossing his arm.
i laugh shedding some ice onto him. seokmin glides away from me to the other side of the rink. i could see the mentally notes and images he was giving his as he pushes himself off from the side. he tries to swizzle his feet again. he giggles realizing he has mastered the move and starts to speed up.
“seokmin! make a a front v! seokmin! make a front v!” i shouted in a panic, holding my arms out to him.
seokmin’s eyes widen realizing his speed was too fast and uncontrollable for him. the panic was evident in his face as he swings his arm around as if that would slow him down. his body begins to sway from side to side. for a few seconds his foot lifts up forward but i yell at him to lean forward and place his hands on his knees. he holds his arms out trying to balance himself while wobbling and trying to stay up.
when i tried to reach for his hand, he slows down but his feet slip. even though i remind him to put his hands on his knees his feet switch between going up in the air. seokmin wraps his arms around me tumbling into the ice.
seokmin groans taking a majority of the impact from our fall. “oh my god! y/n, are you okay?”
i groan rubbing at certain areas in my body. when i didn’t respond to him seokmin tries to lift his head but i immediately tell him to not move. i carefully untangled my limbs from his and sit up on the ice when a pain shoots down to my ankle when i try to move it. the medic rushes over to us, placing a hypothermia blanket on seokmin and me. each one examining us from head to toe. i could feel the wetness of the ice seeping through my pants making me grumpy.
“do you know where you are?” she asked
“the ice skating rink downtown.” seokmin answered
“do you know what this place is called?”
“elphie’s ice rink.” i answered.
the medic shines a light in his eyes asking him to follow before gently applying pressure to certain areas in his body. the other medic finishes up bandaging my ankle after twisting it and moving it around a few times. it turns out i ended up with a grade one sprained ankle.
“you guys aren’t showing any signs of a concussion. i would just rest for now and stay off your feet but if you start to feel dizzy, light headed, vomiting, ringing in the ears or having any head pain then go to the emergency room to be checked out. you guys have a great sense of who and where you are. so i wouldn’t be too worried.” the medic informs me. “you might be a little sore from the fall but you can take painkillers for that.”
i nod listening to her. “thank you again.”
“maybe for our next bestie date, let’s just make a pizza or something. i don’t think ice skating is made for me.” seokmin teases helping me up.
“don’t try to bubble wrap yourself. you were doing really amazing before that accident.” i grinned.
“i am really sorry again.” he mumbles, the guilty circling into his boba eyes.
“if you’re really sorry then you’ll buy me some ice cream.” i lean my head against his shoulder locking arms with him.
“whatever you want.” he chuckle, pulling me closer.
i press my finger and thumb to my chin as his words, “whatever i want, huh?”
“within reasons. i am not buying you anything expensive or doing anything that could harm me or you in any way.”
“damn, i was about to ask you to go sky diving with me.” i laughed walking along side him towards the car.
You couldn’t believe how busy it was as you walked through the front door of the house that the boys were staying in during filming, with plenty to see. It was messy, loud, and chaotic, just as you expected it to be when Seokmin called and asked you to come and join them during a couple of days off from filming.
“I’ve moved into the spare room that the camera staff were staying in so we’ve got a room together,” Seokmin told you as he carried your case up the stairs to the second floor.
“He refused to let any of us have it,” Soonyoung called out as he walked out onto the landing of the floor just as the two of you reached it, “said he’d push us into the pool if any of us took that room.”
“I told you I was happy to room if we needed too.”
Seokmin’s head shook back at you, “if you think the communal rooms are messy, you should see the bedrooms.”
You dreaded to think how much of a state things would be in, having spent plenty of time at the dorms, you knew how bad it could get. You couldn’t wait for their fans to see how messy the boys were as they filmed, giving a proper glimpse into how they all lived at home.
The sound of your voice attracted the attention of several of the boys as one by one they came up to greet you. “You’re going to hate this place,” Vernon simply told you as he gave you a hug.
“I’ve been told to expect trouble.”
His head nodded in reply to you as Seokmin carried your bag through into the room that he had saved for the two of you. Despite the mess, your attention was captured too by the many activities that you could see were on offer around the place.
“Got something in mind that you want to try?” Seokmin asked you as he spotted you looking out of the window.
“I can recommend the fishing,” Jeonghan smiled as he walked up the stairs to see you too, “I really loved being down there, it’s nice and calm, which is rare when anyone’s around us.”
