#lee chan fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sohnric · 2 months

Text

distraction, a fatal attraction – l. chan

pairing: lee chan x fem! reader

genre: strangers to lovers au, college au, fluff. a weird kind of situationship between yn and dino, drunk dino because svt can't stop mentioning his excessive drinking which is so university student of him and i headcanon him as my drinking buddy.

warnings: drinking, swearing, mentions of throwing up, smoking

word count: 7k

a/n: started writing this literally last may. it's now february and i finally finished it after rewriting it like three times... anyways idk how many more svt fics i'll post in the future but i had to get this out in the open lmaoo. as always thank u beloved @csenke for beta reading despite not even being a svt stan <3

You and Lee Chan seem to have the same clubbing tendencies. That being: drinking a little too much at times and getting a little too touchy when doing so. (Or - you and Lee Chan have kissed a concerning amout of times before he finally asks for permisson.)

“Can I kiss you?” Chan asks you one March evening and you don’t know why exactly you find yourself so surprised.

By default, it’s only natural for the boy to ask– the two of you aren’t dating, not even close to that, you’d say– and while you wouldn’t really mind if he kissed you without giving you a warning and swooped you off your feet on the stairs leading up to your dormitory building (for you found yourself a little too lightheaded and on the edge of your seat whenever he’s around lately, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach only further proving your assumptions– you have a silly, little crush on the male), you must admit that him asking for permission is quite nice. Surprising, but nice.

One might think you’re surprised because there was nothing that could lead you to this scenario– one might think you and Lee Chan were nothing but friends, not even close ones, per se (you just have a group of mutual friends that somehow always brought you two together when either one of you got excluded out of their conversations, ending up as each other’s, although pleasant, last resort). One might even think the two of you are hanging out alone for the first time together, which isn’t that far away from the truth in the first place, but still, is a blatant lie. What’s so surprising about the question to you, then?

The fact that this isn’t the first time you and Lee Chan would be kissing, and the sheer fact leaves you wondering if he’s forgotten, or if he never really remembered in the first place.

You and Chan have kissed…. an embarrassing amount of times for people that aren’t dating, or anywhere close to the said establishment. The circumstances of said kisses differ from time to time, and while you thought that they were meaningless at first, you must admit that as time went by, you selfishly and almost a little pathetically looked forward to each and every time where a similar situation might occur and his lips would end up on yours again.

The first time you and Chan kissed was also the first time you two met. It’s a strange sentence to use when describing a story about your first kiss with someone that you’re currently (hopefully) on a date with, but it’s the one you have to use, because it’s true.

The group you walked into the club with on the first day of orientation during your freshman year of college consisted of all your upperclassmen friends– the girls you had met in high school and didn’t fail to keep in contact with: Lee Chaeryeong, Kim Minjeong and Huh Yunjin. You would trust these three girls with your whole entire life, and so when they had told you that they could show you around the campus and let you in on all the secrets you only learn with months of attending college, you felt like you just won the lottery.

After the cheerful senior Choi Soobin walked your humongous group through the campus and showed all of your classmates the fundamental parts of the college building (the gym, the labs and most importantly, the cafeteria), he invited you all to the open semester party in the club just a few minutes away from the campus. And yes, the party was originally supposed to be mainly for the freshmen, but as soon as you texted your friends to let them know about your whereabouts, they announced to you that there is no way you were going back to your dorm room so quickly– the whole campus was supposed to be on that party, and that’s exactly why you were forced to stay.

“So, how do you like it here so far?” Chaeryeong asks you as you start swinging your hips to the rhythm of the music, the DJ surprisingly not as bad as you expected him to be from the reviews you heard from the girls when standing in the queue leading towards the club.

“The music isn’t as bad as you said it will be,” you yell over the music into your friend’s ear, having her roll her eyes and shake her head at you in disbelief.

“I meant the campus, not the club, you silly goose,” she clarifies, making you gasp at the sentence.

“Oh!” you laugh. “Well, I’m less frightened, that’s for sure.”

“That’s gonna come back to you once the exam season starts,” Chaeryeong notes, snickering. The comment is slightly terrifying– therefore you choose to ignore it and stick it somewhere to the back of your brain to come back to when the time is right and your anxiety is no longer a far-away thing, but a very present and real issue.

“Ah! I see Mingyu there!” she suddenly screams, pointing somewhere behind you. “I’m gonna go talk to him, can you try finding our table and going back to Minjeong and Yunjin?”

“I’ll be fine,” you nodded, trying to believe the sentence just as much as you were trying to convince your friend of it. The place was filled with people, and although you didn’t feel particularly in danger, you were getting a little scared of getting walked over to death in the wave of the drunk upperclassmen enjoying themselves in the club.

Feet dragging you through the crowd painfully slowly, you try hard to find your table on the sides of the club. Your eyes never really had a 20/20 vision, but the neon lighting of the club and the glass of Martini you’d had before stepping to the dance floor with Chaeryeong really didn’t help you in seeing things clearly. No matter how hard you try, you can’t find your two other friends anywhere, and if you are being completely honest, you’re almost certain the table you previously sat at with your group was now occupied with someone completely else– meaning that your dear friends either left to the dancefloor, or left the club completely (which you doubted, but the possibilities were never really 0).

And so with that, you drag yourself towards the bar. You think that was a better option to choose in this situation– since you thought that going out for some fresh air is just going to get you kidnapped if you went there alone– and you also figured that you’d be easier to find by your lost friends if you were somewhere out in the open instead of in the corners of the humid room. Ordering yourself another Martini to pass the time, you drink the beverage in slow sips before you feel the presence of someone on the bar stool next to you.

You look up at the stranger beside you, noticing a boy around your age sending you a shy, yet charming look. “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asks.

“Not really,” you answer, watching as the boy nods, his shoulders relaxing as he orders himself a drink.

“Are you here alone?” he asks as he looks back at you again, face tugging into a panicked expression when he realizes the implication his words may hold. “I’m not asking in a creepy way, or anything, it’s just- I’m a freshman and I lost the people I came here with, so I’m kind of alone here as well…” he quickly explains, eyes big and honest, “you just looked like you could use some company,” he explains, making an endeared smile flash over your features.

Shaking your head at his tangent, you wave him off with your hand. “Don’t worry, I got it,” you laugh, “and the same as you, actually. I came here with my friends, but they disappeared somewhere, so I just sat here and figured they’ll find me eventually.”

“Great minds think alike,” the boy laughs, holding up his glass before taking another sip, “well, until that happens, I guess we can hang out, can’t we? My name’s Chan.”

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself, “it’s nice meeting you, Chan.”

The two of you talk about everything and anything: where he comes from, where you come from, which dorm building you’re staying at, which dorm building he’s staying at, your major (literature) and his major (dance), your friends and his friends– and with the increasing amount of information you get out of him, the pull of gravity sends you more and more towards the boy. Chan is charming, talkative and fun. You find yourself attracted to him each time he cracks a joke or teases you about your choice of your favorite movie (‘This is the first time I’ve heard anyone say The gods must be crazy is their favorite movie!’), and that’s exactly why you don’t find it in you to say no when he asks if he could buy you a drink.

One drink turns into two– three, four, eventually even five– and you progressively start to forget all about your lost friends as you ask Chan to show you what being a dance major is all about and invite him to the dancefloor, swinging your hips back and forth to the rhythm.

You don’t know if they teach this type of choreography in dance school, but as the songs change from more upbeat to less energetic and more sensual, you find yourself a little too enchanted with the way Chan’s features soften under the neon pinks and purples, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck and stepping closer to him. His arm ends up on your lower back– dangerously close to your bottom, which you aren’t that opposed to anyway– and when his nose brushes against the shell of your ear in the middle of one of the songs to talk to you, you can’t help but press yourself against him closer.

“You’re kind of good at this, for a literature major,” he hums, his voice making shivers run down your spine.

And sure, it could’ve been just the alcohol levels in your blood that made you so dangerously close to him, but as you study his features– although a little hazily, but still fully taking in the sharp angles of his jaw and the sparkles in his eyes– you don’t have it in you to pull away when the boy leans in and kisses you, lips enchanting you the same way his moves have.

His kiss is heated and sensual, the one that makes your knees buckle and your mind go on overdrive, creating all sorts of fantasies in your delirious brain, and you must admit you don’t mind it when his hands slip further down to grope your butt, the two of you still lazily moving to the rhythm of the song in the background. The sound is coming in a little muffled to your ears as you let yourself fully indulge in the moment– it’s not every day you make out with an extremely attractive guy in the club– before your oxygen runs out and you have to pull away from him, instead studying Chan’s swollen lips from up close. They are inviting you for more, especially as his eyes open and look at you all blown-out and hazy, but you figure that he can wait. You have to catch your breath first and get yourself together– if you don't want to come completely undone in the middle of the crowded dance floor, that is.

You could honestly stare into his face forever, if you wanted to– except, you don’t have the chance as a loud voice from behind you calls: “Y/N! There you are!”

Annoyed thoughts fill your brain the very second you hear Minjeong from behind your back– where were they for the last hour? Of course they had to find you when the night was finally getting good– but you turn towards her nonetheless, showing her an innocent smile. You notice the girl is accompanied by the rest of your girl clover, alongside a tall guy that shows your companion a mischievous grin. “So I see you and Chan have already met and we don’t have to introduce you to each other anymore,” he says.

The sentence has you nervously clear your throat and take a step away from Chan. The boy ironically heaves out a: “Mingyu! How nice to see you again, after an hour.”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t having fun.”

Feeling the atmosphere grow awkward, you quickly look at your friends, smiling tightly to try and save the situation (while also acting as if you didn’t just finish making out with their friend’s friend). “Where did you all go anyway?”

“Oh, we met Seungkwan and Vernon, so we decided to sit together, and then Chae came with Mingyu after some time, and that’s when we realized we were each missing a person… so here we are,” Minjeong clarifies, having you nod.

In conclusion, this is the story of how you met Lee Chan. What was supposed to be a one-night thing at a club for you, never really expecting to see the boy ever again (except from accidental meetings on the campus that could very well be played off as neither of you remembering), turned into a whole another situation as the two of you now shared a surprisingly tightly-knit friend group.

You never spoke about the kiss again. Or much at all, really.

Kind of disappointed with the fact, but still kind of okay with the situation, you found yourself falling into rhythm with the newly found world at university. You’d gotten used to the all-nighters, the weird partying in the middle of the week on a school night, to the hookup culture you’ve never really found yourself fitting in with, and with the life that comes to you when living in a dormitory. All of these somehow had the presence of Lee Chan included, though, as you learned on another Wednesday night (those are the designated bar runs when you’re friends with Chwe Vernon and Boo Seungkwan– since their Thursdays are free and they can get as drunk as they want without fearing being hungover in class), much to your surprise, you and the charismatic boy have the same clubbing tendencies.

That being: drinking a little too much at times and getting a little too touchy when doing so.

It doesn’t help that the both of you were light-weights– or at least that’s what you’ve been told.

You two don’t talk to each other much before getting a few drinks in, since you’re a little shy when it comes to the charming, but endearing boy. What his reasoning for the seeming lack of interest in you when sober is, you’re not really sure– but as the night usually goes, you bet with Vernon on who can drink more tequila shots before their gag reflex hits, and sooner or later, you find yourself drunk at the bar.

Once your otherwise stoic friend feels that it’s too much for him to handle and trails to the toilets (accompanied by a sulking Sungkwan complaining that ‘He always does this, ruining the night for everyone!’), you allow yourself to get back to the dance floor. Sounds like a good idea in theory, but is a bad idea in practice– somewhere along the way, you start to feel too dizzy in the heat of the crowd, the lightheadedness making you feel sick. Your figure is quickly dragged outside by a person you didn’t notice has been keeping their eyes on you, and only when you finally slip to the floor and sit on the pavement in front of the crowded bar, you recognise the guardian angel staring down at you with hazy eyes

“You looked like you were going to faint over there,” Chan hums, a perky expression playing with his face. There’s a boyish grin spread over his lips as he stares at your disheveled composure, the two of you coming into a weird sense of déja vu you’re convinced only a few shots of tequila can bring you into on a Wednesday night.

“Oh, I was going to,” you nod, watching as the boy settles next to you on the ground. The place around you is buzzing in true college fashion– people smoking, drinking off-the-counter alcohol straight from the bottle they got at the corner shop down the street because it’s cheaper than the shots in the club, people meeting and talking about their majors and where they’re from, making new connections.

“Thank god I was there to rescue you, then,” Chan chuckles, shoving you with his elbow.

“Yeah, my guardian angel,” you hum dreamily, giggling at the ridiculousness of your comment.

“Saw Vernon running off with Seungkwan tailing him,” he nods, “now that’s not a guardian angel.”

“That’s a guardian devil for sure,” you hum, pursing your lips. “Wouldn’t want to have Seungkwan as my caretaker. He complains too much.”

“They argue like a married couple,” Chan snickers.

“It’s the curse of being roommates. After a certain amount of time, you start to view each other like you’re married,” you hum, nodding to yourself.

“Do you consider Minjeong to be your wife?”

“No,” you sigh, shrugging, “she’s too immature to be my wife. I think of her more like my child, actually.”

“Well, looking at you right now, you don’t seem to be the more mature one out of the duo,” he pokes a finger to your side, making you jolt away at the contact. Furrowing your brows at him, clearly a little offended, you huff at him.

