The Evening Star

vee-nuhs ♡ noun ♡ the planet second in order of distance from the Sun 《♡○♡○♡》

[my-venus]

Duet series masterlist

[Completed]

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10 (Final part)

[my-venus]

Han Spiderman x reader

Moodboard

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“Boo.”

I let out a high pitched scream. “Han!” I hit his shoulder.

He only let out a low, satisfied laugh. He used a final, silent thwip of webbing to secure the line he’d been dangling from, then released the tension and dropped lightly onto the cold, splintered picnic table bench next to me on top of the 50 story building.

Han handed me a slightly crumpled grease-stained brown bag that was surprising in one piece. “I got those churros that you like from that one bakery.” I squealed in excitement and grabbed the bag. I missed the soft smile that graced his face that eased the tension around his jaw.

“You're sweet.”

“Only for you.”

“And a flirt.” I hit him again on the shoulder. I took a moment to take him in. The late fall air on the rooftop was thine and cutting, but the deep scarlet fabric of his suit looked comfortably warm. He wasn’t wearing his signature red mask but the black spider symbol across the chest of his costume left no doubt on who he was. Spiderman. I took out a churro and offered him one. He accepted and stuffed his cheeks full. I couldn’t help but laugh at how cute he looked with his puffed cheeks. He reminded me of a Qoukka.

“What?” He stared at me with his huge dark boba eyes. He started to brush crumbs off his face.

I always forget that he’s a superhero who kicks ass everyday with how innocent he looks. “Nothing.” I smiled up at him.

His brows furrowed slightly but decided to let it go. He nodded his head toward my notebook which lay open to pages of unfinished drawings and equations sprawled everywhere in a chaotic but somewhat organized mess. “What’s my smart girl working on?”

“Biochemistry and physics, really.” I said, tapping my pencil against my lip. “I’m trying to find an equation for the energy expenditure required to open a portal between our world and hypothetically a parallel universe. I tried using the principles of Coulomb's Law to model the repulsive force needed to tear a hole in spacetime, but the relativistic energy requirements just aren’t adding up with what I’ve got.”

“You’re really hot when you say smart stuff.” Han looked at me dazed. I pushed his shoulder again. “No really baby, I wouldn’t be Spiderman if it wasn’t for your brains. You’re a fucking genius.”

A blush rose to my cheeks. I grabbed his chubby cheeks and squished them. “My number one cheerleader.”

Han gave me a smile that caused his eyes to crinkle into bright crescents around the edges.

“So what was spiderman up to today?” I asked. I finally took a bite of my churro and all but moaned in satisfaction at the warm, crisp shell and sweet cinnamon flavor.

“Day started kinda slow. I helped a grandma cross the street. Fed the neighborhood pets. Stopped a hit-and-run, and-oh! I finally heard back from that recording label!”

“What! That's amazing! What did they say?”

“They want to see how I do in the studio next Monday.”

“That's great news Han.” I smiled at him warmly.

“Life couldn’t be better. I get to do some good for people. I might get to live out my dream soon and most importantly I got my girl beside me.” He pulled me gently until my side was tucked firmly against the cool material of his suit, which took days designing then weeks actually getting it made. But all the effort was worth it in the end.

Han let out a content sigh, his body relaxed and grounded. I brought my finger to trace the raised black spider symbol on his suit. Yeah, life is pretty good right now.

A wave of warmth washed over me, replacing the cool autumn air with the memory of summer nights and the low hum of my father’s lab in the basement. It was a chaotic paradise of glass beakers and sheets of suit designs, the air thick with the smell of ozone and burnt coffee.

I was hunched over the workbench, squinting through safety goggles, painstakingly feeding thread into a specialized loom. It was an industrial nightmare of a machine I’d repurposed from a university salvage auction.

​“This fiber is tricky,” I muttered, tapping my pencil against my notebook on the page where I had the molecular structure drawn. “The poly-aramid matrix has the tensile strength we need, but getting the thermo-reactive gel-coating to distribute evenly requires the precision of this monster.”

​Han, stripped down to a black undershirt and already sweating from stress testing the webbing formula on a custom wrist-mounted rig, sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, baby. But this suit is everything. It has to be light enough to swing in, but strong enough to take a beating from... well, from whatever the universe decides to throw at me next Tuesday.”

​He dropped the web-shooter rig onto the workbench with a heavy thud and came over to kiss the top of my head, pushing back a stray strand of hair. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this. You’re the genius. I just supply the punch.”

​“Damn right,” I said, a smile pulling at my lips despite my exhaustion. “Now shut up and go adjust the pressure valve on the solvent tank before I have to rebuild the ultrasonic bath—again.”

A vivid, splintering white flash caught my eye near the skyline, making me squint against the sudden brightness. The flash soon ballooned into a large inky-black tear in the air like a piece of cosmic silk being ripped apart. I immediately sat up from Hans embrace causing him to lose his relaxed posture and look where my eyes were stuck on in horror. You could see multiple dark, distinct figures start to step out of the dark hole. I spoke too soon.

“I got to-”

“Save the world?”

Han looked at me apologetically. He grabbed his mask, its deep red wine color matching the suit and slipped it on. My breath hitched when the unblinking white lenses looked back at me.

He took my hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Get somewhere safe and alert the authorities, okay?” I gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded. My stomach already starting to twist into a nauseous knot.

“Be careful.”

“Always am for you.”

“And go kick ass.”

Even though I couldn’t see, I knew he was smirking underneath that mask. His body shifted subtly in a familiar, confident way. He gave my hand a final reassuring squeeze then stood his muscles flexing tautly under the suit. He ran to the edge and launched himself into the cold late autumn air. My breath caught in my throat for a second then I released it once I saw the first quick silent arc of webbing send him swinging from building to building.

Was I scared for him? Fuck yes. But I know Han. Know what he’s capable of. And he knows that I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t make it back to me. I sat on the bench for another second, the wind whistling around the exposed rooftop, watching Han-spiderman get smaller and smaller. I took a deep breath, the cinnamon scent of the churro still lingering on my fingers, then I started to gather myself, already pulling out my phone to call 911.

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Notes: Was listening to spiderman into the spider verse soundtrack while writing this. Who's the best spiderman?

[my-venus]

Been thinking about Siren/Merman I.N. . .

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 2

Part 1 is here

Warnings ⚠️: None

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After weeks of perfecting the Obsidian choreo, it was finally time to shoot the music video. All the dancers gathered together at the JYP building, where a van would be to pick us up and take us to the shooting location. We were going to film in three different locations for the group choreography.

I had an earbud in one ear playing music to help distract myself from the nerves that I was feeling. The van pulled up, and I felt a tug on my arm.

“Let's sit together!” Sora pulled me along excitedly. I was relieved at the fact that I had a buddy to sit with. I liked Sora. She was bubbly and was incredibly talented. Everyone piled into the bus, and we were soon on the highway.

“Hey, do you want to hear a little bit of gossip that I heard?” She whispered to me. Gossiping about others wasn't my favorite pastime, but Sora was practically buzzing in her seat, so I told her I wanted to hear.

“So apparently after the auditions they had originally picked Minji to be Chan's duet partner and had already contacted her about it. But Chan had no idea that they had already told Minji this when they had contacted you. And everyone knows now that he had hand picked you. So they had to tell her this on the first day of practice.” Sora told me.

“Where did you hear this?” I asked. The miscommunication about who would be Chan's duet partner did explain why Minji was particularly cold towards me during practice. I had always assumed that was just her personality.

“I overheard manager Kim talking about it with Han.” She answered sheepishly. I gave her a playful slap on her shoulder.

“Shame on you for eavesdropping.”

●☆●

The van parked outside of a big building. We all piled out of the van and made our way inside the set. The atmosphere on set for the Obsidian music video was a fascinating blend of chaotic energy and meticulous precision. Lights, cameras, and crew members buzzed around us, transforming the vast soundstage into the moody, futuristic world of the album concept. While I was excited, a knot of nerves tightened in my stomach.

Manager Kim made a beeline towards our group and instructed that the boys are filming some of their solo shots and that in the meantime we would get our hair, makeup, and clothes to change into. I was to be one of the last to get ready so I waited patiently on the side observing and maybe looking for a certain Aussie.

I spotted Chan already deep in conversation with the director. He spotted me and gave a quick, reassuring nod, his dimples flashing. He was wearing a black leather jacket with ripped jeans and combat boots. His hair was styled back, and he wore blue colored contacts. He looked good. Like I can't stop looking at him, type of good.

Before I knew he was standing in front of me. "Mornin, ready to start shooting?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. Did he know I was checking him out?

"As I'll ever be," I replied, stretching out my arms. I was nervous but excited, and knowing that Chan would be there settled my nerves a bit. “I'm just waiting for my turn to get ready.”

“You'll be amazing.” He murmured softly. My cheeks heated at the praise, and luckily, or not, so luckily, I heard my name being called.

“Hey, stop wasting time.” Minji called out to me, “The makeup team has been waiting on you forever.” Minji set an eye roll my way and I could hear her say something about me being “unprofessional”.

“I got to…” I pointed towards the dressing rooms.

“Oh! Yeah, no, sorry, I was holding your time. And try not to stress.” He sent a thumbs up my way and a dimpled smile. I gave him my own before entering the dressing room.

Our first few takes were a mix of intense concentration and unexpected hilarity. The choreography was designed to be powerful and sensual, but achieving that while navigating a moving camera, smoke machines, and a crew shouting directions in Korean and English led to some amusing mishaps.

At one point, during a particularly dramatic turn, my flowing costume caught on Chan's microphone pack, nearly sending us both tumbling. We managed to recover, but the take was ruined. Chan burst out laughing, a deep, booming sound that echoed through the studio. "Yah, you're trying to get rid of me already, huh?" he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Hey, it's the costume's fault!" I retorted, trying to stifle my own giggles. "It has a mind of its own!"

The director, a serious man with a perpetually furrowed brow, simply sighed and called for another take. Chan just winked at me. "Don't worry, we'll get it. You're doing great, sweetheart." His casual nickname sent a surprising warmth through me.

Between takes, we'd huddle with the choreographer, refining movements, and discussing camera angles. Chan was incredibly detail-oriented, offering suggestions to the director that always seemed to elevate the performance. He’d occasionally lean in, his voice low, to offer me a quiet word of encouragement. "That last lift was really clean. Keep that energy," he'd murmur, and his praise always spurred me on. The first day had ended in success, and we were all tired from having to drive to two different sets and then perform the same choreo with the same intensity.

The second day came and it was time to start filming some of the duets. Some of the other backup dancers were also present, filming their own duet sections. Emily, the dancer paired with Felix, was a whirlwind of energy, her sharp movements perfectly complementing his powerful style. Sora, dancing with Hyunjin, moved with an ethereal grace that was captivating.

During a water break, I noticed some of the other female dancers eyeing us. Specifically, Minji, who was paired with Lee Know, and Hana, who danced with Changbin, seemed to have a particular intensity in their gaze whenever Chan and I interacted. It wasn't overtly hostile, but there was an undeniable tension, a competitive edge that hummed beneath the surface. I tried to ignore it, focusing on my work.

As the day wore on, our chemistry on screen became undeniable. The more comfortable Chan and I got with each other, the more the dance flowed. There was a moment during the final shot of our duet where our hands brushed, then intertwined, a subtle addition we hadn't rehearsed but felt instinctively right. The camera captured it perfectly, a quiet, powerful connection.

After Chan and I successfully filmed our duet, I found a vacant seat that had a good view of the duo that was currently filming their own duet. Minji was objectively a very pretty girl and an even more talented dancer. She hit every move with precision and wasn't shy in front of a camera. The voice inside my head couldn't help but think that maybe Minji would have been a better fit for Chan than me. But before I could spiral down a rabbit whole of negativity, someone took a seat on the chair next to mine.

I immediately broke into an involuntary smile at seeing Felix's freckled face. “Hey Felix!”

Felix mirrored my enthusiasm when greeting me. “I just came back from watching some of the duet footage, and you and Channie Hyung killed it!”

I laughed sheepishly, trying to brush off his compliment.

“No seriously! You two look so good together, and when he did the thing where he lifts you up, I thought you two were going to kiss for a second!”

“Felix!” I exclaimed with embarrassment. Felix laughed at my reaction, and I soon joined him.

●☆●

Later that evening, after the music video shoot, I was still buzzing. My phone vibrated with a message from Chan.

Chan: You were amazing today, seriously. You killed it. That last take was fire.

Me: Thanks, Chan! You too! Didn't think we'd survive that costume incident, haha.

Chan: Lol, almost took us out! But we're professionals, right? Always bounce back. 😉 Get some rest, sweets. You earned it.

Me: You too! 💤

Chan: 💤💤

I smiled, a warmth spreading through me at the casual nickname. It was a strange, exhilarating world I found myself in, and I couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

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Note: I had a lot of fun writing this, so please tell me what you guys think!

Part 3 is here

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 1

Part 2 is here

Warnings: None just fluff 🥰

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The sterile, brightly lit practice room at JYP Entertainment buzzed with nervous energy. Dancers stretched, perfected their pirouettes, and ran through snippets of choreography, each hoping to catch the eye of the panel. This wasn’t just any audition; it was for the new Stray Kids album, rumored to feature a more mature concept than any of their past albums. And the biggest whisper of all? The title track included a duet dance break for each member with a female backup dancer.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a rhythm mirroring the bass-heavy track currently blasting through the speakers. While I’d done plenty of professional work, nothing felt as high-stakes as this. My hands were sweaty from all the nerves and I was constantly wiping them on my shirt and pants. Stray Kids' reputation for intense, powerful performances meant their dancers had to be next-level. I knew my level of skill as a dancer was more than exceptional but none of that would matter if they didn't think I would have good chemistry with any of the boys.

After what felt like an eternity, my name was called. I walked onto the polished floor, the silence of the room amplifying the squeak of my sneakers. Sitting at the long table were several choreographers, a few JYP executives, and then, nestled in the middle, were Bang Chan, Lee Know, and Hyunjin. Seeing them there, especially Chan, made my breath hitch. Their eyes, though focused and professional, held an intensity that was both intimidating and exciting.

One of the choreographers called my name, signaling that it was my turn to show what I had to offer. “We’ve seen your reel. Impressive versatility. Today, we’d like to see you freestyle to the track, then perform the first 30 seconds of the provided choreography.”

I nodded, taking my position. The music for the new title track, Obsidian pulsed through the speakers – a dark, intricate beat with a sensual undertone. I let the music consume me, my body responding instinctively, translating the complex emotions of the song into fluid, powerful movements. I poured everything into it – the sharp isolations, the dramatic extensions, the subtle nuances that conveyed both strength and vulnerability. When the track ended, I was breathless, but a surge of exhilaration coursed through me.

Next was the choreography. It was intricate, demanding, and required a level of connection and chemistry that usually took weeks to build. As I moved, I could feel their eyes on me. I focused on hitting every beat, every transition, every precise angle. As I finished, a small, almost imperceptible nod came from Bang Chan. It was enough to send a jolt of hope through me.

I was dismissed after my audition and was told they would reach out to me in a couple of days to share the results. I exited the JYP building and took a breath of fresh spring air. Waiting was always the hardest part of any audition. Over the next few days I tried to distract myself from constantly checking my phone if I got any missed calls from the company or any unread emails. I was also trying to distract myself from thinking about a particular somebody. The nod was just him being nice and professional. I had to keep telling myself that whenever I catched myself thinking about that particular moment.

A few days later, the call came. I had practically dived into my bed when I heard my phone ring and had also screamed at the top of my lungs when I received the news. I’d been chosen! Not just chosen, but specifically requested by Bang Chan to be his partner for the duet! My hands trembled as I read the email that they had sent containing extra detail, a mixture of elation and disbelief washing over me. There were 6 other female backup dancers selected for the other members: Emily, Sora, Minji, Hana, Tinna and Mia.

The main studio was massive, with mirrored walls reflecting the organized chaos. All the Straykids members were present including all the other dancers that were chosen. Even though this wasn’t my first time dancing with K-pop idols, the first day nerves were hitting hard. I set my black duffel bag down on one of the couches that lined the walls and went over to the group of girls that were all stretching in the corner of the studio room already chatting comfortably with each other.

“Hello,” I introduced myself a bit awkwardly. The girls stopped their chatter to see who the new commer was.

A girl with dyed platinum hair was the first to introduce herself. “Hey! I'm Sora, come sit!” she scootched over from her place on the floor so that I could sit in the small circle that had formed. She had a bit of an accent and I wondered if she was also Australian like the two members in Straykids. All the girls introduced themselves in turn while we stretched.