“I have a feeling I might be down there a lot then if I’m spending a couple of days with you guys,” you teased, feeling Seokmin nudge your arm, shaking his head across at you.
His eyes glared at you as he poked his tongue out, “you don’t have to worry about quiet, you’ve just got to worry about having fun.”
You nodded in agreement with him as you started to head back downstairs, “from the photos that you’ve sent me of the trip, I’m expecting to be shown all of the fun stuff.”
You’d been left at the dorm, jealous of the fun that the boys were having for many days as they recorded for In the Soop. It all looked incredible, and so when Seokmin suggested that you joined them for their free couple of days, there was no way that you could say no to him, arranging a car as soon as you got off of the phone with him.
Once you reached the bottom floor again, all of the boys were in the room with you as they tried to figure out the best way to spend their first free afternoon together.
“We’ve got to play a game of some sort,” Seungkwan suggested, “maybe we could do badminton?”
“We’ve played badminton constantly,” Seungcheol groaned, “how about table tennis?”
Having you there meant even teams as everyone headed out into the garden and paired up. Of course, you were given no choice but to be with Seokmin, with his arms wrapping around you, keeping you right by his side as soon as Chan suggested everyone find a partner, with a few of the boys looking across at you.
The moment you took the table tennis racquet, you lacked confidence, especially as you looked across to see Wonwoo and Mingyu on the other side of the net. You were clueless, learning the rules as you went along, with Joshua screaming into your ear to try and help you out, but his help didn’t stop the two of you getting defeated in the first round.
Of course, the boys couldn’t help but tease Seokmin though, placing the blame of your defeat solely on him. He tried to protest, mocking how you served, but they weren’t interested, assuring you that you did a much better job than Seokmin did.
The two of you stuck around and watched the rest of the tournament as it went into the early evening, with dinner the focus as soon as the table tennis racquets went down, hungry stomachs all over the place as the boys headed into the kitchen.
As soon as you began walking, Seokmin grabbed your hand, pulling you back from the rest of the group. “I’m really happy you’re here,” he smiled across to you as he met your eyes.
“Stop being cute!” Junhui called out as he hung back slightly too, overhearing what Seokmin had to say, followed by the sound of him pressing a kiss to your cheek.
Seokmin yelled back at him whilst you let go of a giggle, reminding yourself how little room the boys gave you both for affection. “Can’t you do that when you’re alone in your bedroom tonight?” Minghao asked as he looked back to see what was going on.
Another yell came from Seokmin as he pulled you across to the long table that had been set up for all fourteen of you, finding two free seats for you both towards the end of the table. As soon as you were sat, Jihoon came over, handing a glass of wine across to you.
“This is our new favourite that we’ve discovered on this trip,” he told you, handing a glass across to Seokmin too, “but we have learnt it makes him very drunk. It’ll be nice to hand his drunk ass over to someone else to deal with for the night.”
“I thought you said that you hadn’t got drunk yet?” You quizzed Seokmin, remembering your conversation from yesterday, “when I watch this back, how drunk will you be?”
“I might have got a little tipsy the other night,” he admitted with a mischievous smile, “but we started playing games, and you know what I’m like.”
Your head shook as you took a sip from the wine glass, humming to yourself at how nice it tasted. “Y/N, what do you reckon?” Wonwoo asked you as he watched you take a sip, “I was the one that found it in the supermarket.”
Your head nodded back at him as several of the boys protested arguing that they were the ones that found it. In between the arguments, Mingyu started to walk around, placing plates down of food that had been prepared over the days that the boys had spent there.
Your night was like a dream with them all, plenty of food was eaten, many games played too, and your fair share of glasses of wine were drunk too before you and Seokmin excused yourselves before heading up to bed.
He was still a little tipsy, swaying slightly as the two of you walked, but luckily for you, he was composed, which was more than what could usually be said for you.
“I love trips like these,” Seokmin announced as he threw himself down on the bed, “especially when you’re able to be here too.”
“It’s been a good day,” you agreed, laying down beside him, “I’m intrigued what you have planned tomorrow to show me.”
A tight grip was taken of your hand by Seokmin, “I’ll make sure that you have the best time ever here with me tomorrow.”
“The probability of that is 0, but you go ahead” - DK (Seokmin)
"Come on," you said, trying to convince your boyfriend that rock climbing was a great date idea. "I bet you'll get on the wall and realise it's not even scary."