“The roles change when I drink. That’s how marriage works,” you say, closing your eyes and pressing your lips together, nodding, fully pleased with yourself.

Chan laughs at you. “I thought you said she was more like your child?”

“Then stop thinking, Chan.”

“You were the one who said it!” he points out, shaking his head in disbelief. You’re not sure to what extent you can blame this on the effect of alcohol– what can you say. Sometimes you get too tied up in your own lies.

“Oh,” you snicker, “right.”

“Dummy,” he teases, flicking the side of your thigh, making your blood boil with frustration.

“Who are you calling dummy?” you argue, having a perfect comeback to snap back at the boy. “Weren’t you the one coming to the wrong class for 2 weeks?”

Chan’s whole composure crumbles, a serious look tinted with hints of shame overtaking his previously grinning face. “Who told you that?”

“Not relevant,” you shrug. You find that it’s the best to keep the identity of the mole confidential. (It was Mingyu.)

“Was it Seungkwan?”

“No.”

“So it was.”

Sometimes you wonder just how clueless Lee Chan really is. Although you don’t think he’s slow, you must admit that he does have his moments that keep you wondering just how he can operate in the world without being used or manipulated on a daily basis. Is anyone keeping an eye on him? What if he accidentally joins a cult one day?

“Well, whoever told me wasn’t the one going to a completely different class for 2 weeks straight, so–”

“Look, it’s not my fault they make the schedule so difficult to read! The classes were overlapping on the thing, and I didn’t know which one applied to me, so I just assumed I could choose,” this has you laughing out loud at the boy, “and so I just chose one. I didn’t know those were electives. I didn’t even sign up for any electives! Can you believe that? We are supposed to have electives?”

He looks so endearing as he speaks, laughing to himself and gesturing with his arms. There’s a sense of fondness pooling in your stomach as you reach over and plant a soft, quick peck to his lips. The male seems to be caught off-guard as he stops in his tracks, not a single word coming out of his lips after your action– and truth be told, although you’re kind of glad for the silence, the thought of scaring him away makes you a little anxious. When you look at him from the side, though, the boy is grinning.

Scattering to your feet, you wobbly waddle back into the humid building. You don’t think either of you could continue on with the conversation after your actions, and so you figure the best way to go around this is to leave. “Well, I’ll see you on the dance floor, Channie.”

The third time you manage to lock your lips with his is no different. It’s January now, though, and Seungkwan decided to host his birthday in one of the houses you can rent on the beach. It isn't as fun as it would've been in summer and you could go for a swim, but let’s be realistic– you'd never say no to a good birthday celebration.

There’s havoc erupting all around you as your friend group sings the birthday song to Seungkwan. You all had something to drink prior to the cake ceremony, since some of you came sooner than the others and you figured that you have to wait for everyone with the cake, and so the singing now resembles a mating call of five dolphins more than the casual, harmonic birthday song.

Seungkwan is sitting at the table, the rest of you gathered around him– some with glasses in their hands, some recording the commotion with their phones– and when the song is over and the birthday boy made his wish, he blows out the candles on the cake. Clapping resonates through the little kitchen, everyone ready for the cake, when Chan pushes the older one’s face straight into the icing.

It only takes Seungkwan half a second before he starts chasing the little devil around the beach house. The younger one is laughing at his own antics– which you must admit, although a little childish, you find to be quite endearing– and the older one curses at him with the most colorful vocabulary you’ve ever heard him say out loud. Not even Lee Chan’s own mother has ever scolded him in a way Boo Seungkwan is able to.

“Do you think Seungkwan would mind if I start cutting the cake without him?” Minjeong asks as she gets out a large knife– she looks a little threatening, you must say– which has you shrugging.

“I think he’s preoccupied right now,” you say.

“Yeah, but I’ve waited for this cake for over two hours,” she grunts, “so if he doesn’t want to cut it, I’ll do it for him,” she shrugs to herself and proceeds with her intentions.

Minjeong cuts straight through the face imprint of Boo Seungkwan in his own cake, slicing the red velvet into equal parts to put on the paper plates Vernon found somewhere in the back cupboards of the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“In a minute,” you laugh, shaking your head at your roommate, “I’ll go get them before they kill each other. I think the cake is enough to make truce fall over this war.”

“Stay safe out there,” Chaeryeong hums, nodding as she takes a paper plate and puts a chunky slice of the cake on, taking a fork into her hand and tasting the icing. “It’s surprisingly good even with Seungkwan’s skin cells in it.”

Minjeong slaps the other girl’s back, gritting her teeth. “Of course it’s good! I baked that shit for 2 hours and Y/N wouldn’t help, because she didn’t want to ruin it–”

(You just didn’t feel like baking. You don’t want to have another fight with your roommate about it, though, and that’s another excuse to leave the kitchen and go find Chan with his murderer.)

Peering your eyes around the whole beach house, you fail to find Seungkwan anywhere. Assuming you two accidentally missed each other and he’s back reunited with his cake, your legs automatically lead you on the patio, where you find Chan resting against the railway. He is wearing a leather jacket, his hair now a little longer than when you first met him in September, and when the noise of the back door opening lands into his ears, he makes a turn and watches you cross the space between you, all while eyeing your naked legs.

You contemplated if wearing a mini skirt in the middle of January was a good idea, but the satisfaction running through your veins at his hungry, yet collected eyes make it all worth it.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks. You shake your head in answer, but he pays it no attention as he takes off his jacket and puts it around your shoulders, the smell of his cologne filling your nose like a blissful drug. You’ve always liked attention, but when it comes to Lee Chan, you are twice as satisfied when he pays you just a mere glance.

“Not anymore,” you hum, smiling to yourself. “Seungkwan gave up on murdering you?”

“I think it was more of a health concern for him. He was breathing so heavily after a few minutes of running that I thought he was going to suffocate,” Chan snickers, making you laugh.

“I’d sleep with one eye open tonight anyway,” you peep, “just in case.”

“Oh, definitely,” he nods, grinning. “I won’t even take any drinks from him in case he poisons them. Better be safe than sorry.”

He takes out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, lights up one for himself and offers you one as well. Even though you always promise yourself you’re quitting and that smoking is a bad habit you should overcome, you eagerly nod and watch him with half-lidded eyes as he lights it for you, one hand close to your face shielding the lighter from the chilly breeze, just like every time. You haven't had that much to drink yet, but the effect of nicotine always makes your head spin when the smoke fills your lungs. Truth be said, though, you are afraid that the proximity of your friend doesn’t help much with the weakness of your knees either.

“Come inside, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he mumbles when the both of you are done smoking, hands gripping the sides of his open jacket on your body, tugging you towards him just the slightest amount.

Like another bad habit the both of you have to break, he seems to pause for a second, as if questioning himself one more time before he goes for it and places a short peck to your lips, leading you to the beach house again, now flushed and internally squealing.

The fourth time, it happens on his own birthday party.

It’s too late in the semester for any of you to experience a big party, the exam season being just around the corner. You still managed to gather and celebrate nonetheless– the boys letting you into their dorm building, your little friend group fitting inside of the communal kitchen on the end of the hall. People passing by look at you with half concerned, half annoyed faces at the commotion– which is understandable, nobody wants ruckus just down the hall when they’re supposed to be working on the last-minute assignments– but you don’t mind it much, telling yourself it’s not your problem in the first place and you’re allowed to have a bit of fun once in a while, as long as you’re not the one being wronged in the moment.

A bottle of champagne is taken out of the fridge by the hands of the birthday boy, the commotion around you happily cheering and clapping (only Chaeryeong hides away from the pointed tip of the bottle, knowing all too well that Chan is not to be trusted with things that can explode), and while Mingyu encourages the boy to pop the champagne open out of the window, you all realize that the action is indeed, not possible.

“Don’t tell me you got the one with the lid that screws on!” Seungkwan turns around to scream into Vernon’s face, having the poor man shrug to himself.

“You can’t really tell in the store when the seal is on–”

“Then you should’ve double checked–” the nagging would go on further if it wasn’t for the last bits of common sense from the birthday boy himself (that Seungkwan would protect with everything in him, making sure their youngest has the best birthday ever, but would never admit to it outloud), as he just unscrews the lid and flicks it out of the opened window instead, earning himself a couple of cheers and claps from the rest of the group.

The bottle gets passed around the circle, each of you chugging the sparkly alcohol straight from it– because pouring the drinks would take too much effort, and also, there weren't even enough glasses for everyone to pour the beverage into anyway.

The tallest one out of the gathering takes a cake out of the overstuffed fridge, lighting a singular candle in the middle and holding it up in front of the birthday boy’s face. There are sparkles in Chan’s eyes despite the poor condition of the cake– it’s one of those you get discounted in the dollar store, one of those that don’t even have candles on them and you have to get them yourself (which is exactly why Chan’s cake only has a singular, yellow candle in the middle)– and you find yourself admiring the sheer joy and appreciation in his orbs with fondness in your heart.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you–”

“Happy birthday, dear Channie!” Seungkwan’s vocal abilities shine through in the heartfelt song, the dramaticness of your whole group never denying itself as all of them make sure to sing to Chan with as much theatrical over-exaggeration as they can. Chan watches the flame with an inkling in his eye you can’t quite place. He looks adorable, you think.

You watch from behind as he blows out the candle. Something inside of you beams at the sight of your friend growing older– the fact that you’re here, celebrating with him moving something in you. You don’t often like it when people get older, but you think birthday celebrations make the sentiment worth it. In a moment of particular fondness, you hug the boy from the back– where you’ve been standing, considering the crammed nature of the kitchen– and whisper a giddy ‘Happy birthday!’ into his ear.

The male turns his head to you, a grin settling on his lips as he scans your face from up close. He looks at you with a look that you can’t really read, but makes you all warm from the inside. It’s different to the way he usually looks at you, and you only decipher it when he quickly leans towards your face and presses a peck to your lips. Only then it starts to all make sense.

He does it in front of everybody, the rest of your friends whistling at the action. Your heart leaps a little as you wrestle Chan off with a laugh, trying hard to keep the unseriousness of it all. If you can keep lying to your friends about the way you feel towards the male, maybe you’ll even manage to convince yourself.

The cake is taken away from his grasp and placed onto the table, ready to be served. You keep a calculated distance away from him, but that still doesn’t keep you from watching the boy from afar. There’s a certain haziness in his eyes when you stare at him from across the room and an aftertaste of vodka on your tongue when you lick it off your lips.

The fifth time, it happens when you gather to celebrate passing your exams.

College kids have only one way of celebrating the joys of life (as well as only one way of dealing with sorrows), and that is– you guessed it– alcohol. The whole friend group gathered in the common kitchen of the boy’s dormitories again, soju bottles ringing against each other as you cheered and drowned in the taste of the liquor. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t watching Chan the whole time, the endearing twinkles in his eyes making you foolishly drink more and more, a weird desire in you just begging to be drowned out, since you couldn’t do anything about it.

Once the night was over and the bottles were all emptied, the boys decided to walk you back to your dorm building.

“Gyu, it’s literally a 10 minute walk across the campus. What could possibly happen on the way there?” Minjeong laughed, but the commotion followed you outside nonetheless.

“It’s dark outside!” Mingyu insisted. “You never know what could happen. I don’t want the responsibility of your dead bodies on my hands.”

“Chaeryeong is feral enough to fight off any creeps alone, you don’t have to worry about us,” Minjeong joked, but the boys followed you outside nonetheless, grabbing their coats and escaping the warmth of their dorms.

You find yourself trailing behind the group, the essence of soju lulling you to a peaceful slumber that you perform despite still being on the go, your brain coated with the incoherent buzz. Lee Chan finds his stance next to you, cautiously watching over your step as you shuffle across the sidewalk, a gentle voice coaxing you awake.

“Got any plans for the winter break?” he asks.

“Probably just going to stay home with my parents for a bit,” you muse, shrugging. “Have lots of naps… I need to recharge. This semester was too hectic.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that,” Chan admits, chuckling at your shared despair.

Kicking the pebbles under your feet, you watch as the male indulges in a little game of football with you, passing the chosen rock back to you each time you kick it too far. The air is crisp and you sniffle a little from the cold every once in a while, but every time you catch the playful twinkle in Chan’s eyes when the pebble hits the side of your shoe again, you feel a bit of warmth engulfing you from the inside.

“I think this whole thing would be far less enjoyable if it wasn’t for you guys,” Chan admits, licking his lips. He’s right– it’s always better to have someone to rely on in university. You can’t imagine going to school and not having a familiar face to fall back to any time you feel lonely. It’s easier when you know all the insider tips from your older upperclassmen friends– when you have a default friend group you fit into without actually attempting to make any new friends yourself. Suddenly, you’re awfully thankful for everyone.

“Yeah. Although they did turn me into an alcoholic, it seems,” you chuckle, earning yourself an amused giggle coming from Chan.

“Oh, for sure,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck. “We have to tune it down next semester. Wouldn’t wanna end up in AA instead of graduating.”

“Now, that’s a long way from here,” you say, shaking your head in amusement.

“You never know before it’s too late, to be fair.”