"Alright everyone!" Chan's voice, in heavily accented but perfectly clear English, cut through the chatter. He clapped his hands together, his bright smile instantly putting everyone at ease. "We're going to start with the full group choreography, then we'll break off for the duets."

The head choreographer started to position everyone in their places. We started with the intro of the title track. By the time everyone had learned the steps of the intro, sweat was already dripping down my forehead. But it was nice to see how the Straykids members interacted with each other. Leeknow was the quickest one to learn the choreography as expected but it was cool to see his talent in person. The vibes were fun and there wasn't ever a moment of silence.

I had wanted to find a moment to thank Chan for picking me as his partner for the duet, but my introverted nature stopped me from seeking him out.

When it was time for the duet practices, Chan walked over to me, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. "Hey" he said, his voice a low rumble. "Thanks for doing this. I really liked your audition." His English had a charming Australian accent to it.

"Thank you, Chan," I replied, feeling a blush creep up my neck. "I'm really excited to work with you."

Our initial practices were a mix of intense focus and tentative exploration. The choreography for Obsidian was incredibly intimate, requiring close proximity and synchronized breathing. We started with the basic steps, feeling out each other's rhythm. Chan was a powerhouse, his movements sharp and precise, yet surprisingly fluid. I tried to keep myself from lingering on the thought of his touches trying to keep a professional mindset. He was also incredibly patient, always willing to go over a section again if I needed it.

One evening, after a particularly grueling six-hour session, the studio was quiet save for the distant hum of the ventilation system. The other dancers had already left, but Chan and I were still trying to nail a particularly complex lift. Sweat plastered strands of hair to my forehead, and my muscles ached.

"Again?" I asked, panting slightly.

Chan grinned, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. "Just one more time. We're so close." He held out his hand to help me up from the floor. His touch was warm, firm.

We went through the lift again, and this time, it was seamless. My body felt weightless as he guided me, our movements becoming one. When he gently set me down, we were standing closer than before, our chests rising and falling in unison. His gaze, usually so intense, softened as he looked at me.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice a little hoarse. "See? I told you we'd get it."

"We did," I breathed, a genuine smile spreading across my face.

"You must be starving," he said, running a hand through his damp hair. He stepped away and broke the bubble of intimacy that we shared. "There's a great little place around the corner that does amazing gukbap. My treat. You up for it?"

My stomach rumbled in agreement. "Definitely. Gukbap sounds incredible right now."

We walked out into the cool Seoul night, the city lights twinkling around us. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of street food. The restaurant was small and cozy, filled with the comforting aroma of rich broth. As we waited for our food, the conversation flowed easily. We talked about everything – our shared love for music, the challenges of being away from family, and even our most embarrassing dance moments.

"So, what made you want to be a dancer?" he asked, stirring his gukbap with his spoon.

I chuckled. "My mom and dad were professional dancers so I just kinda grew up into having this love and passion for dance. It felt like the most authentic way to express myself. What about you? Was it always music?"

He leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Always. Since I was a kid, I just knew. Music is my life, you know? It's everything." His eyes sparkled as he spoke, a passion burning brightly within them. "It's been a long road, but no regrets." He took a sip of his soup. "You're a really good partner. You pick up things so fast, and you're always so positive, even when we're pulling all-nighters."

"You're not so bad yourself, Chan," I teased, taking a bite of kimchi. "Though sometimes I think you forget to breathe, you're so focused."

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the small restaurant. "Guilty as charged, sweetheart. But hey, that's how we get things done, right?"

"Right," I agreed, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the hot soup.

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Note: This is my first time posting any of my work here on Tumblr, so excuse me if the formatting is a little weird 😅. This is the first chapter of a series that I thought of and since I completed it I thought why not share. Please let me know if you liked it or want a part 2!

[writingnabi]

the reason

this is the english version of the reason.

pairing: bang chan x reader word count: 8.2k genre: angst, fluff warnings: the reader is female, idol!chan; pet names, slight mention of anxiety, some cursing. a/n: hey, lovely people! it's been a while since i came here. i started writing this a few months ago, always failing to finish it because i kept coming back to the beginning to change a lot of things, but here it is! i'm a little bit late, but i decided to post this story in honour to chan's birthday. there are some comments i have to make: when i joined the fandom, i realized there was some consent that the one topic that was always supposed to be written was “stray kids calling you clingy”, and as a big mexican dramatic soap opera lover i absolutely love to read every single one of them hahaha so after the milan fashion show (and bang chan getting on my NERVES with that look, let's be fucking for real) i wanted to write my version of it. i took the liberty of altering some things about the event itself and, as always, the version of the idols i write here are not in any way a portrait of reality. i also decided to create a girl group for the story, because it felt a little bit wrong to use a real one - you'll get it when you get there 😉

i hope you enjoy it!

suggestion of soundtrack: the reason - ava feat. mcfly (cover from hoobastank)

summary: you're attending the milan fashion week with chan at fendi's invitation. the trend for next year spring-summer collection is romantic and, because of that, every celebrity guest, especially the ambassadors, were encouraged to bring their partners. at the after party, chan says something that might change the way you view yourself and your relationship.

this fanfic was NOT written with the help of artificial intelligence.

The flashbulbs flared like fireworks as you stepped out of the sleek black car beside Chan. You adjusted the long Fendi coat draped over your shoulders, covering a bold dress that turned just as many heads as the man by your side. Chan, in an all-black outfit complemented with a sheer shirt that perfectly showed his amazing silhouette, gave you a gentle hand squeeze as you walked the short carpet to the venue. Cameras clicked in rapid bursts, calling his name — and sometimes yours — capturing every shared glance and subtle smiles. It was your first time attending Milan Fashion Week, and even with the sea of designers, editors and celebrities buzzing around you, your world felt anchored to the man who had taken you there.

Inside the venue, the Fendi showcase was pure elegance. Chan stayed close the whole time, occasionally cracking a joke in your ear to keep the mood light. You appreciated how present he was, how effortlessly he made space for you in a world you thought you clearly didn't belong.

The show started with a hush as the lights dimmed and a song you didn't recognize played, revealing the runway bathed in soft, golden light. Models began to glide out, each look a masterpiece in its own, effortlessly balancing artistry with wearability. The Spring-Summer 2026 Fendi collection was an ode to both tradition and experimentation, classic yet daring. The first few looks that strutted by were an exploration of fluidity and structure, where Fendi seemed to reinvent classic tailoring with a contemporary edge. Longline blazers were paired with beautiful bottom pieces that were hypnotizing with every step. The color palettes were an sophisticated array of tones themselves — frosted blues, mint greens, soft whites, always accompanied with bright pinks and reds, that were the flagship of the romantic trend Fendi was setting for the following year.

As the models walked past, you noticed it wasn’t just the designs that caught your eye, but the way they made you feel, as if you too could slip into one of them and suddenly be transformed into someone untouchably beautiful. They all seemed to beg for attention, the kind you had always avoided, but now wanted desperately to welcome. You couldn't help but paralyze as the model floated by in one celestial red and lilac dress, carrying a yellow and pink purse decorated with beads that drawed little flowers on it. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt an almost irrational pull toward it, as if it was calling to you. It was the most stunning dress you ever layed your eyes on. The way it shimmered in the light, the way it moved, it felt like it belonged in your closet, even though you didn't have the money to start dreaming about buying a single centimeter of that fabric.

Chan, noticing the way your gaze lingered, leaned towards you. “Do you like it?” he whispered, his voice smooth but low.

You nodded, your lips parting slightly but you made no sound. “It's perfect. This is something royalty members would wear.”

Chan chuckled softly, squeezing your hand again, his eyes filled with love. “I was gonna say you'd look like royalty wearing that dress, but you look like that wearing anything.”

You turned to him, his comment made you totally lose the focus you had on the model, as she walked by the other corridors. “I love you, you know that, right?”

He didn't answer, but simply kissed your hand, and you both continued to watch the show. As it carried on, it didn't take long until the final model stepped onto the runway in a dazzling, metallic gold and pink gown, covered in intricate, 3D floral embroidery. Just after she left the first corridor and made her way to the final part of the runway, all the models returned, followed by Silvia Fendi, the company's creative director. Everyone stood up and gave them a round of applause for a couple minutes, signaling the end of the show. When the guests started to prepare to leave the venue, Chan caught the eye of a Fendi representative a few meters away. He kissed your cheek, giving you a reassuring smile. As he walked away to greet him, you caught your breath, your mind still wrapped around the image of that dress.

The way Chan made you feel, the way he treated you in this world of fashion you had once believed was untouchable, you realized that maybe you belonged there too. And just maybe he had given you permission to dream bigger, to step into a world that you had never imagined could be yours.

The after party was in full swing, the place bathed in warm golden light cast in a soft glow over everyone's designer silhouettes. Music pulsed low, the kind of sound that made champagne taste smoother and laughter sound more charming. Fendi had outdone itself with velvet lounges, cascading floral installations and a romantic atmosphere that felt plucked straight from a dreamy novel. The theme of romance lingered in the air like perfume. You followed Chan, not sure of what to do or where to go, sipping a delicate rosé spritz while your boyfriend charmed the room. He looked effortlessly sharp in his suit, his silver hair being a bit messy yet styled to perfection and that familiar smile lighting up his face as he spoke with each guest.

He was glowing in his element. He was meant for the spotlight.

You, on the other side, stayed off-cameras as much as you could. Your relationship was public, JYPE didn't have a problem with that, but he didn't share much of your life together. Stays had welcomed you with open arms, even if some corners of the fandom still whisperered his name with hers.

Harin.

You didn't mind that. Not when Chan reminded you so often and so lovingly that you were the one he came home to. But you tried not to give in to the comments online that insisted on changing your mindset. After all, they worked at the same company, their groups often promoted things together and they shared the blessings and the burdens of being leaders of two of the most popular groups of the generation.

Harin, unlike you, belonged to the spotlight too.

A journalist from a top fashion magazine, one of the biggest names covering the event, approached you with a warm greeting. She asked Chan for a quick interview, and he smile fondly, agreeing.

“So, Chan” she began, her voice light but purposeful. “we know this season at Fendi headquarters is all about romance, as we could see very clearly with tonight's show. Since the night is dripping in love, tell us: what's one of the most memorable romantic moments of your life?”

Your ears perked up slightly. Chan's smile widened thoughtfully, and he looked up, as if he was trying to search something to say.

“That's a tough one… Let me see, uhm… Oh, that's an old one. During a winter festival, apart from other groups, both Stray Kids and Polka Dotz were there for some ice skating competition, me and my partner at the time were the worst skaters and we ended up falling up multiple times, even when we tried to help each other get back up again. Our friends were so funnily frustrated we kept making them lose they kicked us out of the competition, but everything made us laugh so hard it turned out to be the best unintentional dates we've ever had.”

You took another sip of your drink, the bitter sweetness catching at the back of your throat.

You knew the story, the whole world knew it. It had been recorded, published and even memed. The fans loved it. You did. You knew it wasn't jealousy. You weren't in denial that he had a past love life.

But hearing him recount it now, in this setting, as his first thought when asked about romance… It felt off. Like it didn't belong in tonight's conversation.

“It's fine. It's just an old story. He probably felt it was easier to bring something familiar. It doesn't mean anything.”

And yet, a small crack of doubt opened inside you. While you cheered for him, a small part of you felt a tinge of sadness that the beautiful moment he recounted wasn't one you had together. You couldn't shake the nagging thought that maybe he didn't had anything he liked with you at all.

You kept smiling, glad you weren't on camera and hoping no one would notice your fleeting disappointment.

The interviewer decide to encourage him to share another sweet moment, now one with you, since you didn't talk much about your relationship and they wanted something exclusive. Chan's eyes lit up with excitement, a grin spreading across his face.

“Alright, let me think…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “There was this one time during our first couple months of dating. We weren't public yet, so things were kind of hush-hush, you know?”

He looked at you at his side, like he was asking for permission to talk, and you nodded. A warm spark lit up, he was going to talk about you.

“We had this long day of schedule… dance practice, back-to-back everything, and I was exhausted. I just wanted to crash” he glanced off as if pulling the memory from a hazy shelf in his mind. “Y/n came over to the dorms. She had this whole care package, snacks, some vitamin drinks she knew I had to take at the time, a mini diffuser, even warm socks. She kept fussing over me, adjusting the pillows, asking if I needed anything done. She even sang me to sleep, it was beautiful.”

The interviewer laughed, clearly finding the story endearing. “You sound really sweet, Y/n!” she turned to you, even if you were not being filmed, just to state how lovely she thought you were. You thanked her with genuine happiness, but that comfort was suddenly jolted when Chan said something that hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, she is” Chan agreed quickly. “Honestly, it was the most adorable gesture I had in years. But at the time, I remember thinking ‘Wow, this is kinda clingy.’ Like, I didn't even had the energy to talk, and she was pouring all this love on me. But looking back, it was her way of caring and I desperately needed that. I was just too tired to appreciate it properly.”

You froze.

That familiar weight settled in your chest like cement. The smile you'd been wearing carefully faltered for good.

You brought your glass to your lips again, pretending to sip though there was no beverage left inside.

Clingy.

You remember that night vividly. You were worried about him because you knew he didn't even had time to eat properly that day. It was indeed your way of care for him when you thought he needed the most. Jeongin called you to tell he would stay at Felix and Seungmin's dorm after practice, but he was kind of worried about his hyung, due to his overworking habits and the fact that he didn't stop for a minute, bearing much responsability. He asked you if you were free to spend the night with your boyfriend, taking care of him, because he denied it when the members tried to. You had walked across the city with that little bag of comforts, worried sick that he was burning himself out. You hadn't done it to smother him, you did it because wanted him to feel seen, and in peace, and loved.

So hearing him recount it now as a clingy moment — in front of cameras, in front of strangers — despite his loving tone, felt like someone tugging the thread that kept your self-assurance together.

That was what he remembered. That was what stood out about you.

You didn't have the strength to mask what you were feeling anymore. That didn't change until you arrived at the hotel room.

The click of the door closing behind you echoed louder than it should have. Neither of you said anything at first, it was just the quiet rustle of your coat sliding off and the soft chime of your heels being kicked aside. You walked straight toward the bathroom, clutching the edges of your dress like you needed something to hold on to.

“Are you feeling well, baby? I noticed you didn't talk much at the party.” Chan finally spoke, his voice soft but laced with concern.

“Not really. I'm gonna shower and sleep.” you moved but he reached out quickly, stepping in front of you before you could close the door. You avoided his gaze, but his hands gently found your face, tilting your chin up so you had no choice. “Talk to me, please. You're shutting me out.”

You hesitated. You could lie — brush it off with ‘I'm fine, it's nothing’, but the weight in your heart was too heavy. And your relationship had always been built on honesty and the willingness to face hard truths together. At least you thought it was. So you swallowed the ache, gathered what courage you had left and let it all out.

Chan stood there in silence, your words resonating in a slow pain in his chest. He watched you close, while you turned around and stood in front of the sink, getting ready to take off your make up. He felt like the floor had shifted beneath him, realizing how carelessly his words were. Not because he had meant them, but because he hadn't thought far enough ahead to imagine how it would feel for you to listen.

“Love, I'm so sorry.” he said, his voice cracking. “I shared that story about Harin because I defaulted to things people already knew, because we've always been discreet and I wasn't sure if it'd be okay with you. But now that you told me how you felt, I see that my words landed absolutely wrong. I was playing safe, but safe doesn't mean considerate. I'm so, so deeply sorry.”

“It's not just that, Chan. I appreciate your honesty, and I understand if you don't wanna share details about us. But you have to get where I'm coming from since the first romantic moment you remember was one with the famous idol who a lot of people still ships you with.” you exhaled. “I know sometimes affection can feel like a lot. I did those things because I knew you were exhausted and I just wanted to make you feel taken care of. I thought I was being helpful and it also landed wrong, and for that I'm really sorry too. But instead of talking to me, not only you hid it for years, but decided to share it in front of a camera. It felt like you were mocking at the one thing I thought I'd done right.”

Chan's eyes dropped to his shoes, and you could see the regret settle into the corners of his face.

“I kept to myself at the time because I thought I was being overdramatic. That if I brought it up, it would make you feel unappreciated. But I guess I ended up doing that anyway. I can't express how sorry I am for that, Y/n.”

You wanted to believe him — and part of you did — but the disappointment was still lingering, unresolved.

