Bang Chan would do anything for his members. Leader’s word.
And Chan is known for keeping his word.
But what happens when his members ask for the one thing that requires him to expose the secret he's been hiding at all costs?
What Chan doesn't realize is that they're far better at reading him, and the sudden absence of his usual unfunny memes prompts them to send 2racha on a special mission.
In the end, the confrontation turns into something none of them can deny anymore. What happens between 3racha stays between 3racha.
...Or does it? 😉
genre: chan-centric, bang chan is bad at feelings, feelings realization, misunderstanding, group chats, bad humor, crack, swearing, explicit language, explicit sexual content, 3racha poly, threesome – M/M/M, smut
rating: explicit (18+)
word count: 3024
Part I
Bang Chan would do anything for his members. Leader’s word.
He couldn’t exactly remember when that realization came, but somewhere between tending to Hyunjin’s injury after an exhausting dance practice and calming Seungmin’s crying, Chan was hit with an emotion so strong he could hardly breathe.
«So this is love, huh?» he chuckled, his dimples deepening. Admitting it to someone else felt harder than handling it alone.
«Laugh all you want, Channie,» his mother replied, his father appearing in frame momentarily to give the universal dad response – a thumbs-up. «But don’t brush it off like something that doesn’t matter, okay?»
«Yeah, dude–» Hannah butted in, a shit-eating grin on her face, «Just come clean to them.»
Chan rolled his eyes, already regretting adding her to the family phone call.
«And how would I do that, smartass?»
«How about admitting you're just a big ol’ simp for the seven men?»
The laughter rolled through all three screens, even Chan’s own, and his face reddened with annoyance at how transparent he was to everyone, except his members.
«Oi, oi, cut it off–» he managed to warn her with a pointed finger amidst his giggling, his eyes darting to the watch on his wrist. «Gotta go, fam, thanks to everyone except Hannah, love you.»
He ended the call and let out a sigh, taking a moment to analyze the truth in their words.
«Don’t brush it off...» he repeated, carding a hand through his hair. «When did I ever do that?»
Chan, in fact, brushed it off, shoving his feelings down for another world tour.
He hoped that tight schedules and responsibilities would distract him again. He buried himself in the gym, vocal lessons, and midnight recording sessions, preparing for the comeback five years in advance.
Chan only ever interacted with the members in dressing rooms or on stages. Hell, he even stopped sending them unfunny memes in the group chat, though he couldn’t deny a tiny sting in his chest at the fact that they didn’t even notice they’d stopped coming.
Chan tossed his phone into the laundry basket and rinsed his mouth. He had concerts to perform, a team to lead, members to... He shook his head, humming "run it" under his breath as he got ready. And really, things were looking up during the US tour. The members were so obsessed with sightseeing (going to Target) that he found himself alone more often than in their company.
He couldn’t say that he liked the feeling, but it wasn’t unbearable or anything.
⋆˚࿔♫💿✮˚.⋆
«It’s okay, hyung... just breathe for me...» Jeongin rubbed his back in circles as he sobbed, smearing tears and snot all over the youngest’s expensive shirt. He still felt bad, even though the maknae told him he had gotten a couple more identical shirts as a gift for being Damiani’s ambassador.
«It’s just– it hurts s-so bad, Yen-ah...»
«I know, I’m sorry, hyung. Next time I won’t smash the bug while it’s still on you...»
⋆˚࿔♫💿✮˚.⋆
Well, except for maybe that one time he drank too much and bawled like a baby in Jeongin’s hotel room. That memory went straight into his collection of "embarrassing moments he’d be replaying at three a.m." for the next thirty years.
But that was not the point!
Chan still had it under control. The members were oblivious to his withdrawing, and things between them didn’t change one bit.
When they landed in Seoul, Chan still had that nagging thought at the back of his mind: «Just come clean to them.»
And God, he was so tempted to throw a movie night, collect his unassuming members, and hand out handwritten letters to them. He’d even written them during one of the countless sleepless nights when he was supposed to be composing songs, but all he could think about was them.
But then he chickened out, tore the letters, and went to the gym, hoping the manager would take his tears for sweat.
On one hand, it became increasingly harder for him to focus on work, especially when he was working as part of 3racha. They got strangely clingier with him, finding any excuse to drape their arms around his neck or waist, even going as far as to sit on his lap.
Chan had never been in more agony; never had to think about so many awful, disgusting things to stop himself from getting a boner beneath Jisung.
On the other hand, he could feel Hannah’s patience running thin, her game getting dirtier the longer he hesitated. Demands for money and free merch were added after threats. As much as he didn’t want mum to know about his struggles, he wasn’t printing money either.
But Chan knew something no one else did.
He would do anything for his members. They just needed to ask.
Part II
Bang Chan sat in front of his laptop, his eyes red as he tried to burn a hole in the screen. The lyrics swirled on the tip of his tongue, yet refused to come out. He began humming the melody again, closing his eyes like it would do something helpful.
The effect was the opposite.
His imagination painted a vivid picture behind his eyelids – his members looking at him as if he hung the stars for them, their seven voices bleeding into one song of wanton need. Hands tugging, squeezing, scratching, desperate to cover every single inch of his skin, to mark him as theirs. He wanted– ached to be theirs.
Chan leaned back in the chair, arching his back slightly to feel the pleasurable pull low in his stomach. He was already making a route in his head: a quick stop at a convenience store, then a ride to the dorms, a long shower where he could finally blow the steam off, and a lonely bed.
A small smile grazed his lips.
A knock on the studio door made it falter.
«Hyung-ah~» Jisung’s voice reached him before the guy walked in, and the way he addressed him, all whiny and soft, made his cock pulse like a second heart.
«Oh, you– you’re early today,» he stuttered, his cheeks flushing crimson that matched the younger’s lips.
Chan wasn’t blind; he noticed that Jisung was putting on makeup more often than usual.
«We wanted to be as productive as our favorite hyung,» Changbin appeared in the doorway after Jisung, though Chan didn’t see his face.
All he could see was Changbin’s chiseled stomach in the crop top he was wearing.
«Are you okay, Channie-hyung?»
«You look a little red.»
«A-All good!» he choked, getting up from his seat. A new route formed in his head: dash to the bathroom, now.
Suddenly, Changbin moved to stand right in front of the bathroom door, blocking his way.
«Wha– what are you–»
He started backing Chan toward the couch while Jisung locked them in a studio, away from the outside world.
«Guys...» Chan held his arms up in surrender, realizing he had no way out. «Let’s... let’s just take a seat?»
Changbin and Jisung were at his sides in a flash, pressing a little too close to be considered casual, their warmth seeping into him through the layers of clothes between them.
He noted the three of them were in sweatpants. What are the odds?
«Chan-hyung, why are you running?»
«I’m not! I just... It’s complicated, okay?»
His breath hitched when they gently took both of his hands into theirs.
«We have all the time in the world, baby.»
Chan’s frightened gaze shot up to Changbin, who was rubbing his thumb over Chan’s knuckles, his eyes impossibly patient. Jisung nodded along, tilting his head to the side, searching the leader’s attention.
«We miss you, Chan-hyung...» Jisung whispered, and Chan could swear his eyes were suspiciously shiny.
«I miss you, too,» he confessed, his voice cracking, a lump growing in his throat with the sheer amount of things he had left unsaid, «and... and I love you.»
«We love you too, hyung,» the two replied in unison without hesitation.
«No– I love you, guys, all of you.»
A helpless whine left Chan when they shared a look of confusion.
«I want you...»
He shut his eyes tight, unable to see disgust take over their faces when they saw his true self. A single tear escaped his eye, burning against his clammy skin.
⋆˚࿔♫💿✮˚.⋆
He shook his head vehemently, muffling another sob against Jeongin’s chest.
«It’s n-not that, Yen-ah....»
«What is it, then?» the youngest asked, leaning away just enough to look at his leader. «Talk to me, please.»
«My– my h-heart hurts...»
Chan poked himself in the chest, his heart responding with a painful tug.
«H-Here...»
Even with his gaze all blurry, he saw Jeongin duck his head, and then felt his warm lips press right over his heart. The sensation was like a jolt of electricity going through his entire body, knocking the air and words out of him.
Jeongin leaned out again, his eyes dropping to Chan’s lips before slowly rising to meet his bewildered gaze.
«You need rest, hyung,» he said, smiling softly. «Let’s go to bed.»
⋆˚࿔♫💿✮˚.⋆
Chan jumped when two sets of arms wrapped around him, cocooning him in the reassurance he was so starved for.
«You’re so, so stupid, Channie hyung...»
He felt his tears being kissed away by Jisung, a gasp leaving him when Changbin’s lips found the spot under his ear.
«Did... did I die?»
«No, silly... you just let yourself live again.»
«But, wait...»
Regret washed over the leader when they stopped, his eyes jumping from one face to another.
«That’s w-wrong, isn’t it?»
«Does it feel wrong?»
Chan fell silent at the question.
They were right. They were right from the start.
All those moments that Chan treated like "he was looking too deep into it" or "he was making it up" were actually them trying to get through the skyscraping walls he had built around himself. He suddenly remembered the time Felix gave him a massage and started peppering gentle kisses all over his back. He told himself that he must’ve fallen asleep and it was his wet dream. And the time when Minho brought homemade food from his parents specifically to him? Chan had simply thought he was being a good son and a caring member.
«Fuck– I’m so stupid...»
«Yes, you are, baby,» Jisung mused, pinching his cheek softly. «You’re lucky we love you.»