You don’t realize it back then, but Chan is always somehow there when you take it too far, taking note of your drunken needs and providing you safety from creeps in the club. Lee Chan holds your hair back when you throw up, your stomach too weak on certain nights. He is there when you want to dance and also when you want to cool down. He’s your drinking buddy, sure, but the reality is greater than that– he always wants you to have fun and be as comfortable as you can be. If he can do anything to ensure that, he’s going to do it.

That applies to your sober adventures as well, although he’s more reserved when he has nothing to blame for his obviously smitten actions. Cranking his neck to look at you better, Chan decides to get rid of anything to blame next time.

Maybe he has to try harder.

Just tonight, for the last time, Chan kisses you with an excuse of alcohol to fall back on in front of your dorm building when nobody is watching, paying his goodbyes to you. He kisses you almost tenderly, making your knees buckle and the lightness in your stomach cry out with full measures.

“I’ll miss you, Y/L/N.”

You don't see Chan for a while after. You spend the rest of the winter break you have after completing your exams at home, relaxing with your parents. They are right when they say that the holidays should be spent with your family– no matter how much you love the friends you made in university.

Coming back to school after the few weeks of break brought a sudden change to your and Chan’s dynamic, though. While you must admit that you’ve grown strangely closer over the months, talking more even sober and naturally gravitating towards each other when sitting in booths at McDonald’s or falling into casual conversation at the back of the group when walking to places with everyone, you find that Chan puts more effort into being friends with you now.

He texts you randomly through-out the day, asking you how you are and what you’re up to. He sends you pictures of Seungkwan when he’s sleeping in the lectures, and you even find yourself laughing at the Instagram reels he randomly shoots your way in the middle of the night sometimes. He doesn’t drink much even when all of you end up going to the nearby bar again on a Tuesday evening, and you find yourself following his pattern, knowing that even if you gave in to the alcohol, the tipsy state wouldn’t be as fun if you didn’t have anyone to share the same energy with.

Because while you do enjoy drinking, the truth is, it’s not as fun without your drinking buddy. Half the fun of drinking is having fun with the people you share the moment with, and, well, it wouldn’t feel right to drink with the others being sober. You owe your friends that much.

Lee Chan puts effort into being friends with you more, and you don’t know if you like it.

Because even though before, you weren’t as close as you might be now, the adrenaline of what could be and what even is between the two of you any time you’re under the influence was exciting you, keeping you on your toes, making you feel desired and liked. Now, he’s relaxed– no more than an arm around your shoulder when his hand gets tired in the booth of the bar. The casualty of it all gets you worried.

So when the time comes and the two of you finally hang out one on one today, getting boba and then finding comfort in the April sunlight provided by the park across from your dorms, you find yourself questioning the nature of this hangout. And you think you’re not wrong for that, of course– everyone with working two eyes must admit that Lee Chan has been sending you mixed signals so far.

Hearing the question “Can I kiss you?” from his mouth, his cheeks dusted pink and eyes big in anticipation, was even more surprising to your ears, and you might understand it better now– the history you have with the boy suggests that there’s no need in asking, but also, the intentions are more than unclear at the moment. He’s not drunk– not even tipsy– why is this happening, then?

“I mean, we don’t have to, of course, I– I just–” he stutters, eyes aimlessly breaking eye contact with yours to stare anywhere but at your lips right now, nerves clearly written all over his face and in the stance he’s taking, a few steps below you on the stairway to the dormitory. Snickering at his hesitance, you sigh to yourself.

“This is the first time you asked,” you mumble a little jokingly, and when the boy’s eyes finally meet yours again, he seems a little embarrassed from the way his ears are burning red and he chews on the inside of his cheek.

The tone of his voice is kind of defeated, a little shy, even, when he speaks up again. “Well, yeah,” he shrugs, “so I finally wanted to do it right. And sober, no matter how fucking wrong and weird that sounds.”

Breaking into a soft laughter at his comment– because truthfully, to a stranger’s ear, that might sound a little alarming– you roll your eyes at the boy and lean down to be at his level, palms of your hands meeting with his cheeks as he watches you with curious eyes, the sparkle in them filling you to the brim with endearance. Your lips meet with his in a gentle, soft, yet yearning-filled kiss, having your eyes fluttering close and the pads of your thumbs softly stroking over the skin of his cheekbones.

The kiss is no different to the ones you’ve shared before– well, except there’s no loud music in the background, no smell of trash cans behind the bar or the smoke of an earlier-smoked cigarette in the air, and most importantly, no taste of alcohol on either of your lips– but still, it feels a little different. Sure, it has your knees week and your stomach feeling fuzzy, it does make you feel like you’re drunker than you were, which now, sober, you realize it just the effect Lee Chan has on you alone, but there’s a little more care, thought and intention to the kiss now, and it hits you with full force when you pull away from him and feel his hands glazing the skin of your waist in a hesitant hug.

“So that means this was a date then, right?” you ask.

“Well, you didn’t really seem to care about that all the times we've kissed before–” he jokes, earning himself a swat to his shoulder.

Now he’s bold.

“Okay, sure, if it helps you sleep at night. I’ll even take you out on another one, if you want.”

Turns out that alcohol was the variable in your relationship that only brought you two courage– the desire to kiss his lips off has always been there, you just never acted on it sober. And while you’re not so sure you’re gonna tell the story of how you two met in detail to your kids one day, you’re glad for the kick the rum and coke gave you on the day of your orientation, because who knows. Maybe you wouldn’t be here without the weird coincidence.

#seventeen #dino #lee chan #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #dino fic #dino fluff #dino x reader #lee chan fic #lee chan fluff #lee chan x reader #seventeen reactions #svt fluff #svt x reader #dino scenario #dino drabble #lee chan scenario #lee chan drabble

445 notes · View notes

horanghater · 5 months

Text

What Goes Up...

Summary: Chan is interested in a new kink and you do your job: support him.

▸ Pairing: Chan/Dino x F!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU:18+ / pwp, smut / established relationship If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: exhibitionism

▸ Word Count: 1,956

▸ A/N: Had fun doing this for K-Vanity’s Wanderlust Festival! Prompts used: log ride, established relationship, protagonist is a suspect. Fat thank you to @shuadotcom for beta and juicy kithes for @wonwussy, @wooahaeproductions, and @onlymingyus for the endless encouragement while I worked on this. @bitchlessdino and @idyllic-ghost come get ya’ll juice!

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I think I wanna try exhibitionism?” Chan knows you love him, knows he can trust you with anything.

“Ooh!” you gasp, lips quirking upward with intrigue as you study him on the other end of the couch. “Ok babe, let’s try it sometime.”

For all of his trust, Chan looks surprisingly relieved. “Really?”

“Of course! Just gotta figure out the ‘where’ and the ‘when’.” It’s the beginning of a bad idea.

The ‘where’ is the Amped Up Autumn event at the theme park a few highway exits away. An event that you are “absolutely banned” from, as delivered by ride attendant and fellow high school alumni Boo Seungkwan.

You’re not worried, though, and Chan isn’t either – he has no idea about your storied history of getting into trouble in some way or another at this event for the last several years. He also has no idea why you’ve got both a baseball cap and sunglasses on when it’s overcast, but “fashion” is an acceptable enough answer given that you’re not being suspicious otherwise.

Well, not suspicious at first. The two of you wait to enter the park and pick up maps (he can’t know you’re very familiar with it) without incident. It’s when you get to the petting zoo that he starts questioning things.

You start small, pressing against Chan’s side as he feeds a pony. He welcomes your warmth as always, beaming at you before turning back to the activity. When you both reach the smaller barnyard animals, you make it a point to bend at the waist to pet a sheep, ass kissing his crotch. Chan subtly moves back and though you don’t turn around to watch, you’re sure that he’s sure it was just an accident.

Amped Up Autumn is also home to peacocks, spoiled by and socialized with the endless droves of visitors to the park. When Chan nudges you excitedly as a muster of birds approaches, you make sure that there’s no misconstruing your actions.

“Shoot, I’m out of feed. Do you have any left?” You don’t wait for an answer, helping yourself to Chan’s supply. The paper feed bags are relatively shallow, but you make a show of digging in, forcing your hand roughly so he almost drops it. Chan catches it in time, right when you’ve pushed it near his groin. Your fingers spread and continue searching even though they’re so obviously at the bottom, rubbing greedily at his cock through his joggers.

Chan stiffens at the sensation and you watch, delighted as his expression morphs from surprise to confusion to cautious understanding, lips parting and closing again as his eyebrows pinch together. When you’re sure he’s received the message, you retreat with a fistful of mixed grains, making a show of feeding the peacocks. To passerby, you’re just an overenthusiastic attendee, but to Chan, you’re a flashing neon light that says ‘trouble’.

It’s almost comically convenient that Chan’s never been on Sawyer’s Mill, the park’s log flume ride. Even if he had, you would have insisted that you board it today. Thankfully, it takes next to no convincing to get him to join you in line; the thought of just sitting down for a few minutes is appealing enough on its own. You waste no time cozying up to Chan again, pushing your chest into his almost wantonly when you pull him in for a hug while you wait.

He knows you’re teasing by now, but lacks the willpower to stop it. You’re cute and you smell nice and it’s not like he can deny that your tits don’t feel good smushed up against him. The best he can manage is to nervously peek at the other attendees as you slowly snake through the line. You and Chan are one of many touchy couples here, so nobody seems to notice or, if they do, care.

Chan thanks the universe that that’s the case when you stand just ahead of him, hand at your side perfectly level with the seat of his pants. Your pinky keeps rubbing at him through the fabric, coaxing a chub that he can only hide by moving closer to you so your form can shield him from prying eyes.

Is this the longest line at the park or is Chan in purgatory? He’s not sure, but the way you keep prodding is making him desperate to get out of sight so he can just cum already and get back to what was supposed to be a very normal date. Clearly, that’s what you want too since you won’t leave him alone.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?”

You’re almost to the front of the line now and there’s a staffer on guard to make sure that nobody cuts at the last minute. His nametag reads “Seungkwan”. Seungkwan seems laser-focused on you and Chan so the question must be for you, but you just push up your glasses and turn around to scan the lane behind you. “Huh? Who?”

Chan follows your gaze, but is met with park-goers just as confused as you seem to be.

“You!” Seungkwan says, starting to point at you before quickly retracting his finger when his customer service training kicks in fully. He settles for vaguely gesturing at the two of you. “Would you mind taking off your glasses, please?” he asks curtly.

“Next two!”

Another attendant calls your party forward and you grab Chan’s hand to dart away and get into the car (...log?) that awaits you. Just as you leave Seungkwan’s line of sight, Chan spies him muttering something into a walkie talkie.

The ride attendant at the cars is much less interested in you – which is good (?) Chan guesses. “Bags on the floor, hands in at all times, jiggle the safety for me,” they sigh, rehearsed and apathetic as they lower the safety bar onto your laps. You rattle the bar excitedly before squeezing Chan’s knee and the attendant finds this sufficient enough, sending you off with a flat, “Enjoy.” Just as the car jolts into motion, they add, “Oh yeah, hats off. Enjoy.”

For the first time all day, you remove your cap and toss it to the floor of the car, exhaling with relief. The car begins its slow, steep ascent and Chan has a lot of questions now. “Babe, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“What do you mean?” You place your hand back on his knee and start rubbing, batting your eyelashes behind your dark lenses. “Are you not having fun?”

Chan tries to shift in his seat, but the safety bar cements him in place. It’s chilly here, between the fall air and shallow water sloshing around you, but he’s a bit warm now. “No, I’m having fun! Just–” your hand creeps up further, skipping over the bar to land limply on his dick. He lets out a shaky breath. “Seems like you had a…plan? For today?”

“Hmm, maybe, maybe not.” Your shit-eating grin clarifies further (as if it’s even necessary at this point).

“Are you sure about this?”

You rest your palm on his crotch, flat and firm. “I am. Are you?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Tell me to stop.” It’s not a threat or an order, just a reminder of what you’ve agreed to in conversations past. Experimentation is on the table until somebody calls it off.

Chan does nothing of the sort, instead whimpering and looking away as you continue to toy with him over his pants. You can’t hear him over the noise of the ride, but his refusal to look at you anymore provides plenty of satisfaction and confirmation that you should keep going.

You finally reach the top of the mountain, creeping into a cave that serves as a pit stop before the big fall. The darkride section of Sawyer’s Mill has seen better days, but the animatronic mountain lion that slides from the corner and roars through the speakers is sudden enough to give most newcomers a scare. Chan would have dove to certain doom if not for the bar and your now blatant grip on his cock. It jumps, just a little, in your hand and you’re certain that it’s not from the fear.

Chan slumps in his seat, rattled and frustrated. You don’t need to hear him to know; his cock is full and straining against the fabric. You lean over, breath ghosting the shell of his ear. “Is this enough exposure for you? Can you get off like this?”

He doesn’t answer, just throws his head back in defeat as you slide past the waistband of his joggers and grasp his dick through the slit of his boxers.

“We’ve only got a minute or two, so I sure hope you can,” you singsong, pumping his cock hard and erratic, the way you know he likes it when he just wants to cross the finish line. Watching Chan like this, struggling against the safety bar to hump and screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to forget he’s coming undone publicly, has you soaked through your panties. If you thought you could get away with it, you’d find a way to sneak back in here after hours so Chan could fuck you next to the mountain lion. But alas, this is an occasion to just enjoy the delectable view and the warm precum that’s lubing up your hand as you yank Chan closer to the edge.

