Friend Stray Kids Saving You (or Being Saved By You) From A Bad Date | Changbin X Reader

• friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Changbin x reader

Chan , Minho, Hyunjin, Jisung , Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin.

genre: exes to friends to lovers, angst, happy ending

warnings: smut, mention and vague description of depression.

a/n: I tried something different for Changbin's part of the series and i don't think it's how I wanted it to be, but this is the best i can come up with rn. So here's almost 4k of smut and angst and angsty smut.

Your dress is too tight and your shoes are killing you, and this is all your fault. There’s a guy sitting on the other side of the table and he’s polite, he’s good looking, he has a good job and he is a nice guy all around. But he’s not… he’s not for you. No one is for you, you’re destined to be alone and, since you broke up with Changbin, over a year ago, the world has been sending you clues that confirm this theory.

Not that you’re an expert in relationships: in your first relationship your boyfriend cheated on you, and your last (number 2 out of 2, if we want to be precise) ended up with two broken hearts and a lack of hope about love.

The story goes like that: you met Changbin in college and you were suddenly drawn towards him, his sunny disposition, his loud laugh and his gorgeous smile. You didn’t share any classes, but you had a couple of common friends of friends, so it wasn’t too far-fetched hoping to meet him at a party, and you did. You danced so close to each other you can still taste his cologne on your tongue, his strong hands on your hips and you hoped they would leave marks on you. He walked you to your dorm and asked permission to kiss you, asked you out the next day, asked you to be his girlfriend the next week. It was all perfect, he was perfect, and you were so happy your first real love was him. You knew he loved you by the way he would touch you anytime he made love to you, and you knew you loved him. So you told him you loved him, and he complained he wanted to be the first one to say it. He kissed and bought you flowers on the way to the restaurant. On his weekly call with his parents he talked about you, told them he wanted to bring you home, that you were the one he would marry, and wanted them to consider you a daughter. And you loved every single word that left his mouth, wanting the same things.

And when you won a scholarship for a two year abroad program, he promised he would call every day, he would save money so he could come visit you. And he did, he called everyday, he wrote constantly, he would order flowers and have them delivered to you, he came to you when you felt homesick just a month after having left.

But it broke you. The constant loneliness, the distance, the lack of physical reassurance you were used to having from him, the absence of his smell in your nose, the absence of him was too much. He tried to comfort you, he doubled his calls and messages, he surprised you again outside your last class on a Friday, he held you closer to him, whispering how much you meant to him, how proud he was of you, how he was gonna marry you, how happy you were making him. He never wavered, never doubted your love, never complained, never broke his promises, never even considered putting an end to it. But you did.

You broke up with him. Constant images of him falling in love with some other girl he met in college, images of him being happy without you, being happy with his friends, carefree and not tied to someone too far to be relevant; it was too much, and you did what you did trying to protect yourself from even more suffering. You broke up with him and asked him to please stay your friend. In hindsight, you know it was wrong. You did him a disservice even just thinking he would cheat or forget about you just because you were physically distant, but emotions are not something you can easily reason with.

In hindsight you know you hurt him in ways he didn’t deserve, but it’s easy to say it now. Now that you’re friends again, with shared friends and enough emotional distance to be able to see each other without wanting to rip your hearts from your chests. Now you can joke about daily stuff, tease each other and eat together, knowing each other and being happy you’re still part of the other’s life. Now you’re friends and he’ll always be the only man you loved, cause you are never going to fall in love again. You’re never letting yourself be vulnerable, you’re never getting into a situation that can lead to a broken heart. Your heart broke when you broke Changbin’s and you left pieces of it in memories of your love for him, in the memories of him looking at you like you hung the moon. But how can you repair a broken heart, when you don’t trust the glue to hold? How can you repair it when you don’t trust yourself not to break it into pieces again?

You can’t. So you keep yourself at a distance from emotions. You have friends, a cat, a nice job. You don’t need anything else. The date is not a bad one, but it’s not what you want. You want a distraction, you want someone who gets you without having to explain yourself, you want someone you can keep at a distance. You’re planning your exit when your phone vibrates and a new excuse comes up in your mind. 

While texting with Changbin, you apologize with your date, saying there is an emergency and you have to leave and you’re sorry and the old trite excuses. You can see Changbin shaking his head while staring at this phone, so you press him for a rescue. He finally decides to enter and approach the table.