“I get that we're not a fan service couple. That our relationship is quieter, more private. But it still exists, Chan. And I don't think it's too much to ask you to value that. You made me feel like nothing we've lived mattered to you truly. Like we're just… Convenient.” Chan stepped forward again, but slower this time. He cupped your face, now clean, and looked straight into your eyes.

“You're not convenient to me, that you can be sure of” he said gently. “You're the one person who never made me feel like I had to be anything but myself. I know I messed up this morning and made you feel small when you deserved to feel seen and validated. But you are the love I'm most proud and happy about.”

As you stared at him, your heart was conflicted. “I believe you. But unfortunately you made me not believe in myself anymore.”

You broke free from his hands and he looked confused at your words.

“Because from now on… Every time I try to do something sweet, no matter how small of a gesture it is, I'm gonna wonder if I'm being too clingy. If I'm annoying you. I don't know how I will be able to give you affection without wondering whether it's welcome. And I hate that. I hate that this one thing I never used to think about now it's gonna constantly make me walk a tightrope.”

His smile vanished. He felt a kick in his stomach. You finished to take off your clothes to go shower.

“I don't know what that means for us, Chan. I don't know if I can love you without thinking I'm too much.”

The silence that followed it was so heavy that a thousand trucks couldn't compete. Heavy with hurt, with fear, with love that suddenly didn’t know where to go.

Chan opened his mouth to speak, but for once, no words came out. And that, somehow, hurt even more.

After you finished showering, Chan followed. You could hear the soft hum of traffic outside the window, the occasional distant horns. You tried to clung to every minimum sound, hoping to stay away from your thoughts screaming.

You weren't avoiding him. You just had nothing else to say.

He had to film something at Fendi store before it got dark, so he changed to a casual outfit and left the room, saying he would be back as soon as possible. He didn't tell you he loved you, but you both knew it wasn't because he didn't. He never loved anything or anyone more than he did to you. But he didn't want you to think he was pressuring you to say it back. Because you both also knew that you were not sure if you could right now.

You walked to the wardrobe where your suitcase layed half-open. The motions felt automatic; put away the jewelry, fold the clothes you wore at the event. Organize your belongings so you were prepared to leave when time came. After the room was neat, you grabbed the book you took to the trip to get yourself out of your head for a little while, sitting on the sofa to start reading.

Hours passed in a haze. The Milanese sun had already set leaving the room was dark, lit only by a medium modern lamp over the corner table beside the sofa. You could still smell the lingering perfume of the party on your clean clothes — florals and something metallic, like the aftertaste of a day that didn't go the way it was supposed to.

You checked your phone. It was only the beginning of night time. Your flight out of Italy wasn't until later that dawn. The idea of spending the next several hours trapped in that hotel room, breathing the same air, feeling everything you didn't want to feel was unbearable.

Just when you were about to leave to explore the hotel, Chan came back. You almost bumped into each other at the door. You said you were going to get some fresh air, but would be ready to leave when it was time. He didn’t say a word, just gave you a nod.

You wanted to make an invitation. Doing simple things out of his professional schedule would be good for him. But after every caring thought, you remembered the way he smiled when talking about someone else. You remembered the word.

Clingy.

And suddenly, everything inside you felt too fragile to risk reaching out again.

You looked at him, he looked so beautiful. There was not a single piece that didn't fit perfectly. But he looked so sorrow. So lost.

Your throat felt tight, but you didn't cry. You were sad, but the sadness had calcified into something quieter. Slow-burning. Even numb.

The moon was big and bright and fully visible through the room's huge window. It was a beautiful night. You left the room feeling the most overwhelming storm haunting your body.

The car ride to the airport was as still as the hotel room.

You sat pressed against the door, eyes fixed onthe passing lights of Milan. The city, so alive and romantic earlier that day, now felt muted, its beauty dimmed by the tension within. Chan sat beside you, just far enough so your knees didn't touch. His hands were in his lap, phone untouched in his pocket, eyes occasionally flicking toward you and then away again when he realized you weren't going to look back.

Neither of you spoke the entire drive.

When you arrived at the airport, once in the VIP lounge, you settled into a armchair beside him, but stayed quiet in your corner, scrolling through your phone while your boyfriend spoke to staff about your luggage. His manager gave you a kind smile from across the room, but didn't approach. Everyone could sense something was off, or maybe they just assumed you were beyond tired.

You didn't care, you just wanted space. Not out of anger, but from disappointment. From that fear that no matter how much you gave of yourself, you'd always somehow be too much and not enough at the same time.

You both had first-class seats, side by side, with the divider pulled halfway down. You didn't speak much before takeoff. A few practical and necessary words only.

“Want a blanket?”

“No, thanks.”

“Do you want to eat later?”

“I’m not hungry.”

And then nothing.

You put something on the tv that was easily shut down when you realized you were not going to pay attention. You went for music instead. Chan watched you a few times, especially when he thought you were sleeping. But you weren't. You couldn't. You just kept your eyes closed, headphones in, holding tightly to the soft scarf you had wrapped around yourself like an armor.

He didn't touch you the whole flight, like he used to do every time you caught a plane together, not even a brush of his hand. Part of you missed it, the other part felt relieved. Right now, you didn't want comfort, you wanted to get clarity.

When you arrived in Seoul, the flight attendants gently woke you both. You sat up slowly, stretching, your body sore from staying curled in the same position for most of the flight. Chan gave you a small glance as you gathered your things. Still, you said nothing.

The airport process was fast and familiar: customs, baggage, cameras flashed. A few reporters and fans were waiting, so you both put on polite faces, the ones that didn't show cracks. He reached out once, a light hand to your waist as security guided you toward the car waiting. Even though the airport was calmer than when you left, he was making sure to protect you. You didn't flinch, but you didn't lean into it either.

As you stepped into the car, Chan paused by the open door and looked at you.

“You wanna come with me? Or… should I come with you?”

You hesitated for a second.

“I'll go home. I need… time to breathe.”

Chan nodded, though the look in his eyes said more than he let on. He didn't fight it or argue. He just stepped back and motioned for the driver to take you first. Once it got to your building, you grabbed your hand bag and glanced back at him. His hand was on his thigh, but his fingers touched his ears restlessly — a nervous habit you knew well.

“I'll call you.” you said.

“Okay. I'll wait.”

You left, closed the door gently and didn't look back.

The elevator ride up to your apartment felt endless. When you finally unlocked your door, you dropped your bag by the door, pulled your coat off and stood there for a moment, letting silence flood the room. No lights on, no voices, no pressure to act okay.

You sank into the couch and let your thoughts drift freely for the first time in hours, not knowing how dangerous this action was. Your mind was a minefield, and everything hit you at once: the stillness, the relief of being alone and the terror of it. What you lived just this past afternoon. Everything that happened that made your soul shrink.

The flood coming through your eyes was unstoppable.

The first full day back in Seoul passed without meaning.

You didn't unpack. Your friends were dying to know how it was to see Italy for the first time, since they had never traveled there, but you didn't text anyone back. You ignored your phone, your reflection, even the sunlight that stretched across your windows like an invitation to try again. You moved through your apartment like a ghost of yourself — half there, half in Milan, still hearting the echo of Chan's voice describing you as clingy and still feeling the burn of those quiet hours next to him on the plane.

You told Chan you'd call, but what were you going to say?

That you loved him? He already knew that.

That you were hurt? He knew that too.

After crying so much, the redness was printed in your eyes like they had gained a new color.

By the second day, your world started to come back into focus. You opened your laptop to get back to work. When you finished, you cleaned your entire apartment, lit a lemon grass candle and took a long relaxing bath.

By the third day, your mind was calmer, clearer and more organized.

You were sitting on your balcony, legs curled under you, wrapped in a hoodie Chan had left months ago and never asked for back. The sky was gray and there was a cold breeze blowing, but you loved to stay there and watch the city. And as you let your mind wander, you realized that you were just… tired. Tired of walking on eggshells around your own love. Of wondering whether kindness would be seen as neediness. Of hiding the parts of yourself you wanted to give just because, in your mind, they would be perceived as something bad.

Your fingers slipped through your phone, automatically. On the other side, Chan's voice sounded raspy and melancholic.

“Hey” he started, you could sense through his sadness he was smiling because you called. “Is everything okay?”

“It is. I… I wanted to talk to you. Are you busy?”

“Not actually, I'm almost wrapping up at the studio. Why? Did something happen?” he said, instantly alert.

“Can I stop by? I think it's best to have this talk in person.”

There was a long pause, Chan's heart stopped. Yours too.

“Of course” he tried to mantain reason and a not cracking voice. “I'll let the reception know you're coming.”

Besides some ‘thank yous’ and ‘see you in a minute’, there was nothing else said. You grabbed your keys and rushed to his work building, it was a ten minute drive from your place and since the streets were somewhat empty, you didn't take long to get there.

The spot at the parking lot you always took, the gentle receptionist who always smiled when you visited because she was very fond of your kindness, the corridors you knew well, the elevator that was never fast enough even though the studio was on the sixth floor, and this time was going up too fast… All passed in a blur, like you were not in your own body and were watching someone else take the lead.

A soft knock on the door ripped you off the silence. When Chan opened it, his eyes did have that melancholy the conversation on the phone accused, but he was as beautiful and charming as ever. He wore the usual black beanie, the black tank and black sweat pants, and the simplicity of a daily outfit with a bare face was crushingly tormenting for you. You always loved to see the behind the scenes of the glamurous life he led. You loved to see ‘just Chris’, as he would call himself sometimes.

He made motion for you to enter and closed the door, locking it so no one would disturb your conversation. You sat on the black leather couch, making sure to leave space for him by your side. He understood that, and calmly joined you.

“Have you been okay?” he began.

“Getting there. You?”

“Not even close.” he was sincere. “I didn't reach out first because you said you'd call, I didn't want you to feel pressured to talk to me. But I'm all ears.”

You gave a faint smile. “I didn't wanna do this over the phone.”

“Do… what?” his voice faultered.

He would never go against your decision, no matter what it was. But every cell in his body screamed in panic with the worst possibility he could think of.

“I don't wanna fight” you thought your voice would be a whisper, but it was more solid than ever, so you continued. “And I don't like to seem repetitive about something I already said before, so let me start by saying this is not about blame. I know you love me. I know you didn't mean to be rude or insensitive. But it really pains me that I can't move on from that occurrence and I don't want to live with that doubt.”

You saw his throat tighten, you were sure Chan wanted to say something, but he didn't interrupt.

“You don't have to apologize anymore. I forgive you, I'm not angry. But I just can't stop thinking about it and it's making me anxious. So I gathered all the courage to come here and solve this once and for all, and from all the thinking I did these past days, I know we have two options.”

“What's number one?”

He knew what the options were. Neither of you wanted to say it out loud.

“We talk it through. I have no idea if there is something to say to fix it, but we can work together. For the love we feel for each other.”

Chan looked down on his ring.

“And number two?”

A few seconds of silence ensued.

“We end things today. For the love we feel for each other.”

He looked at you again and you were staring, almost crying. But you held it inside, because you knew he would follow.

“I love you so much, Chan. But I can't change who I am when I love someone, I can’t be in a relationship where I have to shrink myself. That’s not healthy, not for me, not for you and not for anyone. I'm the crazy fierce person who would cut myself open to get my own lungs and give to a person I care about if they needed, but I also bring snacks, sing lullabies and kiss randomly, and if that bothers you I have to know so I can make a decision.”

His breath caught, but he didn’t try to justify himself.

“I don't want to break up. But our relationship has to feel safe for me to love you the way I do.”

He leaned forward slightly and held your hand.

“I don't wanna lose you, and I hate that I'm on the verge of doing it because I made you feel like a burden. You've never been too much for me, darling. I was too caught up in trying to seem composed and really didn't think it was a big deal to say something at the time, but that was fully on me. If you're willing to give me another chance, I wanna love you the way you need. The way you're meant to be loved, not only the way I know how to give.”

He was still helding your hand in his, both placed in your lap.

“I don't know if it can be normal” you admitted. “But maybe in time… it can be better.”

Chan smiled adorably. “That's okay. I'll wait as long as I have to, and I'll work for it.” you kissed the back of his hand.

“Can I hug you? I… miss it.”

“Of course you can, baby.” he opened his arms, embracing you tightly as your backs reached the couch. “I missed you so much… I don't ever wanna be away from you again.”

In the quiet that followed, nothing felt like a wall between you anymore.

You asked him to sleep at yours more often. He was so happy about that invitation he made sure to finish everything he had to do on time to go home. During the day, he didn’t text much because he was still busy, but he sent small things to let you know he was thinking of you. Some lyrics scribbled through the pages of a little Barbie notebook you gave him to write ideas. A picture of his lunch, to show you he didn't forget to eat otherwise you would walk to JYPE and lock him outside the studio. A voice note: he sang the chorus of your favorite song to say good morning in a very cheesy way because he didn't catch you awake before he left.

You went back to do mundane things together. Grocery shopping. He went to pick you up at work when you had to go on site. You finally had the closure to that gossip about a neighbor downstairs and shared it all with him. You’d started to offer yourself little by little.

But one random morning, everything shifted again.

You hadn't meant to scroll. You had always known better. But a notification popped up and you clicked out of habit, expecting something harmless, and that's when you saw it. Clips from the interview resurfaced, paired with fan edits of old Chan-Harin moments. Even some blogs wrote long think-pieces about “idol couple nostalgia.”

“Crisis in paradise? Rumors swirl around Bang Chan’s relationship after Fendi Fashion Show interview” “Old flames, new questions: could Harin and Chan be on the horizon again?” “Bang Chan's public praise for ex-girlfriend Harin raises eyebrows: is Y/n being sidelined?” “Chan's nostalgic words to Harin draws attention at Milan Fashion Week and sparks online debate about his current relationship”

The posts had blown up overnight — not just the Chan-Harin shippers, but even some of your own.

“It’s weird that he chose to talk about that moment when his girlfriend was literally there with him” “I don’t think he meant to be untrustworthy, but… yikes” “Do you think something happened between them after that?” “Chan and Y/n are cute and all, but it’s obvious now he never really got over Harin” “Did anyone see the pictures of Y/n at the after party? She was not okay, I'm so sad for her”

You locked your phone and set it face down on the table, but the words had already gotten through you. You sat there for a while, the air thick around you. The weight that had finally started to lift after days of healing now pressed against your chest once more. You thought about how far you'd come in just a few days. And yet, one post with a thousand comments and your heart had already begun to weigh again, retreating behind the walls it had just started lowering.

You hadn't brought it up to him. You didn't know how.

Part of you felt ridiculous, like you were sabotaging your own recovery. But another part, the one that remembered the exact tone in his voice during that interview, whispered that maybe people online weren't entirely wrong. Maybe it had meant more that you had allowed yourself to believe.

That evening, you sat across from Chan again, curled up in your spot on his studio couch. He was working on something, headphones half on. You tried to act normal, brushing everything that came to your mind as if it was only a result of jealousy, but your answers didn’t land quite the same. And when he kissed your cheek before going to the bathroom, you didn’t lean into it.

You looked down at your phone again, and for the first time since you both held on to a second chance like it was oxygen, the doubt returned. Just a whisper, but loud enough to be heard.

The moment you decided to speak wasn’t planned. You didn’t have a script, you didn’t even feel steady. But something about the way Chan kept looking at you, like he knew something was wrong but was waiting for you to feel safe enough to share, made the words begin to form before you could stop them. The lights were low, the hum of his track looping faintly through the speakers, more background than focus.

Your voice was soft when it finally broke the silence. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Chan’s pen paused mid-note. His eyes met yours immediately, not startled, just present. “Of course you can, baby.”

You hesitated. “I don’t want you to feel attacked, okay? This isn’t me starting a fight.”

“I know” he said gently. “Talk to me.”

“I saw the comments… about the interview.”

His eyes darkened with awareness. “I was afraid you might’ve, but I figured you did.”

“I wasn’t looking for them, I swear, it showed up. And I guess I’ve just been trying to push it aside ever since, but I can’t.”

Chan leaned back in his chair, giving you the green light to continue.

“When you talked about that memory… you lit up. Like it was something precious to you. And I get it, really. We all have people in our past that left some kind of mark. I’m not asking you to erase anything. But that memory wasn’t just between you two, and so were the reactions. Is that why you don't share much about me?”

Chan looked like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Yeah. But not for the reason you may be thinking” he added quickly.

“Please… I need to know that I’m not living in someone’s shadow. That when you’re with me, you’re not quietly comparing it to something that used to be.”