Chan is so close; you can tell by the conspicuously audible groan he lets out and the way his heartbeat pounds through him and directly into your palm. He opens his mouth and his eyes roll back and he’s right there–

And then you freeze. Chan whines and refocuses, only to immediately squint as the glaring yellow circle of a flashlight assaults his eyes. He tries to shield himself, arm extending over his face as the light finally moves. Then, he sees it. Another attendee, nametagged “Minghao”, is pointing the light on his tented pants and shaking his head vigorously as he frowns. He doesn’t say anything – he just continues to glower disapprovingly – and that only makes it worse as the beam follows the two of you shamefully through the last ten or so feet of the cave.

Mortifyingly, you don’t flinch at being discovered. Instead, you get back to work and wave at Minghao with your free hand as if this were a routine predicament. Chan moans your name plaintively, but you just lean in again, this time making sure that your lips brush his ear when you speak. “What’s the matter, Chan? Gonna cum?”

You glide your palm down his shaft one last time and tug on the way back up, thumb pressing into the sensitive head. And that’s all it takes. The car sputters as it accelerates and you begin your rapid descent down the slide, water crashing into the car with a force only rivaled by his climax. Chan sees white and feels his stomach rise up to his chest, though he’s honestly not sure if that’s from the ride or your ministrations.

It’s not until you jostle him that he even realizes you’ve reached the bottom and the ride is over. He stumbles from the car, dazed and silent. You’re both soaked through and Chan really hates the sensation of wet clothes on his skin, but the endorphins of afterglow overtake anything else he should be feeling right now.

“Good thing we’re all wet or else someone might notice you had a really good time!” you joke as you lead him through the ride’s exit lane, waltzing along as if you hadn’t just jerked his soul straight from his dick only moments ago.

Despite your nonchalance, Chan spies how quickly you put your cap back on and pull down the brim when you pass the exit gate and the attendee guarding it. As you pass by, Chan notices in his peripheral that it’s Seungkwan again. He doesn’t say a word, but Chan can feel the man’s eyeballs burning a hole in your retreating backs. Among the ambient park noise of Amped Up Autumn, he hears a voice through Seungkwan’s walkie talkie.

“...so gross!”

#kvanity #kwanderlust #svthub #dino x reader #lee chan x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #dino smut #lee chan smut #dino fic #lee chan fic #svt fic #seventeen fic

123 notes · View notes

strwbwoo · 8 months

Text

chan and marathon sex just click, manhandling you all night, too engrossed on your body feels and how you vocally react to care if hes over stimming both of you… ofcourse he would take a break every two to three rounds but as soon as he sees both of your cum oozing out of your holes… hes back up again, “ch-chan!” your cunt pulsing around him, he already knows your about to cum, he groans, “cmon pretty… cum on daddys cock..” rubbing on your sensitive clit and cumming on command fucking you through your high, moans spilling before youre flipped face on the bedsheets and warm release scattered on your arched back. and just before you think your done, his hot breath is against your fluttering pussy fucking cum back into you with his tongue, repeating his name like a mantra; squirming away from him from too much (again) but its no use with his hands on yer hips, probably bruising them, “gimme me one more princess” he mumbles in your wet cunnie… (i literally cannot write anymore im so tired and stressed this week 1 follow special will probably be next week)

an : this is really bad and not into daddy kink but.. it fits him

#kpop #kpop smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #dino smut #seventeen dino #seventeen chan #lee chan #seventeen fic #lee chan smut #chan fic #lee chan fic #svt dino #svt chan

226 notes · View notes

arcanesea · 5 months

Text

no more waiting | lee chan x reader | 555 w.

"I'll pay." A familiar hand blocked you from paying to the cashier. You turn your head in one quick motion, eyes widening at the sight of Lee Chan.

He turned to offer you a smile, that damn smile that's enough to set off the fireworks in your chest.

You didn't hear what he was saying next, hands gripping your cup of coffee a little too hard. He turned to you once again, tilting his head slightly, losing you in the overwhelming surprise.

"Earth to you?" he uttered, trying to ground you back by waving his hand in front of your face. He hesitates a bit before touching your shoulder, sending electricity through your whole body.

You jolt back to reality, chest-heavy with unnamed feelings. He gestured for you to follow him and sit on one of the tables outside the cafe.

You never expected this day would actually come. Not even in your wildest dream. But here you are. Here he is. Staying true to his word.

"Why are you here?" you ask. Acting ever so clueless. As if you didn't think about his words every night before bed, sending silent prayers that he doesn't forget.

He took a sip out of his cup, inhaling a shaky breath combined with a thin smile. Chan seemed to think of words to say. He had written it all down before driving here to see you, he had practiced in front of the mirror for days. But suddenly, the notes in his pocket felt too heavy to be taken out right now.

He wanted this moment to be natural, but natural also meant at a loss of words, uncontrollable sweat slipping past the corner of his eyes, and unexplainable heat warming him from the inside.

He exhales, looking at you before leaning closer. Don't even ask about your heart, they're working overtime right now.

"Listen," he started. His hand reached out to yours, holding it gently. "I know that we agreed to at least go through college first, but I didn't expect you to get out of town," he said, making a circular motion on the back of your hand. "I thought, it'll be fine, we're gonna be fine, I will visit you one day, and you will take me around, that's what we promised."

There's a hint of frustration in his words, like he knows you're slipping away again, and maybe you do, maybe you did it on purpose. Push and pull have always been your strongest suit and Chan loves to indulge you by playing the game. But that's not for nothing. Because now that he's here, it's clear what you need. What you want.

"But we shouldn't wait around, sitting on our feelings," he stated. "Or we'll grow distant, and that's like my worst nightmare."

You let out a small laugh, causing him to look at you. The laugh that he's been dying to hear all year, the laugh that only he can spark.

"Chan, if we do this, if we try," you hesitated. Looking for an answer in his eyes without having to speak your mind out loud. "Will we be fine?"

He smiles at you, and if that's not reassuring enough, he adds with the softest voice that echoes in your mind, "We will, because there's no one else for me but you."

a/n. y'all better stream

youtube

105 notes · View notes

hanniebanggi · 10 days

Text

𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 • 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, established relationship

warnings: y/n is she/her, some profanities.

Chan leaned against the doorway of their cozy apartment kitchen, watching Y/N move around with practiced ease as she prepared dinner. The sight was familiar yet surreal, considering where they had started.

In high school, they were fierce rivals, constantly competing against each other in dance competitions. Chan had always admired Y/N's skill and determination, but he never let that admiration soften his competitive edge. Y/N was his rival—someone he needed to surpass.

"Just because you won right now, does not mean I'm bad at dancing." Y/N said while holding the silver trophy with number two carved on it.

"Just admit it, kid. I'm better than you'll ever be." Chan said with smirk on his face, waving his gold trophy in front of Y/N.

"Well that's because I just started a year ago, little dumbass. And who are you calling kid? I'm literally taller than you. Bet you learned dancing from the dwarves."

"Oh, you think you're funny? You look like The Grinch with your green ass outfit!"

"Knobhead!"

"Ugly!"

Their rivalry continued through college, where they both pursued dance as a major. It was during those intense years of training, late-night practices, and heated competitions that something unexpected happened. Amidst the rivalry, a mutual respect grew. They pushed each other to new heights, each striving to outdo the other while secretly admiring their passion and dedication.

"It would be better if we're in a V formation before that. It looked messy." Y/N said as they looked at the wide mirror.

"You think so? But it's my choreo, right?"

"And I'm improving it."

"Why don't we ask Soonyoung then, huh."

"CAN'T YOU TWO GET ALONG FOR ONCE?!" Soonyoung groaned as he looked at the two in front of him.

It wasn't until after college, at a chance encounter in a dance workshop, that they began to see each other differently. They bonded over their shared experiences, the highs and lows of their dance journeys, and soon realized that beyond the rivalry lay a genuine connection.

From fighting because of who's the better dancer, the better one to lead the group, the better choreographer to fighting on who's paying for the meal, fighting whether Chan will walk with Y/N until she gets home, fighting if Chan would drive Y/N to her errands. And fighting their own self about their feelings.

Now, here they were—five years into a relationship and newly married. Chan still couldn't quite believe it sometimes, how the competitive fire that once burned between them had transformed into something deeper, warmer, and lasting.

Lost in his thoughts, Chan's gaze lingered on Y/N, who was humming softly to herself as she chopped vegetables. She glanced up, catching his eye with a warm smile.

"Hey, what are you staring at?" Y/N teased, her eyes twinkling with affection.

Chan chuckled, crossing the kitchen to wrap his arms around her from behind. "Just admiring my talented wife."

Y/N laughed, leaning back into his embrace. "And I thought you were supposed to be the tough, competitive one."

Chan rested his chin on her shoulder, a contented smile playing on his lips. "I guess some rivalries have a way of turning into the best partnerships."

Y/N turned in his arms, her expression softening. "I'm glad ours did."

Chan pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling a surge of gratitude for how far they had come. "Me too, baby. Me too."

"You're too sweet, maybe you can chop these up."

"Nope, I won the rock paper scissors, you do that, pretty."

"Tsk." Y/N said as Chan removed his arms from Y/N's and laughed loudly.

"Alright, I'll do it. Just sit there, baby."

49 notes · View notes

jaemified · 9 months

Text

imagine ,, (my thoughts on idol bf chan)

pairing ; idol bf chan x makeup artist gf reader

genre ; kinda wholesome nd lighthearted fluff

warnings ; none

note - tb to caratland chan

pre,,despite chan working all the time, and you in need of a job, it was almost as if bang pd heard your prayers when chan came home one night to tell you a new makeup artist position had just opened up within his groups staff

imagine getting to travel with chan whenever seventeen went on tour as his girlfriend turned makeup artist, being able to watch your boyfriend and his members perform though you could only see from backstage

imagine chan sneaking small kisses on your cheek between outfit changes as you helped him adjust his mic pac or zip any zippers he couldn’t reach

imagine you touching up all his makeup he had sweat off after an intense performance, with chan giggling every now and then as he whines about how the brush tickles him whenever you apply more foundation on his neck (but only cz its you, if it were another makeup artist he wouldntve said a thing)

imagine driving chan home after the concert so he could get some rest, but when you ask at a red light if he wants to eat before bed, he’s already fast asleep, subconsciously pouting like a baby.

imagine you not wanting to disturb chan when you get home (since he looks so peaceful when he sleeps), so when you pull into your driveway and turn off the engine, you rest your head on his shoulder while you wait for him to wake up.

imagine chan, fresh out the shower, jumping into your shared bed with whatever energy he has left as he buries his head to rest in the crook of your neck. he wraps his arms tightly around your waist as he mumbles a quick “thank you for taking care of me today”, before you both fall asleep.

271 notes · View notes

celestiababie · 1 year

Text

Love Talk - L.C

Pairings: rapper! chan x gn! reader

Genre: one night stand! au, smut (18+)...that's about it

Warnings: Protected sex!! (make sure you wrap it up especially for a one night fling), top! chan, bottom reader, language barriers, reader is foreign, reader is a questionable friend, fairly vanilla sex and that's okay, cursing, please let me know if I need to add anything else

Word Count: 459

Summary: Sometimes actions really do speak louder than words. Or, in which you find yourself underneath a foreign rapper you met a few hours ago.

A/N: Blond Chan got me feeling some kind of way so I hope you enjoy what my horny brain put together. As always feedback is ALWAYS appreciated!!

"Fuck— you, mmph, you looked so damn hot on stage tonight," you moan against the up and coming rapper's lips, your words going through one ear of the faux blond man and out the other…for a number of reasons.

Chan knew he wouldn't waste an opportunity to get laid on tour. He even anticipated it, preparing a slew of pickup lines to pull on whoever he could picture moaning underneath him in his hotel room.

Little did he know, getting his dick wet overseas was a lot easier than he thought.

You couldn't care less about the language barrier. Who needs words anyway when you plan on using your lips to move across his body.

Chan hisses out of pleasure as your lips trace a long his jawline before gently suckling on the soft skin. Your hands pull his body closer to you somehow, your bodies one as he grinds his hips against you, fucking you so deliciously your head can't help but fall back onto the luxury pillows made sure to place under your head out of courtesy.

You had a feeling sex with Chan would be incredible just from the way his body moved effortlessly on stage as if it was his true calling. And you're proven right as he suddenly slams his hips into you harder, hitting your sweet spot with such pointed precision your brain gets flooded with pleasure, drowning completely and happily in the feeling of Chan's cock fucking you.

Truthfully, you had no idea who he was prior to tonight. Your best friend had dragged you along, promising dinner for a month if you joined to a concert of some dude named "Dino" she was practically in love with.

Did it break some codes to fuck yout best friend's celebrity crush? Probably. Did you care about that or the fact you knew nothing about this man and could only communicate with your bodies? No.

Why would that be a thought on your mind when you have his sweaty body on top of yours, rutting into you to chase after his release, his moans getting pitcher and shaky the closer he got.

"Cum for me, give it to me. I want you to cum so bad," you whisper out, once again your words falling on deaf ears but just the sound of your voice is enough to send him over the edge.

Chan's hips stutter as thick globs of cum shoot into the condom, your pulsating warmth helping him to ride out his climax.

The two of you pant against each other before he lifts his head to look at you with glossed over eyes. He flashes you the most addictive smile, the sight sending a shiver down your back as you listen to his words come out in the cutest accent you've ever heard.