"The probability of that is 0, but you go ahead," he told you.
"But you were the one who said you wanted to come up with some different date ideas, I'm giving you one."
"Yes, but I was planning on dates on solid ground," DK countered.
"But you'll be harnessed-"
"No."
"And a helmet-"
"Nope."
"Seokmiiiiiin," you whined. "Please."
He gasped dramatically and looked at you with an offended expression. "Did you just use my name?"
"Pleeeaaase," you continued.
"I'll come for moral support, but I'm not climbing."
"Fine, you can watch me, and I can convince you there's nothing to be scared of," you agreed to his compromise.
However, once you were there, you were very quickly eating your words. To start with you were still as confident, happily harnessing up and stepping up to the wall. You were still starting on a smaller wall, worried about your strength and the stamina of your limbs more than anything else, but you had no doubt you'd make it to the top.
Until you were about halfway up. That's when your arms started to shake a bit. You were sure it was just because of the strain of pulling you up a wall and the fact that they weren't used to it. But then you looked down.
Despite your convictions that it really wasn't that scary and that being harnessed meant it was fine, you froze.
"Are you stuck?" DK called up.
"Ummm," you replied, not wanting to admit defeat.
"Was I right?" he teased.
"That is not very supportive," you shouted.
"Just come back down," your boyfriend replied in a gentler tone.
"Then I have to let go and I don't wanna."
Eventually, after DK and the instructor assuring you that it was safe to let go, you found yourself back on solid ground. You simply laid flt on the floor waiting for your panicked heartbeat to calm down while your boyfriend came and say by your head.
"You are never allowed to tease me about my fear of heights again," he told you.
"That's fair," you nodded. "Can you get me a drink please?"
"Sure. Then let's go and grab some lunch like normal people do on dates, yeah?"
You couldn't help but laugh. "You mean people who don't like heights?"
"Yes. Normal people," he reiterated before disappearing to grab your water bottle.
genre: fluff, and about three paragraphs where it gets a wee bit of angst in it ; words: 3.3k
horse camp!au; listen in the interest of full disclosure i ripped most of the mystery aspect from the Barbie Horse Adventures: Riding Camp wii game alright, anything in 'single quotes' is more or less quoted directly from the game. also, my knowledge of horses begins and ends with that game (and about twelve total hours on a horse over the course of my entire [redacted] years of life) so if you know stuff about horses. please stop.
note: HEYA @escapewriter I GOT YOU BABY, I BE SANTA, SORRY LAKJSDFLKAJSFD MERRY HOLIDAY BUD I HOPE THIS IS GOOD also hope that tag works anyway love u <3
(also thank u yellow for struggling to title this bad boy with me and coming up with the one seen here, let's just all agree not to think too hard about it thx)
You wanted so badly to be mad. You wanted to be huffy, and you wanted to sulk, and you wanted to rail against your mom for kicking you off to some ridiculous horse camp on some ridiculous island a million miles from everything you’d ever known, but damn it all, the island was just too pretty. It was too hard to stay mad when the sea glittered everywhere you looked, and the distant sound of the waterfall serenaded you to sleep. So you wanted to consume yourself in angst--but you couldn’t.
C’est la vie.
The horse riding wasn’t too bad, either--once you stopped gasping every time the horse picked up speed. At least the horse was patient with you. The woman who ran the camp--Ms. Roberts--seemed unsurprised by your hesitance towards picking up speed. Apparently your grace in the saddle once you finally crossed that little mental hurdle was more surprising, although you didn’t hear that from her directly. You only found out when she sent you to saddle up.
“Try to find my nephew,” she said. “Ask him for Breezy.”
And you did as she’d said, pushing through the stable doors and looking for the stable boy you’d been introduced to on your first day.
“Seokmin!” You didn’t yell it as loud as you wanted, wary of startling the horses, but it was a big building and you weren’t about to keep Ms. Roberts waiting.
“Polo!” he called back.
You snorted, rounding the corner to see him grooming one of the horses--one you recognized as way above your skill level. “Shouldn’t that only come after Marco?”
“They’re both names, aren’t they?” He set the brush down, turning to face you with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Ms. Roberts said to ask you about ‘Breezy’.” Saying it aloud landed you with conflicting feelings--either you sounded like a spy, or a total dork.
