#lee chan scenario
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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
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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
#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
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A Little Bit of Care
MASTERLIST
Thanks for the request anon! I hope you don’t mind that I just did this as a bullet point fic (sometimes I feel like I write better in this format anyways lol) Hope everyone is doing well!
Warnings: Mentions food and eating, nothing else that I can think of! This is just a short, cute fic, if I failed to mention anything, pls let me know!
Remember gifs aren’t mine, if you like them, click through to give their OPs some love!!!
Practice can get brutal sometimes
There are just those days when everything builds up
They haven’t had a break in awhile
There’s a comeback coming up
The choreo is harder than ever
They can’t seem to get it together
And they’ve been going as hard as possible in the past few days to get the new moves down
They’re exhausted
No one has much motivation left
They need a break
Chan in particular can get stuck in a bit of a funk on days like this
His mind is a dark cloud
He knows he’s upset but can’t pinpoint why
Probably because it’s actually many things that are causing him distress
He’s been too busy recently
There’s so much on his plate he can’t even think properly anymore
He messed up once in practice but because so many others had messed up before him, the choreographer yelled at him
Mingyu had tried apologizing since he was the one that messed up the most and made their choreographer upset but for some reason it just made Chan more upset
It was just one of those days
You had been having an almost complete opposite experience to Chan that day, though
You felt confident in the outfit you had chosen
Your breakfast had tasted great
Work went smoothly and your boss had even let you off early
You took some time to go to your favorite places around town and then remembered there was a brand new recipe you had wanted to try
Cooking was one of your new favorite hobbies
Along with your days of high school and university, your days of settling for instant noodles and microwave meals were finally behind you
It was a relief to finally be making full meals and eating things that actually had effort put into them
You shoot Chan a text asking him how his schedule looked for the rest of the day and head to the grocery store
The trip to the store is just as pleasant as the rest of your day
It’s not too crowded, everything you need is easy to find, there’s no line at the checkout
When you get back home, Chan finally responds
“Hey babe, we’re probably going to go late today, won’t be home for dinner, sorry :/”
Your heart aches for him
You had gotten used to the times he wasn’t as available
You knew it was just part of his job
And when he wasn’t busy, he was the most attentive boyfriend of all time
He more than made up for his absent days with sweet dates and cute gifts and lots of quality time
Even when he was busy, he’d make sure to send you texts throughout the day or leave notes for you around the house reminding you how much he loves you
You were used to him being unavailable when his career demanded it
But you could never get used to how much stress it put on him
Chan couldn’t count how many times you had claimed that you were going to march up to the company and start yelling at people until the boys got a proper break
When you did this, he would just laugh and shake his head before kissing the top of yours
You looked over the recipe you were making and realized the meal would be easy to transport
You had plenty of time before they would take a break for dinner, so why not?
You put extra effort into making it as perfectly as possible
The meal is finished right in time for you to make it to the practice room for their dinner break
You hum happily to yourself as you make your way there
You’re so excited to be able to do something for your boyfriend
But your good feelings are somewhat dampened when you finally arrive
You can practically feel the negative energy coming from the practice room
There’s definitely yelling to be heard and grumpy comments being made
You wonder if this was a good idea at all
From Chan’s perspective, you honestly look like a real angel when you walk through the door
With your small smile, and your wave and the plate in your hand
When Coups sees you, he says it’s time for a meal break and they all scatter to eat
Chan is smiling for the first time that day
He feels so warm and bright seeing you with food for him to eat
But when you approach him he takes the plate and sets it aside and hugs you
His arms anchor themselves tightly around your middle and he buries his face in your neck
You reach up to pat his head
“Dont. I’m sweaty,” he groans but you ignore him
“You alright?” you ask quietly
He nods and pulls back enough to give you a quick peck as he grins
You direct him to sit down so he can eat before they get started again
You talk to him sweetly and pat his shoulder and head as he eats
Chan is beaming
He feels so happy
Time has started moving slower and it feels like he can actually breathe again
He can feel his muscles relaxing as he listens to your voice and feels your touch
The tension comes back when Seungkwan starts poking around by you two and tries to steal bites of the food you made Chan
You can’t help but laugh at Seungkwan’s antics and Chan is beaming all over again at the sound
“I’ll just have to make enough for all of you next time, then” you tell Seungkwan as you finally shoo him away from Chan’s meal
Chan’s heart skips a beat at the mention of a next time
When he’s finished eating and telling you how much he enjoyed your cooking, Chan feels refreshed and ready to go
“I can stay and wait for you,” you insist
Chan shakes his head, “You must be tired from work, go home and rest, I’ll be there soon”
He presses one more kiss to the top of your head and sends you on your way
He’s too happy to even react when the other boys cheer and tease him over his sweet goodbye to you
#chan#lee chan#dino#seventeen#svt#chan imagines#chan scenario#chan fic#chan fanfic#chan fluff#lee chan imagine#lee chan scenario#lee chan fic#lee chan fanfic#lee chan fluff#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario#seventeen fic#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fluff#svt imagine#svt scenario#svt fic#svt fanfic#svt fluff
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· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞
— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.
words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO
a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )
chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.
but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.
fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.
the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”
“wha—huh? what is?”
“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”
your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.
“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”
no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”
he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.
“you’re…embarrassed?”
the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.
“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”
“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”
“i know, right? i was just about to say.”
minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.
but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).
you take it into your own hands. literally.
you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.
he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.
“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!
minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.
but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.
you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”
minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.
you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.
(good luck.)
changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.
your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—
“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.
that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.
you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.
you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.
no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.
han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.
the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.
“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”
you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.
he loses it.
the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.
chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.
hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.
on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.
on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.
the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.
hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.
then, she flirts with him.
from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.
your fork clatters to your plate.
FUCK time and place.
the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.
you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.
once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.
“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”
jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.
you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.
finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.
“baby, your mouth is open.”
you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”
“what do you mean?”
“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”
jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”
“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”
jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”
“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”
it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.
“do i actually?”
“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”
“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”
the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.
you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.
felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.
he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.
it returned to the forefront right before bed.
“you do it when you’re nervous?”
“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”
“what, checking my pulse?”
“mine.”
you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.
the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.
“well?” he whispered.