"One more?"

389 notes · View notes

2lut4u · 6 months

Text

LEE CHAN

Bitchless [M] by @milfgyuu

promise ring by @lovelyhan

size matters by @onlyseokmins

scored! by @leejungchans

SIMP NOTES (smau series) by @shuastruck

“negative friends/negative lifestyle” by @berriesandjunnie

ROCK WITH YOU (smau series) by @horangboosadan

crybaby (series) by @toruro

nectar of gods by @toruro

take a seat (m) by @bitchlessdino

Do it already (m) by @bitchlessdino

omega envy by @rubyreduji

Cherry Boy by @ncteez

you’ll get me in a whole lot of trouble by @gyuhao5

college boyfriend!chan by @etherealyoungk

08:23am by @wheeboo

DRIVE. by @miraclewoozi

Dahlia by @gyuswhore

as long as you’re okay by @fairyhaos

april 20th: pot luck by @onlyhuis

pumpkin spice candles by @rubywonu

loser!chan by @hannieehaee

tipsy nights 🌕 by @dirtysvthoughts

my rockstar boyfriend by @seuonji

#lee chan #Dino #lee chan x reader #lee chan x you #dino x reader #dino x y/n #lee chan smut #lee chan scenarios #dino smut #lee chan fluff #lee chan imagines #lee chan fic

81 notes · View notes

hanniedream · 1 month

Note

Hii I love your work and with the new prompts I was wondering if Chan + "shush and let me hug you" would be something you would want to write for?🧡

hi~ thank you so much for loving my work and for sending in this request. hope you'll like it! ♥️

you find chan next to you with a cold water bottle in his hand and a love struck grin on his face the moment you push the stop button on the treadmill in the corner of your living room.

he guides you down the treadmill as he mutters "be careful" and you respond with a "thanks honey" as you take the bottle from him before placing a quick peck on his cheek. you're about to reach for the towel hanging on the handrail but chan's quicker than you and he immediately begins wiping the perspiration off your back as you gulp down the water he got you, then he spins you around to pat your face dry with the towel gently. a slight crease forms between his brows as he furrows them in concentration and you can't help the smile that grows on your face at the sheer thought of how lucky you are to be this loved and well taken care of by chan.

you start to move away to head for the shower once you're done with the bottle of water but you're stopped by his arms that found their way around your waist.

"what are you doing? i'm all gross and sweaty." you protest with a giggle as you attempt to pry him off you. "my sweat's getting all over you."

"i'm recharging your battery," he tightens his grip on you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh. "shush and let me hug you."

"you can do that after i take a shower and get cleaned up."

he starts swaying the both of you slightly, "i don't think i can wait that long."

you pull back to give him a questioning look, "are you recharging my battery or am i recharging yours?"

he chuckles in embarrassment then he pulls you back towards him again with a whine, "does that matter?"

"no, it doesn't." you wrap your arms around him as tightly as his are around you.

💌 request open!

38 notes · View notes

wondernus · 3 months

Text

THE FIANCÉ | chapter four

— THE FIANCÉ

synopsis: a mysterious pink fishing vest. a fiancé who wakes up in the middle of nowhere. and an upcoming wedding on the line. there's only so much you can take before you let your perfect future crumble before your eyes.

a/n: is chan back? or is it pi cheolin pretending to be chan? who knows? one more chapter left! I hope you are all enjoying this mini series - nu ♡

previous | masterlist | next

212 notes · View notes

ryuwonieebae · 9 months

Text

Besties²(Enemies)²Lovers

---------------------

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐎 (디노) Imagines, One-shot

Genre : Fluff, romance

Pairing : nonidol!Dino x fem!reader

Warning : Cursing, pet names(?)

When they went from being besties to forced married cat and dog turning the whole house upside down...

---------------------

"AHH!! Y/N!!!" grabbing the fragile glass on the table, he threw it at you, which you missed by an inch by tilting your head a little. You stuck your tongue at him and ran away laughing like a freaking witch came out from a horror movie.

Chan being him started chasing you with water dripping down from his wet hair. His grey shirt was almost wet from all the water you poured on him.

Dino ran after you down the stairs at a rapid speed that even a cheetah would be no match for him. But unfortunately, he wasn't able to catch you as you were running and hoping [left & right] making it hard for him.

"Can't you stop annoying me for once?!" Dino asked you in a demanding tone still running after you.

"No" your reply was simple and sweet which made him more furious.

"What is even your PROBLEM!?"

"YOU of course! Who else? I guess I've told you that for the millionth time. You should have thought twice before calling me an idiot!"

"Ahh, really? You're unbelievable" he mouthed still can't believe your remarks.

Even when you're running, an evil idea popped into your mind which was to push Dino into the swimming pool. But you didn't know that it was the stupidest idea ever. You purposefully sprinted towards the swimming pool which went unnoticed by Dino as he was busy trying to catch you.

As you found the perfect timing to push him when you were just beside the pool, you grabbed his left arm by your right hand and put your other hand on his back, and pushed him with full force. But luck was not on your side as he held your waist and pulled you together with him into the water. And that was the moment you realised that you fucked up.

Taking deep breaths and wiping away the water on your face, you attempted to swim away from Dino which eventually failed when he pulled you closer to him by your waist causing you to bump into his hardened chest. You looked up at Dino who was staring at you with much passion enough to make your heartbeat get rapid.

Abruptly, Dino came closer to your face and cupped it with his right hand while the other hand caressed your back slowly. Startled at his actions, you just stared into his eyes not knowing what to do. Dino took this opportunity and tilted his head placing his delicate lips on yours. You froze as he slowly moved his lips to yours. A tingling sensation ran through your body, somehow something in you made you kiss him back. You could feel his lips forming a smirk but you didn't care. You put your hand around his nape and deepened the kiss. Your lips moved in sync, and suddenly the cold atmosphere turned warm. And nothing mattered at that moment. It was only about you and him with your passionate kiss.

You slowly parted your lips from him, breathing heavily while your face bloomed crimson red. Dino chuckled while his face was turning red too.

"So this is my punishment?"

Dino nodded quickly placing another peck on your forehead.

"Do you love me?"

"Maybe"

Dino splashed the water at you for your teasing remarks.

"I guess I should kiss you again to make you realise my demonic angel"

---------------------

A/n : +This fanfiction is purely based on my imagination only.

+It's totally fictional

+I hope this is good enough to make you guys happy. I'm still learning to write in a creative way. Thank you for supporting me. It means a lot to me. Thanks to my besties too<3...

75 notes · View notes

yyxgin · 2 years

Text

the importance of being lee chan ;; lch

pairing. lee chan x fem! reader genre. theatre au, college au | fluff, comedy wc. 10k (10.271) warnings. swearing a/n. the fic follows the oscar wilde play "the importance of being earnest" and includes parts of the script. i took those from here! this is not my best work and it feels a bit rushed, but i struggled with this fic a lot so this is the best it's gonna get. i hope you still enjoy nonetheless :)

summary. in your university's adaptation of a famous oscar wilde play, you and lee chan struggle with a fatal part that is bound to ruin everything-- neither of you have mastered the art of a stage kiss.

“Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax,” Soonyoung proposes in a posh tone, one that makes everyone giggle under their breath as they watch from the rows of red seats that create the university theatre. Walking slowly across the whole stage, no stage props yet in sight, since it’s not the premiere day, the oldest student in the whole play gracefully says his lines in one of the last university plays he’ll ever get to act in.

“Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous,” Minjeong says, taking the role of Gwendolen, Soonyoung’s in-play love interest.

“I do mean something else.”

“I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong,” Minjeong shrugs, full of confidence. The role suits her perfectly– there’s no wonder that the charming sophomore got to play the main character in this semester’s play. With her stage presence and the way she holds herself, there’s truly no one else more fit for the role.

“And I would like to be allowed to take advantage of Lady Bracknell’s temporary absence…”

“I would certainly advise you to do so. Mamma has a way of coming back suddenly into a room that I have often had to speak to her about,” upon hearing Minejong’s line, the little group of people sitting in the audience snicker, perhaps remembering the times where their own mothers went into their rooms without knocking on the door.

Soonyoung proposes his next lines with fake nervousness, scratching the back of his neck. “Miss Fairfax, ever since I met you I have admired you more than any girl… I have ever met since… I met you.”

“Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have always had an irresistible fascination. Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you,” Minjoeng says, the tone of voice mirroring the matter-of-fact atmosphere she’s trying to portray. Soonyoung, in the role of Jack, stares at her in amazement. “We live, as I hope you know, Mr. Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the provincial pulpits, I am told; and my ideal has always been to love someone of the name of Ernest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute confidence. The moment Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a friend called Ernest, I knew I was destined to love you.”

“You really love me, Gwendolen?” Soonyoung holds a hand at his heart, acting in surprise, emotions running through the character’s body.

“Passionately!”

“Darling! You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

“My own Ernest!” Minjeong gasps, getting to the main point of the whole act and the play itself.

“But you don’t really mean to say that you couldn’t love me if my name wasn’t Ernest?”

“But your name is Ernest,” Minejong says, stopping in her tracks at the left edge of the stage, looking at Soonyoung with undeniable confidence.

“Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean to say you couldn’t love me then?”

Minjeong shakes her head in mock disbelief, sighing as she delivers the next line. “Ah! that is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like most metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual facts of real life, as we know them.”

“Personally, darling, to speak quite candidly, I don’t much care about the name of Ernest… I don’t think the name suits me at all,” Soonyoung mumbles, almost identical to the tone he uses when he messes up and tries to cover it up in front of the others.

“It suits you perfectly. It is a divine name. It has a music of its own. It produces vibrations,” Minejong sighs, eyes glimmering even in the singular light you’re allowed to use when you practise the play.

“Well, really, Gwendolen, I must say that I think there are lots of other much nicer names. I think Jack, for instance, a charming name.”

“Jack?...” Minjeong perks up, looking at Soonyoung. She takes a few seconds to continue, furrowing her brows as she acts lost in thought. “No, there is very little music in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed. It does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations… I have known several Jacks, and they all, without exception, were more than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a notorious domesticity for John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment’s solitude. The only really safe name is Ernest.”

The way Oscar Wilde managed to predict the very present problem of the J names phenomenon a century before it arised is truly a miracle. No wonder the play feels timeless.

“Gwendolen, I must get christened at once—I mean we must get married at once. There is no time to be lost,” Soonyoung spits with urgency, even throwing his arms up to add more effect.

“Married, Mr. Worthing?”

“Well… surely. You know that I love you, and you led me to believe, Miss Fairfax, that you were not absolutely indifferent to me,” Soonyoung says, the tone of voice known to be a well-trained theatre performance. Even if the senior hasn’t practised his lines yet, there’s something about his tone when he says them aloud for the first time that suggests that he was born to be on the stage.

“I adore you. But you haven’t proposed to me yet. Nothing has been said at all about marriage. The subject has not even been touched on.”

“Well… may I propose to you now?” he asks.

“I think it would be an admirable opportunity. And to spare you any possible disappointment, Mr. Worthing, I think it only fair to tell you quite frankly before-hand that I am fully determined to accept you.”

“Gwendolen!”

“Yes, Mr. Worthing, what have you got to say to me?”

“You know what I have got to say to you.”

“Yes, but you don’t say it.”

“Gwendolen, will you marry me?” Soonyoung finally asks, getting on his knees.

“Of course I will, darling. How long you have been about it! I am afraid you have had very little experience in how to propose,” Minjeong sighs, shaking her head.

“My own one, I have never loved anyone in the world but you,” Soonyoung dreamily explains, still kneeling on the ground.

“Yes, but men often propose for practice. I know my brother Gerald does. All my girl-friends tell me so. What wonderfully blue eyes you have, Ernest! They are quite, quite, blue. I hope you will always look at me just like that, especially when there are other people present,” Minjeong dramily exclaims, her tone getting more and more exciting.

Shin Ryujin enters the stage, the hunch in her figure not yet endorsed by the costume of an old lady, making her quite funny to look at.

“Mr. Worthing! Rise, sir, from this semi-recumbent posture. It is most indecorous.”

“Mamma!” Minjeong exclaims, almost a little terrified.

“Aaand cut!” the loud voice of none other than Boo Seungkwan, the leader of the theatre club and the self-proclaimed director (although no one had enough courage to nominate somebody else), cuts through the small theatre, making the actors relax in their positions and turn Seungkwan’s way, awaiting his directions.

Sitting back in your little red seat, watching the director march up the scene, murmuring something under his breath to Ryujin, the newbie that just entered the club, you hear your friend Mingyu mutter something into your ear in the dark, making you turn your head to him.

“Huh?” you ask, not hearing his question through your dear director’s exclamations echoing through the space.

“I said this play reminds me of you,” he giggles under his breath, making you furrow your brows.

Your childhood friend really can be confusing with his remarks sometimes. Not understanding his comment, you lean closer to him, not to break the sacred silence of the theatre, and also not to annoy any of the other actors sitting on various seats scattered all across the theatre, waiting for their turn to practice, and ask him for a clarification.

“What do you mean by that?”

“With the whole Ernest obsession,” he says, his white teeth sparkling under the dim light that is shining down on the stage.

“What?” you snap again, only furrowing your brows further, still not getting his point.