There was a long pause. Chan looked down at his hands, silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts like he always did when something mattered too much to answer carelessly.

“I loved Harin very much. And I guess I can’t lie about that.” he began. “What we had was real and important to me. I felt connected.”

You knew it. He literally wrote a song talking about her with this name.

“We were both idols, both under pressure, and we found comfort in each other during some really hard schedules. We didn’t even define what we were for a long time, but it was the kind of love you have when you’re still figuring yourself out and it just feels right.”

You stayed quiet, absorbed by his honesty.

“We were careful. She was afraid for our careers, but we were too invested to back out. When the dating ban ended, we had a long meeting with the company and they understood it wouldn't do harm to be public, since the fans loved the interactions and all. But we grew apart.”

“What happened?”

“Our world visions started to be different and we realized we wanted different futures. Both our groups were beyond popular, our schedule only got bigger and we had a huge pressure to decide about what to do on our free time. And on top of everything, we got jealous of each other. We were so immature to know better, and to have the world watching every move we made showed the worst of it for us.”

You had no idea of any of that. You only knew what they displayed on cameras, not imagining what was going through when the lights when out.

“Do you… miss her?”

“No.” Chan met your eyes immediately. “I remember how I felt and how serious we were about each other before shit hit the fan. I respect her and I'm not bothered to be around her, but I don't miss her. Not in the way you're afraid I do. I don't wish for it back or wonder what we would have been.”

“But the festival…”

“I talked about that because that moment was already public. The thing is, after my relationship with Harin ended, I spent a lot of time recalling everything that happened, trying to identify what did I do wrong, and I came to the conclusion that I was too open about my private life. That I let too many people not only look through the peephole, but to kick the door and come in, treating us like puppets for their amusement, and that's why I don't share much of us now. I know that I'm mature enough and I'm capable to be in a responsible and healthy relationship, and I've never loved anyone or anything like I love you. I'm scared I'll loose us because I don't think I could handle that.”

Hearing Chan open his heart like that shifted something inside of you; not like a switch flipper, but like the slow untangling of a knot.

He dragged his chair closer to you and stopped right in front of you, holding your face with one hand. “You're not a placeholder, Y/n. I swear on my career you're the love of my life. Sometimes there is nothing I want more than to scream how much I love you and show how happy I am of being yours. But the comments and the meddeling are always gonna be there, so I would do anything to protect it.”

Tears were streaming freely from the corner of your eyes.

“What if I said that I'm okay with it? That you can be as open as you want?” he seemed worried. “I knew where I was stepping when I started dating an idol, I knew about the possible implications of that. And if our relationship has to allow me to love the way I do, it has to be comfortable for you to show your love as well.”

“Do you mean it? Would you be fine with I'm posting pictures of you and declaring my love for you in every opportunity? Because I want that. I wanna make sure everyone knows that I'm the luckiest guy on the planet. God, you have no idea how much.” “Yeah.” you smiled. “We'll face the world together if we have to.”

Chan laughed, there were tears in his eyes too. He kissed you and, for the first time in weeks, you felt like floating.

The following weeks flew by. Chan was extremely busy with some final touches before the release of their next album, but he promised you once he was done, he would be by your side 24/7. You were more than okay with that; your job was getting a little bit consuming too, this time of the year was a handful because the company you worked at usually closed in early December, and everyone wanted to guarantee they finished everything before leaving for the Christmas holiday.

Sometimes you worked from home, sometimes you had to go to the office. You were lucky you lived not far away and your working hours were amazing, you could always see a bright sun when you went home. That was one of those days and, as soon as you got there, you noticed there was a packeg waiting.

It was from Italy. A huge yellow box with the Fendi emblem embossed in black across the top.

You stopped blinking and was petrified, stunned. You brought it in carefully, not even sure if it was for you, but when you checked closely you saw a note with your full name on it. You expected to see Chan's handwriting, thinking it was a gift from him, but it wasn't.

“Dear Y/n, I hope this letter finds you in a moment of peace. It is with great pleasure that I write to you on behalf of Fendi. We were recently informed of your admiration for a particular piece during your time at Milan Fashion Week. We are flattered of how much you were captivated by it and, with that in mind, we wanted to make sure you had it to cherish. Although we had something else in mind when this piece was finished, we had the vision Chan had when he told us you loved it. Your elegance, your softness, your strength… you were a perfect match. In addition, Chan will soon be working with Fendi on a special shoot, and he mentioned how important it was to him showing the world how much he loves you. So, I trust you'll understand why we would like to extend this invitation to you, where it would be the perfect opportunity to see you shine in our dress and be, along with your boyfriend, the face of our campaign. We look forward to seeing both of you continue to inspire and enchant the world.

Best wishes, Silvia Venturini Fendi Creative Director Fendi”

You opened the box; inside of it, the dress you fell in love with. The one you'd told Chan that looked like something for royalty only, so you never even considered requesting it. Your breath hitched in your throat. It was more stunning than you remembered, like a love letter stitched in fabric. And that specific love letter was addressed to you.

You stared at the letter, then the dress, then back again what felt like a hundred times. You simply couldn't believe it.

Putting the letter aside, you picked up your phone and texted Chan a photo of the dress.

Fendi made their official post on Instagram. It was a teaser from your exclusive couple’s shoot with Chan, just one black and white photo of the two of you facing away from the camera, your silhouettes framed against the Paris skyline. It wasn't very distinguishable, but anyone who knew you both well would be able to tell who it was.

@fendi You might be wondering why we decided to fly out of Italy, where our house was born. But sometimes, stories deserve a different setting. For the love campaign, we followed love to its city. Official Fendi Romance Spring-Summer 2026 Collection #FendiParis #FendiRomance

Speculation ignited instantly, hashtags trended within the hour. Stays were euphoric, they left comments and spread theories about how the people on the picture were you. But no one was prepared what was coming next. Not much long after, the world was surprised once more with a post on Chan’s personal Instagram.

In the first picture, he embraced you by the waist and you were both looking at each other. He was wearing a pastel pink suit and dress pants layered with a white shirt, and you had your dreamy red and lilac dress.

In the second, you were up a short wall and he was on the ground, holding your hand, while your dress fluttered.

But it was the third picture that made the world stop.

Chan was down on one knee, holding open a small velvet black box. Your hands were covering your mouth, stunned.

A fourth photo showed you two laughing teary-eyed between a kiss, your hand visible on his hair and the diamond ring visible on your finger.

@gnabnahc For many years, I thought love was something that came and went easily, a feeling that I've shown in songs, in conversations and the way I lived life. But then she arrived, and I realized everything I knew was wrong. Well, not everything. Love indeed comes easily, but it never goes away. It stays. Fendi brought us to Paris to create something timeless, so I asked her something timeless too. And she said yes. I hope the world now sees what she showed me when we met: love never belonged to the past. It belongs to the present, and gladly to the future. Forever. @yourusername

The brand reposted the carousel within fifteen minutes, so did fashion insiders, magazines, major entertainment outlets and primarly fans. The internet exploded, but this time, not with rumors or speculation. It was pure shock. Excitement. Joy. Love.

And as the likes climbed past a million and the world gasped in real time, anyone could attest that your love was one of the strongest things in the world. Timeless, as Chan said. Fendi might have set the trend for the next spring, but you and him were forever.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @uzmacchiato 💖

[my-venus]

Han Spiderman x reader

Moodboard

¤ ▪︎ ¤ ▪︎ ¤ ▪︎ ¤ ▪︎ ¤

“Boo.”

I let out a high pitched scream. “Han!” I hit his shoulder.

He only let out a low, satisfied laugh. He used a final, silent thwip of webbing to secure the line he’d been dangling from, then released the tension and dropped lightly onto the cold, splintered picnic table bench next to me on top of the 50 story building.

Han handed me a slightly crumpled grease-stained brown bag that was surprising in one piece. “I got those churros that you like from that one bakery.” I squealed in excitement and grabbed the bag. I missed the soft smile that graced his face that eased the tension around his jaw.

“You're sweet.”

“Only for you.”

“And a flirt.” I hit him again on the shoulder. I took a moment to take him in. The late fall air on the rooftop was thine and cutting, but the deep scarlet fabric of his suit looked comfortably warm. He wasn’t wearing his signature red mask but the black spider symbol across the chest of his costume left no doubt on who he was. Spiderman. I took out a churro and offered him one. He accepted and stuffed his cheeks full. I couldn’t help but laugh at how cute he looked with his puffed cheeks. He reminded me of a Qoukka.

“What?” He stared at me with his huge dark boba eyes. He started to brush crumbs off his face.

I always forget that he’s a superhero who kicks ass everyday with how innocent he looks. “Nothing.” I smiled up at him.

His brows furrowed slightly but decided to let it go. He nodded his head toward my notebook which lay open to pages of unfinished drawings and equations sprawled everywhere in a chaotic but somewhat organized mess. “What’s my smart girl working on?”

“Biochemistry and physics, really.” I said, tapping my pencil against my lip. “I’m trying to find an equation for the energy expenditure required to open a portal between our world and hypothetically a parallel universe. I tried using the principles of Coulomb's Law to model the repulsive force needed to tear a hole in spacetime, but the relativistic energy requirements just aren’t adding up with what I’ve got.”

“You’re really hot when you say smart stuff.” Han looked at me dazed. I pushed his shoulder again. “No really baby, I wouldn’t be Spiderman if it wasn’t for your brains. You’re a fucking genius.”

A blush rose to my cheeks. I grabbed his chubby cheeks and squished them. “My number one cheerleader.”

Han gave me a smile that caused his eyes to crinkle into bright crescents around the edges.

“So what was spiderman up to today?” I asked. I finally took a bite of my churro and all but moaned in satisfaction at the warm, crisp shell and sweet cinnamon flavor.

“Day started kinda slow. I helped a grandma cross the street. Fed the neighborhood pets. Stopped a hit-and-run, and-oh! I finally heard back from that recording label!”

“What! That's amazing! What did they say?”

“They want to see how I do in the studio next Monday.”

“That's great news Han.” I smiled at him warmly.

“Life couldn’t be better. I get to do some good for people. I might get to live out my dream soon and most importantly I got my girl beside me.” He pulled me gently until my side was tucked firmly against the cool material of his suit, which took days designing then weeks actually getting it made. But all the effort was worth it in the end.

Han let out a content sigh, his body relaxed and grounded. I brought my finger to trace the raised black spider symbol on his suit. Yeah, life is pretty good right now.

A wave of warmth washed over me, replacing the cool autumn air with the memory of summer nights and the low hum of my father’s lab in the basement. It was a chaotic paradise of glass beakers and sheets of suit designs, the air thick with the smell of ozone and burnt coffee.

I was hunched over the workbench, squinting through safety goggles, painstakingly feeding thread into a specialized loom. It was an industrial nightmare of a machine I’d repurposed from a university salvage auction.

​“This fiber is tricky,” I muttered, tapping my pencil against my notebook on the page where I had the molecular structure drawn. “The poly-aramid matrix has the tensile strength we need, but getting the thermo-reactive gel-coating to distribute evenly requires the precision of this monster.”

​Han, stripped down to a black undershirt and already sweating from stress testing the webbing formula on a custom wrist-mounted rig, sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, baby. But this suit is everything. It has to be light enough to swing in, but strong enough to take a beating from... well, from whatever the universe decides to throw at me next Tuesday.”

​He dropped the web-shooter rig onto the workbench with a heavy thud and came over to kiss the top of my head, pushing back a stray strand of hair. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this. You’re the genius. I just supply the punch.”

​“Damn right,” I said, a smile pulling at my lips despite my exhaustion. “Now shut up and go adjust the pressure valve on the solvent tank before I have to rebuild the ultrasonic bath—again.”

A vivid, splintering white flash caught my eye near the skyline, making me squint against the sudden brightness. The flash soon ballooned into a large inky-black tear in the air like a piece of cosmic silk being ripped apart. I immediately sat up from Hans embrace causing him to lose his relaxed posture and look where my eyes were stuck on in horror. You could see multiple dark, distinct figures start to step out of the dark hole. I spoke too soon.

“I got to-”

“Save the world?”

Han looked at me apologetically. He grabbed his mask, its deep red wine color matching the suit and slipped it on. My breath hitched when the unblinking white lenses looked back at me.

He took my hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Get somewhere safe and alert the authorities, okay?” I gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded. My stomach already starting to twist into a nauseous knot.

“Be careful.”

“Always am for you.”

“And go kick ass.”

Even though I couldn’t see, I knew he was smirking underneath that mask. His body shifted subtly in a familiar, confident way. He gave my hand a final reassuring squeeze then stood his muscles flexing tautly under the suit. He ran to the edge and launched himself into the cold late autumn air. My breath caught in my throat for a second then I released it once I saw the first quick silent arc of webbing send him swinging from building to building.

Was I scared for him? Fuck yes. But I know Han. Know what he’s capable of. And he knows that I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t make it back to me. I sat on the bench for another second, the wind whistling around the exposed rooftop, watching Han-spiderman get smaller and smaller. I took a deep breath, the cinnamon scent of the churro still lingering on my fingers, then I started to gather myself, already pulling out my phone to call 911.

¤ ▪︎ ¤ ▪︎ ¤ ▪︎ ¤ ▪︎ ¤

Notes: Was listening to spiderman into the spider verse soundtrack while writing this. Who's the best spiderman?

[my-venus]

May or may not have written a Han Spiderman fic 👀

The fic

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 10 (Final part)

Series Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: kissing 😗

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

The silence between Chan and me wasn't just awkward; it was a physical weight, pressing down on every shared moment in the tour bus, every fleeting glance backstage. The once effortless flow of our Obsidian duet now felt like a forced dance, technically precise but emotionally hollow. We moved through the choreography like skilled performers, but the genuine connection, the spark that had ignited our earliest practices, had dimmed, replaced by a strained professionalism.

Chan's eyes, when they met mine, held a quiet question, a hurt I couldn't bear to acknowledge. My own guilt and fear kept me locked behind a wall of polite distance. I knew I was hurting him, knew I was confusing him, but the fear of losing my job, of jeopardizing his career, was a powerful deterrent. The company's warning, Manager Kim's stressed face, the memory of the online chaos it all replayed in my mind, telling me to stay safe, to stay distant.

The other Stray Kids members noticed it too. They exchanged worried glances, their usual playful teasing replaced by a somber quiet whenever Chan and I were in the vicinity. Even Lee Know refrained from his usual provocations.

We were in Arlington for the final show of the North American leg. The energy was always intense in a final city, but for me, it was overshadowed by the growing chasm between Chan and me. Backstage, before the show, the atmosphere was buzzing. I was trying to focus on my warm-ups, but my mind kept drifting to the moment on stage, knowing we had to perform our duet.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. "Can I talk to you for a second?" It was Chan. His voice was low, but firm, leaving no room for escape.

My heart leaped into my throat. I turned slowly, bracing myself. He led me to a quiet corner. The air immediately thickened with unspoken words.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice softer now, laced with a plea. His eyes searched mine, raw with confusion and pain. "After... after Miami, I thought... I thought we were finally on the same page. But you've been avoiding me. You won't even look at me. Did I do something wrong?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My throat felt tight.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "Please, just tell me. If you regret it, if it was just a mistake, just a heat of the moment thing... I can take it. But this silence, this distance... it's killing me. It's affecting our performance. It's affecting me." His voice cracked slightly on the last word. "Do you even care, or was it just... nothing to you?"

His words, laced with such genuine hurt, shattered my resolve. The dam broke. All the fear, the guilt, the desperate longing I'd been suppressing, came flooding out.

"No!" I blurted out, my voice trembling.

"No, Chan, it wasn't nothing! It was... everything." Tears welled in my eyes. "That's exactly why I've been like this! Don't you see? After everything that happened, with the photo, with Minji and Hana... if anyone even suspects anything, my job is gone. Your career... they'll scrutinize every single thing. They'll say I'm distracting you, that I'm a risk. I can't... I can't be that for you, Chan. I can't be the reason you lose everything you've worked so hard for." My voice broke on a sob. "I'm terrified."

He stared at me, his eyes wide as he processed my words. The anger and confusion slowly began to drain from his face, replaced by a profound understanding, then a fierce protectiveness.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, stepping closer, reaching out to gently cup my face with both hands. His thumbs wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Is that what you thought? That you'd ruin me? That we'd ruin each other?" His voice was tender, filled with an overwhelming warmth. "You're wrong, sweetheart. You're so wrong."

He pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine. "This... what we have," he murmured, his voice husky. "This isn't a distraction. It's what keeps me going. It makes me stronger. It makes me better." His grip on my face was firm, reassuring. "We'll be careful. We'll be smart. But don't ever think for a second that you're a burden, or a risk. Not to me. Never to me."

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "The only thing that was hurting our performance, the only thing that was a 'risk,' was this," he gestured between us, "this silence. This lack of trust, because you wouldn't tell me what was going on." His gaze was intense. "You think I want to be on stage with anyone else? You think I can?"

His honesty, his unwavering belief in us, even in the face of all the dangers, was overwhelming. My own fear, though still present, began to shrink under the sheer force of his conviction.

"But the company..." I whispered, my voice still shaky.

"We'll figure it out," he said, his voice firm, full of resolve. "Together. We always do. But we can't do it if we're not talking. If we're not together."

His thumb brushed my lower lip, and for a long moment, the world outside faded once more. The air crackled with a renewed, fragile hope. The abyss between us had been bridged, not fully, but enough for a precarious new beginning.

●☆●

The roar of the Arlington crowd for the final North American show was absolutely deafening. After the raw, emotional conversation with Chan, a new kind of energy flowed between us. The fear hadn't completely vanished, but it was now tempered by a fierce resolve, a silent pact forged in vulnerability.

When the intro for Obsidian began, and I took my place next to Chan, the stage lights felt less like a microscope and more like a spotlight illuminating our story. We moved through the choreography, and this time, there was no stiffness, no awkwardness. Every touch was infused with meaning, every glance a silent conversation. The power, the intimacy, the raw emotion that had been missing in the last few shows, was back—magnified. It was no longer just a dance; it was a defiant declaration, a promise whispered between us through movement. When we held the final pose, sweat glistening, chests heaving, the electricity between us was almost visible. The crowd’s roar was deafening, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart, and what felt like the echo of his.

Later in the concert, during one of the talk segments, the stage lights softened, and the members gathered at the front. Chan stepped forward, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"STAY," he began, speaking in English, his voice resonating through the stadium. "This tour... it's been an incredible journey. Every city, every stage, every single one of you... you give us so much." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the crowd, then, for a fleeting moment, his eyes met mine backstage, where I stood with the other dancers, waiting for our next cue.

"And through it all," he continued, his voice softening, a profound sincerity in his tone, "you learn so much. About yourselves, about the world, about what truly matters. Sometimes, you find strength in unexpected places. You find courage when you feel like giving up." He took a deep breath. "And sometimes... sometimes you find love. Not just for music, or for the amazing people who support you, but a different kind of love. A love that makes you feel brave, even when everything feels uncertain." He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression. "It's a powerful thing, that. To find someone who helps you be your truest self. To find a connection that feels like home, no matter where you are in the world."

The crowd erupted in cheers and excited murmurmurs, buzzing with theories about what he meant. He quickly shifted back to talking about the next song, but the message was clear to me, and likely to anyone who truly understood the subtle language of Bang Chan.

●☆●

Hours later, the adrenaline of the final show had faded into a pleasant hum of exhaustion. The goodbyes with the crew and staff were bittersweet. Back at the hotel, after a quick shower, I found myself heading towards Chan's room, a nervous flutter in my stomach. The "no more alone time" rule was still technically in place, but after his words on stage, after our earlier conversation, it felt like an unavoidable gravity pulling us together.

He opened the door almost immediately after my soft knock, as if he'd been waiting. He was dressed in sweatpants and a simple t-shirt, his hair still slightly damp. The earlier tension was gone from his eyes, replaced by a warmth that made my breath catch.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling me gently inside and closing the door behind us. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting soft shadows. The city lights twinkled faintly through the curtains.

"Hey," I whispered back, my voice a little shaky. My heart was pounding.

He reached for my hand, pulling me closer until we stood inches apart. "So," he said, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. "That was... a lot today. Everything."

I nodded, looking up at him. "It was. But... your words on stage..."

He smiled, a tender, knowing smile. "They were for you. Every single one." He lifted his other hand to cup my cheek, his thumb gently caressing my skin. "I meant every word. About finding courage. About finding home."

My gaze dropped to his lips, remembering the taste of them by the pool. He seemed to read my thoughts, his eyes darkening with unspoken desire. He leaned in slowly, giving me time to react, to pull away. But I didn't. Instead, I rose on my toes, meeting him halfway.

This kiss was different from the one in the pool. It wasn't tentative. It was a soft tender declaration. His lips moved gently against mine, exploring, affirming. I could feel his sigh against my mouth as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. My hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his damp hair that started curling. The kiss deepened, becoming more insistent, more passionate, a quiet explosion of pent-up longing and undeniable affection. It was a conversation without words, a promise whispered from soul to soul.

He gently nudged me backward until my legs hit the side of the bed. We sank onto the mattress, not breaking the kiss. His body shifted, settling above me, his weight comfortable and warm. His lips left mine, trailing soft kisses down my jaw, along my neck, sending shivers through me. I arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips. His hand found its way under my shirt, his fingers warm against my bare skin, sending goosebumps across my arm. Every touch was a confirmation, every breath a silent plea for more.

When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, we were both breathless. His eyes, dark with emotion, held mine. The city lights peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his face."This is crazy," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Everything about this."

"I know," I breathed, my heart aching with a fierce, protective love.

He cupped my face again, his thumbs tracing the line of my cheekbones. "But it's our crazy. And I wouldn't trade it for anything. No matter what comes next, no matter what they say... It's us. We face it together, yeah?"

His gaze was unwavering, a silent challenge and a deep, profound promise. In that dimly lit hotel room, with the weight of the world outside, it felt like the only truth that mattered. It was us. Against whatever lay ahead.

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

Notes: That is the end of their story! I had a lot of fun writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoyed reading!

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

@vi0let-writes

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 9

Series Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: extreme fluff

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

The tour was winding down its North American leg, with only a few cities left before a short break. We were in Miami again, a city known for its vibrant nightlife and humid air. After a particularly draining concert, the hotel pool seemed like an oasis. Most of the other dancers and a few of the Stray Kids members, including Chan, Felix and Han, decided to go for a late-night dip to cool off.

I was sitting on the edge, dangling my feet in the refreshingly cool water, watching the city lights twinkle against the dark sky. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine. Soon, one by one, everyone else drifted back to their rooms, exhausted. Only Chan remained, floating on his back a few feet away, his eyes closed.

"Everyone's gone," I said softly, breaking the quiet.

He opened his eyes, turning his head to look at me. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice relaxed. "Just us. It's nice, right? No one watching."

The irony wasn't lost on me, but the peace of the moment was too good to resist. I pushed off the edge and swam a few lazy strokes, letting the cool water wash over me. When I surfaced, Chan was closer, treading water. His hair was slicked back, and the moonlight made his skin gleam.

"You know," he began, his voice low, "I really appreciate you. Through all this chaos, you've just been... solid."

My heart fluttered at his words, the genuine warmth in his eyes. "Same, Chan. You've been... everything." The confession slipped out almost without thought.

He propelled himself closer, until he was right in front of me, the water between us barely rippling. The air thickened with unspoken words. His gaze was intense, searching mine. "Everything?" he echoed softly, his voice barely a whisper.

My breath hitched. The proximity, the quiet intimacy of the moment, the raw emotion in his eyes – it was overwhelming. I found myself leaning in, drawn by an invisible current. His hand rose slowly, cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing over my wet skin. His touch was gentle, hesitant, yet filled with a desperate longing.

Then, he closed the small distance between us. His lips, soft and slightly cool from the water, met mine. It wasn't a fierce kiss, but a tender, tentative exploration, filled with all the unspoken feelings, the worries, the forbidden desires that had simmered between us for weeks. It was a silent promise, a breathless question. My eyes fluttered closed, and I instinctively leaned into him, letting the moment consume me. The world outside the pool, the company, the fans, the tour – it all vanished. It was just us, suspended in that quiet, moonlit embrace.

When we finally broke apart, both of us gasping slightly, the magic of the moment lingered. His thumb was still resting on my cheek, his eyes wide and slightly dazed, mirroring my own.

●☆●

Later that night, unable to sleep, Chan found Changbin in the hotel gym, still lifting weights. Changbin looked up, not all that surprised to see Chan at this hour.

"Couldn't sleep, hyung?" Changbin grunted, finishing a rep.

Chan nodded, running a hand through his damp hair. He sat heavily on a nearby bench, the image of your face, your lips, still vivid in his mind.

"Changbin-ah," he began, his voice low, raw with emotion. "I think... I think I'm in love with her." There was no need to explain who her was.

Changbin dropped his weights with a clatter. He turned, his face etched with surprise. "Hyung? Really? Like... actually in love?"

Chan looked at him, his eyes earnest. "Yeah. I kissed her. In the pool. And... I just know. I'm completely gone for her." He ran a hand over his face. "It's so stupid, Binnie. With everything going on, with the company, the fans... but I can't help it. I'm completely in love with her."

Changbin stared at him for a long moment, then a slow, understanding nod settled on his face "Hyung," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I think everyone kind of saw it coming. The way you look at her... she’s not just a dance partner, you know? It's been obvious for a while." He picked up his weights again. "Just... be careful, hyung. This is messy, but I get it. I really do."

●☆●

The next few days were a confusing, agonizing maze. For me, the pool kiss was a beautiful, terrifying secret. The exhilaration was quickly overshadowed by a wave of insecurity. What did this mean? What about the company? My job? His career? The thought of the fallout, especially after the last scandal, sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't risk it, couldn't risk him.

So, I did the only thing my panicked mind could conceive: I acted like it never happened.

I avoided Chan. Not explicitly, but subtly. In rehearsals, I was professional, keeping a precise distance. My answers to his questions were short, polite, focused solely on choreography. I found excuses to be elsewhere during breaks, joining other dance groups, or disappearing to my room. I wouldn't meet his eyes for longer than necessary, and if our hands brushed, I'd quickly pull mine away.

Chan, meanwhile, was a mess. He'd try to catch my eye, to initiate a deeper conversation, to find that connection again. But each time, I'd politely deflect. His initial exhilaration after the kiss slowly morphed into confusion, then hurt, then a cold, gnawing doubt.

Did she feel it too? Or was it just the heat of the moment for her? Did I misread everything? Was I stupid for thinking she felt the same way? He'd replay the kiss in his mind, searching for clues, for any sign that you were just as affected as he was. But your aloofness, polite distance, told a different story.

The lack of communication between us was a palpable, heavy presence in the practice room. Our duet, once so fluid and passionate, started to suffer. The precise synchronization was still there, but the emotional connection was gone. It felt stiff, almost mechanical. Our glances, once filled with unspoken understanding, were now brief, uncertain, tinged with a painful awkwardness. The other dancers, even Manager Kim, started to notice the subtle shift. Something was off. The magic had dimmed.

On stage, during our duet, I felt his desperate glances, his attempts to reignite that spark. But fear had taken root in my heart, making me retreat further, protecting myself from a potential heartbreak I couldn't afford. Chan's movements became slightly less confident, his usual power tinged with a visible strain. We were dancing together, yet we were miles apart.

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

Part 10

Notes: We're nearing the end of their story!

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

@vi0let-writes

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 8

Series Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: none

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

The first show back on stage with Chan for the Obsidian duet was a whirlwind of emotions. As the familiar intro music swelled, and I took my place next to him, a wave of pure elation washed over me. The roar of the Anaheim crowd was deafening.

Chan met my eyes, he gave me one of his crinkled smiles. This moment. Being here with him was something that I missed with my whole being. A silent message passing between us—relief, determination, and that undeniable spark that always ignited when we danced together.

Our performance felt more charged, more intimate than ever before. Every touch, every synchronized movement, every shared breath felt amplified. It was as if the recent chaos had stripped away any last resistance, leaving only the raw, powerful connection we shared through the music.

When the duet ended and we held that final pose, the applause was thunderous. I could feel Chan's chest rise and fall rapidly next to mine. He gave my hand a brief, firm squeeze before we moved into the next formation, a silent acknowledgment of the moment.

My heart was beating hard against my chest. The adrenaline that I was feeling didn’t come from the usual high of being on stage. Instead it came from each subtle glance Chan. Each time that he sent me one of those dam smirks because he knew I was watching him. It was exciting to be this close to him again but at the same time we both didn’t dare to cross the invisible line that had been drawn.

Backstage, after the concert, the dressing room was buzzing. The other backup dancers were genuinely happy for me. Sora gave me a warm hug. "You were incredible! It felt so good to see you back out there with Chan," she said, her smile genuine.

"Thanks, Sora," I replied, feeling a genuine warmth.

●☆●

A few days later, on a rare off day in the tour, most of Stray Kids and the remaining backup dancers were gathered in one of our hotel rooms. Someone had put on a variety show, but the real entertainment quickly became the phones. The company's statement about Minji and Hana had somewhat quieted the immediate storm, but it hadn't stopped the speculation, especially after Chan and I were back on stage together.

Han suddenly burst out laughing, showing his phone to Felix. "Yah! Look at this! STAYs are on another level with the edits!"

Felix peered over his shoulder. "Oh my god! Is that a Chanxdancer edit from the concert last night?" He started cackling. "They’re actually reaching.”

Seungmin leaned in. "Let me see. Wow, at least the quality is good. They even put a fake caption: 'Their love story unfolds on stage’ sounds like something out of a drama."

My face burned. I was sitting on a couch across from them, and I could feel my cheeks turning bright red. I glanced at Chan, who was pretending to be deeply engrossed in his laptop, but I could see the tips of his ears were turning pink.

Lee Know sauntered over. "What's all the fuss about? Ah, the Chanxdancer edits. I was watching them last night." He grabbed Han's phone.

"Oh, this one's new! Hyung, did you know you were staring at her like that during Thunderous?" He held the phone up, showing a zoomed-in, somewhat awkward screenshot of Chan looking in my direction during a group formation.

Chan finally looked up from his laptop, feigning annoyance. "Yah! It's called checking my formations! You guys are too much. They're just fan edits. They mean nothing." He cast a quick, embarrassed glance at me. I felt a pang in my heart from the word nothing.

"Sure, hyung," Changbin chimed in from the corner, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just 'checking formations.' Just like noona was 'checking her shoes' during your duet, right?" He winked at me, clearly having seen some other edit.

"Hey!" I protested, though a giggle escaped me. "I was totally focused on the choreography!"

"Uh-huh," Hyunjin said, dramatically fanning himself. "The tension was so thick, I could practically cut it with a knife! Especially in that lift where you guys almost..." He trailed off, grinning conspiratorially.

Chan threw a cushion at Hyunjin that only resulted in him going into a fit of giggles. "Yah! You guys are seriously being childish!"

"We're just saying," I.N. piped up innocently, but with a twinkle in his eye, "STAY are very observant, hyung. They see everything."

Leeknow dramatically sighed. "It's tragic, really. Such undeniable chemistry, yet company rules keep them apart. A modern Romeo and Juliet, but with more dance breaks."

"Okay, that's enough!" Chan groaned, finally giving in and burying his face in his hands, but a small smile played on his lips. "You guys are impossible."

I laughed, feeling much lighter than I had in days. Their teasing, though embarrassing, felt like a return to normalcy, a shared acknowledgment of the strange, complicated space Chan and I occupied. It also showed that they, too, believed in the connection, even if it had to remain unspoken, at least for now.

●☆●

The North American leg of the tour continued its relentless pace, a blur of new cities, packed arenas, and the constant hum of travel. From Anaheim, we'd moved to Vancouver, then back down to San Francisco. The crowds were consistently electric, but the energy backstage felt different now. The absence of Minji and Hana was noticeable, leaving a quiet space that was both a relief and a subtle reminder of the uncertainty of our situation.

The company's warning hung over Chan and me like a low cloud. Every interaction felt scrutinized. We found ourselves instinctively becoming more careful, but yet this caution only seemed to intensify the unspoken language that had developed between us. It was in the stolen looks across a crowded practice room, late nights sneaking into each other's room to eat dinner, the hushed whispers during costume changes.

One evening, after a particularly high-energy show in San Francisco, the buzz of the post-concert adrenaline was almost overwhelming. The dressing room was still chaotic, with stylists and managers bustling about. I was trying to unfasten a stubborn clasp on my costume, my fingers fumbling.

Suddenly, Chan was there. He stood behind me, his warmth radiating even before his fingers brushed mine. "Having trouble, Sweets?" His voice was low.