Seokmin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, already?”
“Already?” you echoed. “Am I about to live my ‘main character in a horse girl movie’ dreams?”
He shook his head. “No, Breezy’s a total sweetheart, but usually my aunt keeps new riders on Tammy for another week.”
“Well, I swear I’ve never been on a horse before,” you said, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” You’d never been a scout, but he didn’t need to know that.
“That I could tell.” He laughed, but it didn’t feel mean. He gestured to the horse he’d been grooming. “This stunning beauty is Breezy.”
You felt your own eyebrows shoot up, but you tried to soften the sudden fear. “Bit narcissistic to compliment your own work, huh?”
“It’s not narcissistic if it’s true,” he countered.
“I’ll give you that one, she truly is stunning.” You chewed your lip. “She’s also way out of my league.”
“Not if my aunt said to ask for her,” he said, grabbing the saddle hanging on the wall. “She thinks you can handle it.”
“Well I sure don’t.”
But he was already adjusting the stirrups, paying your naysaying no mind. “Ready to mount up?”
“Um,” you said, articulately, staring the horse in her sleepy, terrifying eyes. “What happens if I say no?”
“Then we’ll saddle up Tammy and you can practice until you feel ready.” He set a hand on your arm and smiled. “But for what it’s worth, my aunt believes in you. And so do I.”
For once, your lack of air had nothing to do with horses.
“Okay,” you said, when you finally found your voice. “Let’s give it a shot.”
It took you a couple tries to mount up. Breezy was taller (and terrifying) but you got it, without help, even, although it was offered. You found yourself beaming as you walked the horse over to Ms. Roberts, and you barely gasped at the speed changes and found yourself at ease in a steady trot by the end of the lesson.
Overall, an excellent day’s work, in your opinion.
--
Pretty quick, you were cleared for free riding across the island. You’d been strictly instructed to keep to the main trails, but otherwise you’d been allowed free reign (ha. free rein). And it was exactly what you needed; careening around the scenery at a walk or a trot or--very rarely--a gallup was a balm to your soul. You’d graduated from Breezy to a horse more equipped for the long rides you craved--Buckshot. You thought that’d be the kind of name given to a sprinter, but he seemed to enjoy long walks on the beach as much as you did, which was good, because one of your long walks uncovered the bottle.
At first you thought it was just trash, which kinda pissed you off.
“People have no respect,” you grumbled, swinging your leg over Buckshot’s back to hop down and grab it. Brushing the sand off it, you realized there was something inside--a paper. The cork in the bottle was stuck pretty tight, but with enough work you got it out of the way. It must’ve been ancient, since it fell apart under your fingers. Fishing the paper out of the bottle was the work of seconds.
You heard the callout while you read, “Marco!”
“Polo!” you hollered back, still skimming the page.
Seokmin appeared over the hill, reigning Tantor to a halt. “It’s sunset, time for campers to be back at the stables.” Then he blinked. “What’s that?”
“Message in a bottle,” you answered.
“Ooh, really?” He dismounted with grace you could never hope to match. “What’s it say?”
“Not gonna lie, it’s pretty depressing,” you said. “It says, ‘To whoever finds this, it looks like our boat is going down, and I will never see my beautiful island again. I was so scared to go on the boat, and now I know why. They’re getting the lifeboats ready, but I’m still scared. So if anyone finds this, you can have the jewelry I hid in the heart of the old place. Momma’s calling now. Think of me. Signed--” you squinted, trying to decipher the curlicues “--Hannah Roberts’.”
Seokmin’s eyebrows shot up. “Hannah Roberts?”
“Is she related to you?”
“Yeah, she’s my great-great aunt.”
You huffed a breath. “Oof, sorry to have read her final words out of nowhere.”
“Actually, those weren’t her final words.” He grinned. “She actually survived and lived a long and happy life at her destination. They shipped all her stuff back after she died of old age.” He frowned. “She was right about one thing, though. She never did come back to the island.”
“Well that sucks.”
He shrugged. “She seemed happy out there.”
You frowned at the note. “Wonder what she meant by ‘the old place’.”
“Are you thinking about trying to find it?”
“Well, if she never came back to the island, it’s probably still there, right? Family heirlooms should be with the actual family.” You shrugged, rolling your shoulders. “Besides, I need a project. Just something to focus on.”