“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”
“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.
the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.
two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.
felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.
his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.
let me.
you do.
his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.
the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.
“well?” you whisper.
“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.
he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.
the earth slants under his feet.
“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”
seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.
“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”
do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”
“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”
“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”
upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.
“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”
but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.
“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.
“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”
“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”
“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.
puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.
one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.
you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—
“I KNEW IT!”
you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)
“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”
you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.
now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.
“HOW MANY TIMES?”
jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.
“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)
“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.
after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”
“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.
“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”
“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”
“mmm, this one will.”
“doubtful.”
fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)
“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”
you wait. “is that it?”
“yes!”
why was the delivery so grand?
jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”
you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.
yoon counts you off. “ready…”
“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.
“shut up, pipsqueak.”
“set…GO!”
in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.
desperate times call for desperate measures.
you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”
both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.
the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)
but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.
jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.
he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—
you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)
yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)
—dissipates, immediately.
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© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!
#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#skz imagines#skz fluff#k-labels#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#lee felix x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#*writing#*headcanons
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𐙚 : SELLING MY BOYFRIEND W/ STRAYKIDS (smau) ֶָ֢ !
request: can you make the selling my bf thing but for skz? pls n thxx
authors note. no problem luv , i hope you like it <3!!!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
©️LUVYENI
#kpop x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#kpop smut#skz hard hours#stray kids hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#skz hard thoughts#skz smut#skz fake texts#stray kids fake texts#skz smau#stray kids smau#bang chan x reader#bang chan scenarios#lee know x reader#lee know scenarios#seo changbin scenarios#seo changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin scenarios#han jisung x reader#han jisung scenarios#lee felix scenarios#lee felix x reader#kim seungmin scenarios#seungmin scenarios#yang jeongin scenarios#yang jeongin x reader
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Boyfriend SKZ!Fake Texts - They have a wet dream about you
Genre: Smut, fairly detailed. Like, its dirty
Warnings: mentions of unprotected sex (wear a rubber, yall), breeding (? - if you squint and only for Jeongin's), Jeongin is a tad bit possessive, It gets more dirty the further you get.
✧ Masterlist ✧
Chan
Lee Know/Minho
Changbin
Hyunjin
Han
Felix
Seungmin
I.N
#skz fake texts#stray kids fake texts#skz texts#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz scenarios#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#yang jeongin x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids texts#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz au#skz#stray kids#stray kids scenarios#stray kids headcanons#skz ot8
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stolen kisses with stray kids — established relationship, extreme fluff, some might be suggestive ? (2.0k words)
moments they steal a kiss & where they do it
chan. during movie night when everyone’s asleep
it’s a little scandalous, they way he reaches for your lips while his friends are asleep during one of your movie nights.
it’s around 2am, and the only reason you’re still awake is because chan’s being extra clingy with the way he squeezes your waist, running his cold hand under your shirt.
how can anyone expect him to fall asleep though? not when you’re so close to him, and he can smell your shampoo, and feel your steady breathing.
“sleepy.” you mumble, grabbing the ends of your shared blanket that jisung had stolen most of hours ago. chan had to excuse himself midway through your third movie to get you a new one.
“hmm.” he hums in response, nuzzling his nose against your hair, hands planting themselves on your bare waist. “is my baby sleepy?”
“mhm.” chan can’t help but grin down at you, disentangling his head from your hair for a moment to look at you—your sleepy smile and drooping eyes. how could he not press his lips on yours when you’re looking at him like that?
it feels like a shot of espresso, and he would’ve gone in for another one had you not fallen asleep, head buried in his neck and arms gripping his shirt.
minho. at the dance practice room while waiting for everyone else to arrive
minho’s arms are immediately locked around your torso the minute you walk into your university’s dance practice room. your boyfriend had rented it out for the evening with his friends to practice their final project, and you’d come with dinner and your support.
“5 minutes.” he whispers with a sinister grin, and you’re about to question what he meant when he goes straight in for your lips. ah, five minutes before his friends get here.
his lips aren’t shy at all. you can feel him growing more desperate as seconds pass, and you don’t know what’s gotten into your boyfriend for him to be kissing you like this, but you don’t exactly have any complaints.
minho kisses up your jaw, pulling your hips closer to his before planting his lips back on yours. and you have to admit, it’s a little attractive to catch a glimpse of the way he’s holding you and the way he’s kissing you from the dance studio’s big fucking mirror.
you don’t even realize how much time had passed. everything felt like a blur with the way your boyfriend was kissing you. but before you know it, there are knocks on the door and minho is breathing heavily against your neck.
he presses one last final kiss on your lips before he’s pulling away from the tight grip he’d placed you in earlier. it’s impressive, the way he immediately switches to a more composed version of himself—unlocking the doors and welcoming his friends inside. the smile on his face is gone, and it makes your face heat up to think that they have no idea what had happened just five minutes before they walked into the studio.
changbin. in the gym room against the lockers
“babe, i have the water bottle you’d left—oh!”
changbin gives you no warning when he kisses you against the lockers of his condominium’s gym. you suppose it’s because he’s the only one there. despite his appearance, your boyfriend is usually shy when it comes to public displays of affection.
it doesn’t help that he has a very visible afterglow after his workout session, sheen of sweat on his arms and forehead, and it really is hard to look away—well, it would’ve been hard if you weren’t so preoccupied with the way he was kissing you. it’s slow, and very very hot because it’s so uncharacteristic of your boyfriend to be kissing you like this where anyone could walk in on you. he lets his lips linger for a little longer than your usual kisses, completely taking away your breath.
when he pulls away, he’s still staring at your lips, and you can see a soft smile playing on his. he sends you another peck on the lips before he’s grabbing at the water bottle in your hand.