«And we want you, Channie hyung,» Changbin added, pulling Chan onto his lap.
«But–»
«Please?»
Chan swallowed hard, feeling his resolve crumbling after a single word. He had no idea how he’d lasted this long with them knowing every single one of his weaknesses.
«Please, hyung? Show us how much you love us...»
«Pretty please?»
Now, how could he possibly deny them asking for him so, so sweetly?
Changbin tilted his chin and captured his lips in a slow, deep kiss; his tongue worked its way into Chan’s mouth. Jisung whimpered beside them at the sight, and, well, Chan really must’ve died, because he was in fucking heaven.
When he finally came to his senses, it was with a sharp intake of breath.
Jisung was lying under him, his legs spread to accommodate Chan, his fingers rimming his own puckered hole. Behind him, Changbin did the same to Chan, two of his fingers moving in and out, stretching him, making his already rock-hard cock swell further.
The studio smelled of sweat, Chan’s unfinished coffee, and Jisung’s vanilla-flavored lubricant.
«Please–» Chan heard himself let out a pathetic whine, his nose scrunching with mounting pleasure. «C-Can’t wait...»
Changbin chuckled behind him, his hands moving to hold Chan by the hips, guiding him forward. Jisung arched into the contact, his own length flushed and rigid against his stomach.
«Come on, Channie hyung...» the younger pleaded, his hands gripping into Chan’s shoulders.
The tip of Chan’s cock caught in Jisung's hole, and then he pushed, sliding inside slowly, his vision going white.
«So good– oh fuck!»
Chan clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart and keep himself from unraveling on the spot. Jisung’s internal muscles were clenching around him, adjusting to his size. But then he felt a blunt head of Changbin’s cock nudge against his entrance; a loud moan tore from his throat when Changbin claimed him in one thrust.
Chan scrambled for purchase in the arm of the couch, his knuckles turning white. He had never felt so full before, so utterly taken.
When Changbin began moving, it wasn’t slow or gentle; it was hungry. His movements were causing Chan’s body to shake, making his dick move inside Jisung.
«I’m– fuuuck, I’m gonna–»
He didn’t finish his sentence before he erupted inside Jisung, filling him with his release. Changbin must’ve not noticed it, so Chan tilted his head to tell him.
«Changbin-hyung, h-harder...» Jisung outran him, breaking yet asking for more.
Changbin didn’t make him wait, his rhythm turning downright punishing, his hands on Chan’s hips impaling him on his cock with every thrust.
«I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry... I’m sorry–» Chan was gasping wetly, tears of overstimulation running down his cheeks.
His face somehow ended up buried in Jisung’s neck; a shudder ran through his body when Jisung’s fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging at his strands. The contrast between Changbin’s raw pace and Jisung’s almost soothing touch was driving him into a state of delirium.
They were ruining him, and he knew right then and there he’d be ruined for anyone else.
«Chan-hyung!!»
Their voices were moaning and grunting his name, their bodies tensing before snapping. Jisung came untouched, his thighs trembling around Chan’s waist. Changbin’s cum filled Chan with warmth, their pleasure triggering his second orgasm before he could even process the first.
Changbin fell atop the leader, sandwiching him between himself and Jisung. The studio was quiet except for their collective panting and Chan’s sniffling.
Chan was covered in sweat, cum, and tears, yet he was the happiest he’d ever been.
A grumble of protest left him when Changbin pulled out, his own softened length slipping from Jisung’s well-used hole.
«Let’s get you cleaned and taken care of, mm?»
«Noo... please stay...»
A warm chuckle tickled his ear, Jisung’s lips pressed to his forehead.
«Don’t worry, hyung-ah, we aren’t planning on letting you go.»
Happy Stay Week! I am hoping I got the dates right; if not, this'll be embarrassing, but oh well. Anyway, this is my second Stay Week, so let's celebrate together, and I'm kicking the celebration off with a fic.
Chan woke up to the sweet smell of chocolate. It was coming from the kitchen. It was his day off, and he intended to spend the day sleeping with you in his arms, cuddled up. Chan reached a hand out, his eyes still closed. His hand touched the emptiness that was your side of the bed. Why was it cold? Where were you? The man let out a deep, needy whine.
“Honey!” He called out as he peeked an eye open. He let out a horrified gasp at what he saw.
Your side of the bed is empty. You’re nowhere to be found. He knows you’re off today, too.
Chan sits up quickly. The KIDS! They must have you. It makes sense. Obviously, they stole you away. Oh, those demons. How unfair; just because he was asleep doesn’t mean they can kidnap you.
The man flung the covers off his body and got out of bed. He grabbed the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself. He slowly walked to the bedroom door and opened it. He stepped out into the living room and looked around. You weren’t there.
Chan pouted and made his way to the kitchen. The bottom of the blanket dragged on the floor behind him. He could still smell chocolate. As he entered the kitchen, he instantly relaxed. There you were. Putting something into the oven.
He watched you close it before turning to the baked goods on the counter: gooey chocolate cookies, Butterly Fairy cakes, strawberry tarts, marshmallow brownies.
Chan walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He lowered his head to nuzzle the crook of your neck. He was practically wrapping you up in the blanket with him. “Honey. Why aren’t you cuddling me?” He asked you curiously as he pressed a kiss to your neck.
You get out a giggle. “Chan-ah, I was craving something yummy and just started baking. I have a chocolate cake in the oven right now.”
He looked around the kitchen for a moment. No one else seemed to be here. “Are you live? Where’s Innie?” He asked you, his voice tiny and full of sleep.
You smiled up at him over your shoulder. “I finished my live like five minutes ago. And Innie is having a Maknae day in the Happy Dorm. MaknaeLine only. Changbin pouted about it, but he, Min and Jinnie decided to go out for food instead.”
Chan slowly nodded as he squeezed your waist slightly. “So, no one tried to kidnap you?”
“Nooo.” You laughed as you organised the treats into the containers on the counter. Each container was a different colour. One for each member. “Minho did ask if I wanted to join, but I told him I wanted to spend my day with you.”
You poked his nose before kissing his cheek gently. You then turned around and continued organising the treats.
Chan laid his chin on your shoulder as he watched you. “Can I have an extra strawberry tart?” He asked you curiously.
You nodded lightly as you put another strawberry tart in his container. “You can have anything you want, my love.”
The Australian grinned at that. “Does that mean I can have you back in my bed?”
You looked up at him over your shoulder. “I suppose so. But only once the cake is done. I know you, once I’m back in bed, you’re not gonna let me get up. And I’d rather not burn down our kitchen.”
Chan let out a whiny grunt. “It is a nice kitchen.” He pouted. He shook his head. “It’s okay, I’ll buy us a new kitchen!” He quickly decided. He knew you were thinking of remodelling the kitchen anyway.
You let out a gasp. “Chris!” You turned around in his arms to look up at him. You placed your hands on his chest. “You can’t buy a new kitchen just so I’ll snuggle with you.”
Chan let out a huff, clearly not happy that he wasn’t getting his way. “Why not? I like spoiling you. If I had any say in it, you’d never spend a single penny from your own bank. I find it entirely unfair that you won’t use my card.”
You looked up at him in shock. “Chan, you pay for everything when we go out. I look at anything online or just window shopping, and the next thing I know, you’ve bought it for me. I can’t decide on something. You buy me both. You spoil me enough.” You explained as you squeezed his chest slightly.
Chan watched you with a sleepy look of amusement on his face. “I don’t spoil you enough. I wish you’d use my card more.”
You scoffed at him. “Channie, I made a lot of money. The group, the royalties on the songs I helped make, the ambassadorships, plus everything else I’ve done. It would be nice to spend some of my own money, ya know?”
The Australian let out a small hum. “You do spend your money. On the house and the kids.”
You shook your head at him and continued to sort out all the treats. You picked up a brownie and shoved it into his mouth, causing Chan to let out a happy groan as he ate it.
Chan held onto you as you sorted out the treats; every so often he’d comment how he CLEARLY deserved more cupcakes than Minho, or more cookies than Jisung or ugh, how dare you attempt to put an extra brownie in Felix’s box. That should be HIS brownie.
You smiled, you teased him, you mimicked him. But all the while enjoying his whining.
Once the cake was done, you got it out of the oven and placed it somewhere safe for it to cool down.
Once Chan saw that the oven gloves were off your hands and you took off your apron, he stepped forward and wrapped his blanket around you. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and retreated to the bedroom.
“Channie!” You squealed out in surprise as you reached down to slap his ass.
Chan opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. He closed it behind him. He walked over to the bed and set you down before immediately climbing onto the bed and pulling you close to his chest.
“Mine. We’ll stay here all cosy and together, and no one can take you because you're mine and you're pretty and you love me.” He rattled off as he closed his eyes and nuzzled his nose into the crown of your head.
You giggled and snuggled closer to him. “I do love you.” You told him; your voice came out quiet but sincere. In a way that made Chan’s heart skip a beat. He knew you loved him. This wasn’t the first time you’d told him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
But sometimes, hearing you say it took his breath away. Like he was being reminded that, hey, the woman he had been crushing on since he was like fifteen or sixteen loves him. The woman who had seen him through everything. The darkest parts of his mind, the happiest parts of his soul. The widest smiles and heartbreaking sobs.
It had always been you. The one he planned a life with. Not just a dream future but a joint reality that you both wanted and were working towards, no matter how hard or easy it was at times.
“I love you.” He whispered into the room, letting it settle.