“Sorry to bother you, I’m agent Seo and I have to ask you a couple of questions.” He says in a deep voice, one you can recognize from years of bad jokes and mocking Felix.

“An agent?” Asks the other guy, in part suspicious and in part surprised.

You lightly punch Changbin and turn to your date. “Don’t mind him, please. He was born dumb. As I was saying, there's an emergency with a friend and we must go help him out.” There’s a fake expression of contrite on your face, but you don’t want the man to think it’s his fault this date is ending so fast. 

You manage to leave the restaurant quickly, and the warm spring hair is better than you were hoping.

“What were you doing, by the way?” You’re walking at a leisure speed in a tiny alley you both know it’s gonna bring you to the river. This time of the year is the perfect moment to walk along the river, the only downside is the amount of couples walking like you’re going to do.

“I’m trying to work on a song but nothing works. I’m stuck.”

“The great Seo Changbin? The mighty SpearB is stuck?” This, the teasing, the talking, the walking close towards a destination, is familiar like coming home after a long vacation. Everything is sort of weird, like you need to make everything real again, but it’s also exactly like you left it. Everything is still there, waiting for you to come home.

Without noticing it, you walk and chat for hours and it’s too late to be still today but too early to call it tomorrow. It’s the best moment of the night, a moment in which the city is sleeping and magic is possible, it’s a moment outside of time. A liminal time belonging to neither today nor tomorrow. And maybe exactly because of this, when Changbin stops outside your building’s door, wishing you goodnight, you don’t let him go. You hold his hand in yours and ask him not to leave you alone, to come up to your place, to keep you company.

He knows this is gonna break up his heart again, a knife digging deeper on a still open wound, but he can’t say no. He doesn’t know how to. And he knows you don’t mean it as anything more than just sex and the comfort of someone knowing you, knowing how to make you moan and make you cum, but he takes it anyway. He’ll take anything that comes from you. 

Because when you swore you’re never going to have your heart broken, he realized he was never going to get his heart to heal. Because the one he’s sure is the love of his life, doesn’t want love from him.

Just like he accepted it the first time, heart hurting and tears falling from his eyes until he got into Chan’s arms, where he collapsed and mourned your story, he accepts now. A tiny nod and he’s following you into the elevator.

He knows this is gonna hurt, but it’s not new, just different. He hurts when you say you’re not gonna let anyone get close to you. He hurts when you wear something he gifted you. He hurts when his mom asks about you, about how you’re doing. He hurts when Chan begs him to move on, to stop feeling so deep it’s slowly killing him. He hurts because you don’t know any of this, and he hurts fearing the day you might find out. He hurts, so might as well make it hurt for something he craves.

He knows what it is that you want, and he wastes no time kissing you, his lips soft yet demanding over yours, stealing your breath. His tongue is mapping your mouth, but it’s more like an expert of the zone. He spent months, years, worshiping every spot of your body, and he didn’t forget anything. His hands aren’t cautious on your body, either. Pushing and pulling. The green dress is quickly discarded on the floor and so is his shirt and trousers. His eyes might be the same, his voice too, but his body is different. That’s what happens when you try to bury the grief under hours in the gym. His shoulders are bigger, stronger, more defined, and you bite them, leaving marks as you go. Down to his chest and his tummy, luckily still covered by a layer of fat, until you’re on your knees, mouthing at his hard cock still covered by his underwear. If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit you missed this: his eyes filled with lust, the way he tastes, the way you can smell him from this position. But it’d be too much, too raw, so you set honestly aside and try to barricade your heart like you did for the past months.

From your positions you look up to him, eyes pleading with him to let you take what you want, and he’s a weak weak man, and all it takes is a nod from him and you’re finally getting him completely naked. Muscle memory takes the lead, and you’re licking at the head of his cock, humming around it just to hear him moan. You spit on it and use your fingers to help you make his shaft wet, easing the glide. His moans are beautiful, always so vocal and communicative. Changbin’s hands wrap around your head, holding you by your hair, and he fucks his thick cock into your mouth. “You’ve always been so good at this. Your mouth… fuck, your mouth.” His voice is deep and raspy and you’re aching between your legs, wet and neglected. You press your fingers down on your wet cunt, directly on your clit and thrust against them to relieve some of the need. “Please, Bin.” You lick a fat stripe from the base to the head of his cock. He can’t resist your begging, and it takes you both just a moment to fall in bed. Changbin’s on his back, his hands on your hips and you guide his length into your sopping hole. The stretch is a bit on the painful side, but it’s so exhilarating to feel it. Changbin watches you, still, except for his heaving chest and his hands squeezing at your hips, waiting for you to start. Waiting for you to dig the knife a little deeper. With your hands on his chest, you ride him fast and dirty. The room is filled with moans and groans and the squelching sounds you make anytime you move on top of him and the slaps of your ass against his bare sweaty thighs. It’s the most sensual music you’ve heard in ages. “You feel so good, always so good inside me” you praise him and it’s too much for him. Changbin plants his feet on the mattress and moves you: down against his cock and up, and down again. You forgot how addictive the drag of his cock against your walls felt. “It’s because I was made to fuck your pussy, nothing else can compare.” You tell yourself it is just something in the heat of the moment, it means nothing, right?