“thanks baby.” he downs the water in one chug, arms flexing and playing into the fabric of the top he’s wearing. you’re still against the lockers, where he’d pushed you against earlier, and his free arm is still locking you in place. you feel akin to a schoolgirl, with her crush so close.
the thought of him kissing you again like this has you mentally kicking your feet.
hyunjin. in the art studio’s closet where they keep the supplies
he kisses you in the university’s art studio closet—where they keep the supplies. you’d only meant to help hyunjin clean up, but you find yourself locked between his arms with his lips on yours. maybe it’s something about how your boyfriend is much more romantic when he’s in his artist’s mindset, but he refuses to pull away.
you don’t know he’d spent hours prior trying to paint even just a fraction of how he feels about you on the canvas. you were only able to catch a glimpse of vivid colors, the same that’s staining his hands and clinging to his skin.
hyunjin only pulls away when he accidentally knocks down a stool in the cramped space, pulling away and shyly crinkling his nose. it’s a direct contrast to how rough he’d been, hands roaming every possible inch of your face and neck and waist.
when you step outside, you catch your reflection in the studio’s big studio. the sight makes your cheeks heat up embarrassingly, and hyunjin has to apologize for caking your face with the paint that had been on his hands prior to stealing your lips in that closet.
jisung. at the dorm room while his roommate is away
can someone really blame him? you just looked so kissable with your pouty lips and your furrowed eyebrows. when you’d finally succumbed to studying for the night, jisung wastes no time, catching your lips in his.
he’d give anything to continue pressing his lips into yours for the entirety of his life.
and if not for the rest of his life, then at least for a couple more hours while the sun is still up — and while felix (his roommate) is very much not in their dorm yet.
jisung smiles at you when you pull away—that dumb smile he always gives you when he’s not quite done kissing you yet. he has his hands firmly planted on your hips, and his legs are outstretched so you’re comfortable on his lap.
you have a feeling you’ll leave his dorm with a flushed face and swollen lips. you hope felix isn’t on his way home anytime soon.
felix. while baking seungmin’s birthday cake, everytime jisung exits the kitchen
in his dorm’s mini kitchen while the three of you with jisung bake seungmin’s birthday cake. he only ever does it when his roommate is too distracted with other things like what he should get the younger boy—would a gag gift of a stuffed penis be enough to torment seungmin? you can hear him clearly from the living room, calling out to ask you for advice, but felix stands firm on wanting to kiss you until you can’t breathe.
“felix, stop! jisung might walk in on us.” though you’re telling him to stop, it’s a little hard to convince your boyfriend when you’re giggling and kissing him back.
who could blame felix though? how can he not kiss you when there’s frosting on your lips from decorating the cake? and what better way to clean it than kissing it off?
he has you lifted up on the counter, stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs. you’d shiver once in a while, it can’t be helped when the boy’s running his cold hands up and down your bare skin, hiking your shirt up just a little bit.
and he’s mastered the art of excuses at this point, always having something to say when jisung walks into the kitchen and suspiciously eyes the both of you because why are your lips the same color as the extra frosting.
though, on his hundredth attempt at secretly kissing you, jisung walks right in and immediately screams “my eyes!” as he runs away with his palms covering his eyes.
seungmin. against the bookshelves of the library
“kiss me.” it feels wrong coming out of his lips. your goody two shoes, straight a’s boyfriend, whispering for you to kiss him in the library.
seungmin’s taking advantage of the fact that nobody ever stays at the university’s library past 12am, not when exam seasons are far off. he had dragged you here earlier, something about a project, and with nothing better to do, you’d thought you would accompany him.
you’d expected him to bury his face in his laptop as usual, square glasses on his concentrated face. you didn’t expect to be making out with him against the bookshelves of the library—somewhere by the anatomy section, you don’t even remember anymore.
it’s like he prepared for this too, knowing exactly where you won’t be caught. he has you between his arms, and he ghosts your face terribly close to his.
it really isn’t difficult to admit that seungmin is wildly attractive like this. while you loved your nerdy boyfriend, something about him with his messy hair and his eyeglasses discarded has you breathing erratically.
his lips immediately catch yours when you lean forward to kiss him. it’s a little messy, but you give into it, and into his tongue that’s swiping on your bottom lip. you don’t know what had warranted this, but it definitely isn’t unwelcomed.
you only pull away when you hear the librarian surveying the lines of shelves, noticing that you and seungmin had been gone a little too long. it really isn’t that hard to find a book.
when you come back to your corner table, seungmin doesn’t say anything. his glasses are back on his frame, but it’s hard to miss his smirk and the way he’s running his tongue over his lips once in a while.
jeongin. under the school’s staircase in between class
jeongin loves to steal kisses in between classes. he’d kiss you anywhere, behind your department’s building, inside an empty classroom, anywhere with no prying eyes.
today, it’s under your school’s staircase. he kisses you sweetly, almost romantic. the kind of kiss that tells you he misses you despite it only being a few hours since you last saw each other.
he kisses you over and over in between quiet conversation about how your class went—how was that quiz you had? was it a boring one? he loves listening to you talk, and he loves interrupting you once in a while to place a short peck on your lips. it’s usually when you say your ‘w’s or any letter that puckers your lips up.
similarly, you ask him questions about his class—was his teacher a little less shitty today? did he finish that group project he’d spent many late hours on? what’s on his mind and why is he looking at you like that?
“you.” he says with a smug smile, and it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. you stare at each other for a while, but jeongin can only go so long without your lips on his so he grabs your chin with his fingers and pulls you gently to place his lips on yours one last time.
the last kisses always last longer, when he knows he’s running out of time, and your next class is looming around the corner. and your boyfriend always knows how to make it count.
“see you on your next break, babe.”
#stray kids drabble#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids x you#stray kids headcanons#skz x reader#skz x you#skz fluff#skz headcanons#skz reactions#stray kids reactions#chan x reader#lee know x reader#minho x reader#changbin x reader#seo changbin x reader#fluff#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#han x reader#felix x reader#lee felix x reader#seungmin x reader#kim seungmin x reader#i.n x reader#yang jeongin x reader#jeongin x reader
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photocard
skz reaction: you pulling another member’s photocard
pairing: bf!skz x gn!reader
warnings: reader is referred to as wife in han’s
©daaawnnn
reblogs are appreciated!
#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#bangchan x reader#minho x reader#skz fake texts#stray kids fake texts#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids#skz#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz fluff#stray kids fluff
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minors dni.
cockwarming. consensual somno.
He runs warm.
His hands warm yours on days when you're at risk of losing feeling in your fingers, assisted occasionally by the soft press of his lips to your skin or a thawing breath from his lungs.
His thighs are soft and warm when he drapes one over you and tugs you against his chest on chilly nights.