He held you tight, and you both slowly fell asleep in each other's arms, Chan’s heartbeat easing you into dreamland as he held you in a secure but soft grip, keeping you close as his eyes closed and he fell back asleep.
Jeongin came home sooner than expected, simply to grab something he had accidentally left behind. The dorm was quiet. He checked every room for you and Chan, only to find you both tangled up in each other's arms, fast asleep in your bed.
He couldn’t help but smile. You both looked so soft and cute. The way Chan held you close, protective even in sleep. He melted at how you nuzzled closer to Chan in your sleep.
The Maknae pulled out his phone and took a picture before stepping out of the room and quietly closing the door behind him.
He went to his room to get what he needed before sending the picture to the group chat.
Choney Child🦊: Sent 1 image.
Choney Child🦊: Look at them! They’re so cute! It’s disgusting! And I’M the only one who got to see them in person. Cry about it!
FlowerTot🥺: THEY ARE SO CUUUUTE! I’m keeping this picture.
NinjaCat🍮: Good for them. They need the sleep.
Buff Bunny💪: Screenshotting this.
HAirJin🥟: They’re so precious! I wanna squish their cheeks! They are so soft. I love them! I love their love!
Sunny Dope🐿: Who changed my name again?
Sunny Dope🐿: How can I squeeze my way into their cuddles?
Puppy⚾: No, you leave them alone! Let them sleep. They need this. No one bother them until they text us first. Got it?
Sunny Dope🐿: Who made you the boss?
Choney Child🦊: Got it.
HAirJin🥟: Got it.
Buff Bunny💪: Got it.
NinjaCat🍮: He makes a good point… got it.
FlowerTot🥺: Got It! No complaints here! They’re so cute!!!!!!!
Puppy⚾: Got it, Jisung?
Sunny Dope🐿: Fine…got it.
Sunny Dope🐿: But no seriously, who keeps changing the names in the group chat?
Jeongin chuckled and shoved his phone into his pocket as he entered the kitchen. He cleaned up and shook his head. He didn’t mind cleaning up the mess; you normally did it, but he thought it would be a nice thing for you to wake up to.
He then put away the containers of treats. Except for his and the Maknae lines. He shoved them in his bag and walked towards the hallway. He put on his shoes and left the dorm quietly. A pleased smile on his face as he locked the door behind him.
Of course, you and Chan were none the wiser, still dead to the world in your bed. Wrapped in the warmth that is each other.
Your hair up in a messy bun; your shirt, despite being two sizes too big, clung to your damp skin; your pants hung low on the hips.
You looked like a mess.
One he wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning.
«Soo...wanna practice together?» Hyunjin asked, just so it would sound more like a conversation.
You nodded, your face warming further. Your shyness made him chuckle to himself.
He simply had no idea what he had just gotten himself into.
Or, Hyunjin accidentally becomes your partner in a sultry performance, only to realize that no amount of dance training could have prepared him for a dance on a razor's edge.
genre: smut, switch hwang hyunjin, dance instructor hwang hyunjin, sexual tension, teasing, implied sexual content, friends to enemies to lovers (light), shut up kiss
rating: explicit (18+)
word count: 5339
Chapter 1 – The art of suppressing feelings
«Didn’t I leave them here...?» he hummed, brows furrowing in confusion.
Hyunjin could swear his AirPods were tucked safely into the pocket of his bag just a moment ago. He checked the pockets of his sweatpants and jacket, finding nothing but disappointment at his own forgetfulness.
Changbin came up from the living room, leaning against the doorway in his infuriating, overconfident way, arms crossed over his bare chest. He didn’t bother hiding his grin, eyes almost sparkling with mischief.
«Looking for something?» he murmured, chuckling when Hyunjin glared at him. «What is it we need to search for this time?»
He continued pushing the buttons of his favorite roommate, relishing every micro-reaction that crossed Hyunjin’s handsome face. After another fail, Hyunjin finally gave up, dropping his gym bag to the floor in surrender.
«My AirPods... I remember putting them in my damn bag,» he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Changbin with an almost pleading look in his eyes. «But they’re not there anymore.»
«Leave it to the professional, jagi.»
He winked at Hyunjin, nudging him aside. His hand quickly scanned the inside of the bag; the sound of a zipper filled the hall, and a small AirPods case appeared in Bin’s palm as if out of thin air.
«Wha- How?»
Shocked, the owner of the AirPods reached for the box but was denied his belonging. He knew where this was going – his ‘wife’s’ tactics never changed.
«Kiss on the cheek and they are yours.»
«They are mine alright.»
«Not so sure about that.»
Changbin made a show of teasingly slipping the little box into his pocket, drawing a groan out of Hyunjin. With no other choice, the younger man stepped closer. He sighed heavily before leaning down and pressing a chaste peck to Changbin’s soft cheek. His eyes were tightly shut until he pulled away and waited expectantly for his ‘reward’.
Relief washed over him when the hyung caved and handed the box back.
«Going for a walk?» he then asked, wondering where Hyunjin was so impatient to go on his day off.
«Yeah, wanted to get some inspiration for the track I’ve been working on.»
He lied - but it was for the best. His practices just went better without prying eyes, so he often snuck out to perfect himself in solitude.
He put on his shoes, picked up the gym bag and a song to match his mood, and left the dorm.
He followed the familiar, albeit a little trite, route to the company. The Han River laid under a veil of light mist, creating a perfect view for a moody, lonely walk. He watched couples pass by with subtle jealousy, feeling like the main character in a sad K-drama. A few droplets of rain kissed his skin, pulling him from melancholy and embracing him with a fresh petrichor scent.
Hyunjin almost reached for his phone to capture the moment, so that later he would be able to have this image as a reference for his painting - but decided against it.
Some moments were too private, keeping them in memory was the only way.
He arrived at the company when people were leaving the building. With quick steps, he headed for the elevator, wishing to avoid greeting all those faces he wouldn’t remember tomorrow. He pressed the button for the third floor, heart fluttering in anticipation.
With a soft chime, the doors opened, and he stepped into the empty, long hallway. His legs led him with a mind of their own toward dance practice room 143.
The same room where the whole group perfected their choreographies and learned the new ones for comebacks. The same room where he once fought with Han so badly, they both cried while making up later. The same room where-
He stopped short of opening the door as the sound of music playing inside reached his ears. A flicker of confusion and curiosity crossed his features - he wondered who else would have an urge as bad as his to come practice on a day off, and at such hour, too.
Hyunjin decided to be a gentleman and knocked on the glass panel, knuckles meeting the cool surface that was fogged with condensation.
A moment later, the music stopped and the soft panting became audible as someone approached the door. It opened at his gaze locked onto yours. Hyunjin saw the flash of surprise in your widened eyes, the flush that bloomed on your already pink from exertion cheeks.
«Oh...hey.» you managed breathlessly, suddenly not knowing what to do with yourself.
«Gonna let me in?»
He smiled teasingly yet not unkind as you stepped aside.
He entered slowly, closing the door behind him, inhaling. The air was a bit humid and warm, despite the cracked open window. Your scent lingered faintly, but he still picked on the cardamom notes of your perfume.
«What were you practicing?» he asked and tried to busy himself by tying his hair in a tail, his gaze trailing down your body despite himself.
He hoped you didn’t notice since you never made eye contact while talking. So, while you answered, he took in your appearance - your hair up in a messy bun; your shirt, despite being two sizes too big, clung to your damp skin; your pants hung low on the hips.
You looked like a mess.
One he wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning.
He shook the thought away, but none of your words registered in his mind. It was all «blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff». Your sweet voice, with that breathy undertone to it, drowned meaning in sound.
«Soo...wanna practice together?» Hyunjin asked, just so it would sound more like a conversation.
You nodded, your face warming further. Your shyness made him chuckle to himself. He simply had no idea what he had just gotten himself into.
As he sat down on the floor to change into his practice shoes, you walked up to the speaker and clicked on the play button. He froze with shoelaces in his hand as a slow, sensual melody flooded the room.
It seemed to slip into every corner, the bass vibrating off the walls and falling into rhythm with his suddenly racing heartbeat.
Hyunjin, to his surprise, effortlessly remembered that you were going to have a stage with this alluring concept, and the fact that he was the one to help you prepare for it made the blood in his veins boil.
«Is this... okay?»
«Yeah, of course» he tried to answer nonchalantly as he looked up at you, lace carelessly tucked inside the sneaker. «Just show me what you’ve got so far,» he added, voice slightly more strained. «So I know how to help you.»
He could see the hesitation in your gaze, but you were close, after all. There was nothing weird about him monitoring your moves, sultry or not. He was just being a good member, helping you.
You took a deep, shaky inhale and started following the choreography you had memorized so far.
The dance itself wasn’t difficult, but the emotion that you were supposed to convey needed a lot of rehearsals. Through the sway of your hips, the arch of your back, the sweep of your arms, you had to become temptation itself.
Your gaze - key point. It had to lure and warn at the same time. Like the sharpest knife with the sweetest jam on its edge.
You had to feel yourself, to want yourself, to let go and be one with the music. But with his gaze boring into you, it was hard to get into this emotion.
You closed your eyes, grounding yourself in rhythm, thinking about anything but his overwhelming presence – the burning of your feet, the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, the lyrics of the song and how raspy the singer’s voice sounded on the particularly explicit words.
You managed to get lost in the song, so when the track paused, you blinked your eyes open in confusion.
«Why...?»
«You need eye contact,» he said as if he didn’t know how hard it was for you. «You can’t know if you’re doing well if you don’t see how it affects the audience.»
He watched you swallow and struggle to find any reason to protest.