“Blasting through ribbons faster than any camper on record isn’t enough for you?” he teased, moving to mount his horse.
You rolled your eyes, attempting to mount Buckshot and succeeding on the third try. “I’m not that impressive.”
“Sure you are!” He swung himself onto Tantor’s back, on the first attempt.
“Uh huh,” you said.
He sighed, shaking his head at you. “You can’t compare yourself to me,” he scolded. “I grew up here.” He wheeled his horse around, patting you on the shoulder. “Trust the horse boy, you’re doing amazing.”
Then he grinned. “Race you to the stables!” He clicked his tongue and Tantor took off like a shot.
You gasped, looking down at Buckshot. “We’re not gonna let that stand are we?” With a click of your tongue and a gentle squeeze, he took off after Seokmin.
(they beat you there, of course, but you didn’t fall off or panic and he didn’t even seem to be handicapping himself, so you’d count that as a victory of your own)
--
You met up with Seokmin after the first jumping lesson, throwing yourself dramatically to the porch next to his chair with a groan. He looked up from his book.
“That good, huh?”
“Curse you for inflating my ego with your repeated assurances that I’m a prodigy,” you grumble. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through today?”
He pretended to consider, before smiling. “No clue!”
“First, Jeonghan had me set up the course by myself, even though I’ve never done it before, and I still haven’t figured out if it was a teaching moment or if he just didn’t want to do it himself--”
“The second one.”
“--And then I spent the morning toppling on my ass, and the afternoon icing my bruises.” You threw a hand over your eyes. “My pride is too wounded, I can never ride again. I will never move from this spot. I’ll become one with the moss. Remember me as I was, and not as I am. My strength. . . it’s failing. . .”
“Well, I found Hannah’s diary.”
You sat up. “My strength returns.”
He laughed and it sounded like a sunset. “You wanna see?”
“Am I allowed?”
He shut the book and stood, offering you a hand up. “Of course you are.”
You took his hand.
--
Reading the diary was an adventure. You kept cycling through emotions--from guilt over reading someone’s private thoughts, to giddy over witnessing this slice of history, to analytic as you scanned every passage of the diary for some hint as to what ‘the old place’ meant. The wild shifts made Seokmin giggle, but he was just as bad as you were, so you didn’t feel bad about it in the slightest.
Seokmin grabbed your arm, pointing at a passage. “Look, she mentioned the bottle!” He bent over the page (he was better at reading cursive). “ ‘Now that I’m safe, I wonder if anyone will find that message in a bottle I threw overboard. I would hate to lose my jewelry forever. Of course, they would have to find the Rainbow Waterfall and the cave painting I made in order to figure it out.’ ”
You chewed your lip. “There’s only the one waterfall on the island, right?” That trail had scared you far too much to attempt it.
“Yeah.” He suddenly seemed unsure. “But the storm caused a lot of damage across the island, and that path is treacherous on a good day. If you’re not careful, some of those bridges could snap right beneath you. It wouldn’t be safe.”
You sighed. “Then I guess the adventure ends here, until the trail gets fixed.”
“Guess so.” He patted your shoulder. “On the bright side, we’ve still got a ton of history to go through.”
“True!” You brightened. “I wanna see how she met her lover.”
“Her lover,” he echoed, faking a swoon. “You say it so romantically, it really is like the days of old.”
“Well I don’t know who she married!” You defended. He opened his mouth and you shrieked. “And don’t you dare spoil it!”
“I wasn’t! I swear!” He leaned back over the diary. “Come on, she’s going to that dance she mentioned a couple entries ago. You’ll miss all the drama.”
“If she didn’t manage to upstage Tiffany Greenwood the world has no justice.”
--
In your defense, you’d intended to keep the agreement. You stayed to the well trod trails, focused on your riding, careened over hill and dale, until you left everything in the dust and Marco, Polo became less of a joke and more of the easiest way for Seokmin to find you, when sunset finally came.
(by this point, you knew enough to start heading back by then, but he still came out to find you. truthfully, you enjoyed racing him to the stables in the twilight, and seeing him grin at you as you hurtled across the terrain affected your heart rate more than the adrenaline)
But you completed the camp requirements for a jumping ribbon, and you blasted through the Roads and Tracks ribbon, and there was only one ribbon left to work towards, and it scared you. When that was done, what was left?
And then it was visitation day.
And your mom came to the island.