His neck provides a safe haven for your stinging nose as you wait for the lights to let you cross the road on a dark winter evening.
He runs warm.
Then there are parts of him that are hot.
When you ask him very nicely—adding a few soft kisses between sweet pleas—he'll slip his hot cock inside you on the coldest nights. He'll heat you from the inside out like your favourite hot drink.
A warm, firm press of his palm to your stomach, warm lips on your neck, hot cock pulsing in your gut. Heat and warmth and—
"Still cold?" he mumbles into your neck, lips still wet from messy kisses.
An involuntary shiver races down your spine. You know he knows... just like he always does. It's not temperature induced.
"That feel nice?" he coos. "Hm? Nice and full?" He punctuates his soft spoken caress with a roll of his hips. "All warm, sweetheart?"
You fall asleep that way, hot and full with his solid chest pressed against you. Sometimes you wake up to his hips rolling into you again, a final flood of heat spilling from his twitching cock.
#lee know smut#bang chan smut#hyunjin smut#lee know x reader#bang chan x reader#hyunjin x reader#lee know fanfic#kpop smut#stray kids smut#kpop imagines#skz smut#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#kpop scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz imagines#stray kids fanfic#skz scenarios#minho drabble#minho drabbles
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A Work Proposal Masterlist
Pairing: O8T x reader
Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Content
All parts of this piece are strictly 18+ and contain explicit material reader discretion is advised and the author will not be responsible should prior warnings be ignored.
You had been working with Stray Kids for a while now and after a long day at work turns into a very unexpected but intriguing proposal. Will this change your world or end your career.
Intro
Part 1 (Chan x reader)
Part 2 (Chan x reader x Changbin)
Part 3 (Hyunjin x reader)
Part 4 (Han x reader x Felix)
Part 5 (Jeongin x reader)
Part 6 (Seungmin x reader)
Part 7 (Lee Know x reader)
Interlude (Chan x reader)
Part 8 (Felix x reader)
Part 9 (Changbin x reader)
Part 10 (Hyunjin x reader x Felix)
Part 11 (Seungmin x reader x Lee Know)
Part 12 (Changbin x reader x Han)
Part 13 (Chan x reader)
Part 14 (Han x reader)
Part 15 (Changbin x reader x Felix)
Part 16 (Jeongin x reader)
Taglist is now closed xx
#Stray Kids x Reader#Skz x reader#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#skz fanfic#skz scenarios#stray kids fanfic#bang chan#lee know#hwang hyunjin#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#seo changbin#han jisung#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#seo changbin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#lee felix x reader#kim seungmin x reader#seungmin x reader
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STRAY KIDS + POSSESSIVENESS ! 🩹 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
this is smut, do not interact if under 18
pairing: dom!skz x sub!fem!reader, established relationship, husband!changbin bc why not ? genre/tags: smut, angst, fluff (tbh it's only changbin's part), jealousy, exhibitionism, voyeurism, lots of degradation, mentions of crying, marking, manhandling, bondage play, piv, unprotected s*x (do not try this at home kids), public s*x, rough s*x, fingering, nipple play, oral (f & m receiving), t*tty slapping, multiple orgasms, edging, choking, bulge kink, slight breeding kink… am not mentally ok for writing any of this words: 3.4k
**old repost from my deleted blog
BANG CHAN. His patience was a level of no other. The man just watched you flirt with his friend and didn’t mutter a single word. All the while you kept boasting about how good Changbin’s muscles looked and the movement of his biceps were leaving you in complete amusement.
Pissed off doesn’t begin to describe what he’s feeling right now. He clears his throat,
“Are we done y/n? I think it’s time we head home now.”
The tone of his voice was cold, icy like a winter storm.
The lump in your throat was stuck. You knew how much in deep shit you were for this and his silence was the main indicator.
You could feel his piercing eyes on you the whole time.
It wasn’t long before you’d end up in this position. Both arms were locked above your head by his strong hands. The tight grip he kept around your wrists was definitely going to leave some bruising.
“You’re such a dumb slut. Did all this just to get me like this huh?” His cock hitting your walls aggressively as you spasm and shake under him.
“All this to get me to fuck you the like the dumb little cockwhore you are?” He growled, “can Changbin fuck you like this?”
His pace was relentless. His cock stretching you open with each deep thrust. His harsh words cutting into you like a dagger. Your mind was blank, head full of Chan’s cock. You had to answer him though, or else he will stop.
“N-no Chan only y-yours… only you can fuck me like this!”
A smirk creeps up his face from your quavering voice. He leans forward, his lips brush over yours as if almost to kiss you but doesn’t.
“I own you y/n. Only I get to have to you, understood?”
All you feel is his cock slamming into you. The slapping sounds becoming a melody of a beat, your heart was racing a mile a minute.
“Understood.”
LEE KNOW. He hates when you act out in public. The way you tease him and get him riled up, knowing he can’t do anything about it. It gave you sense of power, you had the upper hand— for now.
You were wearing the shortest mini skirt possible, it barely covered your bum and you could feel a cool breeze slip through your crevices. You kept walking in front of him, swaying your little hips side to side, letting him watch you bend down to pick things up as he sneaks a peak under your skirt. The sight of the pink lace thong you wore was enough to make him grab you by the arm and yank you into a public restroom nearby.
Before you know it, you’re being devoured by your boyfriend. Sitting on the counter of the sink whilst he was below you, giving you a gaze that could snatch your soul. His digits sunk into your dripping cunt as he swipes his tongue across your slit. Your skirt was still on but pushed up slightly, your thong was also moved to the side.
“I can’t believe you’d go out like this and expect me not to control myself.” He rises up momentarily.
“You do this on purpose, knowing I don’t want other people looking at you.”
He laps up your juices and coats it with his face, scissoring you open with his fingers.
“Fuck… I wore this for you Minho— w-wanted to look pretty for you.” Your eyes were tightly shut, feeling the euphoria as you were close to your orgasm.
He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, thrusting your hips in the air now, you whine for stimulation.
“Will you be a good girlfriend for me and cum on my tongue kitten? I want you to scream as loud for me as you can, I don’t care who hears it.” Minho was dead serious. He doesn’t care you both are in a public restroom and there’s people casually walking by. He wants everyone to know you are his.