"Yeah, this thing is impossible," I muttered, moving my hair to the side to give him better access. His fingers, strong and calloused from years of lifting weights, deftly worked at the clasp. The contact sent a shiver up my spine. It was a fleeting, innocent touch, yet under the circumstances, it felt forbidden.

"Got it," he murmured, and the clasp clicked open. His knuckles brushed against the bare skin of my back as he pulled his hands away, leaving lingering warmth in their wake. I turned around, and our eyes met for a long moment. There was an intensity in his stare. A slight flush rose in my cheeks, and I quickly looked down, pretending to adjust my outfit, heart pounding wildly in my chest.

●☆●

Sora pounced on my hotel bed. She settled near my feet and gave me a knowing look. My taki hung midair forgotten for the moment as I gave her a questioning look back. She raised her eyebrow at me, smirking. I raised mine back, a defensive reflex.

“What?” I finally asked her, breaking the silence.

She changed her position, folding her legs so that she was sitting right in front of me. “What do you mean ‘What?’ You and Chan are what!” She exclaimed.

“Is there something actually, officially going on? I mean I know you have a bit of a crush on him but I thought it would be short lived but after seeing you guys in the dressing room today and the way you guys looked at each other, I just had to ask you.” She finished her ramble, her eyes wide with speculation.

A tide of heat started to crawl up my neck. My cheeks felt warm from the embarrassment of being caught crushing on Chan.

“I mean, yeah I do like him,” I mumbled, turning to look away from Sora’s gaze.

Sora let out an ear-splitting squeal at the confession.

“BUT, It’s just one sided.” I rushed to finish

Sora deadpanned. “Have you not seen the edits? Girl, you must be blind if you think your crush is one sided.”

Again with the edits. My face was definitely red now. All the late nights and the effortless, quiet moments Chan and I shared replayed in my mind. Does he also see me the way that I see him? My brain was telling me that he was an idol, and the special thing that we had was simply friendship. But my heart was telling me that this feeling was blossoming into something more intense than just friendship.

“I don’t know..” I admitted out loud to Sora, my voice small.

She noticed my shift in behavior and smoothly transitioned from interrogator to comforter. She moved from her seated position to lay beside me. She reached across my lap, snatched a taki and crunched on it loudly.

“I would just see where things lead.” She murmured, the wisdom of a seasoned romance-drama veteran in her voice. “You don’t know what you might miss.” Sora snuggled closer to me and shifted the topic to what we were going to watch tonight. The easy conversation settled around us, but the thoughts of what could be laid lingering in my mind.

●☆●

One night in Houston, the practice room lights were dimmed, casting long shadows. We were running through a new, more fluid contemporary piece that Stray Kids was adding to the setlist, not an Obsidian duet, but something softer, more expressive. It required close partnering, a sensitivity to each other's movements.

There was a part where he held my waist, guiding me into a turn, and his thumb would lightly brush against my side. It was barely perceptible, a whisper of a touch, but it sent a jolt through me every single time. As we moved, our bodies instinctively flowed together, creating a seamless, effortless dance. At one point, he spun me, and my hand landed on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and his eyes dropped to our connected hands for a split second before meeting mine.

"That's good," he breathed, his voice a little rough, as the music faded. He didn't immediately let go. His hand lingered at my waist, mine still resting on his chest. We stood there, close, breathing in sync, the only sounds were the distant hum of the building and our own quiet breaths. The air crackled with unspoken words, with the weight of feelings we couldn't acknowledge.

"Yeah," I whispered back, my voice barely audible. "It feels... right."

He finally broke the silence, but his hand stayed put for another lingering moment. "My stomach is screaming. Want to hit up that noodle place again? The one near the hotel?"

I nodded, my heart still thrumming. "Sounds perfect."

Dining out was now a calculated risk. We usually went with Manager Kim or other staff members, ensuring we were never alone in public. But sometimes, when the schedule allowed, we'd find small, inconspicuous places, or simply grab takeout and eat in one of our rooms, leaving the door slightly ajar for plausible deniability.

●☆●

One evening, in Atlanta, we ordered pizza and were eating in Chan’s hotel room. The TV was on low, playing a random American sitcom. The atmosphere was casual, but the underlying tension between us was a constant hum. He reached for another slice, and his fingers brushed against mine in the pizza box. This time, he didn't pull away immediately. His fingertips lingered on mine for a beat too long, a silent question in the air.

My gaze flickered up to his, and his eyes,usually so bright, held a deep, intense warmth. It was a quiet moment, just us and the half-eaten pizza, but it felt loaded with meaning.

"This tour is crazy, huh?" I finally said, pulling my hand away, breaking the spell.

He chuckled, taking his pizza. "Crazy is an understatement. But... crazy is good, sometimes." He looked at me, a soft smile on his face. "Especially when I get to share a quiet moment like this with you, Sweets."

My heart pounded a little harder at how casually he said it. We continued talking about the tour, the fans, the next cities, but underneath the casual conversation, a new layer of intimacy was forming. It wasn't just in the stolen touches or lingering glances; it was in the way we understood each other's unspoken thoughts, the way we gravitated towards each other in a crowd, the way our bond deepened. The lines were blurring, and the risk of crossing them felt both terrifying and undeniably tempting.

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

Part 9

Note: lowkey kinda forgot the rest of the boys existed for a while 😬

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

@vi0let-writes

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 7

Series Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: none

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

The air in the backstage corridor was thick with unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the distant hum of the ventilation system. Chan stood, a silent, furious sentinel, just out of sight from a section of the practice room where he'd deliberately lingered. Every word Minji and Hana had exchanged had sliced through the quiet, chilling him to the bone. They had done this. They had deliberately sabotaged you, sabotaged them. The betrayal burned, a cold fire in his gut.

He pushed the door open, not gently, but with a controlled force that made it thud against the wall. Minji and Hana, mid-whisper, jumped, their faces draining of color as they saw him. Their smug grins dissolved into wide-eyed panic.

Chan didn't yell. His voice, when it came, was a low, dangerous rumble that cut through the silence like a knife. "So. 'Perfect spot,' huh? And 'wasn’t too hard to figure where we’d be’?"

He took a slow step forward, his gaze fixed on Minji, then flicked to Hana. "You think I didn't hear you? You think I'm stupid?"

Minji stammered, her hands starting to tremble. "C-Chan oppa! We weren't... we didn't..."

"Don't lie to me," Chan interrupted, his voice laced with an icy control that was far more terrifying than a shout. "I heard every word. You set her up. You wanted her off the stage. You wanted to hurt her."

His eyes, usually so warm and kind, were now sharp, narrowed slits of pure disappointment and anger. "Why? Because you're jealous? Because she worked hard and earned her spot? Is that it?"

Hana, finding her voice, tried to protest, "It wasn't like that! We just—”

“You just wanted to cause trouble," Chan finished for them, his voice rising slightly, the raw emotion finally breaking through his controlled facade. "You endangered her job. You created a scandal for our group, and you did it out of spite." He took another step, his presence dominating the small space. "Do you have any idea what you've done? What you've put her through? What you've put us through?"

He pulled out his phone, his thumb already poised. "Manager Kim is going to hear every single word you just said. And then we'll see how 'lucky' you feel."

Minji's eyes welled up with tears, but they were tears of self-pity, not remorse. "No, Chan oppa, please! Don't tell him! We'll lose everything!"

"You should have thought about that before you tried to ruin someone else's everything," Chan retorted, his voice unwavering.

He didn't wait for another word. He turned on his heel and strode out, his phone already to his ear, leaving the two dancers stunned and terrified in his wake.

●☆●

I was in my own world, running through some of the group choreography in a smaller practice room, trying to burn off the frustration and sadness that had become my constant companions. The forced distance from Chan, the online whispers, and the ache of seeing someone else dance our duet – it was all suffocating.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Chan walked in, his chest heaving as if he'd run. His eyes found mine, and they were blazing with a mix of fury and something else... a desperate kind of relief.

He called out my name. "I know. I know everything."

My brow furrowed. "Know what?"

He closed the distance between us in a few strides, taking my hands in his. His grip was firm, reassuring. "Minji and Hana. They did it. They set us up. They were just talking in the hallway; I heard them. They told someone about our dinners, about us staying late, trying to get pictures.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, even though a part of me had suspected it. A wave of nauseating realization washed over me, followed by a surge of anger. "They... they did what?" My voice was barely a whisper. The betrayal felt sharper, colder, now that it was confirmed.

"Manager Kim is with them now," Chan continued, his voice tight.

"They're being removed from the tour. Effective immediately." He squeezed my hands, his gaze searching mine. "I am so, so sorry. I should have seen it. I should have protected you better."

Tears pricked at my eyes, a mix of anger, relief, and the overwhelming weight of everything. "Chan..." I didn't know what to say. The wall I had built between us crumbled instantly. He had found out. He was furious for me.

"Don't you dare blame yourself," he said, his voice firm, seeing the emotion in my eyes.

"This isn't your fault. This is theirs. You were just... you were just being you. And they were jealous. They're gone now. You don't have to worry about them anymore.” He pulled me into a hug, a tight, comforting embrace that felt like coming home after being lost at sea. I buried my face in his shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. His warmth enveloped me, and for the first time in days, I felt a flicker of calm.

●☆●

A few hours later, after the chaos of Minji and Hana's abrupt departure (and their frantic, pathetic attempts to apologize, which Chan shut down immediately), the remaining backup dancers and Stray Kids members were trying to process the news. The tension that had hovered over the practice room for days finally lifted, replaced by a mixture of shock and quiet understanding.

Felix came over to me, looking apologetic. "I'm so sorry about all that. We had no idea they'd go that far."

Lee Know nodded. "Yeah. It was completely out of line. Don't let it get to you. You're our partner. Everyone knows that."

Their words, genuine and supportive, were a balm. I managed a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot.”

●☆●

As the evening wound down, Manager Kim pulled Chan and me aside. "Okay," he said, looking significantly less stressed than before. "The company issued a new statement. Minji and Hana are no longer with us due to 'unprofessional conduct.' It's vague, but enough to shut down the immediate speculation." He paused, then looked at me. "And the company agrees this was an extreme case of malicious intent from the outside. Your temporary suspension from the duet is lifted. You're back on for the next show. We'll announce it as a pre-planned rotation of dancers for the tour, to cover."

A gasp escaped me. My heart leaped. "Really? I'm back?"

Manager Kim nodded. "Yes. But be discreet, both of you. Extremely discreet. We can't afford another incident like this.”

Chan, standing beside me, looked at me, a silent, triumphant smile spreading across his face. He gently squeezed my shoulder. "See? I told you it would work out."

●☆●

That night, back in our separate hotel rooms, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Chan.

Chan: Are you good? Feeling better?

Me: So much better. Thank you. For everything. Seriously. I don't know what I would have done without you.

Chan: Don't be silly. Always. You know that, right, sweets? And I didn't like dancing without you. It just wasn't right.

Me: I missed dancing with you too

A warmth spread through me, chasing away the day's bitter cold. The road ahead was still uncertain, and the media storm wouldn't disappear overnight. But with Chan by my side, and the truth finally out, a tiny spark of hope, and something more, began to ignite.

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

Part 8

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

@vi0let-writes

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 6

Series Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: none

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

The hotel room felt like a freezer, despite the humid Philadelphia air outside. My phone was a hot, buzzing brick in my hand, each new notification a fresh wave of panic. Chan also had pulled out his own phone, his face grim as he scrolled through the escalating online storm. As soon as I found out about the pictures of us out on the internet I immediately headed to Chan’s room.

"No way," he muttered again, his voice tight. "This is insane. How did someone even get that angle? They must have been on a higher floor, right across from us. This wasn't just some random fan with a long lens." He paced, running a hand through his hair, his tenderness from last night completely replaced by sharp, protective anger.

Before we could figure out a plan, a frantic knock echoed at the door. Chan quickly opened it to reveal Manager Kim, his face pale and stressed, already on his phone.

Manager Kim burst in, speaking rapidly in Korean. "What is this?! The company is already flooded with calls. Dispatch just released an article! You know the rules! What happened?"

Chan immediately switched to rapid-fire Korean, explaining that it was an innocent moment, that we were just talking, that it was a misunderstanding. He vehemently denied any "girlfriend" rumors, though his eyes kept flicking to me, a silent apology for the lie he had to maintain. I stood there, feeling exposed and vulnerable, unable to fully understand the heated conversation but grasping the gravity of the situation.

Manager Kim finally turned to me, his expression grave. "I'm so sorry, but this is a huge problem. With the tour, with the album concept... the optics are terrible right now. The company wants you temporarily pulled from the Obsidian duet stages. Just until the heat dies down. We can't risk any more distractions."

My breath hitched. Pulled? Off stage? My heart sank, a cold, heavy feeling settling in my chest. This was my dream, my big break, and it was being taken away because of a stolen moment. "But Manager Kim, it was just—"

"I understand," he cut me off, his voice firm but laced with genuine regret. "Believe me, I hate this. But it's temporary. You'll still be performing in the group numbers, of course. Just not the duet for now." He turned to Chan. "We'll have Minji step in for your duet starting with the next show."

Chan's jaw tightened. "Minji? Manager, no. She’s my partner.” He gestured towards me, “We have chemistry. We've worked on this for months!"

Manager Kim held up a hand. "Chan, there's no time to argue. This is a directive from the top. We need to present a united front and minimize further controversy. Minji is already familiar with some of the choreography; she can learn the rest quickly. This is final." He left the room quickly, already barking orders into his phone.

The silence that followed was deafening. I felt a wave of humiliation and anger wash over me. To be sidelined like this... and for Chan to have to dance with someone else. I couldn't meet his gaze, feeling a sudden, overwhelming urge to just disappear.

●☆●

The next few days were a blur of misery. I performed in the group numbers, but every time Obsidian started and I saw Chan on stage with Minji, a sharp pang of pain shot through me. Minji was a beautiful, graceful dancer, and she performed the duet professionally, but the connection, the spark that Chan and I had built, wasn't there. Chan looked… different. His movements were precise, but his usual radiant stage presence seemed muted, a grim determination etched onto his face.

I started avoiding Chan. I’d slip out of the practice room early, or find excuses to be elsewhere during breaks. The thought of facing him, of having to talk about the stage, about the photo, about his new partner – it was too much. I felt like a failure, and I hated that he had to bear the professional consequences of our shared moment.

One afternoon, in a quiet corner of the backstage area, I was stretching, trying to lose myself in the familiar movements. Felix and Lee Know found me.

"Hey," Felix said softly, sitting down next to me. His voice was gentle, full of concern. "Are you doing okay? We heard about the duet."

"Yeah," Lee Know added, his usual teasing tone absent. He just looked at me with a sympathetic gaze. "That's really rough. We know how hard you worked on that."

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but my voice wavered. "It's fine. Just... frustrating, you know? It feels unfair."

Felix put a comforting hand on my arm. "It is unfair. You didn't do anything wrong. This whole thing is ridiculous." He glanced at Lee Know, then back at me. "Chan hyung is really upset about it, too. He keeps asking about you. He's not happy dancing with Minji."

"He's been practicing like crazy, but he looks so... annoyed when he has to do the duet with her," Lee Know chimed in, a slight smirk playing on his lips, though it was a gentle one. "He keeps messing up the spacing, 'accidentally' pushing her off center. He's doing it on purpose, I swear."

A small, sad smile touched my lips. "He's probably just stressed," I murmured.

"No," Felix insisted. "He's just... missing his partner. You. He's really mad about this whole situation. He misses you on stage with him."

Their genuine concern was a small balm to my bruised spirits. It didn't fix anything, but it made me feel a little less alone.

●☆●

Meanwhile, Chan was a man on a mission. The forced distance from you, the constant questions from the media, and the awkwardness of dancing with a new partner were gnawing at him. He knew this wasn't just a random fan. He felt it in his gut. The anger was simmering. He started paying closer attention. He noticed the whispers that died down when he approached, the glances exchanged between Minji and Hana. He remembered their earlier, subtle jabs at you. His instincts screamed that something was off.

One evening, after a particularly grueling rehearsal, Chan deliberately lingered. He pretended to pack up his bag slowly, listening. He heard Minji and Hana talking in hushed tones, their voices barely audible.

"Did you see her face today?" Minji giggled. "She looked miserable having to watch me dance with him."

"Yeah," Hana whispered back, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "That photo really hit them hard.”

Chan's blood ran cold. He recognized the distinct sound of a phone being handled.