And she took one look at your ribbons--four ribbons, obtained faster than anyone in the history of the camp--and said, “Well. It took you long enough.”
The sun didn’t set right, that night. You didn’t leave the bunkhouse. You didn’t see Seokmin. You just laid there, staring at your ribbons.
(took you long enough)
And then you were on the mountain trail, staring down a wooden bridge--barely visible between the faint light of a crescent moon and the vapor from the waterfall--with the reins clenched in your fists.
You dismounted, heart pounding. You wouldn’t put Buckshot in danger. Thinking was difficult, over the beating of your heart and the echo in your head (took you long enough), but you had enough sense to know that this was stupid--that putting anyone else in danger was stupid--and you patted the horse on the side and stepped closer to the bridge.
And then the call echoed up the mountain, “Marco!”
You froze.
Again, “Marco!”
You hesitated, but called back. “Polo.”
Seokmin guided Tantor up the mountain at a canter, dismounting with that grace you didn’t have--that you would never have--and hurried over to meet you.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, and his eyes shone with worry.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” you said, instead of answering.
He started, stopped, hesitated, and then said, “I missed you at sunset,” he said. “And I was going to stop in and see if you were okay, and you were gone. The mountain was. . . just a hunch.” He placed a gentle hand on your arm. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
You looked away--you couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s. . .”
You wanted to be honest. He made you want to be honest.
“I wasn’t fast enough,” you said. “I spent too much time being scared and falling off, and I didn’t get the ribbons fast enough.”
“Says who?”
The outburst made your eyes snap up to his face--his expression shifting from flabbergasted to annoyed and back, every second.
“You’ve advanced faster than any student we’ve ever had at this camp,” he said. “It took me a whole year to earn my Roads and Tracks ribbon, so you listen to me and you listen good.” And he took you by the hands and looked you in the eye which made it very hard to listen. “Not only are you fast enough, you’re too fast. I mean-- leave some for the rest of the campers, come on!”
You snorted, and he grinned.
“No,” you said, “it’s all mine. They can fight me for it.”
He laughed, squeezing your hands. “That’s the spirit.” He bumped your shoulder. “And I’m the resident horse expert, so you know I’m right.”
You glanced over your shoulder at the misty bridge. “Guess we better get back to the stables.”
“We could, but we’re already up here.”
“And it’s dangerous. You said so yourself.”
“I said it was dangerous for you. And that was before you finished the Roads and Tracks ribbon.” He mounted Tantor, wiggling his eyebrows. “How ‘bout it?”
He would be the death of you.
You swung yourself back onto Buckshot. “Let’s do it.”
The trail was as treacherous as was advertised, but the horses were careful and you made it to the top of the mountain with relative ease.
You dismounted, staring across the island.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Seokmin said.
It was no sunset. “It’s sure pretty,” you said, watching the thousands of stars.
“We’ll have to come up here before sunset sometime. You’ll love it.” He nudged your arm, then turned to an outcropping. “If Wii Sports Resort taught me anything, it’s that there’s gonna be a cave back here-- aha!”
“Wii Sports Resort?”
He seized your hand and tugged you behind him. “I can’t believe I never found this place before!” He yanked a flashlight out of his pocket, flicking it on to reveal the small chamber--and the painting.
“That is a big tree,” you said, staring at the mural overtaking most of the wall. Despite the years, it hadn’t faded really at all.
“For a cave painting it’s really detailed.”
“What I don’t get is why you’d leave a hint in a cave painting at the top of a mountain.” You shook your head. “It seems like a lot of unnecessary steps.”
“Shh!” He waved a finger at you distractedly. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!”
“Didn’t that lead to the fall of Troy?”
“Shh!” He surveyed the cave wall, and then pointed. “There’s a heart on the trunk. That seems important.”
“Didn’t she mention something like that in the bottle? In the heart of the old place, right?”
He shook your shoulder, bouncing on his heels. “There’s only one tree on the island she could mean!”
“The Ancient Oak,” you finished.
“We gotta check it out. We gotta check it out now!”
“Since when was I the voice of reason?”
“Oh come on, you’re with me, and if we find the jewelry there’s no way my aunt will be mad at us when we get back,” he whined.
You laughed. “I was convinced from the minute you said it. Race you once we’re clear of the mountain?”
“You’re on!”