You nod and agree to be on your best behavior for him. You know he will most likely reward you for this in the end.
“I promise, I’ll be a good girl Minho.”
Feeling your body heat surge as he inched closer to your core, pressing his tongue at your entrance. He tongue fucks you viciously while never breaking his eye contact with you.
Feeling yourself come undone from the surreal pleasure, all you want is to feel your release.
You thrash and moan as you cream on Minho’s tongue, your legs felt like jello when you climax. You let out multiple gasps for air, feeling as though you just ran a marathon.
Minho hasn’t left between your legs yet, his face still in a headlock. He wasn’t quite finished with you just yet.
“You can give me one more, right kitten?”
CHANGBIN. Being a newlywed couple felt like a fairytale dream come true. He felt incredibly lucky to have you as his wife and doesn’t stop reminding you how happy he is. He’d shower you with a beacon of compliments that would melt your heart each and every time.
You went on another vacation right after the honeymoon and it felt like paradise. That was up until a small incident occurred, it happened when you were at the pool with your husband. One of the pool goers at the resort couldn’t keep their eyes off you. You wore a sexy one piece that had cut-out details on the sides to show off your waist but you wore a sheer cover up over it.
Changbin noticed straight away the eyes that were glued to you, the eyes that were glued to his precious wife. He was livid. Almost causing a scene, he went up to the perverted man that was eye fucking you and gave him a piece of his mind. In utter disbelief of what was unfolding in front of you, you go up to Changbin to calm him down and get him to stop before he ends up actually doing something he’ll regret. His face burned crimson from anger but the sound of your voice brought him back to reality.
Things were much better in private now. Much better. Sitting on your husband’s lap in the jacuzzi bathtub felt so relaxing, his hands roamed your naked body as he placed chaste kisses all over you. He stopped at your neck to give it more attention, nibbling on a sensitive spot that made you sink right into his form. Moaning softly whilst his hands prance down to your back.
“I want to shield the rest of the world from you, only I get to gawk at my gorgeous wife.” Changbin says possessively, looking at you once he comes up from your neck.
You nod in agreement, “they can look but can’t touch!”
“No, they can’t even look, all of this is mine, mine, mine.” He plants a kiss to your cheek as his hand creeps down to your core. He prods your hole with a single digit, entering you with ease. You let out a soft moan as you part your lips slightly, bucking your hips forward. He pumps his finger into your wetness as he looks deeply into your eyes, nothing but burning desire in his pupils. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs it in a steady motion, your swollen nub feeling overstimulated from his touch.
“This is just the beginning my love, I’m not done with you until the sun comes up.” He whispered in your ear as he drags his tongue against your earlobe. In just the jacuzzi alone, he’s made you cum several times from his fingers. Oh how those magical fingers always do wonders on you..
HYUNJIN. The room was pitch black, your vision completely impaired from the blindfold attached to your head. Your hands were bound to each other, behind your back being tied by a thick rope. You had nowhere to go and the room was pure silence, naked and touch starved, you whine for Hyunjin to do something but you were met with no answer. He was standing over you on the bed but you were unaware of any of your surroundings.
The man finally spoke, “This is what happens when you try and make daddy jealous.”
You can feel his hot breath on your neck, the sensation making you crave him even more.
Hyunjin was always the possessive type, was constantly in need of reassurance if he felt his ego was being bruised. This was situation was no different, he needed to remind you that he was the one who owned you.
He brought finger to your perked nipple, gently dragging it across to tease you a bit. A white-hot charge sent through your body as you finally felt his touch. Dripping in a puddle of your own slick from the dirty thoughts racing in your mind, he continues lightly tracing your hardened nipples; eliciting low moans from you.
Your senses were heightened from the way you weren’t able to see anything, any little touch from him making you squeal from shock.
“You like this don’t you?” He says in a condescending tone, he belittles you some more. “So pathetic, look at you. Can’t do anything but take it, so fucking helpless.”
Hyunjin loved seeing how weak you become under him, the power dynamic being completely imbalanced right now. All you could do was moan out for him, practically begging him to do more but you know he’s going to take his time with you.
“Gonna make you squirt all over this bed for me.” He says, “Won’t stop until I have you screaming and begging for mercy, which I will never give you.”
The smirk on his face was devilish, he was conjuring up the perfect plan to ruin you indefinitely.
“Hyunjin, please fuck me… please.” You push your thighs together to feel some friction but Hyunjin gets mad at this action instantly.
He brings a harsh slap to your left tit, making you jump up a bit but your body couldn’t move properly from being tied up. Your legs went back to it’s original position, spread open for him so he can get a glimpse of your dripping cunt.
“Don’t ever tell me what to do, I make the rules now.” He palms your breast and kneads it excessively.
“You are my property.”
HAN. If jealousy was a disease Han would be the first one to catch it. He really loves yet hates the fact that he has such a smoking hot girlfriend that everyone wants. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy dating you but the way some of these other guys would look at you was about to become his villain origin story.
You were so oblivious to anyone who attempted to flirt with you, you only had eyes for your man but it was hard to convince Han otherwise. The pizza delivery guy complimented how pretty you looked and when you handed him the money to pay for the food, you accidentally gave him a ten dollar bill instead of a twenty, he didn’t even care he just smiled and continued talking to you.
That’s when Han knew he had to butt in, he was listening from the couch and he knew he shouldn’t have let you be the one to answer the door. Quickly he comes up to you to wrap his arms behind you, keeping you in a tight hold as the pizza guy looks mortified now.
“You can leave now,” Han says to him in a harsh tone, “We have important business to take care of!”
Slamming the door in his face now, Han comes up from behind you to take the pizza box out of your hands to place it on the table. Soon after, a heavy make out session between you would ensue.
As your naked bodies entangled one another, you feel yourself cinching around his cock from each inch as he slides it in. Your breath instantly coming to a halt as the end of his cock crashed into your cervix. He moves with his ass up in the air as he buries his length deep inside you, the squelching sound of your wet pussy making him see stars.
“Fuck… so fucking tight for me.” Han says sounding pussydrunk off the way you feel around him.