But it’s just a second later when he’s pulling you closer, strong arms crossed behind your back to keep you pushed against his chest. He’s fucking you fast and deep and it feels so good, he’s always known how to make you cum fast. You’re about to ask for something not even you know what it is, but he knows before you do. Changbin slaps your ass open handed and the sharp pain makes you cry in pleasure and pain mixed. You’re so close already, needing something, anything, and he delivers. He takes hold of your hips again and pushes you down on his cock, your clit pressing against his pubic bone and forces you to grind on him, making you shake, making you cum in an instant. You cry his name when you cum, and for a few moments he’s the only thing filling your mind. Changbin knows overstimulation is welcomed, so he keeps thrusting his hips against you and, without even asking, he pushes as deep as he can inside you and cums. You trust him like you’ve never trusted anyone else, so you can focus on the feeling of being filled, shaking and panting on his chest. You kiss his neck and bite lightly at his collarbone. “Fuck, this was so good…” you whisper. You dismount him but stay close to him, your head close to his on the pillow. Changbin’s heaving chest is glistening under the artificial lights that seep through the window, and you just want to draw indefinite shapes on his skin with your fingers. Changbin’s breath slows down and has an indecipherable smile on his lips. “What?” you ask. He turns his body towards you and for a long moment the only noise you can hear are the noises of the city filtered by the walls and the rustling of the sheets under your bodies. “This was good, you’re right. We should do it again”. You’re not sure that’s a good idea, and your expression tells him without you having to talk. His hand is on your cheek now, slowly sliding down on your neck and stopping there, fingers moving slowly and looking for your pulse point. “You should use me like this again.”

“Changbin…” you lift yourself on an elbow, a frown deep between your eyebrows. He can’t be doing this right now, he knows you. “I know,” he interrupts before you even form a sentence in your mind. “I’m not asking you to get back together. But we’re good at this. So let’s not stop. Use me anytime you want to, I’ll never say no to you.” His fingers keep slowly moving on your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders, and something in your stomach wants to escape, wants to scream and trash your body.

“Why?”

“I told you, we’re goo-”

“Is it just that? You want us to be… what? Friends with benefits?”

“Call it whatever you want.” He knows you too much for your own good, that’s why he keeps distracting you with his fingers and now with his lips on your shoulder, your upper arm, the swell of your still naked breast. You bury a hand in his unruly hair, undecided if you want to pull him in or push him away. Changbin’s tongue is playing with your nipple, wet and warm and so perfect, so skilled. “I don’t…” a breathy moan interrupts your words. “Don’t think it’s a good idea.” Almost as a punishment for your words, he nips at your nipple and tugs at it, still clamped between his teeth. He releases it and licks it, maybe an apology, maybe he’s just enjoying the noises you’re making. “Let me at least have this. I won’t ask for more.” He looks up at you, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to cry. Why are you feeling guilty? Why do you feel like you’re breaking his heart once again? “I know you don’t want a relationship, but if this is all I can have, I’m gonna take it.” Guilt gnaws at your stomach. Changbin kisses your sternum, your breast again, and hides in the crook of your neck. “You deserve better than…this.” Better than me.

“Maybe. But I want this. I’ll be glad for whatever you’ll let me have. Are you going to deny it to me?” Are you? With your hand still in his hair you push him away from your neck and kiss him on the side of his lips. “Let me think about it, uh? Let’s sleep for now”.