"Just glad my friend got the shots when I told him about them," Minji said, her voice dropping even lower, laced with a smug satisfaction. "It was the perfect spot. It wasn’t that hard to figure out where they would go since they love to be parading around each other in front of us. It was too simple."

"Shhh! Someone will hear you!" Hana hissed.

Chan stopped breathing. His hands clenched into fists, the plastic of his water bottle creaking under the pressure. It wasn't a random sasaeng. It was them. The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. The betrayal. The malice. They had intentionally tried to ruin you, to ruin them.

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

Part 7

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 5

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: none

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

We were now in Philadelphia, a vibrant city with a skyline that sparkled at night. Rehearsals were as rigorous as ever, but the camaraderie among the dancers and Stray Kids members had deepened.

One afternoon, during a break in our general choreography run-through, the studio speakers were still blasting Obsidian on repeat for background music. Most of the dancers were scattered, grabbing water or stretching. Lee Know suddenly turned to me.

"Hey," he called to me, a glint in his eye. "You wanna try Chan-hyung's part for a laugh? I bet you could nail it."

I chuckled. "Oh, really? And what about you? Can you handle my part?" I knew he was an exceptional dancer, capable of anything.

He grinned, shrugging off his jacket. "Let's find out." He sauntered over, striking the opening pose for the duet. "Ready?"

The music hit, and we moved. It started as a joke, but something shifted. Lee Know, usually so sharp and powerful, adapted his movements to match the fluidity and precision of the female lead, mimicking the subtle nuances of my original choreography with uncanny accuracy. And I, surprisingly, found myself mirroring Chan's powerful, grounded presence, hitting his sharper accents with a newfound confidence.

We flowed through the entire duet, hitting every beat, every intricate lift, every synchronized turn with a surprising ease. When the music faded, we stood perfectly still, breathing a little heavily, but a wide grin split Lee Know's face.

"Yah! We totally nailed that!" he exclaimed, looking genuinely impressed. "Seriously! That was perfect. We should perform that at the next concert. Chan-hyung, what do you think? We clearly have incredible chemistry!" He winked, looking directly at Chan, who had been watching us from across the studio, a water bottle halfway to his lips.

I laughed, playing along. "He's right, Chan! It was surprisingly smooth, wasn't it? Maybe we should have been partners for Obsidian instead!" I gave Lee Know a playful high-five, genuinely surprised and amused by how well we’d done.

Chan's smile faltered. His eyes, which had been warm moments before, clouded over, a flicker of something unreadable. Was it surprise? Annoyance? He quickly averted his gaze, mumbling, "Yeah, good job, guys," before turning abruptly and walking out of the studio, muttering something about needing a break.

A sudden silence fell. Lee Know’s playful grin softened slightly, as if he hadn't intended such a strong reaction. I, however, felt a cold knot form in my stomach. The humor had drained out of the room, leaving behind a sharp, uncomfortable truth. Had I taken the joke too far?

Later that evening, after a tense dinner where Chan was unusually quiet and avoided eye contact, I couldn't shake the feeling. My gut told me something was wrong. After debating with myself for an hour, I finally decided to go to his hotel room. I knocked softly.

The door opened a crack, revealing Chan, his hair damp from a shower, a towel around his neck. His expression was guarded, his eyes slightly distant. "What's up?" His voice was flat.

"Can I come in?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open wider. The room was neat, the lights dim. "Yeah, come in."

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. "Chan," I began, my voice soft. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet since practice."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm fine. Just... tired."

"No, you're not," I pressed gently. "You walked out of practice, and you haven't really looked at me all night. Was it... what Lee Know said? What we said?"

He finally met my gaze, and his eyes held a raw vulnerability I hadn't seen before. "It was just... It just felt... I don't know. Like you actually meant it, maybe? That you'd rather dance with him." He looked away again, picking at a loose thread on the towel. "It's stupid. I know it was just a joke."

My heart ached seeing him like this. I stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "Chan. Look at me." When his eyes finally met mine, I said, firmly but softly, "It was a joke, okay? You know how Lee Know is. He loves to tease. And I just... I played along because I thought it was funny. But I didn't mean it for a second."

I took a breath, letting the words come from my heart. "You're my partner, Chan. My only partner for this. I wouldn't want to dance with anyone else. Seriously. You make me feel... grounded. And safe. And when we dance, it feels like magic. That's real, okay? More real than some silly joke."

His gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He searched my eyes, as if looking for any hint of deceit, and seemed to find none. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "Really?" he murmured, his voice a little hoarse.

"Really," I affirmed, squeezing his arm gently.

He let out a long breath, a silent weight lifting from him. "Thanks." he said, his voice regaining some of its usual warmth. "I know. It was just... I don't know. Stupid, right? I just..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"It's not stupid," I assured him. "It's okay to feel things." My hand was still on his arm, and his gaze dropped to it, then back up to my eyes.

"Hey," he said, a faint smile now. "Come here for a second." He gently took my hand, leading me towards the sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony. "The view's pretty amazing tonight."

We stepped out onto the terrace. The Chicago skyline stretched before us, a breathtaking tapestry of twinkling lights against the dark night sky. The city hummed below us, but up here, it felt like our own private world. He released my hand, then gently placed both his hands on my waist.

"Can I...?" he asked softly, his eyes asking the question his words didn't quite form.

I nodded, a soft smile on my face. "Please."

He pulled me closer, one hand moving from my waist to gently cup my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin. The other rested lightly on my lower back. I placed my hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him. And then, slowly, we began to sway. Not to music, but to the silent rhythm of the city, and the unspoken feelings between us. It was a simple, intimate dance, just us, under the sky. His head leaned down slightly, his forehead resting against mine.

"You really do make me feel safe." he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "Thank you for that. For everything."

I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, the quiet intimacy that felt so right. "Always, Chan," I whispered back. The moment was soft and intimate. I wanted to memorize the way his hands felt on my skin. We continued to sway in each other's arms. Neither one of us said a word afraid to break the moment of intimacy.

●☆●

I woke up the next morning in my own bed. After softly dancing in the balcony, I had foolishly told him what a great friend he was and practically ran out his room. I stared up at the hotel ceiling, wondering if he was also thinking about me. About us. If there even was an us.

The sound of my ringtone brought me out of my thoughts. I checked the contact and saw Sora's name light up the screen.

“Hey Sora. How was last night?” I asked a hinting tone in my voice.

The line was silent for a moment. Then Sora’s voice, tight and stressed, came through, “Have you checked any of your social media?”

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No…Why?”

There was silence from Sora for a while. “Sora? What's going on?”

“There's been pictures of you and Chan eating together all over the internet.”

“What?” My thumb flew to my Instagram app, and the first thing that I see is a photo, blurry but unmistakably us. Chan and I together at some Korean restaurant laughing and smiling at each other. My stomach plunged. I didn’t stop to breathe. I just scrolled. Each swipe brought another angle, another blurry shot, and another wave of cold dread. The captions were endless.

Stray Kids Bang Chan caught in a romantic moment with a backup dancer on tour! Girlfriend rumors?

Chaos.

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

Part 6

Notes: Let me know what your guy's thoughts are!

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 4

Part 1 is here

Warnings ⚠️: angst

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

The roar of the crowd was a physical force, vibrating through the stage floor and up into my bones. Lights flashed, illuminating a sea of glowing light sticks, and the sheer volume of STAYs chanting Stray Kids' names was overwhelming in the best possible way. We were in Seattle, the first stop of the North American leg of the Obsidian tour, and the energy was electric.

Backstage, just moments before our entrance for the Obsidian performance, the air was thick with adrenaline. I stood next to Chan, taking a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. He glanced at me, a calm, reassuring presence amidst the controlled chaos.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice steady despite the thumping bass from the speakers.

"As I'll ever be," I replied, forcing a shaky smile. "This is insane."

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "It always is. But it's a good kind of insane, right? Just remember to breathe, and let the music take over. You'll be great, sweetheart." He gave my arm a quick, encouraging squeeze, and that small touch was enough to settle some of my nerves.

When the music for Obsidian began, the entire stadium erupted. The main stage rose, and we emerged into the blinding lights. The energy was palpable. The group choreography was sharp, powerful, and then came the duet breaks.

As Chan and I moved into our section, the spotlight narrowed on us. The choreography felt more natural now, a dance we knew intimately. Our movements were synchronized, almost mirrored, but with an underlying current of shared emotion that went beyond practiced steps. There was a lift where my legs wrapped around his midsection, and for a fleeting second, our eyes locked. In that moment, everything else faded – the crowd, the lights, the pressure. It was just us, moving as one.

After the show, the dressing room was a whirlwind of exhausted but exhilarated dancers and artists. Everyone was buzzing. "That crowd was incredible!" Felix exclaimed, his face flushed but beaming. "They had so much energy!”

Tinna, Han's dance partner, agreed, fanning herself with a towel. "My legs feel like jelly, but that was worth it."

Chan walked over to me, holding out a water bottle. "You were amazing out there. Seriously. You owned that stage."

"You too, Chan," I said, gratefully taking the water. "That first show jitters are no joke, but once we started, my body basically started moving by itself."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "We've got something special, you know? When we dance. It just... works." His eyes held mine for a beat longer than strictly necessary, and a blush crept up my neck.

●☆●

The tour was a blur of cities, hotels, and endless rehearsals. From the rainy streets of Seattle to the vibrant energy of Los Angeles, then down to the passionate crowds of Chicago.

One particularly sweltering day in Dallas, after a soundcheck that ran longer than expected, Chan and I found ourselves grabbing a quick dinner at a small Korean restaurant near the venue. The air conditioning was a blessing.

"Man, I thought I was going to melt on stage today," I said, fanning myself with the menu. "It's a different kind of heat than Seoul."

Chan chuckled, loosening his collar. "Definitely. But the crowd was still fire, right? Gotta love that Texas energy." He paused, then looked at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Are you holding up okay? This schedule is a lot, even for us."

"I am," I assured him. "It's tiring, but it's also incredible. I mean, look at this. Getting to travel the world, doing what I love, with…” you “well, with you guys."

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that always melted my heart a little. "We're glad to have you here. It wouldn't be the same without you." He picked up a piece of tteokbokki with his chopsticks. "You know, sometimes, in the middle of a show, when the lights hit just right during our part, I catch myself just watching you for a second. You really embody the song, sweets."

My heart fluttered. "Really? I try to focus on not tripping over my own feet, honestly," I joked, trying to deflect the intensity of his gaze.

He laughed, a warm, resonant sound. "Nah. You've got it. You're a natural.”

●☆●

A few days later, in New York, the dance crew all decided that we should all get dinner together after the concert. We all agreed on a popular hot pot restaurant that wasn't too far from the venue.

“Hey, are you ready?” Sora’s voice broke through my thoughts. I was the last one in the changing room. I finished changing and looked around the cramped space, taking in the familiar scent of sweat, hairspray, and excited energy.

​“Yeah,” I called back, grabbing my duffel bag. Sora and I linked arms, our matching concert hoodies a subtle reminder of what we have accomplished. We made our way to the exit where the rest of the crew was waiting.

​“You guys were the last ones, now we can finally go,” Ji-woo said, a playful tone in his voice. He had naturally become our unofficial “leader” during the tour—a kind, funny guy with sharp features and a not-so-secret crush on Sora. We all headed out into the vibrant streets of New York, the city lights illuminating our path as we walked toward the restaurant. The sounds of the city, a symphony of car horns and distant sirens, were a stark contrast to the thumping bass of the concert venue we had just left.

We arrived at the restaurant, the aroma of spicy broth and sizzling meat hitting me instantly. We had made a reservation, and thankfully, a large table was waiting for us, complete with a separate room for ping pong.

​“Sora, I saved you a spot,” Ji-woo called out. There was only one seat left next to him. Sora glanced at me, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, not wanting to leave me to sit alone.

“Go on, I’ll be alright,” I said, giving her a gentle nudge.

​Sora gave me a grateful smile and took the seat next to Ji-woo. I looked around, and unfortunately, the only seat left was directly across from Minji. I settled into the chair, the cool leather a relief against my skin, and she completely ignored my presence, which I was honestly thankful for.

​The conversation flowed easily around the table, a mix of post-performance excitement and tour stories. The food was incredible—the spicy broth warmed me from the inside out and the variety of fresh ingredients was endless. But a part of me couldn’t help but compare this fancy dinner to the late-night convenience store meals Chan and I used to share after long rehearsals. I started to space out, the hum of conversation fading into a distant murmur, until the sound of my name brought me back to reality.

​“How does it feel to be getting all this new attention?” Hana asked me. Her voice was bright, but a subtle edge to it made my stomach clench.

​“What?” I asked, taken aback.

“I mean, everyone seems to love you,” she continued, her gaze fixed on me.

​“Though it must suck that the only reason you’re getting any attention is because of Chan,” Minji interjected, her voice sharp and cold. ​The cheerful chatter at the table died down instantly, replaced by a heavy silence. All eyes were on us. I felt my face flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

​“Look, Minji, I know you may think it’s unfair that I’m dancing with Chan, but I got this position because of my talent and hard work,” I defended myself, my voice steadier than I felt.

​“Right, you’ve been working really hard at trying to get Chan,” Minji sneered, her lips curling into a cruel smirk.

​“Excuse me?” I shot back, my patience wearing thin. “Minji, if you have something to say, then just say it and don’t dance around it.”

​“I’m just saying what the rest of us are thinking. And honestly, what were you thinking trying to get with a man that’s so out of your league? The fans may like you now, but they are so quick to turn on you too,” she spat out like venom.

​The silence that followed was deafening. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked around the table. Everyone averted their eyes, seemingly more interested in their food than what was happening right in front of them. Sora and Ji-woo had left the table earlier, and I felt a wave of complete loneliness wash over me. No one was going to help me.

“Believe whatever you guys want. I’m done being entertainment for the night.” ​I pushed my chair back, the harsh scrape of the metal legs against the floor a final punctuation to the silence. I stood up, grabbed my duffel bag, and walked out of the restaurant without a single glance back. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. The hotel was within walking distance, and I desperately needed the fresh air.

​Is that what everyone really thought? That I was just some manipulative seductress who didn’t deserve to be here? The walk back to the hotel was a blur of self-doubt and insecurity. Every step I took felt heavy, and the bright lights of the city felt overwhelming. The constant stream of traffic, the distant rumble of the subway—it all faded into the background as I questioned myself and my skill level. Is that all I really am? Just lucky?

​I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn't notice where I was going until I fell hard, landing on my butt in one of the hotel hallways. The impact sent a jolt of pain up my back, and I groaned, trying to gather my senses.

​“You okay?” a familiar voice asked.

​I looked up, my eyes blurry with tears, and saw Chan.

​“Yeah, sorry. This is the second time I’ve bumped into you,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.

​“Nah, it was my fault, too. I was on my phone,” he replied, extending a hand to help me up. He noticed my flushed face and the unshed tears in my eyes and his expression softened with concern. “Hey, are you alright?”

​“Yeah… I just…” I bit my lip, the question I had been asking myself for the past hour tumbling out before I could stop it. “Do you think I deserve to be here?” My voice was barely a whisper.

​He looked at me with a bewildered expression, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What kind of question is that? Of course, you do. I know a lot of people say stuff online, but I know all the hours of practice you put into this choreography. You deserve this more than anyone else.”

​A rush of warmth spread through my cheeks and my chest.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, a genuine smile finally breaking through.

“Sorry I loved to stay and talk but there's some tour complications and I need to go find Manager Kim.” Chan ran a hand down his face with exhaustion.

“No of course.” I said, “I'll see you tomorrow?” The question didn't come out as nonchalant as I'd hoped but I swallowed down the embarrassment.

“For sure.” Chan replied with a smile before walking away.

That night, I laid in bed thinking about what Minji said, but I repeated Chan's reassuring words like a mantra to keep myself from falling down a rabbit hole of despair.

●☆●

Later that week, in Atlanta Georgia, during a rare day off, the Stray Kids members decided to explore a bit. Chan, ever the thoughtful leader, invited all the backup dancers to join them. Most came, but Minji and Hana politely declined, citing fatigue.

It was a surprisingly relaxed afternoon. We visited a farmers market, the vibrant colors and sounds a welcome change from the sterile hotel rooms. Felix and Emily were practically inseparable, laughing as they tried to haggle over souvenirs. Han was excitedly trying out his English much to Seungmin's amusement. Even Lee Know seemed less reserved, teasing Hyun-woo about his terrible sense of direction.

Chan and I found ourselves lingering by a stall selling intricate local artwork. "This is beautiful," I said, admiring a hand-painted tile.