“Don’t you remember your Chan obsession?”

Finally getting what he means, all while cursing the boy for knowing you for so long and for having such a good memory, you roll your eyes with a sigh. “Mingyu-”

“When in middle school you watched that drama and got so obsessed with the main character Chan that when you-”

“Mingyu shut up-” you hurriedly try to stop him, just in case someone’s listening to you in the almost empty theatre. The man doesn’t listen to you, though, and keeps on rambling, the grin on his face only growing deeper as he realises the amount of embarrassment he’s making you feel by remembering memories of yourself.

“That when you met Lee Chan in middle school, you forced yourself to have a crush on him even though you didn’t even know anything about him in the first place?”

“Kim Mingyu I told you to shut the fuck up!” you yell out, not able to bear the ick you’re getting anymore and wanting to get it out of your system and never listen to a word about this incident ever again, because Mingyu is right– you didn’t know the poor boy. You just knew his name, and that surely was not a valid reason to be the object of your conversations during lunch break with your dear best friend now sitting on your side.

The eyes of everyone in the whole room turn to you, heat rising to your cheeks as you see Seungkwan gasp, his mouth already open to scream at you as loud as he can, because, well, the position of the director gives him the permission to do so any time he pleases, as long as you’re in the theatre.

“You shut the fuck up, Y/N!” he yells out, making the rest of the actors laugh out at his outburst, for it’s always fun to see their beloved director frustrated. “This is not your house, we’re trying to act here!”

Battling your laugh, because frankly speaking, the vein that rises on his forehead whenever he screams at someone in frustration is the best sight you could get after a long day of schoolwork, you hold your hand up in apology. “I’m sorry! Go on!”

Burrowing yourself deeper into the seat, kicking your friend in the shin as he just won’t stop laughing under his breath, you try to erase the memory of your silly crush on Lee Chan,

because, well… he’s sitting only a few rows under you, waiting for his turn to practice his next scene with you as his character’s lover.

“So, what exactly is the reason behind all of this?” Mingyu asks, sitting next to you in one of the red booths of the McDonald’s that’s the closest to your university building.

“Team building,” Seungkwan says, counting up all the people on his hands so he can order the exact amount of big cokes, furrowed brows and all, full of concentration.

“So why am I here, then?” Vernon, the tech guy asks. Chwe Vernon is one of the quieter kids in the theatre extracurricular– the one that never acts, but always takes care of all the lights and sound effects– but he’s one of the group nonetheless. His presence isn’t always noticed, but once he opens his mouth and truly says something, the likelihood of everyone losing their mind over how funny his remarks can be is higher than with anyone else in the group.

“I said team building, what’s not clicking?” Seungkwan mutters, obviously already done with the whole setting.

The director disappears with Chan– his right hand, as one would say– to the counter, ordering the never-ending list of Coca Cola and fries, ignoring all the other requests on various burgers and McFlurries, because, well, his memory is not that good and he really can’t be arsed with writing it down, while the whole group remains seated, conversating together about various topics. The girls catch up on the new gossip, and the boys, well… They do as well, because frankly speaking, they’re theatre kids as well. What else would they talk about?

And when the director comes back with his self-assigned secretary Lee Chan, holding two trays full of beverages, the chatter won’t die down even when the poor leader of the theatre team tries to calm everyone down with a loud clap of his hands.

“Will everyone shut up already?” Seungkwan hisses, finally making everyone remain silent for at least a few seconds as they try to battle the laughter trying to battle its way out of their lungs.

“See, Seungkwan? This whole team building thing wasn’t even necessary, we have good chemistry even without it,” Mingyu teases from his seat next to you, making everyone giggle and hum in agreement, because, well, you’ve known each other for at least a while already. Most of you hang out regularly, divided into few groups or pairs of people, but sometimes, even those encounters overlap and you’re forced to hang out with the whole group as well. It’s not like you’re strangers, after all.

“Trust me on this,” Seungkwan mutters, “there’s definitely some bond making we have to do, and I’m the director, I know.”

“Here he comes again with the director card,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath, making Minjeong laugh next to him, earning herself a sharp glare from the poor, bullied Seungkwan.

Distributing the drinks in between all the members of the extracurricular, Seungkwan manages to regain his composure and talk with his usual announcer-like voice again, leading the group and having everything under control. “So, the point of this team building is to get to know better the person you’ll have the most interactions with on the stage, so it doesn’t look awkward and out of place. That’s why I want you all to get to pair with the person you’re acting with the most, and then, we’ll proceed with the activity I prepared for today!”

The almost kindergarten teacher-esque excitement in Seungkwan makes you giggle out loud before you realise the true intention of today’s hang-out. Because, well… as Lee Chan’s lover in the play, you are surely going to spend the most time on stage with him. Something inside of you is telling you that Seungkwan gathered everyone here because of you two, since you and Chan don’t know each other that well, which, admittedly, resulted in your last rehearsal looking awkward and out-of-place. You’re usually very professional, you see– you’ve acted with almost everyone in the room so far, and you never had any trouble with it, since the atmosphere in the theatre and in the rehearsals was always pleasing and welcoming; but with Chan, it’s different. You are all tense and nervous, palms sweaty and memory hazy with the next line.

Absent-mindedly moving your place so you’re next to Chan, you’re now facing Soonyoung and Minjeong, the couple, and Ning and Ryujin, although not appearing on the stage together as often, being paired up together, since Soonyoung and Minjeong are getting priority as the main cast. Doing mental gymnastics on how to be less awkward around your crush from middle school, your train of thought is suddenly cut off by a whine coming from the middle of the U-shaped booth.

“Why am I getting paired up with Vernon? He’s not even in the play!” Mingyu says, earning himself a snarky grin from Seungkwan, still standing at the top of the table.

“Because you’re playing the priest, Mingyu. Do better next time and you won’t have to do team building with the tech guy.”

Snickering at the comment, you take a sip from the coke in front of you, your hands anxiously holding the cup to ground yourself. Bumping your knee up and down in nerves, your eyes meet with Mingyu’s, a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows making you roll your eyes as you look over to Seungkwan, who’s now on the mission of explaining the next step.

“Now, you’re going to share at least three fun facts about yourself with the person you paired up with! And make them fun and random, I don’t want to see any boredom in here,” he says, clapping his hands together to set off the start of the game.

“Oh god,” you mutter under your breath, sighing heavily as you put your head into your hands on the table, already hating the whole encounter. You’re bad at this, you’re very, terribly bad at this; for you think there’s nothing fun about you or the miserable state your life is in at the moment, and you don’t find anything interesting enough to tell to someone you so deeply admired in middle school. Yes, you could tell Mingyu that the whole crush thing was fake and you just made it up because his name was identical to the character in the drama, but at the end of the day, you think that the name was only the spark that made your whole obsession with the said boy real. Again, you didn’t know him well– nor do you know him well now, but still; that didn’t stop the past you from liking him in the slightest.

“Got any fun facts you wanna share?” Chan perks up from beside you, making you turn your attention to him. He’s sitting next to you, back resting against the booth, a smile sitting on his lips that makes his eyes crinkle up and make him look boyish and adorable.

Shrugging, you shake your head. “I’m not good with fun facts. Do you have any?”

“I sure do,” he says, nodding, making you laugh. There’s something about his whole careless aura that makes you feel all giddy inside– the way he always somehow looks like he’s acting, the adrenaline of being on the stage, being the centre of attention, never escaping the boy and leaving him looking as if he was excited to be here.

“Go ahead,” you say, trying to make yourself relax as much as you can, resting your back against the booth as well, crossing your arms at your chest.

“So,” he starts off, “I am a big fan of Michael Jackson,” he says, looking you dead in the eye. Blinking a few times, you almost awaken your inner Seungkwan (because when you’re around him so much, his characteristics tend to rub off on you. You catch yourself yelling at Mingyu a little too much after you spend some time with the said director, and while you don’t think it’s healthy or fair, you’re not actively trying to stop this behaviour either), with how your consciousness is screaming at your companion that this is not a fun fact at all.

“And…?” you ask, trying to find the fun behind the, very much boring fact.

“I’m… also really scared of Michael Jackson,” he completes, making you even more confused. Amazed, you furrow your brows, trying to make him explain further.

“You see, he’s cool, and I even wanted to be a singer because of him! But when I look at him, he creeps me the fuck out,” he says, over-exaggarating his every word, making you subtly widen the corners of your mouth into a grin, “I had sleep paralysis once, and all I saw at the foot of my bed was Michael Jackson, laughing with that creepy hee-hee laugh, I swear to god I almost peed my pants!”

Staring at him, completely silent, you suddenly break out into a hysterical laughter, imagining the poor boy laying in his bed, not able to move as his biggest idol and his biggest fear all in one is not letting him sleep or move. “Did that fear start with that incident?”

“No!” he laughs, his face totally serious, only making you laugh more. “That’s what made the whole thing even more terrifying!”

Not being able to stop your laughter, clinging to your stomach as it’s starting to hurt a little from how much you’re laughing, something sparks inside of your mind that only adds fuel to the fire that is your uncontrollable contractions. “You know what’s funny? Wanna know what my favourite animal is?”

“What is it?” he asks, calming down only a little as he asks you with widened eyes, trying to puzzle out why you’re suddenly mentioning this as a fun fact.

“A worm,” you say.

Now is his turn to blink at you in confusion mixed with concern, shaking his head. “I mean, that’s strange as it is, but I imagine there’s a punchline to this.”

“Yeah. Wanna know what my biggest fear is?” you say, sounding almost in agony from how the casual conversation is torturing you with uncontrollable laughter.

“What?”

“Worms.” you say, already feeling tears falling down your cheeks, seeing the boy absolutely lose his mind. Silently biting down on his lower lip, trying to battle the laughter that wants to come out of his chest, he snickers.

“That makes zero sense,” he whispers in despair.

“It does! One worm is adorable, but- but multiple! Multiple worms is fucking terrifying, dude!” you mourn out, stumbling over your words, as you hear Seungkwan cut your conversation off with a raised voice, noting that he doesn’t like the way it’s going right now.

“I see Chan and Y/N-ie successfully managed to complete their mission with telling fun facts, from how much fun they’re having, but for the love of god, the rest of us can’t even hear our thoughts right now-”

“Don’t ruin our conversation, thank you very much-”

“Okay then, we’ll see how your acting progresses after this team-building!” Seungkwan announces, looking you sharply in your eyes, noting that, after all, this whole meeting was initiated by your poor acting when you were met with the eyes of Lee Chan in one of the confession scenes in the play.

And suddenly, the smile is wiped off your face as you remember the terror you face every time you read the script.

You’re afraid that no amount of team building will be able to make you feel better about this.

It’s Tuesday, 4:21pm, exactly three weeks before the big premiere. You’ve been rehearsing the play every day, little scrapes and scenes all scattered along the way, being perfected with the help of Seungkwan. Yes, he might be bullied and teased, but his position is still respected. What he says goes, and if your acting isn’t good enough for him, it’s most likely just not good at all. You’ve been rehearsing your scenes with Ning, Soonyoung and Chan the whole month; since this time around, you only got two months to prepare for the premiere– knowing the dialogues by heart by now, remembering them word-by-word, the tone of voice and the way you’re supposed to act them out a muscle memory to you by now; until finally, it’s time to rehearse the parts you didn’t do so well on over and over again, until Seungkwan isn’t satisfied.

“Oh, I merely came back to water the roses. I thought you were with Uncle Jack,” you say, standing on the stage, seeing Chan enter the scene.

“He’s gone to order the dog-cart for me.”

“Oh, is he going to take you for a nice drive?” you ask, tone of voice so oblivious, fitting for the character of Cecily that you’re supposed to act. You pity the poor woman a little, for you feel like if she was born in this century, she wouldn’t survive a day without getting scammed by someone on the street.

“He’s going to send me away.”

“Then have we got to part?” you gasp, frowning.

“I am afraid so. It’s a very painful parting,” Chan proposes, coming close to you. The way he acts is so convincing, looking as natural as ever in his character. Sometimes, you wonder why he’s not in the main cast, but at the same time, you can’t really imagine him in the role of Jack. Algernon suits him much more, with his quick wit and a personality of a cunning fox shining through even when he’s supposed to be somebody else.

“It is always painful to part from people whom one has known for a very brief space of time. The absence of old friends one can endure with equanimity. But even a momentary separation from anyone to whom one has just been introduced is almost unbearable,” you say, despair written all over your features. This quote is almost the most memorable to you from the whole play, for it’s, frankly speaking, not only a rare occurance of smart words coming out of Cecily’s mouth, but also words you can relate to and frown upon in real life.

“I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if I state quite frankly and openly that you seem to me to be in every way the visible personification of absolute perfection,” Chan, in the role of Algernon proposes, his voice sweet as honey and his eyes an honest pool of adoration.

Sometimes, it’s hard to piece out acting and reality when you’re around Chan. He always looks so in his element, even when he’s off-stage, that the words uttered out of his mouth make goosebumps appear all over your skin, the confession making you undoubtedly hot in your cheeks. In this moment, no matter how many times you rehearse it over and over again, you always have to remind yourself that it’s just acting. It’s not real.

Although your middle school self would desire for it to be the opposite way.

“I think your frankness does you great credit, Ernest. If you will allow me, I will copy your remarks into my diary,” you say, going over to the table and beginning to write into a small, black-covered diary prepared close to you on stage-left.