As soon as his breathing slows down, you slip off the bed to go clean yourself and wash your face. You look at yourself in the mirror, and you hate your reflection. With just a few requests, he made months of walls crumble like a house of cards under a storm. How can you stop the flood of feelings, now that the dam has shattered? And just like your feelings, tears are now cascading down your cheeks and a sob threatens to escape, too loud for the quiet hours. You calm yourself and, once back into the bedroom, you stop to look at Changbin’s sleeping form. He still looks so young, like nothing has changed in the last years, like you didn’t break his heart because you were too scared to suffer. And yet you made him suffer. This beautiful, sweet man who presented you the world into his hands and gifted it to you, who never once addressed to you in a mean way, not even when he had all the reasons to. This amazing man who’s ready to be hurt again just for some crumbles, and who deserves so much more.

You lie in bed again, covering both of you with the light duvet, and trace his facial features with a light touch. Now that you can’t lie to yourself anymore, you admit you missed this. Not just the sex, but the intimacy, hearing his soft snoring at night, feeling his ruffled hair under your fingers, simply just him. You fall asleep with a hand on his chest, counting his heart’s beats.

Hours later, you feel him stir under your arms. During the night you migrated towards him and hugged him. You’re not ready to let him go, physically and figuratively, so you strengthen your hold around his waist and place a delicate kiss behind his neck. “If you don’t have somewhere to go, would you stay?” 

“Ready for round two?” He rebuts, but you could feel the way his breath hitched. “No, maybe later. I was just thinking we could talk.”

“A simple ‘no’ would do just fine.” There’s fake humor in his tone, but he’s not fooling you. Not now that you’re letting yourself notice things again. “Binnie, would you consider dating me again?” 

Changbin’s strong, so it doesn’t really take effort to escape from your hold to sit on the bed and look at you suspiciously and with anger in his eyes. “Don’t be cruel.”

“That’s not-” You sit and rub your face with your hands in frustration. But he deserves patience. “Binnie, I’ve tried to barricade myself from feeling, and I managed pretty well until now. But the thing is… I know I made a mistake breaking up with you, and I know you didn’t deserve it then and you don’t deserve it now, but I'm still so in love with you…” He wipes a tear away from your face but says nothing, so you keep talking. “For so long I couldn't imagine myself with someone at my side, but I'm now realizing it’s because it’s you or no one. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance-”

“Answer one question.” You nod and once again you say a silent thank you to whoever decided to put you in the path of this amazing man. “Why did you break things off?”

“Because I was scared you’d leave me. I convinced myself you would find someone better and set me aside like I never mattered.”

“Did I ever do something to make you feel like that?” You shake your head, hating yourself. “Never, Bin. I was not expecting to miss you so much, and I think I spiraled and I didn’t accept your help. I think I was…”

You can’t say it, but he does it for you. “Depressed.” You sob again, but you’re not alone anymore. Changbin hugs you and throws the covers on both of you, holding and rocking you slowly, remembering it used to bring you comfort. 

“I never stopped loving you.” Hearing your confession is what finally makes him cry. 

It takes a while, but three months later you’re out on a date. You’re happy, holding hands and eating ice cream while watching the Han river’s rapid course and the reflection of the sun on it. Changbin laughs at the ice cream melting down your fingers and, uncaringly of the people surrounding you, he licks it. 

That’s the best thing of being in love with your soulmate, no matter what, you’re gonna end up together.

Something In The Midnight Hours

Rating: T | WC: ~ 4.0k | Pairing: Lee Chan x F!Reader | Genre: besties to lovers, fake relationship, rom com, fluff

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at my New Year’s Eve work party.”

“There better be an open bar. And I’m not kissing you at midnight.”

“Deal.”

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, kissing

Lee Chan is fucked. 

That’s the only way to describe his current situation. He’s fucked.

Royally, epically, astronomically. 

All because of one offhand comment he made six months ago about you being his girlfriend, back when he was still trying to fit into the company. 

Now here he is on his couch, staring at the email invite to the New Year’s Eve party and trying not to freak out, his eyes glued to the subject line. 

BRING HER OR YOU’RE FIRED (JK (OR ARE WE))

He sets his phone down on the coffee table and covers his face with his hands, his palms pressing into his eyes to stave off the growing headache as he goes over options in his head. 

1. He says you broke up.

This is obviously the worst option, both because the thought of you not being around makes him tear up and because then he’d have to stop talking about you, which is virtually impossible for him.

2. He goes and doesn’t bring you. 

This is the second worst option as it would open him up to relentless teasing and might also result in his expulsion from the company, neither of which he would like to happen. 