Hyunjin turned the track back on and sat down closer this time. Too close to feel unintentional. His arms rested on the floor and supported his weight; legs spread in an almost heedless way.
His focus was solely on you.
You tried again, maintaining eye contact, and it felt harder than dancing the «락» or «Bounce Back» choreographies. Especially when you ran your hands down your chest and along the curve of your waist.
Because you saw it.
You saw the way his gaze followed their path, noticed the unconscious action of his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Hyunjin’s feet tapped to the beat restlessly, impatiently, like it was the only thing keeping him seated.
Your breathing came out heavier than the first time, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stop yourself from making any noise. Your stomach burned in a way that had nothing to do with the exhaustion. The background moans in the track only added to the tension, each occasional sound sending a shiver through you, and perhaps, him as well.
When the dance ended, you were panting. Grabbing the hem of your shirt, you tugged it up and wiped the sweat from your face, finally having a break from his intense gaze.
He didn’t give you much time to rest though, getting up to restart the song and walking up to you with a bottle of water.
«Drink.» he commanded, the raspiness in his voice made him sound rougher.
Your slightly trembling fingers brushed his as you took the bottle. Cool liquid slid down your dry throat, grounding you just barely.
Hyunjin waited for you to finish and got behind.
His arm snaked around your waist, fingers sprawling out possessively as he turned you both to face the mirror. He pulled you flush against him; you felt his chest rising and falling against your back quicker than usual.
«Imagine that you are the hottest person alive,» he whispered hotly. You wanted to chuckle, but his gaze was serious, as if he meant every one of his fervent words. «Imagine that everyone in the audience wants you, that...I want you.»
His hand trailed up your side slowly, fingers teasingly tapping against your clothed skin as he looked at you through the mirror.
«How does that make you feel?»
«Uhm...f-flustered?»
He brought his face closer to yours, his lips brushing against your ear feather-lightly.
«Wrong answer,» he breathed out, placing his other hand on your hip. «It should make you feel motivated.»
You wanted to laugh out loud at this. Did he seriously think that your proximity would motivate you to-
Your breath hitched sharply as he guided your body to roll with his own; his hand on your side moved up to tangle in your hair, tugging at the ends of it to tilt your head higher.
«Eyes on me.»
You almost short-circuited at the command.
Your jaw clenched, scalp tingling as he continued to pull at your hair whenever you looked away from the mirror.
Hyunjin’s body felt hot against yours, as though he was the one who had danced all this time. Sweat glistened on his skin under the dim lights of the practice room. His pupils had dilated enough to nearly swallow the brown of his irises.
You tried to follow his instructions, to focus on the moves, but they all got jumbled, your thoughts growing hazier each time you felt him against you a little more distinctly.
«There you go, just like that...»
He slipped his hand that was on your hip under the flimsy material of your sweat-soaked shirt, making a small gasp escape your parted lips and goosebumps erupt on your body. He felt the same kind of jolt at the skin-to-skin contact, his fingers trembling against the lines of your bare stomach.
«You got the feeling, huh...?» he rasped, voice thick.
«Yeah» you answered as hoarsely.
You arched more into him, caught him off guard by your boldness, forcing a sound close to a whimper from his full lips. The song ended, leaving you both panting and dazed. He felt himself nearly buckle against you and quickly stepped back, creating much-needed distance.
Hyunjin turned away, looking out in the window as he drank water with great thirst.
The view of Seoul at night always helped him distract himself from the hardships, but it didn’t apply to the physical one, he figured.
He finished the whole bottle before turning to you, droplets of water running down his chin and falling onto his tight, black t-shirt.
«That’s about it...»
«Thank you,» you mumbled, mentally wrecked. «I think I got it.»
He forced a smile and ran a hand through his hair, not caring about creating a mess out of it.
«Going home?» he asked, and it sounded like he was going to suggest something, but the words never surfaced after you nodded in affirmation. «Rest well, you worked hard today»
He grabbed the gym bag and hurried out of the room first.
The sky was already dark blue, mist grew into deep fog, making the glow from streetlamps duller. A chilly breeze sent a shiver through him, but it didn’t clear the heat in his head. If anything, it just sharpened the sensations, making the contrast between rationality and desire overwhelming.
The city didn’t care about Hyunjin’s internal conflict: people were returning from work on the last bus, shops were closing, and almost every window in the buildings was lit up, signaling that families were finally reunited after a long, busy day.
He took a deep breath, cooling down slightly before the vibration of his phone in the pocket of his pants jolted him back out of calmness.
«Seo Changbin.» he growled into the phone instead of the usual ‘what?’, having his hyung fall into silence for a moment.
«Uhh... It has been a while, so I-» Changbin stuttered, choosing his words carefully. «Did you push yourself too hard again?»
Hyunjin started to protest but couldn’t formulate any comeback that would sound semi-believable. How did Bin always manage to see through him?
«Come back, would you? I might even share my chapagetti if you’re good»
Hyunjin stomach growled loudly at the news and his pent-up frustration seemed to be pushed back by hunger.
«On my way»
He quickly ended the call and started running. It was therapeutic in a way – having his face hit by the damp, cold air, his restless energy fading.
It took him about fifteen minutes to return home and by that time he was exhausted to think about anything else but rest.
Changbin told him to go take a shower while he made a new portion of noodles because his own, to no surprise, were long since finished.
Settling on the couch, Hyunjin focused on the food, savoring it as if he was starving. Like he needed something more to satiate his hunger.
Changbin didn’t say anything as always. He was too clever to think that Hyunjin would give in to his curiosity. Yet the knowing looks that he shot were enough teasing for Hyunjin to shift uncomfortably on the soft sofa.
By the time his plate was empty, warmth in his stomach had soothed some of his anxious energy.
He thanked Changbin with a tired mutter and trudged to his room, his robe swaying gently with each step. He closed the door behind him, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding all this time after the dance practice.
Finally.
Slipping out of his robe, he plopped down into the bed, relaxing his buzzing limbs. He started to sink into the mattress, his eyelids drooping slightly.
He felt cozy like this – silk sheets around his body, gentle breeze from the window, quietness in his mind.
But relaxation made more space for thought. And there was nothing or no one to save him from spiraling this time. Behind his eyelids, images of you flooded him once again, each one more vivid and reckless than the last. Your gaze locked with his through the mirror. The flimsy shirt clinging to your body. The tangy scent of your hair he was addicted to.
He tossed and turned in bed for what felt like eternity, but the trick of covering his ears didn’t work even when he was a kid. So, he forced his glossy eyes open, staring into the ceiling as if this way you could go away and let him be.
«I can’t stand you.» he breathed out into the darkness of his room and got up.
Hyunjin paced back and forth, hoping to somehow distract himself. The room felt too small in the face of his desperation. He wanted to scream, to call you and tell you just how much he hated you for not stopping him at the dance practice. For how you were looking at him. For how bad he was craving you now.
«To hell with it.»
He dropped on the mattress, his back hitting that one bowed rod deep inside. However, the pain he felt wasn’t exactly unpleasurable. It sent a sick thrill down his spine, making him even angrier at himself.
«What a brat...»
He breathed out as his hand began a dangerous path from his collarbones down to his chest.
He twisted his nipple, his back arching off the bed. Every nerve ending in his body felt sensitive – his hips twitching already, desperate for any sort of friction soft sheets could provide. A groan escaped Hyunjin’s parted lips as he reached his stomach. A flash of memory of how your bare skin felt under his fingertips coiled his gut tighter than he could bear.
He palmed himself slowly at first, then with open desperation. His hand balled into a fist, pent-up frustration making his motions almost mad.
Hyunjin tangled his free hand into his messy hair, still slightly damp from the shower, pulling on the strands just like he did to you in the practice room earlier.
Air around him grew thicker, his chest flushed red with mixture of shame and pleasure. His toes curled, threatening to give him a cramp.
«Please... please-»
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, reaching his limit with a hard squeeze. His vision went white, eyes rolling back. Yet, he forced himself to keep going – to prolong the moment before reality could hit him.
His movements became slack; wet sounds filled the room. He stopped when his skin became too sore and threw his aching hand over his face palm up.
He felt utterly spent and empty.
After all that desire was left longing – now stripped of lust and frustration.
Haunting him in the restless dreams, it made the truth undeniable –
you were more than just a muse.
Chapter 2 – Hold the stage with one hand, and my heart with the other
The dressing room was bustling. The staff, increased by dozens, was seemingly in a hurry, fussing over the smallest details.
A woman in her forties was touching up your makeup, her gaze scrutinizing as she lightly smeared the dark red lipstick over your cupid’s bow.
«How do you like your partner?» she asked, her gaze flickering to your eyes for a second.
«Oh... um, they’re alright.»
She gave you a once-over, a satisfied smile on her lips as she started collecting her cosmetic products.
«To be honest, I was surprised it wasn’t someone from danceracha. Wouldn’t that make more sense?»
The woman clearly waited for your answer, so when you simply shrugged her curiosity deflated. You stared at your phone to avoid any other questions, your cheeks heating up against your will. That weird feeling of disappointment wasn’t letting you be.
It wasn’t that you wanted someone else as your partner. And even if so, you definitely didn’t want it to be him.
You clicked on the brown speech bubble logo, your finger hovering over one particular conversation. You weren’t a masochist, yet you kept coming back to that chat where the vibe felt drier than the air in the Sahara Desert.
«Undelivered». That was what it said under your last three messages.
You sighed, closed your phone and shoved it into your bag. You were thankful for the packed schedule.