--
Going down the mountain was harder than going up, somehow, and while Buckshot was an angel, he was not a racer, so naturally Tantor and Seokmin won the breakneck chase to the tree.
“Check it out, it’s shaped like a heart!” He pointed at a knot in the trunk as you trotted up. “It’s the thing, it’s gotta be!”
“Is the jewelry in the tree then? Or like, buried under it?” You swung yourself off your horse.
“In it I bet, she said in the heart, didn’t she?” He inspected the knot. “Yeah, there’s a hole there!”
You poked the knot, and the wood dislodged, revealing a small space behind it. “How long did it take to hollow this out? That’s nuts.”
He giggled. “Tree pun.”
You snorted. “Unintended, I promise.”
He shoved his hand into the space, fishing around. “I’m not feeling--oh wait!” He yanked his hand out, shoving it towards you. “I found it! I found the thing!”
“A necklace, huh?”
“A locket,” he corrected.
You made a face. “The locket is the thing on it, it’s a necklace with a locket.”
He ignored you, fumbling for the clasp. “There’s a drawing here. It’s her! This is amazing!”
“It’s her?”
“Her and her friend I bet, the one from the island.” He laughed. “And their horses, of course.”
“They’re valued members of the team,” you said, thinking of Buckshot and Tantor tramping over the mountain with you when they could have been snoozing in a warm stable.
Seokmin beamed at you with that sunset smile. “You’re a valued member of the team. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say you’re the best thing that’s happened to this island in a long time.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.”
He crossed his arms. “Not convinced, huh? Well you’re sure the best thing to happen to me. Have fun debating that one.”
He would be the death of you and damn, you’d sit back and watch it happen.
“The feeling is mutual, may I assure you, detective,” you said, pretending like your head wasn’t singing.
“We certainly cracked this case, partner,” he said.
“You sound like a cowboy now.”
He shrugged. “I think I prefer that to a detective. Not enough room for horses in a mystery novel.”
“The horses are the most important part.”
He coiled the necklace chain, placing it carefully in his pocket. “Guess it’s time to get back to the stables, since we solved that mystery. Too bad there’s no sunset to ride into.”
Seungcheol and his significant other look perfect, wrapped up in the sweet and delightful glow of marriage. Seungkwan had announced the open dance floor, where most of the guests had been on until the younger had called for the wedding couple's dance. Seokmin watched on, finger catching the happy tear that was about to cascade down his face. He can't help the desires of his beating heart as his gaze searches for you, camera in hand as you move around the dance floor.
"So you're just going to ogle your pretty best friend all night? Weak," Mingyu takes a sip of his champagne.
"No," his tall friend raises an eyebrow and Seokmin pouts, "yes."
Their wedding song plays its last few notes, the applause of the guests accompanied by whistles and shouts of joy for the newlyweds. Seungcheol covers his mouth but the vibrant shine in his eyes as he looks at his partner is evident. Seokmin sees him walk to where you are, the man pointing at your camera as Seungcheol seems to flash you a grateful smile. You bump the man's older fist as you give your camera to one of your colleagues, rotating your wrist to lessen the strain.
His grin brightens when you hold his hand. The song is mellow and soft as the dance floor slowly fills up with couples. Seokmin encases your waist and the warmth of his body against you is so comforting that you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.
He huffs out a laugh, "is my hardworking Y/N tired?"
You are powerless when your heart cartwheels at the thought of being his, at the thought him calling you his. Your feelings for Seokmin fell into place naturally and you had let it be. What good does it do if you force your feelings to stop? You were content and you know you should not take it seriously so you look up and raise an eyebrow, "yours?"
And you are surprised at the close proximity even though the position you are both in warranted it. But you are most taken aback by the affection glittering in his eyes, a soft smile painting his lips.
His knuckles graze your cheek gently, "if you'll have me."
He's said it: confessed his heart in the hopes you reciprocate his feelings. Your eyes search his face and this is the effect of familiarity, of a friendship that has been nurtured with care as he recognises fondness in your stare. Your allure is magnetic and it is enhanced by the dancing lights. The lovely smile you flash knocks his heart out as you move your arm to his waist, "I'll have you."
Seokmin matches your giddy smile and pecks your forehead. The mellow song comes to an end and he quietly groans at the impending teasing coming his way. Though, he knows it is worth as it dawns on him that you return his feelings and the chuckle you let out when he whines about it.