3. He begs you to pretend to be his girlfriend and you go together.

This is the craziest option, but it’s also the most viable. Sure, you’ve been best friends since you were kids, and sure, he’s almost certain you’re not into him like that, and sure, you’re a terrible liar, but all of that can be overcome! Right? 

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at my New Year’s Eve work party.”

You stare at him blankly, your face unreadable for once, as he explains the situation. You haven’t stopped him at all and it’s like he can’t stop talking, the words just flowing out of him like water through a strainer. 

“Everyone had a partner, literally everyone, and I was as single as could be, so when Wonwoo asked who my lockscreen was, I might have said you were my girlfriend. And I might have updated my desktop to be a picture of us together at that carnival last year. And I might have continued to lie about it every day since.”

You nod slowly, your eyes narrowed at him in skepticism, before tilting your head and saying, “And telling the truth is out of the question because…?”

“Because they would roast me alive,” he scream-whispers dramatically, imploring you with his eyes to understand his plight. 

“They would, wouldn’t they?” You murmur pensively, fully knowledgeable of how often he’s under fire just for being the youngest in the office. 

He nods emphatically, latching onto your kind, protective side and hoping it’ll carry him through this. 

“They would be so mean to me, Y/n. Please don’t let that happen,” he hates being manipulative but at least he knows you can see right through it, your years of friendship making you familiar with all his tricks. 

“Ugh! Fine!” You throw your hands up and roll your eyes, stifling your smile when he hollers in grateful joy and tugs you into his arms. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“There better be an open bar. And I’m not kissing you at midnight.”

“Deal.”

It hits him when the uber is on the way to the hotel, what he’s gotten himself (and you) into. Not only is this the first merging of his work life and social life, but you and him will have to pretend to be a couple until the party is over. 

You’ll probably have to hold hands and smile at each other lovingly and, fuck, you’ll have to disappear before midnight because you already said he can’t kiss you and it’ll be suspicious as all hell if he doesn’t lay one on you when the ball drops. Even worse, you’re barely even affectionate as best friends - you don’t cuddle, you don’t hug, you even sit at opposite ends of the couch for movie night. 

He doesn’t know why, all he knows is that it’s been this way since you first met. The most you ever touch him is to ruffle then fix his hair, or pat him on the back when he’s sad, or pinch his cheek and call him a baby even though you’re only seven months older than him. It’ll be awkward to have so much physical contact with you, to interact with you like a boyfriend does. 

He’s a little… excited, though. It’s exciting to think about all of the guys finally meeting you after six months of him telling story after story. It’s exciting to go to his first ever corporate party, and to have you experience it with him. It’s exciting to think about how the two of you will take full advantage of the open bar and likely giggle yourselves to death in some closet as the clock strikes midnight. 

He can’t tell how you’re feeling beyond knowing you’re nervous. You keep playing with the hem of your dress, and you’ve been looking out the window this whole time, and you haven’t talked much since you got in the car, though he’s made multiple attempts to draw you into a conversation. He decides to make one more, hoping that he can distract you and help you relax before the car pulls up to the hotel. 

“I really like this dress on you. I don’t think I’ve seen it before, is it new?”

You turn to him, your lips quirking in a smile as you smooth your hands over the champagne silk. 

“It is! it’s been a while since I got something nice so I decided to splurge for the party.”

“You bought it for this?” He asks almost incredulously, endeared and grateful you wanted to put so much effort in. You don’t often buy new things as you’re saving up to put a down payment on a house, and before the night is over, he swears he’ll find out how much it costs and send you the full amount. 

“Yeah? I wanted to look nice to meet all your colleagues,” you respond quietly, shrinking under your seatbelt as if you’re self conscious. 

“And you do! You look beautiful,” he scrambles to dispel your anxiety, kicking himself for accidentally bringing attention to something you’re seemingly shy about. You smile brightly and straighten up, replying, “You look good too, I don’t remember this suit.”

“It’s a rental,” he confesses. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“So I can’t go up to one of your coworkers and say, ‘Hi, I’m Chan’s girlfriend, his suit is rented’? Darn.”

He’s too focused on you saying you’re his girlfriend to hear anything else, an unfamiliar fluttering starting up in his belly as he replays the words in his head. He hates to admit it, but he kind of likes the sound of them coming out of your mouth. 

He gathers himself enough to respond, “You can say the first part but not the second.”