You had less time to hurt.
As the director announced «on standby» you strode to the stage.
You stepped on your mark, bowing in greeting to the back dancers that surrounded you.
Standing in the center made your nerves spike, your hands wringing together as you waited for your partner. It was one of the dancers that were the longest with your group, traveling the world with tours. You were close, pretty comfortable with each other.
That was what you told yourself.
You waved a little too eagerly when they finally showed up, immediately shrinking with embarrassment. They smiled, patting your shoulder.
«Ready?»
«Yup,» you lied automatically, drawling the word like you were giving it time to become true.
Your stomach did an uncomfortable somersault as the lights were turned off, leaving only the spotlight on you. The music wafted in, their arms sneaking around your waist. You tried to focus on the performance, yet the memory of that practice before everything changed kept returning to you.
Did you do something wrong? Did you misunderstand what you had thought was mutual?
Your gaze shifted toward the empty seats as if the answer were tucked somewhere between the velvet cushions.
The first row was occupied by the director, your dance teachers and a few other staff members that took notes and exchanged whispers from time to time.
Something in the corner of your eye moved, and you tilted your head subtly to see it. On the last row, beside the door, sat a familiar figure.
You could see the dark silk blouse sitting perfectly against their broad chest and a small necklace adoring their long neck. Their hair was brushed back, dark locks tucked behind their ears. Your gazes locked for an infinitesimal moment, making your breath hitch.
And then you were dropped by your partner.
It all happened so quickly you didn’t realize you weren’t holding onto them during a lift until your cheek grazed against the cool smooth surface. You felt nothing but a new wave of disappointment when you looked up and saw that the seat in the last row was now empty.
Everyone was already helping you off the ground, fixing your clothes and hair, and repeatedly asking if you were alright.
You weren’t.
Then a voice cut through the clamor, making the commotion come to a sudden, sharp halt.
«What was that?» Hyunjin asked, ignoring others’ anxious eyes on him.
His gaze zeroing on you.
«Hyunjin, didn’t you have an interview today?» the director asked, but Hyunjin wasn’t listening.
He came up to you and pulled your hand away from your cheek. His fingers wrapped around your wrist as he examined your reddened skin.
«What kind of lift was that?» he asked again, addressing your partner.
«I’m sorry, hyung... It was my fault.» the dancer said, his voice laced with guilt and worry.
It made your stomach flip. You knew who truly was at fault.
Hyunjin.
«There’s no time for that, their performance is in less than a week,» Hyunjin reminded to the director, his hold on you becoming tighter with intent. «We practiced together, I have a pretty good understanding of the dance.»
«What are you getting at?»
«I’ll be their partner instead.»
«That’s not possible, Hyunji-»
«Do you see this?» he cut the director off, tugging at your wrist to bring you closer to himself. His hand, albeit a little roughly, titled your chin up, demonstrating the red spot blooming on your face. «This is unacceptable.» he spat, his jaw clenching in anger.
«How many times did you practice, once?»
«I’m a quick learner, aren’t I? I learned the dance for my audition in a few hours, Director-nim.»
The director looked helplessly at the dance teachers, who only shrugged because Hyunjin was right.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
«Alright... how much time do you need?»
«Two days.»
«Deal.»
You blinked between them, mouth opening but no words coming out.
The person who had been avoiding you since that practice was now ready to fight to be your partner?
You watched everyone settle down, your ex-partner making their way to the first row.
«On standby.»
«Excuse me, wha-»
«Not now.»
Hyunjin came up behind you, his hands found your waist. You could immediately notice the difference in his hold compared to theirs. He was sure, secure, his hands feeling like an anchor. His breath ghosted over your neck as he whispered.
«Focus.»
«Don’t tell me what to do,» you retorted, anger and confusion brewing under your skin into a dangerous potion.
He didn’t recoil, his fingers digging into your skin.
The music began, his presence drowning out everything except the points of contact between you. You forgot about the dancers around you, about the staff and their stupid notes, about the pressure of being under the spotlight.
Hyunjin lifted you off the ground, spinning you in the air effortlessly. You held onto his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under your touch. Your gazes locked again, longer this time.
You could see the slight shudder that ran down his spine, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
He placed you down, your face inches away from each other.
«What’s next?» he whispered, his voice raspy and slightly breathless from exertion.
«H-huh..?»
The sound of applause made you snap out of him, your gaze darting around in a way that looked almost dizzy.
«It’s in the bag!» the director roared amidst the chaos and the applause intensified, everyone grinning at you two like you already won.
Hyunjin shot you a smirk, his eyes dancing despite the tension you felt in his body.
You felt mad – at him, at the fact that only with him it felt right, at the unsurprised looks everyone gave you.
Like they knew.
You untangled yourself from his arms and stomped from the stage.The celebration faded behind you, but you couldn’t care less.
Slamming the door after yourself, you paced around the dressing room, your breathing coming out in angry, shallow puffs. You didn’t need to turn around to see who entered the room after less than two minutes.
«Is this how you thank me after I saved your performance?» his voice was still light, yet it felt like a slap.
«Thank you?» you rejoined, turning to face him with wide eyes. His smile faltered, but you were too far gone. «For what exactly? For pretending I don’t exist instead of communicating with me? Or maybe for manipulating me into thinking of you as my ‘hero’?»
He took a few steps closer, making you retreat.
Your back was against the wall, your hands in white-knuckled fists.
«Hero? No, not hero.» he placed one of his hands flat against the wall, caging you between in and himself. «But don’t downplay the fact that you needed me. You need me.»
«I don’t need someone who ghosts me and treats me like a p-plaything!»
Your voice cracked on the last word, making his gaze darken.
«I’ll pretend you didn’t say it.»
«Why? Because you can’t face the truth? Can’t admit you’re just a player?»
Hyunjin swallowed thickly, his gaze mirroring your wild one. The nerve in his jaw tickled rhythmically with his racing pulse.
«You have no idea what you’re talking about, so stop it.»
«I don’t need any idea to know that you’re just a coward who can’t-»
Your gasp was swallowed by the harsh press of his lips against yours. His hand tangled in your hair, angling your head. You brought one of your fists to hit his shoulder, but your body was melting against him. As his tongue coaxed your lips to part, you clutched at his blouse with a sudden tight grip.
«Tell me you need me. Say it.» he commanded against your mouth, though it sounded more like a plea.
You bit his lip, making him buckle against you with a whimper that betrayed his desperation. One of your hands trailed down to where his blouse was tucked into the waistband of his pants, tugging at the hem of it with jerky movements.
«I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-» you chanted, your hand finally contacting with the tense, heated flesh of his defined stomach.
Hyunjin pressed flush to you, letting you feel the hard outline of himself.
«I’m s-sorry...» he moaned, his forehead pressing to your shoulder. «I... I tried to do what’s right.»
«Shut up. Just shut up and touch me already...»
He stilled at your words as if not trusting his ears. Then it hit him.
His hands hooked under your thighs, hefting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your lips attacking his neck as he moved to the nearest vanity table. Hyunjin wiped away all the makeup from its surface, sitting you down onto it. He got in between your legs, the proximity of your bodies making him impatient.
«I need you,» he whispered, his hands working on your clothing.
«Need you too...»
You helped him remove the decorative accessories of your stage outfit.
«Took you long enough,» he barked a breathless chuckle, tearing off your skirt and underwear.
«You’re one to talk.»
You glared playfully at each other before crushing your lips in a messier, reckless kiss.
Hyunjin yanked his boxers down, angling your hips.
«Look at me,» he exhaled shakily, maintaining eye contact with you as he started to push inside.
Your back arched, toes curling as he grazed your inner walls in the tortuously delicious way.
«Oh god- Hyunjin...!»
«That’s right, baby... tell me who’s making you feel good.»
«H-Hyunjin!»
He started thrusting into you, his hands on your body moving with sacred reverence.
«Atta go...» he murmured, his teeth nibbling at your shoulder. «S-so good, gonna make me come so fast-»
You threw your head back, his name on your lips turning into a wanton moan. Hyunjin’s hips stuttered, his movements becoming frantic and uncoordinated.
«Love you... I love you, god, I love you-» he rambled, his words unfiltered and so genuine it hurt. You clung to him tightly as your body went rigid, pulsing around him.
Your pleasure triggered his own, his breathing coming in ragged gasps as he filled your stomach with his release.
Hyunjin buried his face in your neck, small trembles racking through his oversensitive body.
He pulled out with a quiet whine, fixing his clothes before scooping you into his arms. He sat down on the leather couch with you on his lap, his hands cradled you to his chest.
«You okay?»
«More than okay...»
He hummed, sighing in relief and contentment.
«You know... I meant every word I said... even when my brain was drunk on you.»
You looked up at him, your hand cupping his warm cheek.
«Yeah?»
He nodded, pressing his lips to your palm.
«I love you,» he repeated, his lips finding yours, capturing them in a gentler, languid kiss.
«I love you, too... and thank you.»
«For what?»
«For being here when I need you.»
Hyunjin didn’t reply.
Instead, he hugged you tighter, holding you in a bone-crushing grip.
For a moment, he stayed silent, just breathing you in. Then, when your eyes closed and you felt yourself drifting off, he whispered, his words laced with determination.
«I won’t disappear again, I promise. I’ll be here for you, always.»
Your shoulders slumped in relief, your body relaxing as if you were the wax and he was your fire.
The last thing you registered before falling asleep was the feeling of being treasured.
Like an artist would treasure his greatest masterpiece.
Being a leader is not easy. Bang Chan knows it all too well.