You fall into a frenzy as he pumps his length into you harder, pounding into you like no tomorrow. The bulge of his cock could be seen inside you, moving in and out of you intensely. Grinding your hips to match his pace, you rub your clit to feel more stimulation.
“You’re so fucking hot my God…” He cooed, tiny beads of sweat now forming on the sides of his face. “Your pussy was made for me and me only…”
“Only I can make you feel this good.”
FELIX. He felt sick to his stomach whenever he saw someone else looking at you. The way people would look at you in public when he was with you made him feel beyond disrespected. This is exactly why he doesn’t bring you anywhere because his fragile little ego will be crushed as soon as another person laid their eyes on you. He couldn’t deal with it anymore, he just had to do something about it.
You were at a public park but the park was so big that it was easy to hide and go unseen behind some bushes.
Felix brought you to a secluded area and told you get on your back, you do as he says and he looks at you with the most evil grin on his face.
“I’m going to fuck you so dumb right here, right now.” Felix says in a raspy deep voice, “I will let everyone exactly know who’s bitch you are.”
You gulp once you feel his hands all over you, you wore a black slip dress which drove him absolutely mad.
“Gonna make you pay for getting me worked up like this.” You felt so small when he spoke like this to you, the sticky mess in your panties was only growing as you feel his hands go up your thigh.
“Too stunned to speak sweetheart?” He asks, giving you an alluring yet mischievous smile. You have no idea what this man has for you in store.
“N-no, I can speak-“
“Shut up.” He quickly cuts you off from saying more. “I’m the one talking right now, you sit back and take what I’m going to give you.”
You did exactly as you were told and lay back for him. He quickly unzips his pants and frees his cock from his boxers. You look at the red tip of his angry cock, the sight of his raging erection was enough to make you feel a tingling sensation in your heat. His cock would plunge into you nice and slow but once he bottoms out he’ll quickly pick up his pace, fucking into you menacingly. He brought a hand to your neck and squeezed the shaft of it tightly, you gasp for air as he choked you but it wasn’t unbearable. You close your eyes to the feeling, letting yourself be fully immersed into him. Each thrust he gave you felt like bliss as he roughly held onto your hip, fucking you like a complete maniac.
“Gonna dump all my cum into your slutty little body,” Felix continued,“you’re my fuck toy, only I get to use you.”
SEUNGMIN. Usually something like this would never get to him. However, today was different, very different. Seungmin almost went ballistic when he found out that some guy asked for your number while you were out shopping at the supermarket. He often goes everywhere with you but you were getting off work and went straight to the store to grab some things for dinner. That’s when it happened and you told Seungmin as soon as you got home. You thought he’d just laugh it off but he frowned, disproving of that guy’s actions.
“What a loser,” Seungmin says in an annoyed tone, “when they will learn to just leave you the hell alone?”
He wanted you all to himself, if he could lock you up forever and throw away the key, he probably would. Only letting you out when he tells you you can.
“They can try all they want Minnie but I know I belong to you at the end of the day.” You bring your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss him and he kisses you back passionately.
“Want you to say it for me again, who’s pussy does this belong to?” Seungmin was now relentlessly pumping two fingers in you.
“Y-yours Seungmin… yours!” You could barely get a coherent word out of your mouth.
“And who makes you feel the best?”
He wasn’t letting up on making sure you know that you fully belonged to him. “We can do this all day princess… I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied.”
This was his fifth time edging you at this point, leaving you on the verge of an orgasm but would pull his fingers out once he notices your chest floating up. He’s being so evil to you right now, as if you it was your fault for what had happened in the supermarket.
“You, only y-you! You’re the best at making me feel so good!” You babble as he rapidly moves his fingers in and out of your gaping hole.
“That’s my good little girl, now keep taking my fingers and I’ll reward you soon okay?”
JEONGIN. “You’re such a filthy slut, you know that?” The motion of needy hips were bucking into you. Your head was kept in place, completely still, on your knees and on the verge of tears from your boyfriend’s words.
You knew why you were in this predicament right now. This was all your fault and you did it all for this exact reason.
You wanted to see Jeongin’s reaction to saying you think Felix was hot. You know he wouldn’t take that comment lightly since that was one of his best friends. You wanted to see how far you could test his limits.
“You wanna fuck my friends huh?” He grabs you by the hair and furrows his eyebrows to regain more focus onto you.
You couldn’t speak, all you could do was shake your head around him as he shoved his cock further down your throat.
“Can’t even talk with your mouth full of cock, what a dumb little whore you are.”
His cock hitting the back of your uvula, causing you to make a gagging noise. Streaks of saliva creep from the sides your mouth, the messy scenery underneath him was a heavenly sight indeed. You moan while sucking his cock, the vibrations making the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He throws his head back and keeps a tight hold on your hair, gripping you with everything he had. He thrusts his hard length into you viciously, the gurgling noises you were making whilst he fucks your face sounds harmonic to him.
“Shit…think I’m gonna cum soon” he muttered, letting out a groan as he kept pushing your face into his cock. “Yeah… just like that fuck… that’s it.”
A stream of tears came running down your face as you continued. You can feel his veiny cock twitch against your tongue as you felt hot spurts of cum fill you up now. You swallow each and every drop and milk him clean like the good girl you were. Opening your mouth wide to show it was empty he grins viciously and taps his dick against your tongue.
“You’re the biggest fucking slut…” He pants heavily.
“My biggest slut.”
#skz smut#skz headcanons#stray kids smut#skz x reader#skz x female reader#bang chan smut#changbin smut#lee know smut#lee minho smut#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin smut#han jisung smut#felix smut#lee felix smut#seungmin smut#jeongin smut#skz imagines#skz hard thoughts#skz scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids headcanons
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skz texts | meeting the family
notes: i've been away for way too long but im back now!!! im still getting back in the groove so this isn't my fave text post i've ever done but i love the thought of meeting their families and how that dynamic would be. i have a few requests im working on but feel free to send me more i'm always down for your suggestions! xoxo gossip girli
WARNINGS: slight suggestiveness, some swearing, thats it i think but please message me if i need to put anything else!!