“Ahhh, so just, ‘Hi, I’m Chan’s girlfriend,’ then?” You quip back, grinning at him teasingly and reaching up to pinch his cheek. His hand catches yours before you get that far, and while he’d normally let go, he decides to keep holding on, tangling your fingers together and bringing your hand up to press a kiss to the back. 

“What’s that for?” You ask shakily, your eyes darting between his face and your entwined hands. 

“Practice,” he says innocently, fully aware that he’s freaking you out and loving it. 

The uber pulls up to the hotel before you can answer, and Chan thanks them before rushing to get out of the car and running around it to open your door and offer you his arm. You climb out as gracefully as you can, a bit unsteady in your heels and clinging to him for stability as you cross through the sliding glass doors into the lobby. 

It’s decorated for the holidays, warm string lights and fresh evergreen covering nearly every surface, and the sight of you spinning in a slow circle to take it all in makes his heart feel too big for his chest. The party is being held in one of the ballrooms, the fanciest one, he was told, and he can’t wait to see your face when you set eyes on the opulence of it all. 

He needs to find it first, and he exhales a sigh of relief when he spots his company’s name printed on signs leading into a grand hallway. He points so you see them too, leading you over and consciously slowing his steps so you don’t have to work to keep up with him. 

You’re letting out oohs and ahhs as you walk, your eyes catching on every shiny statue and gilded candelabra occupying the hall. Chan can’t hold back the grin, he’s always loved to see how you appreciate your surroundings, and he’s so happy he gets to watch you experience this beautiful place. 

The signs lead to a palatial set of doors, the party in full swing and audible behind them, and he stops you before you can reach for one, pulling you to the side and setting his hands on your shoulders. 

“Listen, I know you’re not good at lying, but I don’t want you to be stressed tonight, so just follow my lead and don’t worry too much, okay?” He says in his most reassuring tone of voice, gazing into your eyes and waiting for you to square your shoulders and say, “Okay. And I’m great at lying.”

Literally everything betrays you, the expression on your face, your tense body, the way you’re suddenly avoiding his eyes. 

“Sure, baby. Sure,” he agrees amicably, nodding and taking hold of your hand again. 

He’s never called you that before, only ever refers to you by your name or stinky (you are the greatest smelling person he knows and you’re both aware of that fact), but for a first test, he thinks it goes well. 

Your hand squeezes his, your eyes get brighter, and the corner of your mouth scrunches up in a small, pleased smile. All signs point to you being not only alright with the pet name, but maybe even happy with it, and if he's being honest, for him it felt… easy. Right. 

On that note, he tugs open the door with his free hand and follows you inside. You both stop short, stunned by the magnificence of the ballroom and the amount of faces that greet you. Chan knew he worked at a big company but there’s at least two hundred people here, and only a few that he recognizes. 

They find you quickly, apparently watching the doors for your entrance and agreeing to immediately converge upon you before you can even grab a glass of Dom Perignon. It’s scary, almost, the sight of the twelve friends he’s made so far weaving through the crowd to reach you. 

There’s nowhere to go, to run, to hide. He has no choice but to stand his ground and allow this to happen to him. 

He glances over at you and feels some tension leave his body, knowing that no matter what, you’re here for him and you always will be. That’s what gets him through the next half hour, plus the champagne Jeonghan so considerately brought over. He makes introductions, laughs off the comments about how long it took him to finally bring you to a function, and bites the inside of his lip every time you have to answer a question. 

You manage to tell the truth most of the time. Many of the questions are about you, who you are and what you do and, from Seungkwan, why you’re with Chan. You don’t have to lie until that last one, but he’s impressed by how quickly and smoothly you manage to answer. 

It still makes him grin, thinking about what you said. 

“Because he’s made me happy and taken care of me all my life. It just makes sense.” 

They all softened at your response, and the conversation naturally deviated to their own partners, a few of which are in attendance tonight. He’s not sure why they’re not with his coworkers but he can’t complain about having less people to keep up with. It’s hard enough tracking a conversation between fourteen. 

Eventually, everyone splits off into groups. You and Chan make your way to the bar with Soonyoung, Jun, and Minghao, the rest of his friends disappearing back into the well dressed masses. You’ve both finished your champagne and are ready for a real drink, and it’s shockingly easy to order them even with how crowded the bar is. Even Minghao is drinking tonight, likely because he doesn’t love crowds or parties, but regardless of the reason, he’s more happy and giggly and kind than normal and Chan is entirely delighted he gets to see him like this. 