And despite trying his absolute best, there is a line. A line everyone knows better than to cross.
Because no one wants to deal with Christopher.
Except for you.
You know just what Christopher needs. And you give it to him.
genre: fluff and smut, dom bang chan, bang chan is called chris, explicit sexual content, rough sex, swearing, porn with feelings
rating: explicit (18+)
word count: 1654
He sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time since the beginning of this conference. His jaw was clenched tightly, his eyes scanning over the sheet of paper where the answers had been written for him beforehand.
«Ridiculous,» he thought to himself and craned his neck, silently checking on the members.
They seemed calm, composed, yet he could sense their discomfort even through their expensive silk costumes and professional makeup. His eye gave a sharp twitch and he cleared his throat, immediately getting attacked by an illegal amount of camera flashes.
«So,» he began, voice steady, as if his stomach wasn’t burning with rage, «it was lovely to have you here, thank you for coming and raising questions relating to our upcoming comeback.»
He barely managed to hold back a snort at his own perfunctory words. The questions relating to their comeback were also given out to press beforehand because none of them really cared about it.
Oh no, their publishing houses cared about Felix’s new brand deal and Han’s recent dating rumor more than how many hours Chan had spent coming up with appropriate lyrics for the title track (an awful lot). Though, honestly, he couldn’t blame them.
The room was stuffy and prepared with such hostility that they would’ve been more comfortable talking in the hallway. It was not his fault, but he blamed himself, of course.
Because, yes, Chan could’ve brought more chairs for press; Chan could’ve organized tissues and water bottles for the members; Chan could’ve made sure everyone is happy.
And he didn’t.
His eyes were bloodshot as he jolted from his seat, the shrill sound of his exit making the entire place halt. Dead silence was left unnoticed by him through the clamor of his erratic heartbeat.
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒
Chan was the type to line his shoes after taking them off; to smooth out his jacket before hanging it in the closet; to take off his makeup before letting himself relax.
But Christopher wasn’t.
So, as soon as the front door slammed behind him, he sent his black leather Louboutins flying and tore his tie off, revealing anger-flushed skin underneath. His heavy panting felt loud in the spacious apartment, echoing off the walls and suffocating.
He considered getting in the shower and blowing off steam on his own - but fuck it.
Couldn’t he be selfish for once in his damn life?
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒
Your phone vibrated in your lap, shifting your focus from the steamy scene unfolding in your current read.
«Who dares at such ho-» you began and froze, eyes darting over the message multiple times.
Chris
2:43 AM
- you up?
That was it. Two words were enough to set your face on fire.
You stared at it, your already worked-up mind going in all the wrong directions.
Your phone vibrated again, somehow louder, more heated, as if it could express his frustration through the static.
- come over
And then, because even when desperate, he was a gentleman.
- please
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒
He half-expected you to ghost him, to reject such pathetic, blunt DMs. So when the doorbell rang, he almost short-circuited.
His hands shook as he opened the door, letting you in. His gaze bored into yours, and you could’ve sworn you had never seen him looking so wild before.
His eyes were dilated, pitch-blank, not a single crinkle around them that you oh so adored. Your mouth suddenly went dry as you tried to break the tension so thick your knees nearly buckled.
«Chan, I-»
You gasped as he pinned you to the front door, his hands gripping into the flesh of your hips. His touch was almost scorching, seeping into your very bones. He pressed himself against you as if he couldn’t bear even an inch between your bodies.
And you felt him throb against you.
«What did I tell you to call me?» his breath grazed your neck; his voice strained like it hurt.
«Chris- Chris, a-are you okay?»
He didn’t answer, his lips teasing your skin as he brushed them feather-lightly over your pulse point, relishing the way in raced under his touch.
Then he bit down hard enough for you to gasp, and his hips buckled up in response.
«I need you to make me feel okay,» he rasped, subtly grinding against you. «Can you do that for me?»
You took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded.
«Use your words,» he gave your rear a firm grope, pressing you closer to where he pulsed like a second heartbeat.
«Fuck- yes. Yes, please.»
He sucked a sharp breath, gathering all the strength he had in himself to step back. When he finally did, his voice was nothing but a command, «Bedroom.»
You didn’t need to be told twice.
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒
He sat at the edge of his king-size bed with you standing between his spread legs, his gaze daring you to look away as he leaned in. You instinctively tried to close the distance, but he tilted your chin, keeping you where he wanted – your lips brushing but not touching.
«Put that pretty mouth of yours to a good use.»
You swallowed thickly, gaze dropping down to his lap where his hand was balled into a tight fist. Your smaller one came to tentatively rest on his as you knelt, not breaking eye contact.
He tried his best to stay still, yet the slightest brush of your fingers against his clothed erection had him biting back a groan. You took it as a sign to tug down his garments, baring his lower body. The sight of him so close to your face, hard and angry, made you hesitate for a second.
Then your lips parted and you took him in.
The sound that left him was the most sinful kind of relief. His hands traveled down to you; one tangled in your hair and guided you further while the other pressed lightly to your throat.
You breathed through your nose and tried your best not to lose it yourself.
He could’ve been the greatest voice actor. Gut feeling.
But then he thrusted shallowly into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but moan, triggering a drawl of swearing from his lips.
«Fuuuuck- you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?»
You could only whine, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as he pushed deeper and deeper, feeling himself in your throat. Your eyes were tightly shut as you fought a gagging reaction, so you weren’t prepared for the sharp tug on your hair that snapped your eyes open and left your scalp tingling.
«Eyes on me,» he snarled harsher than intended, the pleasure reaching an unbearable point. «Wanna- shit, wanna see those eyes as I come.»
The moment you lifted your gaze to his – he lost it. His thighs bracketed your head and twitched weakly as he spilled warm, bitter release down your throat.
You swallowed his pleasure, earning a satisfied moan from him before he brought you into the hungriest kiss.
His lips greedily parted yours, tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself. He seemed to still buzz with the tension, his kiss rough, words needy, shameless.
«So good to me... can’t wait to ruin you.»
«Please,» you keened, your mind – a mess he had successfully reduced you to.
He pressed another kiss, to your cheek, feigning an innocence that was so foreign for Christopher.
Before manhandling you to bend over his bed.
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒
His hands rested on either side of you, his body pressing you down onto the mattress. You could feel him against your backside, hardening and demanding.
The need made you arch into him, drawing a dark chuckle out of him. One of his hands detached from the bed and started exploring you – stomach, waist, thighs. He was torturingly slow before his fingers brushed where you ached.
«So fucking wet, huh?» he whispered into your ear, biting on your earlobe until you cried out.
Then, in the speed of light, your clothes were discarded, your hands and knees on the bed. The position he knew was embarrassing for you before, but neither of you could care less now.
«How bad do you want it?» he queried, teasing his tip against your fluttering entrance.
«So bad, Chris...please.» You barely finished the sentence as he thrusted inside, all the way until his hips were flush against yours.
Christopher didn’t give you time to adjust, his movement precise, sharp, as he pistoned in and out in a punishing pace. The kind that had your increasingly loud moans mixing with his curses and grunts, his hand on your body groping and squeezing, no doubt leaving bruises on the tender skin.
He sensed you were close, and as a true gentleman he was deep down, his fingers found your bundle of nerves, stroking it in tight circles until you screamed.
«That’s it...take it- holy fuck, take it all!»
He followed suit, filling your stomach with warmth that finally, finally extinguished the fire in your very soul.
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒
His body was sated and heavy as it blanketed yours.
Christopher returned to Chan, who nuzzled into your neck and peppered your sweaty skin with the softest kisses imaginable. He gently carded his fingers through your hair, his touch no longer groping or tugging, but worshiping.
«My love...you were so good for me, so beautiful,» he murmured and you could see the smile that made his eyes crinkle without even looking.
You turned to lie on your back and snuggled into him, and he eagerly cuddled you to his warm body.
You felt that he was holding you with slight possessiveness, probably already feeling bad for losing his cool like that. No matter how much you enjoyed your encounters with Christopher, Chan never stopped worrying about hurting you.
You didn’t mind reassuring him, though.
And if, the following week, he treated you like his Highness...well, who are you to complain?
For those, who want to hold or be held (preferably by Han Jisung) in the peaceful quiet of the night ✩₊˚😴.⋆☾💤✧
genre: short&sweet drabbles, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, non-sexual intimacy, spooning, Han Jisung is a little spoon
rating: general (all ages)
word count: 1126
It was past midnight when you entered the dorm, your body heavy with exhaustion from the packed schedule. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake at such hour, let alone waiting to welcome you. But as you hung your jacket up, the soft padding of feet against the wooden floor caught your attention, making you tilt your head toward the sound.
That’s when you saw him – all fluffy pajamas and messy bed hair, eyes half-lidded from definitely nodding off earlier. To put it simply: Han Jisung’s natural form in its unadulterated glory.
You smiled warmly, speaking in a whisper so as not to wake the other guys.
«Hey, sleepyhead… were you waiting for me?»
You were joking, obviously, but his answer caught you off guard.
«Mmh… missed you.»
He walked up and wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking his head under your chin. A flood of warmth and surprise filled your chest.
He was usually clingy but tried to conceal it for the sake of his own pride, so this open, affectionate version of Han was suspicious.
And tempting.
«You’re alright?» you couldn’t help but ask, embracing his warm body that smelled faintly of vanilla body wash and fresh sheets.
«Sleep with me tonight…?»