“Do you really keep a diary? I’d give anything to look at it. May I?”

“Oh no,” you put your hand over it, trying to keep the contents a secret, “you see, it is simply a very young girl’s record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy. But pray, Ernest, don’t stop. I delight in taking down from dictation. I have reached ‘absolute perfection’. You can go on. I am quite ready for more.”

Somewhat taken aback, Chan takes a step back and clears his throat. “Ahem! Ahem!”

“Oh, don’t cough, Ernest! When one is dictating one should speak fluently and not cough. Besides, I don’t know how to spell a cough!” you announce, hearing a snicker from the audience, although, not knowing who it came from, since the single light blinds you enough for you to not see.

“Cecily, ever since I first looked upon your wonderful and incomparable beauty, I have dared to love you wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly…” Chan says with undoubted poeticness behind the script, tone of voice big, flying across the space.

“I don’t think that you should tell me that you love me wildly, passionately, devotedly, hopelessly. Hopelessly doesn’t seem to make much sense, does it?” you say, still in the role of Cecily, enough to ruin the moment.

“Cecily!”

“Good!” Seungkwan yells from under the stage, cutting you off. “Now, we’ll skip all the way to the end of the scene, since this looks neat. Starting from….” he mutters, flipping the script in his hands over, trying to find the exact moment he wants to see, “from ‘but was our engagement ever broken off?’!”

Getting to the position on the stage, a few steps to the right, kneeling. You clear your throat before you hear Chan repeat the same replica again, getting ready for the scene you fear so much.

“Of course it was. On the 22nd of last March. You can see the entry if you like,” you say, showing the boy the diary. He looks at it with sparkling eyes, almost making you adore him twice as much as you ever did, before you propose with even more melodramaticness that’s so suited to the role of Cecily, “‘To-day I broke off my engagement with Ernest. I feel it is better to do so. The weather still continues charming.’”

“But why on earth did you break it off? What had I done? I had done nothing at all. Cecily, I am very much hurt indeed to hear you broke it off. Particularly when the weather was so charming,” Chan asks, concerned.

“It would hardly have been a really serious engagement if it hadn’t been broken off at least once. But I forgave you before the week was out,” you say, matter-of-factly.

Chan comes closer to you, your heart speeding up in your chest with the knowledge of the next scene. “What a perfect angel you are, Cecily.”

“You dear, romantic boy,” you say, seeing Chan get even closer to you.

See, no matter the amount of team building, trust, or deepening your friendship with the boy, the image of kissing him on stage scares you. And no, it’s not only because of the blunt incest of the original play that you all chose to ignore for the comedy of it all, it’s also mainly because Lee Chan still makes you nervous all around, and with the idea of everyone watching you kiss the boy you dreamt of in middle school– even though it’s just a fake, theatre kiss– scares you deeply.

Leaning in a calculated way, so your head is shown towards the stage a little more, your lips not really seen to the crowd, you act out the kiss. The awkwardness of it all chases you down, making droplets of sweat appear on the top of your forehead, when Chan refuses to have eye contact with you, making the whole encounter more bearable, but also more nerve-wracking as well. And when you’re finally glad it’s over, leaning away from the one and only kiss in the whole play, satisfied with the outcome, all of the sudden, you hear an agitating, grating voice pierce through your eardrums.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this was absolutely terrible. I felt the awkwardness in my bones! You call yourselves professionals?” Seungkwan hisses, making you instantly roll your eyes– the natural response, really– as he enters the stage. “The kiss was so visibly fake and unnatural that it made me cringe from the depths of my bones!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do!” Chan yells out, visibly offended as he stands up from his place.

“Learn how to act it more realistically! You can’t just act like this after the good performance you just did!” Seungkwan mutters, throwing his arms in the air.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, not being able to bite through the uncomfort and awkwardness it makes you feel, you shrug with despair.

“Get off my stage. Mingyu! You’re next! And you two,” he says as you stumble down the stairs on the edge of the stage, “have some homework to do.”

Glaring at the director, you only resolve to a sigh. “Ay ay, captain!”

Sitting at the floor in one of the rooms at the back of the theatre– the room that gets used for costumes, leaving you in the mess of various fabric and scrapped ideas– looking at the face of your best friend sitting in front of you on the spare armchair, you realise that this probably wasn’t the best idea.

Lee Chan is sitting next to you, picking at the skin of his cuticles, and you suddenly feel like two children that got scolded and sent to the principal’s office for breaking the rules and running through the hallway. The embarrassment and nervousness in you only makes you sweat– which, in fault, makes you even more nervous and hesitant– when a cough is sent your way by Kim Mingyu, a sign to finally do or say anything that would make the whole situation way less weird.

“Okay, so…” you mutter out, “shall we start?”

Chan’s eyes shoot up towards you, licking his lips as he nods and furrows his brows. “I mean, sure…”

Not moving an inch, staying in your position, the room suddenly goes still and you feel like someone just stopped the video that is currently premiering your life in a live stream right in front of your eyes. It’s like your brain shut off for a second, too overwhelmed with emotion that it lagged mid-movement, when Mingyu kicks your outstretched leg and yelps out in frustration.

“Come on! Do anything, I don’t have the whole day,” he huffs out, rolling his eyes at you two.

“I don’t know how to start!” you yell out, finally speaking the truth now, followed by a nervous laughter that is imitated by the boy sitting next to you, as if to make the whole situation less awkward.

“You two called me here to watch you fake kiss, so do that! I didn’t sign up to sit around in silence, I have better things to do,” Mingyu scowls, making you kick his leg.

“Yeah? Like what?” you bite back, watching him with stern eyes.

“I… I could-”

“Exactly,” you promptly say, pouting out your lower lip as you crack your knuckles and turn your body towards Chan, “now, back to what we’re here for…”

“Do you want to start it with the replica or do we just… go straight to it?” Chan asks, making you shrug.

“I think we can just go for it,” you suggest, “we know the whole script by heart by now, it’s the kiss part that’s making us struggle.”

“Okay, so,” Chan moves a little further back, glancing behind him so he doesn’t move too far back and collide with the stationary that’s situated in the corner of the room, “we’re… in this kind of position… aren’t we?”

Nodding, you feel your heart speeding up with the incoming motion, noticing Chan already leaning towards you. You don’t have much time to prepare yourself for the next step, so when it happens, you naturally move away a little as he leans in, and Mingyu yells out in frustration.

“What was that supposed to be? I thought you were supposed to act like you’re kissing, why’d you move away?!”

“Shut up,” you grunt, feeling heat rising in your cheeks, “I just got surprised.”

“Okay, again!” Mingyu yells out, taking advantage of the position of a director that usually falls on Seungkwan.

Breathing in and out heavily, you move to your original position, letting Chan lead the scene, as he would in the original script anyway. Standing still, the boy leans forward to you, until your faces are only a few centimetres away from each other, your eyes wide open and staring into his. Biting down on your lower lip, trying to surpass the nervous laughter, you already hear Mingyu’s orders from behind.

“Maybe come a little closer to each other? You seem to be too far away from the back.”

Doing as you’re told, your faces inch towards each other a little more, so much your noses almost touch, you stay still in your position.

“Can you lean your head to the side a bit? So it looks more natural! You look like statues right now,” Mingyu chirps, letting you two to move your heads to the side at the same time, making you snicker at the automatic response.

Moving away so you can try again, you get closer to each other and you let Chan lean a little to the right, inching closer. Your noses brush against each other, making droplets of sweat appear all over your lower back, your palms now a bottomless pool of liquid from how nerve-wrecking the whole situation is. Something in the back of your head is screaming at you to either cross the distance between you two or to move away completely, yet, you can’t do either, stuck in the situation that is admittedly, making you a little light-headed.

You wonder if you’d feel this way with anyone else. Thinking of sitting around like this with Soonyoung, your lips almost touching, you almost giggle; you don’t think it would be awkward to have a kissing scene with the skilled senior. The same goes for Mingyu– the awkwardness is just not there, the only thing left is a playful aura that leaves you feeling comfortable and safe.

But with Lee Chan in the position of your love interest, you feel yourself getting weak in your knees and hesitant in all your actions. This is not a replica you can repeat all over and over again alone in your room until you get it right. This is a kissing scene you have to rehearse with the person; an intimate, although fake, situation that leaves you breathless just by seeing him in front of you from so up-close, leaving you to count his eyelashes and roam your eyes all over his face, studying him to the last detail.

You don’t dare to give a name to these feelings. You’d feel like you’re in middle school again.

“Okay, good! I like this one,” Mingyu says, “now, try it again, from the top!”

Letting out the breath you were unknowingly holding in, leaning away from the male, you try to relax your shoulders and make yourself less tense. Awaiting his next move, you see him wipe his hands on his pants, a gesture that makes you relax the tiniest bit, since it means he’s just as nervous as you are about the whole encounter. Watching him take a big breath in and out, he slowly inches towards you again, his face growing closer and closer.

Getting lost in his eyes, the situation almost feels too real. He looks so gentle, so pretty, and as your orbs wander down to his lips– although a little chapped– he seems too inviting to let go. Giving in, you close your eyes, a natural reflex before a kiss, awaiting his lips on yours.

“Yo, why did you close your eyes!” Chan yells out in surprise, laughing at your face.

Too embarrassed to say anything, you just put your hands into your hair, ready to tug at it in frustration as you swing your body back and let yourself lay on the ground of the costume room, grunting.

“You know what? I can’t do this. I don’t care if Seungkwan chases me down a street with a chainsaw because the whole thing looked too awkward to his critical eyes, I am just not doing this anymore!”

Letting your best friend monitor your fake kiss with the boy you used to have a crush on (while unknowingly feeling just the same around him as when you were just twelve) truly wasn’t the best idea after all.

“Everyone, to your places! I don’t want anyone still on the toilet while they’re supposed to be on stage! Ready, set, action!” Seungkwan announces in panic. It’s the last day before the premiere happens– which means it’s time for a costume rehearsal. You’re going to do the whole play, with all stage decorations, lighting and costumes, in the same exact order as the script; just like you would on the actual premiere, just this time, there is no audience.

You only had two months to prepare this time, but you don’t doubt that everyone’s ready. Soonyoung, the main lead, is a professional, after all. Minjeong is a born talent, Chan is a natural– cunning and charming; Ryujin and Ning have enough experience for the roles they were given, Mingyu, although a little messy at times, is perfect for his role of the priest, and you… you are almost 99.9% sure you’ve got down everything except from the cursed kiss scene.

Couldn’t Seungkwan just scratch it from the original script? Wouldn’t it be better if there was no kiss at all? Is it really necessary?

No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you and Chan met up in the back rooms with Mingyu, trying to make the kiss look natural; no matter how many times you and Chan hanged out together in the McDonald’s right after, getting food and getting closer, there is still something that’s keeping you from doing it perfectly.

You almost stumble over your words after, or you don’t lean in too close– afraid of falling hard for the boy if you did– or you simply just freeze in your spot, looking stern and awkward. Your only luck is that Seungkwan hasn’t wanted to rehearse the scene since the last time, so he still hasn’t seen the devastating state your acting is in every time you try this specific part out.

You’re 100% sure you’d be kicked out of the play if he saw it. You don’t really know who else he’d cast, since the theatre extracurricular is not the most popular one, but you’re sure he’d find a way. He might as well do that, you know– you’ll save yourself the torture.

Standing in the back, hidden behind the red curtain, Mingyu approaches you and watches the scene. Soonyoung and Minjeong are currently playing their roles of Jack and Gwendolen, the main characters, as they meet for the first time. They look natural, making you notice that this is exactly how you imagined it when you read the script, their acting hitting all the right points you wanted to experience when seeing the play come to life.

“You know, Y/N, in my whole life, I’ve never seen you swoon over a man this much,” Mingyu whispers into your ear, making you furrow your brows at him in confusion.

“What? I’m not into Soonyoung,” you mumble, quiet enough to not be heard by Seungkwan in the audience, or anyone else waiting in the back for their time to shine in the last rehearsal.

“I don’t know if you’re really that dumb or if it’s all just acting,” Mingyu mutters under his breath, his offensive remarks not even making you bat an eye anymore, since gentle bullying is one of your main ways of showing affection to each other.

“I mean, I’m a pretty good actor…” you snicker, making Mingyu roll his eyes at you, smirking.

“Yeah,” he nods, “but you’re doing pretty badly in The importance of being Lee Chan, your latest play,” he teases you. Now is your time to roll your eyes at him and act innocent, maybe even a bit oblivious to his remark.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper silently, a matter-of-fact tone in your voice, not meeting eyes with your best friend.

Clicking his tongue, Mingyu only shakes his head at you. “Even the blind can see how you’re head over heels for him again,” he notes, “are you going to ask him out this time around?”

“No, Mingyu,” you huff, “I’m not.”

“Why? You can finally come full circle and fulfil your Chan obsession from middle school-”

“Seriously, Mingyu,” you start, voice full of irony, “I need you to shut the fuck up.”

Snickering at your reply– presumably because he’s right about his assumptions– Mingyu doesn’t speak any further about the topic. You would be stupid to think that he wouldn’t notice. You’ve known each other for so long now that it would be pretty much impossible for him to not notice– he knows you like the palm of his hand. It’s only comfortable to act stupid and like you don’t know what he’s talking about.