BANG CHAN
LEE MINHO
SEO CHANGBIN
HWANG HYUNJIN
HAN JISUNG
LEE FELIX
KIM SEUNGMIN
YANG JEONGIN
#skz fake texts#stray kids fake texts#skz texts#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz scenarios#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#yang jeongin x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids texts#skz au
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How to Light a Fire
MASTERLIST
Thanks for the request anon! I’m glad you like my works and I hope I can keep entertaining you!
Word Count: 2.2K
Warnings: Lots of talk about being insecure and not feeling good enough, emotional self-sabotage, SUPER angsty before the fluff, also more emphasis on the angst than the fluff, let me know if I missed anything!
Chan had created a bad habit of pushing people away. It stemmed from insecurity, he supposed. Fans had called him an extra member. Their CEO had suggested it might have been better for him to wait and debut in a different group. He had convinced himself that he was barely holding onto the approval of his own bandmates.
A part of him whispered that if all the people who were supposed to care about him the most viewed him this way, he really had nothing to offer anyone at all. This meant that everyone was bound to get bored of him eventually and leave.
So better to push first than be left behind, right?
It happened in different ways with different people: slowly distancing himself, ghosting, or doing things to make others mad to prove they couldn’t love him through it.
The tiny, sane voice in his brain pleaded with him to realize his insecurites weren’t true. He was truly loved by his friends, his fans, his bandmates. He was a worthwhile person who deserved the love he received. He needed to talk to someone, reach out, confirm that his insecurities had no evidence to stand on. But this one lone voice was drowned out by all the others.
Which is why, when he meets you and falls in love at first sight, every alarm is ringing fearful noises throughout his entire brain.
~~~~~
At first he lets himself flirt with you, because that’s harmless, right?
You flirt back and it’s never anything committal, just innocent back and forth banter when he sees you around the building. It doesn’t escalate to anything more. Besides you had just started working there so he had the excuse that he was trying to be welcoming to a new member of the Pledis team.
But then he purposely starts timing his visits to the break room with your usual coffee runs just so he can see you. His palms get all sweaty, and his heart starts beating fast, and he always leaves the room with his face hurting from how much he’s grinning.
He starts noticing little things like: how you bite your lip while you’re waiting for the coffee to brew, how you always have a pen stuck behind your ear, and how you play with the lanyard your company ID is attached to when someone comes into the room and starts speaking to you about something you find boring.
He knew it was a mistake the moment he asked Seungcheol if love at first sight is real. He wasn’t sure he had believed in it before. But since the first time he saw you, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his head and had become practically obsessed with finding out as much about you as possible.
The question didn’t get him an answer, just a parade of his bandmates making kissy noises and asking a million questions about who his crush was.
He didn’t give you away. He knew that if he did, the other boys would do anything to get the two of you on a date and it would start with interrupting your visits in the break room (so far, the only place he spoke to you anyways).
And their involvement would make it all too real.
Asking the question about love in the first place already made it too real and had planted a sick twist of dread in his stomach the moment it left his mouth.
So, he insisted to his bandmates that it was just out of curiousity that he had asked that until they finally gave up and left him alone.
~~~~~
It was you that asked Chan out. You had found him cute, enjoyed speaking to him, and had definitely felt a spark between the two of you.
You figured that the worst thing that could happen would be that you would have an awkward interaction with a coworker who you could actually avoid quite easily if you so wished.
The words “Do you want to get dinner sometime?” catch Chan so offguard that the angry voices in his head go completely unnoticed for once, and he says yes without hesitation.
How could he say no? When you looked like you were glowing even in the ugly fluorescent lighting of their corporate building, smiling at him as if he were the prettiest sunset you had ever seen.
His heart tightens up and warmth blooms from the feeling and he just says yes. The excitement of the upcoming date drowning out the bitter voices in his mind.
And they stay ignored.
~~~~~
For the dating stage of your relationship, Chan is a perfect gentlemen. He picks you up, opens all doors for you, insists on always picking up the check, planning perfect dates, and showering you with adoration.
You find yourself falling for him quite quickly: always happy to see him, wanting to spend as much time together as possible, just feeling sort of light when you’re with him. It’s like you’re floating in the clouds. You thank your past self for being confident enough to ask him out. You can’t believe you’ve not only found a perfect boyfriend but a boyfriend that’s perfect for you.
Chan takes it slow. He wants to revel in every stage of your growing relationship, savor every moment it takes to get to know you completely. His growing confidence shows in his physical affection: first linking his pinky with yours as you walk together, then a firm arm around your shoulders, a sweet kiss to your cheek here and there, and then finally a passionate kiss to your lips the night he officially asks you to be his partner.
You say yes. There is no doubt in your mind that you want a relationship with this man. No matter what comes your way, it will be worth it. You just want Chan.
~~~~~
Your coworkers warned you to be wary of when the happy “bubble” phase of the relationship would end and reality would seep in. They never specified or gave you advice, just kept saying “be ready.” Gee, thanks, that’s super helpful, you’d think with an eyeroll.
Of course you knew that the “honeymoon” phase didn’t last forever. But you weren’t worried about it. Chan made everything easy for you, and you tried to make everything as easy as possible for him. What did you have to worry about?
Both of you had already been so attentive with each other that things were quicky becoming routine and comfortable mixed with the excitement of a new relationship. The “coming of reality” was more like a slow trickle for the two of you, not a brick wall for you to suddenly run into.
At least that’s what you thought.
~~~~~
You can tell Chan is off the moment you wake up.
Instead of cuddling into you, nose in your neck, with sweet kisses and whispers of how he wants to stay here all day like he usually does; his back is turned to you and his muscles look all tensed up.
Chan had never opened up to you about his insecurities, so you were unaware that the reality that would pop your relationship bubble would be the insecurities coming back to tell him that you two were doomed to fail and that it was only a matter of time before you would leave him.
Chan left without a word to you that morning, so quickly that you couldn’t even ask him what was wrong. He didn’t answer your texts all day and didn’t stop by to sneak a peck or two while you were making coffee in the breakroom.
The behavior was so strange that you stopped DK in the hall when you happened to run into him. He seemed confused when you asked if something had happend to Chan. You quickly changed the subject, saying something about how you must have just mistaken his behavior as something more serious. You became concerned that maybe you had shared too much about something he hadn’t shared with the boys. DK seemed to buy the bait, wishing you a good day and promising he’ll tell Chan to talk to you ASAP.