He leaned out from your neck just enough to look at you; his eyes almost shimmered in the dimly lit apartment with a plea you couldn’t refuse. So, you let him guide you to his room, his hand laced with yours, seeking touch as if to ground himself.
His space was cozily messy – a few blankets thrown together to form a nest on the bed, more than three cups with dried coffee stains on the desk, his guitar laid out on the carpet – proud evidence of the spark of inspiration Han must’ve had earlier that day.
He let go of your hand to rummage through his closet and took out an oversized T-shirt for you to wear. He liked sharing his clothes, especially if he liked the way they looked on others, so you unintentionally became his doll, both figuratively and literally.
He would ask you to try on his new hoodie or jacket just because "I need to see if it looks cool," and then forget to take it back. He would do your nails or hair on quiet days and you’d let him –because whatever made him happy made you happy.
Anyway, Han turned away after you took the T-shirt from him, and you changed into it, eyeing the print of some band he was into these days with interest, the hem brushing against your thighs.
He was already in bed, sinking into the mattress like a boneless starfish. Chuckling, you joined him, only for your eyes to widen as you were immediately pulled flush against him.
«Jisung… did something happen?»
«Is it that obvious?»
«Mhm.»
He sighed but melted into your touch against his scalp, leaning into each brush of your fingers through his soft hair like an attached cat.
«Promise… not to laugh at me.»
«Of course, Ji, I promise.»
Another soft sigh slipped from his lips as he nuzzled into you, seemingly trying to hide in the comfort of your presence and scent. Your heart squeezed at how small he looked – nothing like the person Han is in front of others.
«So… I was watching this new anime, and in it... one character wasn’t treated right by his family. No one welcomed him home after work... or asked how his day was…»
He spoke into your neck, his chest rumbling against you as the warmth of his breath seeped into your skin.
«And one day… he just- he didn’t return…» he paused, as if letting you take in the heartbreaking thought before continuing. «It made me so sad… how could- why didn’t they care?»
You felt his grip tighten around you, which made you hold him closer in return. You knew how sensitive he was, how deeply he empathized with characters in movies and anime.
It was both his blessing and curse – to have a heart so big.
You pressed your lips gently to the top of his head; your hand moving up and down his spine, rubbing soothingly over his back.
«Oh, dear… I get it, I know it sucks that people don’t treasure something until it’s gone, but-»
Your name fell from his lips, soft but urgent, dissolving whatever thought you were trying to form as your eyes searched for him in the darkness of his room.
«Promise me… promise you won’t disappear if no one welcomes you one day, if I’m not home…»
You gently cupped his face in both hands, making him meet your achingly tender gaze. You gave him a sincere, gentle smile and leaned in to nuzzle your nose against his.
«I promise, Jisung… I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m here and this is where I want to be.»
He relaxed, giving your nose a tiny nuzzle back. You realized just how deeply that story had affected him, how much he’d thought about you – about how it might feel to come home to a silent house. You made a silent promise to always make this boy feel cherished and loved, to make sure he returned home to a warm welcome as well.
And right now, you knew exactly what a vulnerable, clingy Han needed, so you asked softly, just to make sure he hadn’t already dozed off.
«Do you want me to be the big spoon this time…?»
«Yes, please…»
You nodded, not wasting any more time as you hugged him securely from behind after he shifted for you. Your arms around him always gave him a sense of safety he couldn’t quite put into words – there was something about feeling their weight on him that made every worry or stressful memory of his evaporate.
«Better…?»
«Love you,» you barely caught his whisper as he pressed closer to your chest, his head tilting back to rest near yours on his shoulder.
It was obvious how much he needed your proximity – his body went pliant and soft in your arms within seconds, his breathing evening out to match yours. Han turned his face slightly to press a soft, warm kiss to your cheek. It was chaste but genuine, the way he always expressed gratitude when words felt too heavy.
And just like that, the two of you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, tangled together in your own little bubble.
And if, in between his quiet snores, your name slipped from his lips – then you must be holding him just as close in some parallel universe, too.
It’s not hard to make Han Jisung feel loved and cared for – you just need to be yourself.
One bleeding heart. Eight different ways of saying, "You're not alone."
How would each member of Stray Kids comfort you when the world feels too heavy to keep pretending you're okay?
Bang Chan/reader
Leeknow/reader
Changbin/reader
Hyunjin/reader
Han/reader
Felix/reader
Seungmin/reader
I.N/reader
genre: short&sweet drabbles, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, sad reader-insert, crying, caring bang chan, lee know is bad at feelings, protective seo changbin, soft hwang hyunjin, sweet han jisung, lee felix is a ray of sunshine (as always), kim seungmin is a brat, worried yang jeongin, different love languages
rating: teen and up (+13)
word count: 3006
song recommendation: Hold my hand by Han Jisung
CHAN 🤍
The moment he enters your apartment he can tell that something isn’t quite right.
Not a single light is turned on, and your bedroom door is shut, which might’ve been normal, but it’s not even 9 p.m. The eerie silence in a place where music usually plays like background noise sends a chill down his spine.
Chan knows you’re not okay.
He walks into the kitchen, fills a glass of water, grabs some tissues, then knocks on your door. When you don’t answer, he cracks the door open just enough to confirm his suspicions.
You’re curled up on the bed, your shoulders shaking with silent tears, a habit from childhood that never went away, even though you no longer have to stifle your crying.
Your breath hitches as you feel the mattress dip beneath his weight when he sits down, his hand finding your shoulder. His warmth seeps into you quietly; his thumb strokes your clothed skin in soothing circles, unraveling the bottled-up feelings.
«I’m f-fine,» you croak, earning a fond chuckle from him.
«Mhm,» he hums, and you can see the knowing yet not smug smile forming on his lips even with your eyes closed. «On the scale from one to ten?»
«Two.»
Chan gently turns you onto your back, his gaze traveling over your puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. He takes a tissue and wipes your face tenderly.
«You didn’t call,» he says after a beat, not like a complaint, but as a quiet, slightly disappointed observation.
«I’m s-sorry...»
«Me too.»
He hands you the water, waiting patiently for you to drink. His fingers brush your chin as he catches stray drops of water from your skin.
Without needing to ask, Chan slides under the covers, wrapping his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back. You feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, vibrating against you, and suddenly everything that isn’t him becomes insignificant.
MINHO ❤️
He finds you sitting on the windowsill, and only when he comes closer does he realize you’re crying.
His initial reaction is to retreat, to leave you to deal with your feelings before he has to face his own. But his rigid presence is impossible not to notice, so you tilt your head towards him, your bloodshot eyes meeting his flustered ones.
«Oh- am I an unwelcome guest to your pity party?» he asks, trying to sound sarcastic as usual, but the tips of his ears peeking out from beneath his hair are just as red.
«Very funny,» you retort, turning your head back to the window, burrowing further into your hoodie.
You don’t see Minho’s strained smirk falter, or the concern bleeding through the cracks in his carefully built walls.
The sound of his footsteps fades into the steady pitter-patter of the rain outside.
You lower your head, resting it heavily against your knees. Your anguish pulses painfully behind your temples, the taste of abandonment lingering in the air, bitter and familiar. Once again, you find yourself pushing people away when you need them most.
Something soft drapes over your shoulders, making you jump out of your skin.
«You’re a mess,» he says as he tucks a blanket securely around you, his gaze lands everywhere but on your face. «Don’t sit here for too long. Jisung’s anime marathon starts in fifteen minutes, and Changbin won’t share his chicken drumsticks with anyone but you.»
And just like that, Minho walks away.
This time, though, it isn’t in that wrong, hurried, get-me-out-of-here way. It feels like a lifeline, even if it’s just an emergency movie night he definitely didn’t summon for you.
CHANGBIN 💚
He bursts through the front door, talking loudly on the phone as always, his gaze darting across the living room before landing on the back of your head.
«Yah, you wanna go check out that barbecue place Chan-hyung was talking about last week?»
«N-no, I’m good.»
A pause, a hitched breath. You can almost feel the shift in the air the moment your voice betrays you. His frantic energy disappears, his phone clattering onto the counter as he carelessly tosses it aside.
«Who did this to you?»
«Changbin, it’s nothing-»
He catches you by your sleeve when you try to run away, his thumb rubbing your wrist as he focuses solely on you.
«What happened? Why the tears?» he tugs you closer, his other hand gently tilting your chin up until you meet his eyes. «Who made my jagi cry?»
Your throat tightens, your resolve to act strong and not break down in his arms growing weaker and weaker.
«You don’t have to say it,» he murmurs then, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. «Just don’t hide from me.»
You let him carry you back to the couch, your sobs muffled against him, your chest feeling lighter with every stroke of his fingers through your hair. Soon, the two of you are cuddled up as he rambles, his voice quiet, almost soothing now, about how he didn’t get to exercise much at the gym because everyone was watching football.
As your tears dry out, the front door opens for the second time, revealing Chan.
«If you won’t come to the barbecue place, I must bring it to you,» he wisecracks, jiggling the takeout in his hand.
The food is perfect, exactly what you need. The crispiness makes every bite even more addictive, and a honey undertone lulls you into a state of pleasant sleepiness. By the end of the evening you’re full and fed up with their bickering over the best betting strategies.
HYUNJIN 💙
He is completely engrossed in his art, a pair of headphones blocking out the rest of the world as he creates. Something in the corner of his eye moves, and as he turns around, he sees you.
You stand at the foot of his bed, looking so vulnerable with your hands wringing together as though you’re trying to muster up the courage to ask for help.
Hyunjin slowly takes off his headphones, placing them on his desk.