It’s your turn in no time, after Soonyoung and Minjeong are done with their replicas with no issue, with a few appearances of Ryujin and Ning in the side roles. When it’s your time to shine, everything goes smoothly.

You act your scenes as Cecily with no problem. The replicas are engraved into your brain, the gestures and expressions rehearsed to the point of no coming back, your interactions with Chan on stage looking natural and smooth. It’s easier to concentrate on the script when he’s not so close to you, but even with the growing proximity of your bodies, you manage to keep your cool.

All up until the kiss scene arises, of course.

As soon as you hear the words: “What a perfect angel you are, Cecily,” uttered out of Lee Chan’s perfectly-shaped lips, your heart speeds up and you’re suddenly weak in your knees again, feeling like a hopeless teenager.

Maybe you should just quit right here and now.

But it’s too late to pull out of your role now, a day before the premiere. So, instead, you continue with the script, just like rehearsed. “You dear, romantic boy,” you say, already noticing Chan getting closer to you as he crouches on the ground next to you.

It’s time for the kiss; his figure leans into you, his head only a little to the right, noses almost touching as your breath hitches in your throat. The kiss is supposed to be short and sweet, and after a few seconds, it’s your turn to pull away and continue on, fully immersed in your role of Cecily. Pulling your fingers through his hair, just like you were told to do in the script, you smile at him as you stand up and speak to him again.

“I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?” you ask.

“Yes, darling,” Chan– Algernon replies, nodding, “with a little help from others.”

Relaxing your shoulders, glad the torture is finally over and the kiss scene is behind you, you’re surprised to be able to continue with no loud comments from the director himself, cursing you for acting so strangely and unrealistically. It almost hits you with a wave of uncontrollable euphoria, thinking you finally did it; but when you glance into the audience and meet eyes with Boo Seungkwan, his expression looks like he was just forced to drink a full jar of pickle juice.

You don’t need him to scream at you in agony again. You know you did badly even without his comments.

Doing your makeup in the back room, illuminated by the ugly yellow lights stacked around the mirror of the stationary, much like in Hollywood movies, your heart is beating loudly against your ribcage. Smearing lip gloss over your lips, you catch notice of Ning sitting next to you on one of the small folding chairs, visibly hyperventilating.

“So many people came!” she yelps out. “I saw a glimpse when I was passing to the back rooms and I think the whole theatre is full! This has never happened before!”

“I’m pretty sure Soonyoung told all his other mates to come, since it’s his last play,” Mingyu mumbles from the sofa situated in the very middle of the room, already in his costume and ready for the premiere.

“That means Choi Seungcheol is here?” Ryujin gasps, turning around on the little stool in front of the second stationary, drawing wrinkles onto her face.

“Most likely,” Mingyu nods, “I saw Yoon Jeonghan in the back row, he’s probably somewhere there with him.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Ryujin cries, throwing the little makeup brush onto the table. “Choi Seungcheol is here and I have to look like a fucking grandma!”

Snickering from beside her, Minjeong adds more blush to her cheeks– courtesy of the main role– earning herself a nudge to her ribs from her frowning friend. “You’re only laughing ‘cause you’re hot as fuck! Imagine how I feel!”

Rolling your eyes at the girls, you screw the applicator of the lip gloss back on, done with your makeup. Your blush is a little more dramatic than usual, but it’s important to over-exaggerate both your makeup and your expressions when you’re on stage, so they’re seen even by the audience sitting in the very back row. Standing up from the folding chair, you take your designated place next to Mingyu on the dusty, old sofa and fold your arms on your chest, careful not to crease your costume– a light orange dress with ruffled sleeves that goes up to your knees; a modest look for the dearest Cecily.

The door opens, and in walks the other main star of the whole evening. Lee Chan bashfully closes the door behind him as he feels the eyes of everyone on him– presumably because of the mess that’s going on at the top of his head.

“Why does your hair look like Shin ramen?” Ning asks, grinning to herself as the boy slungs himself across the dressing room, sighing.

“Look, I was told to sleep with hair curlers in, because, quoting, ‘Algernon is supposed to have luscious, curly hair’, but then I took them out and now I look like an idiot,” he mutters, scowling as he passes by his own reflection in one of the mirrors, making the whole room burst out in laughter.

“Come here, you dummy,” you snicker, watching as he walks over to you. Holding out your hand, you notice him leaning down so you can do something about it as you run your fingers through the tight curls, making them more loose and presentable in front of the audience.

As soon as you’re done and Chan is happy with the way he looks in the mirror, he looks at you as if you were a magician, mouth agape in surprise.

“You have to brush them out a little, you know,” you explain, making the boy’s eyes light up like lightbulbs as he nods in understatement.

“Oh so that’s how it works!” he gasps.

Looking at the boy in front of you, you almost squeak out in adoration. He looks extra adorable with his hair in loose waves, and the simple outfit– a tan, linen button-down tucked into simple black pants makes his figure look insanely attractive. His lips are a little glossy and there’s a glint of excitement in his eyes– presumably from the adrenaline from the incoming play. There’s just something about him that makes your heart and soul scream his name.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone else. That’s the importance of Lee Chan in your life, I guess.

“Everyone!” Seungkwan claps his hands together as he enters the dressing room, followed by Soonyoung already dressed in his costume, stage-ready. “We’re starting in 5 minutes! 5 minutes, I repeat. Hope you’re all ready, get to your places!”

His voice resonates through the small space, his body already turning around to escape the room, before he quite literally turns on his heel and looks at everyone again. “Break a leg, everyone! I know you’ll do great. Don’t be nervous and have fun!” This is one of the rare times when Seungkwan’s caring and enthusiastic side comes out– you think he’s just sappy because the end of an era is coming to an end. You almost pout and run to hug him, when he snaps into his usual state and turns around to look at everyone once again, for the last time. “But don’t you dare anyone fuck it up. I’ll kill you if you do.”

The whole room goes into a frantic furry. Even the calmest ones get more and more nervous, the adrenaline finally kicking in everyone’s blood system. Pacing around, gathering the last props, checking themselves out in the mirror for the last time, the dressing room empties itself out as the lights go out on the stage, signalling the beginning of the play. Standing around backstage, hidden by the curtains, a couple of nervous bodies swing from side to side in a nervous manner, awaiting their moment to step on the stage and act.

Glancing out of the curtain, you notice the theatre full– just like Ning mentioned. It’s a surprise, because usually, there’s a few rows empty, and some places in between the seats are vacant. You guess Soonyoung really bribed his friends and classmates to come. Something about the full audience makes you desire to do well.

It’s like you have to prove yourself in front of everyone. All attention will be on you, over a hundred hungry eyes watching your every move on the stage. You can’t fuck it up– you’d be too embarrassed to go on with your life if you did.

Suddenly, there’s a light shining down in the middle of the stage, Chan and Renjun– the boy they casted to play Lane at the last minute– walk out and begin the first act.

Only a few moments pass before Soonyoung enters in his role of Jack, as the two of them converse and start the main plot line. Watching the scene unfold in front of your eyes, as if you haven’t read the script a thousand times before and haven’t seen the rehearsals for two months straight, you enjoy every second of one of the most famous plays by Oscar Wilde in your extracurricular’s take.

The scenes unfold right in front of your very eyes, the characters on the stage switch around, letting you enter and act out your own replicas, accompanied by Ning in the role of Miss Prism. You can’t say you feel as if you were one with your character, but you definitely had fun with acting it. It’s not every day you get such a peculiar vocabulary and such a dainty character to play, after all.

Escaping the stage for a moment, feeling out of breath, you find yourself standing backstage with Chan by your side, the mortal scene coming to you both. Looking over at him, seeing the curve of his nose and the edge of his jaw, noticing the way his hair falls into his face and the gentle hint of a smile playing with his lips, your mind operates on autopilot as you are reminded with Seungkwan’s warning in the dressing room– you must not fuck this up.

“Chan?”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me for real this time,” you say, seeing the boy snap his head towards you, confusion written all over his face.

“What?”

“In the next scene. Kiss me for real,” you mumble, listening to the last replica uttered out of Soonyoung’s mouth, making you and Chan hurriedly enter the stage, not leaving him any time to ask you any further questions about your sudden request.

Maybe you were being selfish. Maybe you just wanted to look good on stage, maybe you just really wanted to do well. Or maybe…. Maybe you just selfishly wanted a reason to kiss him for real this time. The endless temptation and tension you felt when your faces were so close was slowly driving you insane, and this was your last opportunity to do something about it before you and Chan lose contact again after the premiere.

You wanted to kiss him at least once.

The second act is long before the actual kiss happens, and you’re able to kick it out of your mind for the time being. Flowing through the replicas with ease and some good old-fashioned theatrical dramaticness, you enjoy yourself before the moment finally comes again.

This time, you’ll make it believable. Boo Seungkwan can count on that.

“What a perfect angel you are, Cecily.”

The cue was told. It makes your heart speed up again, much like every single time, the nerves pooling in the palms of your hands.

“You dear, romantic boy,” you reply. Chan gets closer to you, leaning in. You can see him hesitate, you almost hear your own words resonating through his head over and over again, so loud that everyone in the whole room can hear, before he looks at your lips for a mere second, copying his previous act.

Just as you two rehearsed, his head leans a bit to the right, his palm holds the apple of your cheek, his nose nudges yours, before he takes the next step and solidifies the realisticness of the scene with a real kiss, pressing his lips against yours, your lipgloss mixing with the lipbalm you saw him put on in the dressing room before you left.

The kiss is short, just like the script said it should be, but it’s long enough for you to take in every single detail. The way his lips moved against yours with gentleness, almost a tender-like moment making you forget about your surroundings for a minute. You closed your eyes again this time; yet, he didn’t make fun of you like he did when Mingyu was around. He tasted of minty toothpaste and the green tea candy you keep in a bowl in the dressing room. Your knees go weak again– but now, it happened rightfully.

When he pulls away and his hand slowly regresses from your cheek, you find it in you to push through the scene, running your fingers through his hair much like you did a few minutes ago in the back.

“I hope your hair curls naturally, does it?” you ask.

“Yes, darling,” he replies, an undeniable hue of pink reaching the tips of his ears in a noticable, yet subtle blush, “with a little help from others.”

The rest of the play comes by like a flash, the script written in a way where there is no time for you to get bored while watching the actors do their job. Before you notice it, the very last part of the whole play happens, and you’re all standing on the stage, presenting the ending of your Oscar Wilde adaptation.

“Lætitia!” Mingyu yells out, embracing Ning- Miss Prism in a hug.

“Frederick! At last!” she enthusiastically replies, beaming in the reflectors.

“Cecily!” Now is Chan’s turn to embrace you, his arms around you holding you closer than before, his grip stronger than in the last rehearsal. You feel the ending of the play right in front of you, happy to be over with everything so you can take off your makeup and run with everyone to McDonald’s to celebrate.

“Gwendolen! At last!” Soonyoung cheers, embracing Minjeong in the perfect role of Gwendolen.

“My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality,” Ryujin talks to Soonyoung- Jack, as the whole play comes full circle and finishes off with the name of the play.

“On the contrary, Aunt Augusta, I’ve now realised for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest.”

And as the curtain falls and the audience starts cheering, it’s your time to run out, beaming in the brightest light of the reflectors that blind you, bowing until there’s no one else clapping in the whole theatre. Turning to all sides, noticing Chan and Minjeong both clasping your hands with theirs as you bow, the adrenaline doesn’t seem to wear off. The grin on your face is starting to hurt a little when Soonyoung’s friends cheer the loudest in the whole theatre, making you shake your head in disbelief at the precious friendship they have.

Running backstage after the ruckus is over, someone gets a hold of your hand again, making you turn around to see Lee Chan basking in full glory, smiling at you with a nervous smile.

“This is for you,” he says, offering you a bouquet of flowers, “I’m not really sure who it was for, but someone threw it on the stage so I… stole it…” he mumbles, nervously scratching the back of his neck, making you grin.

“Thank you,” you say, smelling the tall mix of magnolia flowers, admiring the vibrancy of the colours complementing in the bouquet.

“And I was thinking if you… if you wanted to go out with me?” he suggests.

His proposition almost makes you choke on your own spit, heat rising to your cheeks again, a nervous smile mirroring your lips as you mutter out an almost incoherent response. “We’re… we’re going to McDonald’s now with everyone, so.. I don’t…”

“I meant like… after. Some other day,” he explains, making you mentally facepalm at the way you replied, embarrassing yourself in the process.

“Oh,” you nod, “well… Yeah. Sure. I’d like that.”

“Okay, sweet!” he grins, giving you a quick side-hug with one arm, before he runs further backstage, presumably to get his makeup off and change so the whole group can go to a make-shift afterparty at the nearest McDonald’s.

Standing there, still, shocked by the way things turned out, you meet eyes with Mingyu that suggestively wiggles his eyebrows at you as he passes you by, seemingly to say that he saw the kiss from where he was standing and that you two will talk about it as soon as you’re able to. Smiling to yourself, feeling a little pathetic from how giddy you are on the inside, you wonder if the boy himself realises the importance of Lee Chan in your life.

You won’t admit it to him just yet, but you did just give him your first kiss, after all.

The play and before the scene she tells him kiss me for real this time and he hesitates and she does it and he invites her out after

306 notes · View notes