Jun and Soonyoung are already deep in their cups, and knowing them, they likely pregamed at the apartment they share, forgetting that drinks would be free all night. He just hopes they don’t embarrass themselves, and vows to himself that he’ll make sure they get cut off if they get too crazy. They did the same for him the first night he ever went out with his officemates, when he had a few too many and found himself troublesomely drunk, and he’ll return the favor if need be. 

You seem to fit right in, your humor similar enough to theirs that you have them cracking up at every turn, and it’s not long before they’re begging you to spill all of Chan’s most embarrassing secrets. They seem nearly giddy with the prospect and you seem primed to share, and all he can do is tug you away, shouting, “See you later, we have to go!” over his shoulder as he makes his escape. 

You and Chan finally get to take a breather on the balcony. The chilly night air stings but the view is gorgeous, the city lit up in reds and greens and bright, warm whites, the countdown displayed on a skyscraper across the way. There’s an hour and a half left till midnight, and Chan is starting to wonder if there even is an accessible closet in this hotel for you to hide in when the time comes. 

Maybe you could sneak away to the bathroom, but you wouldn’t be together then and Chan wants to enter the new year with you by his side. There’s always the option of leaving before the ball drops, but everyone would wonder why and they might even be disappointed in him, which he’d like to prevent if possible. 

The consternation must be clear on his face because you reach up to smooth away the wrinkle between his eyebrows and ask gently, “What’s wrong?”

He sighs and takes your hand, swinging it softly and playing with your fingers as he says, “I’m trying to figure out what we should do at midnight.”

“What do you mean?” You sound confused, as if you think there’s nothing to figure out. 

“Well, you said I can't kiss you but it would be suspicious if we didn’t, so I’m trying to think of where we could go to get out of it.”

“Oh, about that, I’ve been thinking-”

“So this is where you snuck off to,” Seungkwan calls from the doorway, with a mischievous smile on his face and Vernon in tow. 

“Just needed some fresh air,” Chan pastes on a smile but internally he’s screaming, raging at them for interrupting you when he thinks you might have been about to say something important. 

Of course, everything you say is important to him, but if he’s following the vein of logic, it’s possible you were going to say he can, in fact, kiss you at midnight, which would honestly rock his world. Both in the life-altering sense and in the wow this is so amazing sense, because, he has to admit, he can’t stop thinking about it. 

When you take a sip of champagne, he’s watching your lips pucker around the edge of the flute. When you’re speaking, he’s thinking about tasting your words. Even when you’re not doing anything, his thoughts are occupied with what it might be like to feel your lips pressed against his and your body in his arms (and don’t get him started about your body, especially in this dress).

He knows that’s not something normal best friends think about, but you’ve always been more than a best friend to him. You’re everything to him, and he’s beginning to think you might even be it for him. You fill so many roles in his life: friend, confidante, protector. Why couldn’t you pick up one more?

It could all be so simple, so neat, and all of those well-meaning but embarrassing inquiries about when you two would finally get together could finally be answered. He thinks the transition would be easy, you seem to have no qualms touching him and being affectionate now, and he’s definitely finding it easy to reciprocate. 

Fuck, but he has no clue how you feel. You’re chatting with Seungkwan while Vernon nods and laughs at the appropriate moments, and he’s thankful you noticed he was elsewhere mentally and took over the conversation. He doesn’t want to seem too deep in thought, but it’s difficult not to be when he’s having the startling realization that he doesn’t want this relationship to be fake, that he actually wants to date his best friend. 

Shit, it’s an hour and fifteen minutes now, and Chan’s no closer to knowing what to do. He might even be further away, might be even more confused with the added layer of knowing he absolutely wants to kiss you. 

Vernon and Seungkwan excuse themselves to grab more champagne and he takes the opportunity to pull you to one of the darker corners of the balcony lest his other coworkers discover your location. He needs to talk about this with you, now. 

It’s just not normal or right for him to hide things from you, the biggest thing he’s actually ever kept being that he told his office you were his girlfriend. He’s not positive he’s ready to lay it all out though, especially when he’s not sure where you’re at. 

“What were you going to say before?” He asks urgently, taking hold of your other hand and holding both of them tight. 

“Ummm, I don’t remember,” you lie, so very obviously, and this time he’s not going to let you get away with it. 

“Yes, you do. Please tell me, I need to know.”

You squint at him in scrutiny, your mouth bunching to the side, and let out a big breath before speaking. 