«Come here,» he coaxes, his arm extended in an invitation.
You walk up to him, and he scoops you into his lap.
«Comfortable?»
«Mhm... thank you,» you whisper out, your eyes flutter closed as he presses his lips to the tear rolling down your cheek.
He lets you calm down, the sound of his pencil scratching softly across the paper filling the space between you as he adds the finishing touches to his drawing.
«Since you’re here, want to help me with the coloring?»
«But I might r-ruin it, and-»
«You can’t ruin it. Plus, this is yours, so who cares?»
You tilt your head, staring at him with wide, shimmering eyes and he giggles, his dimples appearing at the sight of your awestruck expression.
«Come on, pretty, take the brush.»
You sniffle, feeling the warmth spreading from your chest to your cheeks. You take the paintbrush he gives you and begin to color the landscape he had been working on.
Hyunjin puts on some soft music, resting his chin on your shoulder as he paints beside you. Occasionally he shifts just to bring you closer and to whisper something silly to make you smile.
«That cloud looks just like Chan-hyung’s bedhead, doesn’t it?»
Or
«You know painting after a breakdown is scientifically more effective? Well, I might have made that up, but it definitely feels refreshing!»
Soon the painting is finished, your heart is warm and a genuine giggle leaves you at the ticklish sensation of the brush grazing your hand as he’s drawing you "a little gift for being the best coloring assistant".
JISUNG 🩷
You’re both excited for the Netflix-and-too-much-popcorn date you have been planning since the middle of the week. Luckily, his schedule isn’t too packed, so he’s able to stay over, which only adds to the fluttering in your stomach.
«Ready for cheesy romance movie Minho almost strangled me for choosing?» he cackles, anticipation radiating from him in waves as he settles beside you, his hand squeezing you like he always does when he’s feeling cuteness aggression.
You wrap a leg around his waist, content to be fed popcorn while clinging to him like a koala.
The movie is really cheesy, keeping you both giggling and mocking the horrible flirting of the actors.
But then the main character says one line, a confession that hits too deep, too suddenly, like a cruel joke in the middle of light banter, and you hate yourself for not being able to hold it in.
You bury your face in his neck, feeling him shiver at first, and then stop breathing once the realization hits him.
«Hey, baby, are you...» he trails off, his floppy bangs brushing your cheek as he tries to get a better look at you. «Aigoo,» he coos, pressing soft kisses wherever he can reach.
«Sorry... for ruining the m-mood.»
«It’s okay,» he insists, his voice quivers slightly in a haste to comfort you. «It’s okay to feel, I l-love how deeply you feel, I love every part of you.»
You tilt your head up just enough to look at him, and his glistening eyes are already on you, a bashful, vulnerable smile on his lips.
«See? I am like this too.»
You smile back, blinking away your tears, leaning in to kiss him softly, conveying more than a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘I get you’ together could.
«I love you...» you whisper after you part for a breath.
«I love you more,» he answers immediately, pulling you on top of him. «You’re making me all sappy... and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.»
FELIX 💛
He decides to surprise you by showing up at your place with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and an even more beautiful smile. Little does he know it’ll become the catalyst for all the emotions you’ve been suppressing.
You practically lunge into his arms, the bouquet’s wrapping rustling under the weight of your desperation.
«Oh no, darling... it’s okay, I’m here now,» he carefully backs you into your apartment and kicks the door shut with his foot.
Felix places the flowers on your coffee table and cups your face gently.
«Tell me what’s wrong, love.»
«I’m just... I’m so tired, Lix.»
He caresses your cheeks, a sympathetic hum escaping his downturned lips.
«Let me take care of you, please?»
You nod, letting out a shaky sigh of relief as he, once again, lifts the weight off your shoulders with just words.
Felix guides you to the bathroom, his hand rests reassuringly on your lower back as he fills the bath for you. He steps out so you can settle in comfortably, and returns with a scented candle and a pair of soft pajamas for after you’re cleaned off the everyday stress.
«Lavender, your favorite,» he says as he lights the candle, the gentle scent of lavender mixing with his perfume is a comfort only his presence could bring.
He kneels beside the tub and gently massages the tension from your muscles beneath the warm water. Felix is very careful, his touch assertive yet not too strong.
«You’re so good at this...» you sigh softly as he moves to your scalp, turning into a puddle of tired limbs and heavy eyelids.
«You deserve it.»
He hands you the towel and waits outside for you to dress before leading you to the bedroom.
Felix tucks you in, intending to be a true gentleman and letting you rest, but you clutch at his shirt, not letting go.
«Stay, please...»
«Of course,» he smiles, a bright, almost relieved curve of his lips, like he longed to stay but didn’t want to overwhelm you.
He scoots to you, resting his head on your chest, knowing you like to play with his hair to calm down. «Rest now, precious... tomorrow will be a great, sunny day... and I’ll love you even better.»
He speaks right to your heart, and oh do you believe him.
SEUNGMIN 💜
You bump into him in the hallway on the way to your room. Your makeup is runny, your clothes ruffled, your shoes abandoned at the front door.
«Woah, have you been hit by a truck?» he asks, still in his pajamas and with glasses, which tells you he probably has been gaming since he woke up.
«Get lost!» you snap as you try to go past him, but he places a hand on the wall, caging you in.
«Damn, you look hot on the verge of tears. What got you so worked up, hm?»
You grumble, a pathetic attempt to berate him, but it does nothing except bring a satisfied smile on his lips. Seungmin grabs your wrist and tugs you into his room.
His blinds are closed, his bed is not made, the covers still hold his imprint on them. The only source of light is his two screens, music from his paused game hums softly in the background.
«What are you doing?» you ask, watching him searching for something in the drawer.
«Sit down. Take a tissue.»
You scoff, but listen anyway, wiping your face while he connects the second game controller. Seungmin joins you in bed, intentionally sitting too close, and hands you the controller.
«Play with me. Kill me once or twice, and you’ll feel better.»
«Seungmin...»
Your cheeks heat up in shame for being cranky with him, your hands fidget with the controller, a few guilty tears escape your eyes. He reaches out and wipes them away carefully, then tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, mumbling something about it being "too messy".
«Don’t make it a big deal, okay?» he asks, quieter now, less teasing. «I’m not just that annoying guy you share a bed with in the morning and a stage with in the evening,» he chuckles at your eyeroll and continues, «I want you to know that I’m here for you.»
You nudge him weakly, which returns grin back on his lips.
«There we go. Now, don’t think I’ll be easy just because you look like a cute, sad puppy. I still have dignity left!»
«You just called me cute.»
«No, I didn’t!»
You focus on beating him in the game, your competitive spirit rising, shielding your frayed nerves from the memories of your bad day. His little comments, "Atta go!" and "That was good!", make your heart flutter more than you’d like to admit.
As you win the round, he makes a show of groaning and falling on the mattress dramatically.
«Head shot, seriously? You’re so cruel~ Now I need an emergency hug.»
«You wish-»
He tugs you down before you can finish your protest, your body blanketing his, just like he secretly prefers. He buries his face in your neck, holding you like the man has no plans on letting go.
«Seungmin-» your voice is strained, a little breathless as he lightly nibbles at your skin.
«Now you’re going to tell me who made you upset. Or,» he looks up at you, his eyes sparkling like two black onyxes, «I’ll make you scream it.»
JEONGIN 🧡
You enter your room and gasp. Your teary eyes widen, filling with trepidation.
Jeongin stands there, as shocked as you, your diary clutched to his chest as though it held his secrets instead of yours.
«I...I-I can explain...» he pleads, his eyes quickly moisten.
«Why..?» is all you manage through a sob, and he all but runs up to you, putting your journal on the nightstand and pulling you into a tight hug. You can feel him trembling against you.
«I’m so sorry... hear me out, please?»
He guides you to sit on your bed, keeping very little distance because he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.
«I just... I wanted to understand you better, to know how to help, but... I didn’t know how to ask, so-» he winces, remorse written all over his face as he brings your hand to his chest, letting you feel the frantic beat of his heart. «I feel so stupid for peeking... and I know my words are no excuse, but please forgive me.»
You glance at your nightstand; your eyes track the title of your diary entry – "Another Day". The memory of the day you wrote it instantly floods your mind. At that time you had no idea what day of the week it was, or what you should do to make it less... meaningless.
His heart rate only picks up as your silence stretches on, and when you return your gaze to him, he looks so small.
«I only meant to read one page... but then I couldn’t stop because I kept thinking... just one more line, one more hint and I’ll figure out how to make it better.»
A part of you is still shocked and feels exposed, but another part feels accepted and treasured, like you’re someone worth being afraid to lose.
«Was it bad..?»
«H-Huh?»
«What you saw in my diary... was it?»
Jeongin shakes his head vehemently before he speaks, his hands find your back, cradling you to him.
«No, no it wasn’t. Don’t ever worry about it. It’s your thoughts and they are... as precious as you are.»
You chuckle wetly, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling him exhale shakily.
«Are you... mad?»
«I don’t know...» you confess, your voice hoarse and your throat tight. «Aren’t I always?»
«No,» it leaves him in a breath, so sure you want to cry again. «You’re thoughtful, and funny... and kind. You’re human.»
You let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. His words act like a balm for your conscience, pulling you out of the constant "I’m a bad person" chant running through your head.
You curl into him, and he just melts against you.
«Thank you... for trying to help.»
«Next time I’ll be less of a coward, I promise.»
You smile, and a little embarrassed laugh leaves him. He doesn’t leave your room until you’re at peace in your mind and with him.