When Chan does text you, the words are dry. When you see him again, he’s tight-lipped and all tense.
~~~~~
You might as well have been in a relationship with a cardboard cutout of Chan. He’s hardly present, won’t conversate, and only does the bare minimum.
It’s like all love and passion drained out of your relationship overnight. And you’re ready to give up on it since he obviously doesn’t want this.
But you’re not the type to give up, you’re not going to leave without an attempt to save something that seemed so worth it.
So, when he finally agrees to come back over to your place, you sit him on the couch and place yourself on the coffee table across from him.
“Ok, Chan, it’s now or never, just tell me what’s going on. Did something happen? Did someone say something to you? Did I say something? Do you not want this anymore?”
The way Chan holds his silent gaze on your shoes on the ground in front of him makes you feel like a school teacher scolding a child. The quiet suffocates the room and drives into your heart. You repeat the questions, altogether and then one by one. Chan says nothing, doesn’t even make a move.
“Chan, I’m not angry at you and I don’t want to make you feel bad, I just want to understand you,” you reach out with your words as far as possible.
Your heart sinks. Maybe he really didn’t want it. Maybe he had just felt bad for you. Maybe he had felt pressured by you.
You pull back and sit up, “It’s ok, Chan. If you don’t want to be with me, you can say. I’ll take this as my rejection. No need to worry about it.”
Your chest feels empty, an endless void as you make to stand. But then Chan finally looks in your eyes, his own filled impossibly high by tears.
“Chan?” you whisper. “Do you have something to say?”
One more pause.
And then he lets it all go.
You sit next to him this time, letting him pause his ramblings to cry into your shoulder when it becomes to much for him. He explains all his insecurities to you: every moment he didn’t feel like enough, all the things he wanted to do better, the people he would never stop trying to impress.
“I’m feel the worst about you, [Y/N]. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, I can’t believe how I treated you. And I have no idea what I would have done if I had really let you go.” You shush him and shake your head, pulling him back into your arms.
“I’m grateful that you shared this with me, Chan. Thank you for trusting me enough to be this open and honest. If I’m honest, no, I’m not psyched with how you handled this. But, you communicated, acknowledged you were wrong and apologized, so we can move on from here.”
“We?” The hope in his voice releases all the tension in your body.
“Yeah. We. We’re a team now. I’m here to support you and help you handle this when you want me to,” you smiled down at him and kiss his forehead.
“What... do I do with this?” he asks unsurely, sitting back to look at you.
“I think you should start with opening up to your bandmates and start a support system. I also know there are counselors available at the company you can talk to that can point you in the right direction,” you suggest. “But we can worry about that next week. For now let’s just relax for our days off, ok?”
“Ok,” Chan agrees, pushing himself back into your arms.
Letting himself be loved by you.
~~~~~
Chan is still the perfect gentleman for your relationship, but the dynamic changes to be more balanced.
It becomes a goal of yours to make sure Chan realizes he deserves to be loved and that you feel lucky to be loved by him.
“Hey handsome,” you call, noticing him leaving the buidling the same time as you.
“Wow, can you guys believe it?” he turnes to his bandmates. “The hottie from the breakroom is hitting on me!” The other boys make loud, obnoxious gagging noises as they watch you and Chan flirt.
He skips your way and grabs your hand to lead you out of the building, thumb stroking your skin. “What do you want to do tonight?” he grins as he speaks to you.
“Move and take-out?” you beam back.
“Sounds perfect,” he steals a kiss.
“Ew please, all this lovey-doveyness is gonna make me sick,” Soonyoung whines as he and the other boys scramble away from you and Chan.
Chan doesn’t even pay them the smallest bit of attention as he walks you to his car, constantly pulling you closer to be as near to him as possible. The loudest voice in his head in that moment is raving about how great you look and how sweet you are and how much he loves everything about you.
He’s sort of cheesy that way.
#chan#lee chan#dino#seventeen#svt#chan imagine#chan scenario#chan fic#chan fanfic#chan fluff#chan angst#lee chan imagine#lee chan scenario#lee chan fic#lee chan fanfic#lee chan fluff#lee chan angst#dino imagines#dino scenario#dino fic#dino fanfic#dino fluff#dino angst#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenario#seventeen fic#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#svt imagine
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· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞
— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.
words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships
a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!
chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.
you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.
you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.
minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.
there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.
he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.
changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.
“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.
he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.
hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.
a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.
he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.
jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.
“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.
wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.
when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.
he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)
with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”
being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.
now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.
the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.
you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”
and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.
with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.
𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡
© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.
#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#skz imagines#k-labels#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#skz fluff#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#jisung x reader#lee felix x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#*writing#*headcanons#i wrote this whole thing in under three hours it's like i'm on a roll or wtv#need to go lie down this destroyed me#sorry i made hyunjin’s so sad for no reason#he is too too fun to write angst for
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Texting bf!skz "I'm going to eat you" 😋
I'm not sure what this is sometimes I just look at their sweet faces and go like aaahng mentally cause COME ON they look so ✨biteable✨
🖤hyung line🖤
🖤 maknae line 🖤
#skz#stray kids#straykids fake texts#skz fake texts#skz scenarios#straykids scenarios#skz stay#skz x reader#skz x you#skz x y/n#skz x oc#straykids x reader#skz ot8#ot8#ot8 x reader#stray kids ot8#skz hyung line#hyung line#skz imagines#skz maknae line#stray kids maknae line#maknae line#hanjisung#hyunjin#bang chan#lee minho#lee felix#jeongin#changbin#lee know
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BFF SKZ!Fake Texts - You accidentally send them a spicy photo❤️
Genre: Smut with some chunks of fluff
✨️Masterlist✨️
Warnings: Felix is super sweet, Cursing, Seungmin goes straight into dom mode, Mentions of breaking traffic rules (I feel like ya'll know this but please be a safe driver. please)
Chan
Minho/ Lee Know
Changbin
Hyunjin
Han Jisung
Felix
Seungmin
I.N/ Jeongin
#skz fake texts#stray kids fake texts#skz texts#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz scenarios#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#yang jeongin x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids texts#skz au#skz#stray kids#stray kids scenarios#stray kids headcanons#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz ot8
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