“I was going to say that I’ve been thinking about it a lot and… I think you should kiss me at midnight,” you say, looking away from him and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in your dress. 

“A lot, you say?” He jokes, only because he knows it’ll make you feel annoyed instead of nervous. 

Predictably, you roll your eyes and scoff, “Of course that’s what you focus on.”

He lets out an easy laugh, tugging you closer with his grip on your hands and leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“What was that for?” 

“Practice.”

His lips touch your other cheek softly. He can feel it heat up and breaks into a fond smile, his hands squeezing yours as you breathe, “And that?”

“More practice. And maybe I couldn’t wait until midnight to kiss you at least a little.”

Your eyes dart to his and he catches a flash of vulnerability before you grin it away and glance over your shoulder to check the time. 

“Just forty five more minutes. Do you think you can make it?” You tease, and he feels his own cheeks flush as he realizes that you’re flirting with him. He likes it. Very much. 

He grimaces, sucking in a breath through his teeth and shaking his head, “I don’t know, baby. I really don’t know.”

You just smile and push at his chest with your joint hands before asking, “Should we get some champagne?”

He’s barely tipsy, and he can tell you’re only a little buzzed, so he nods and lets you go, only to offer you his arm. He escorts you to the table of glasses, taking one and offering it to you before grabbing one for himself. You hold your glass up and he clinks it with his, taking a sip and looking around the room. 

He spots some of his friends but they’re all engaged in conversations, which is fine with Chan, honestly. He’s enjoying this time with you, and he’s not ready to share again. 

You pass the next half hour warming up and people watching, waving to his friends when they spot you and narrowly escaping before they start to make their way over. He feels a little bad about avoiding them, but he doubts you want to kiss him for the first time in front of everyone. He needs to find somewhere with a little privacy, looking around for a corner or… 

Or the giant ass column behind you. It’s perfect, still in the ballroom but secluded enough it’ll almost be like it’s just the two of you. He takes your hand again and gently pulls you over, situating you so your back is to the stone just as the ballroom starts to spark with energy. It’s only a few minutes to midnight now, and Chan can already feel his heart racing just at the thought of what that means. 

You seem similarly affected, your lip bitten in nervousness but your eyes full of anticipation. He takes a step into your space and lifts his hand to cup your cheek, murmuring, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, tilting your face into his hand and covering it with yours. A hush comes over the ballroom before the counting begins, and you join in unison as he starts leaning in, “Five, four, three, two, one.”

One is whispered against your lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he presses his mouth to yours. You taste like champagne and lip gloss and possibilities, and even though other kisses end and cheers erupt, Chan can’t make himself stop kissing you. 

Eventually, it starts to veer into indecent territory, with wandering hands and seeking tongues and sounds not fit for public consumption. He forces himself to pull away, smirking slightly at the way you try to follow him before your eyes blink open. There’s a bright glint to them, and before he knows it, you’re both falling into each other and struggling to contain your giggles.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whisper through your smile.

“Me neither,” he laughs. “Our moms will be so happy.”

“I bet our dads placed bets,” you murmur, winding your arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug. “Happy New Year, Chan.”

He lets go of your cheek to hug you back, his hand still wrapped up tightly in yours. 

“Happy New Year, Y/n.” 

You’re dozing against Chan in the uber when his phone buzzes in his suit pocket. He opens it to find a message from Wonwoo, one containing three pictures that make Chan’s heart beat so hard he’s scared it’ll wake you up. 

The first is just before he kissed you; you’re staring at him with brand new eyes, and he’s gazing at you with obvious infatuation. 

The second must be just after midnight, he’s still kissing you but he’s got a hand dangerously low on your back and you’ve got one in his hair. 

The third is when you both collapsed into laughter, and he smiles at the joyful tears in your eyes and matching beaming grins before making it his lockscreen.

He’s not sure why Wonwoo was taking pictures of him instead of kissing his wife, but he’s forever grateful, and he tells Wonwoo just that. These are photographs he’ll treasure for the rest of his life, because they document the start of something great, something real, something he hopes will last forever. 

He can’t wait to print them out, they’ll look perfect on your wall (your apartment is nicer than his and he’ll be moving in as soon as you say the word). 

AN: Happy almost new year!! ily all 💖 i wish you light and blessings 💫

My Masterlist

find something to love in your life as much as namjoon loves music (so much that he makes a heart above his head)

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CRYING 🥹😭

Weverse Live: Message from Jin ~ I'm finally back home, which I missed so dearly!