"It really is," Chan agreed. He then leaned in, his voice softer. "Are you doing okay with... everything? I've noticed some of the other dancers sometimes, you know, they can be a bit..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

I sighed, grateful he'd noticed. "It's fine, Chan. Just some normal tour drama, I guess. Nothing I can't handle."

He looked at me, his expression earnest. "Still. Don't let it get to you. You're here because you're incredible at what you do. Don't forget that." He then changed the subject, pointing to a small, hand-carved wooden figure. "Hey, look at this. It reminds me of Seungmin. Should I get it for him?"

The shift was subtle, but it was enough. The tension eased, replaced by the easy comfort we shared. As the tour continued, the late-night talks, the shared meals, and those quiet, lingering glances became the fabric of our new normal. The lines between professional partners and something more began to blur, both on and off stage.

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

Part 5

Note: As always, let me know what your guy's thoughts are!

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

[nowherechxrry]

Pineapple Lip Gloss - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

WC: 1.3k

Summary: Chan has been crushing on you for a while now, will he finally gain the courage to confess? Or will you beat him to it...

A/N: sorry it's been so long, i've been super busy with work and school starting but i'll do my best to continue to post when i can. thanks for reading and enjoy!!

- kit <3

You had picked up take out for Chan, knowing he’d been working in his studio all day on whatever project had him so wrapped up lately. You rapped gently on his studio door before letting yourself inside.

“Hey! I brought you dinner!” You called as you entered, spotting Chan sitting at his desk.

Noting the headphones, you chuckle to yourself at his lack of awareness. You set the bag of food down on the nearby table and quietly walk over to him, leaning down close to his ear.

“Hey Channie.”

He jumped, ripping off his headphones and turning to face you. “Dear god, Y/N! What the hell?” He placed a hand over his chest, heart pounding against his chest as he laughed softly. “When did you get here?”

You smiled, “30 seconds ago. I brought food.”

“You didn't have to do that," he said, though it quickly dawned on him that he hadn't eaten all day.

"Of course I did, who else was going to feed you?”

Chan chuckled, getting up from his chair and walking with you to sit down at the table.

“You know me too well.”

You both start pulling food out of the bag and making yourselves plates with the paper plates Chan kept stalked in the studio for nights like this. Neither of you spoke, occupied with stuffing your faces with food.

As the night continued, Chan found himself staring as you spoke, though most of it went over his head.

You caught him staring and raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously, “Hey. Are you listening?” You teased giving him a playful nudge with your elbow.

Chan’s ears reddened, realized he’d been caught, “Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m listening.”

“Uh-huh,” You grinned, “What was I talking about then?”

Chan stares at you blankly for a moment before laughing sheepishly, “I’m sorry…”

“What’s got you so distracted?” You chuckle, shaking your head.

“I’m just tired.” He lied.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look before you shrugged, “Fair enough, you seem to be tired most of the time these days. Then again, tired K-pop idol, what a shocker.”

As the conversation naturally died down, you reached into your bag and pulled out a tube of lip gloss, gliding it across your lips before gently smacking them together. He noticed the glass glittering under the purple light of the studio and his mind wandered, wondering what it tasted like, how your lips would feel against his. You turned back to him and he quickly looked away, busying himself by putting away the leftover food. You helped up, standing up from the table and putting the remaining boxes back into the bag.

“I can drop these off at your apartment if you want, I’m sure Jeongin would be happy for the leftovers.” You offer.

“You don’t want any?” Chan asked, looking over to you.

You shook your head, “I bought it for you.”

“Oh, well… thanks. You really don’t have to go through the trouble. I can take them back when I leave.”

“I don’t know if I’d recommend leaving these out for hours before you head home. I know you well enough to be confident in saying you weren’t planning to leave for another few hours.” You gave him a knowing look.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “You know me…”

“I’m just glad you let me pull you away for a bit. It’s okay to take breaks, you know?”

“I know, I know. The boys have been pestering me too.” Chan sighed, looking down at his feet.

“We just want you to take care of yourself.” You smile, placing a hand affectionately on his arm.

Chan looks down at your hand on his arm, then back up to you, “You’re always taking care of everyone, but who takes care of you?”

“Don’t you try and flip this on me, Mr. Bang. You’re one to talk.” You chuckle.

"Touché," he said with a cheeky grin.

Chan swallowed, mouth suddenly going dry as time seemed to slow down before you dropped your hand. Picking up the bag of food from the table, you started to walk towards the door.

“Well, I should probably get going. I’m sure you–”

Chan stood up after you, grabbing your forearm gently, “Wait–”

You turned back to him, “Yeah?”

"I—uh…" He stared at you for a long moment, fingers lightly looped around your wrist.

You waited a few moments before laughing, "Chan, what?"

God, that laugh, he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. Before he could second guess himself, he leant in and kissed her. You let out a soft gasp, taken by surprise, but you didn’t pull away. It was Chan who pulled back abruptly.

"Oh my god, Y/N, I'm so sorry."

“Chan-”

"I shouldn't have done that-"

“Channie-”

“Fuck, I’m so-”

You all but tossed the bag of food back onto the table, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you, kissing him. After a moment you let go, moving your hands to cup his jaw gently. The studio was silent except for the south of your breaths as your lips moved together. It was a soft, sweet kiss, filled with a mixture of comfort and yearning. 

As the kiss continued, Chan's hesitance quickly melted away, replaced by a growing sense of desire. He found himself wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The feeling of your lips against his, the warmth of your body pressed against him, it felt familiar and yet entirely new at the same time.

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. Chan looked down at the floor for a moment, his heart racing as he took in shaky breaths. He felt a mixture of emotions— surprise, guilt, relief, and an aching desire for more. But he also didn't want to scare you away.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “I-”

Before he could say anything more, you cut him off, hands still cradling his jawline. “Please just… stop talking.” You said softly, leaning in to connect your lips.

Chan didn’t protest, letting relief wash over him as your lips met again, pulling you closer to him. He’d imagined this so many times. The feeling of your body pressed against his, your soft skin under his hands was addicting and he never wanted it to end. 

This time when you pulled away, Chan’s eyes refused to open, like if they did he’d realize this was just a dream and you weren’t really here. Then he felt something run softly across his bottom lip. He opened his eyes. You were smiling at him with that perfect smile, the pad of your thumb tracing against his lip.

“Pineapple.” Was the first word out of his mouth.

You met his eyes, giggling, “What?”

"Your lip gloss... it's pineapple flavored." He grins, "I had been wondering earlier."

"Speaking of my lip gloss..." You move your thumb from his lip to trace the side, “You’ve got it all over your mouth.”

He smiled at you as you swiped your thumb along his lips, admiring your features. Those perfect eyes he would have no problem getting lost in, each beauty mark and freckle across your skin, your plush lips that he already found himself missing. He would’ve continued to examine your face had you not pulled back.

“So… that’s a thing?” You mumble, hands falling away from his face.

“Is it… is it a good thing?” He asks, his eyes never leaving you.

“I’d say so… wouldn’t you?”

He smiles softly, “Very much so.”

“Something you’d like to do again?” You bite your lip, looking away coyly.

“I mean… I’m not opposed…” He grinned, sighing nonchalantly, as though it wasn’t the only thing he would be thinking about for the next week… maybe month.

hope you enjoyed it! don't forget to like and reblog, i really appreciate it <3

[my-venus]

Duet

Idol BangChan x backup dancer female reader

Part 3

Part 1 is here

Warnings ⚠️: None

○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○☆●☆○

The Obsidian music video dropped, and the internet, predictably, exploded. The mature concept was a hit, and the duet dance breaks were the talk of every K-Pop forum. My social media, once a quiet space for dance content, was now buzzing with new followers and comments, a mix of praise and the inevitable, slightly obsessive questions about "Chan's dance partner."

After the mv dropped we did a lot of promotional events such as performing on Mnet TV and filming the whole dance on studio choom. The whole experience has been busy but fun.

Today we were all being gathered in the practice room that we've been using for the past weeks for some exciting news. Obsidian has been doing insanely well and is trending on almost all platforms. There have also been whispers about a tour among the staff of JYP. Sora was beyond ecstatic about the thought of being able to go on tour. And honestly so was I!

I opened the door to the practice room and made a beeline towards where Sora was sitting on the floor. The practice room was filled with all the backup dancers and some of the Straykids members. My eyes couldn't help but look for Chan. I was hit with a shot of disappointment when I realized he wasn't in the room.

After everyone arrived, Manager Kim got everyone's attention. “As most of you are aware Obsidian has done extremely well so let's all give ourselves a round of applause for our hard work!” A round of applause went around the room as well as some hoops and hollers. “I know there has been some whispers and speculation about a tour and I gathered you all here to confirm that Straykids is going on tour in five weeks. So we need confirmation from you all that you will be available to go. Tour dates and travel details will all be sent to you all in email. Again thank you all for your hard work and I hope to see you all during the tour.”

“Can you believe it!” Sora exclaimed. “We get to go on tour! Wait, are you going? Please tell me you are going.”

A soft chuckle escaped me. I found Sora's enthusiasm endearing. “Of course I'm going! How could I pass up this opportunity?”

“Yay!” Sora beamed and gave me a side hug.

After Manager Kim shared the exciting news, he offered up the practice room to anyone who wanted to use it. Some of the male backup dancers who went on tour with Straykids last time offered to start teaching us some of the choreo for their songs. I had a couple of hours to kill before I had somewhere to be, so I took them up on their offer.

“Kiss ass.” I heard someone mutter as they walked out the door. I didn't bother calling out Minji since I had no intentions of letting her get a reaction out of me.

The two boys, Ji-woo and Hyun-woo, who volunteered to teach the few of us who wanted to get a head start on the choreo taught us most of the Thunderous dance before we all called it a night.

I grabbed my duffel bag and said my goodbyes before leaving. There wasn't anyone roaming the halls of the JYP building but I'm sure there were idols and staff still working. I turned the corner and collided with another body. I gasped, a small "oof" escaping my lips, while the other person stumbled back.

The sudden impact rattled me, sending a jolt up my arm. "You alright?" a voice asked, thick with that familiar Australian accent.

My head snapped up, and my cheeks burned as I instantly recognized Chan. His eyes, usually crinkling at the corners when he smiled, held a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I should have been looking where I was going," I mumbled, my embarrassment deepening. The cool air of the empty hallway seemed to magnify the heat in my face.

"You're fine. Have you heard about the tour yet?" His voice was softer now, a comforting balm. The faint scent of his cologne, something clean and subtly spicy, reached me.

"Yeah, Manager Kim gathered everyone today to share the big news. Congratulations by the way." I offered a small, genuine smile.

"Thanks. So are you going to be joining?" He shifted his weight, and I noticed the way the overhead fluorescent lights exaggerated his eye bags, and I wondered if he'd been getting enough sleep lately.

"How could I pass up the opportunity?" A small thrill went through me at the thought of the tour, but also at the easy way we were talking.

"That's good…" Chan said, and my stomach fluttered when he added, "Do you want to maybe get dinner?"

My heart gave a hopeful thump, a warmth spreading through my chest at the unexpected offer. But then reality set in. "I actually already have dinner plans with my parents tonight, but thanks for asking." The words felt heavy on my tongue, even though it was true.

"Oh… have a good dinner." His voice had lost some of its earlier warmth, and the smile he gave me didn't quite reach his eyes, a subtle shadow passing over them. He turned, the sound of his footsteps echoing slightly as he started walking away, leaving me alone in the silent hallway, a lingering sense of missed opportunity hanging in the air.

●☆●

Rehearsals for the upcoming tour began almost immediately. The schedule was relentless, a whirlwind of learning new formations, perfecting transitions, and making sure the live performance had even more impact than the video. The main practice room felt like our second home.

One late evening, the studio was mostly empty. Only Chan and I were left, trying to polish a section of our duet. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and effort. We’d been at it for an hour, wanting the performance to have the same effect it did in the music video. We were fueled by lukewarm coffee and sheer determination.

"Okay, from the top of the chorus," Chan said, adjusting his cap. "Really hit that isolation on 'echoes.' Make it pop." He demonstrated, his body sharp and controlled.

I nodded, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. "Got it. Let's try to make it less… clunky this time."

We ran through it again, and this time, it flowed. My movements mirrored his, a symbiotic energy building between us. As the music faded, we stood panting, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other.

"Yeah! That was it!" Chan exclaimed, a wide, triumphant grin spreading across his face. "See? I told you we'd get there."

"We did," I agreed, a genuine smile replacing my exhaustion. "My legs are officially protesting, though."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Mine too. You worked hard tonight." He leaned against the mirrored wall, catching his breath. "You hungry? I'm thinking something easy, like convenience store ramen and kimbap. My treat, again."

My stomach, always ready, rumbled its agreement. "You read my mind. Sounds perfect."

We walked out into the cool night air, the neon lights of Seoul painting the streets in vibrant hues. The convenience store was a familiar beacon, bright and welcoming. We grabbed our ramen, some kimbap, and a couple of cold drinks, then settled at one of the small, plastic tables outside. The city hummed around us, a comforting backdrop to our quiet meal.

"This is nice," I said, slurping my noodles. "After a day of yelling at my body to do things it doesn't want to, this is exactly what I needed."

Chan laughed. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like my body has a mind of its own. Like, 'Nope, not doing that today, Chan.'" He took a bite of kimbap. "You know, when we were auditioning dancers, everyone had great technique. But with you… there was just something extra. Something in the way you connected with the music. It wasn't just moves; it was like you were telling a story."

My cheeks felt warm. "That means a lot, Chan. I just try to feel the music. You guys have such powerful songs, it's easy to get lost in them."

"Well, it paid off," he said, looking at me intently. "We're lucky to have you. Seriously. You're awesome."

His gaze lingered for a moment and for a second, the bustling city, the ramen, everything faded. It was just us, under the streetlights, a comfortable silence settling between us.

●☆●

Meanwhile, in another part of the JYP building, the rest of Stray Kids were winding down after their own late-night session, sprawled across the couches, and each other, in their dorm common room. Empty takeout containers were scattered on the coffee table.

“Man, my back is killing me,” Felix groaned, stretching dramatically. “This tour choreography is no joke.”

“Tell me about it,” Changbin mumbled, scrolling through his phone. “At least the choreography is really starting to click. We all look like one unit.”

“Yeah, our dancers are all amazing,” Seungmin chimed in, leaning back with a sigh. “Sora with Hyunjin… she’s got such an elegant flow. It’s cool to see them together.”

Han looked up from his game and turned his head up to look at Seungmin from where he was sitting between his legs. “True. And Emily with Felix, they’re just so in sync. It’s like they’ve been dancing together for years.”

Lee Know, took a long sip of his drink. "Hyunjin and Sora are too pretty, it's distracting." He smirked. Hyunjin's cheeks turned into a pretty shade of pink at Leeknow's comment. While others only gave a playful eye roll since they're used to Leeknow's blatant flirting.

I.N. nodded. "Everyone's doing great. Noona with Chan hyung... they look really good together, too."

All eyes turned to Chan’s empty spot on the couch.

“Speaking of which,” Lee Know began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “where’s our leader? Still out 'practicing'?” He drew air quotes around the word, a subtle jab.

Changbin snorted. "Probably still at the studio, knowing him. Or... maybe getting ramen with his partner?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively at the others.

Felix grinned. "Ohh, that's right! Chan hyung and noona are always the last ones out. Must be some intense 'practice' sessions, huh?" He elbowed Hyunjin.

Hyunjin stretched, feigning nonchalance. "They do have a lot of complex sections. Makes sense they'd spend extra time. Noona's really talented, she picks things up super fast. Chan hyung always talks about how good she is."

Han picked up a pillow and smacked Hyunjin with it. "Yah! Leave them alone. Chan hyung just wants to make sure everything's perfect. He's a perfectionist, you know that." He paused, then added, "But yeah, they do spend a lot of time together."

A knowing silence filled the room, punctuated only by the crinkle of a chip bag. Everyone in Stray Kids knew Chan, knew how dedicated he was, but they also knew a certain look in his eyes when he talked about his dance partner – a look that wasn’t just about professionalism.

“Oh! Felix, guess what!” Han exclaimed. He had a smug look on his face, and everyone knew that whatever came out of Han's mouth wouldn't be good.

“Yeah?” Felix looked up from his phone.

“I can't believe I made it out of bronze before you in league.”

A pillow made a solid connection to Han's cheek.

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Part 4

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@mangalovesanime-blog wished to be tagged, so I hope you enjoy.