𓋼 New Phone, Who This? 𓋼
-Bang Chan, Part 9 -
𓍊 Wrong Number! Bang Chan x Fem! Reader
𓍊 he doesn’t hesitate, not when it comes to you
𓍊 Warnings: brief physical assault, stalking, scary situations, protective! Chan, swearing, Chan makes a threat but it’s ok it’s hot, comfort, confessions, fluff, humor, Chan is shy and silly and sweet, it ends happy I swear
𓍊 Note: one more part left! I hope you all like it 💙
𓍊 this is a fictional characterization of all people/characters meant purely for fictional purposes
𓍊 Series Masterlist
𓍊 series taglist: @aiyanotfound @cchapssaltteok @whydolife @whights-t @niku0704 @pinkbear2009 @hanniesbubuwife @bunbunbl0gs @barbie-girl84 @imma-much-happier-person @star-my @aiyanotfound @dina-10s-blog @certifiedchangbinluver @wolfchan4life234 @starysa @deaddcrow @mysticaal-vee @chryssi-kitten @mintchip17
⭑ This part includes a beginning text, a written portion (2.5k), and more texts at the end!
Chan was no stranger to running. He wasn't as fast as Minho—who could run at an ungodly speed when properly motivated—but years of playing soccer in school had given Chan stamina. And the relentless dance practices and workouts of his career had only served to increase his endurance.
He had never been more grateful for his stamina than today.
Chan had started moving the instant you told him you were being followed. He’d jolted up from his chair, startling Jisung and Changbin who had been taking a small break.
“What-?” Jisung started.
Chan cut him off. “Yn’s in trouble,” he said, the words coming in a rush as he sped towards the door. He barely managed to grab his hat and mask before he was yanking the studio’s door open and sprinting down the hallway.
Once outside the company building, Chan paused just long enough to look at your location. Then he was off down the street. He weaved in and out of the pedestrians, going as fast as he could without hitting anyone. All the while he kept one eye on his phone and another scanning the street. He followed the navigation out of the thickest crowds and dashed down the sidewalk.
Faster! Chan thought desperately. He had to go faster! His body was used to long distance, not sprinting. But Chan pushed himself, his stride elongating and muscles straining to give himself a boost. Worst case scenarios kept flashing in his mind, and his rapid heartbeat had nothing to do with the pace he had set.
He had to find you before something happened.
The navigation arrow closed in on the coordinates and Chan rounded a corner. Several meters away stood two figures. One figure was crowding the other. He could only assume it was you who was getting cornered against a brick wall, and that the man towering over you was your ex.
Chan was still so far away, and he urged his body to go faster. A set of hands reached out to pin you to the wall, one digging into your shoulder and the other gripping your chin.
Chan’s pounding steps didn’t cover the man’s words. “I always get what I want,” a voice filled with cruel intent said. The man’s lips twisted into a smirk, and Chan watched in horror as the hand on your chin jerked you forward. You jerked back with an angry snarl, only to be rewarded with a backhand to the cheek.
Chan saw red. Still in his sprint, he lunged and took the man to the ground in a rugby tackle. A surprised cry left the man as he hit the cement hard. Chan’s anger, adrenaline, and the hard muscle he’s worked so hard for, made it easy to pin the other to the ground. His fingers dug into the man’s shoulders and a low, animalistic growl rumbled from his throat. He leaned down, his masked face inches away from wide, fearful eyes.
“If I ever,” Chan said, his words so deep they vibrated through his chest. He tightened his grip and watched the man wince. “And I mean ever, see you near her again, you’ll be relearning how to walk from inside a hospital room.”
The fallen man spoke in jumbled words, but Chan wasn’t having it. He shifted back on his haunches and fisted his hands in the man’s shirt. Chan lifted the man’s torso up until they were nose to nose.
“If you have any working cells in your brain,” Chan hissed. “You’ll nod your head and leave. Don’t make me hurt you.”
Chan poured every bit of anger and threat he had in his body into his eyes. A voice in the back of his head (one that sounded irritatingly like Minho’s) told Chan to not be an idiot and do something to get his ass arrested. But the—extremely pissed off—front of his mind demanded that the man on the ground either get the fuck out, or get his kneecaps busted.
The man’s eyes were blown wide, and he nodded as if in a trance. Chan stared him down for a moment longer before letting him fall to the ground with an oomph. Then Chan stood and took a step back. He kept his body tense and ready to move as the man scrambled to his feet. Chan watched in disgust as the asshole stumbled into a run and fled down the street.
Even as the threat left, adrenaline pumped through Chan’s veins, his breathing labored and chest heaving from the run and the skirmish.
“Chan?” a weak, breathless voice asked.
He turned, his already pounding heart stuttering in place as his eyes met yours for the first time.
If pressed, Chan would admit that he’d imagined how your first meeting would be. True to his nature, Chan had wanted to plan it out. He had counted on having a good few weeks to psych himself up, maybe ask you to coffee or lunch. But he should have known the universe would shove him face first into you.
“Um,” Chan said dumbly. “Hi.” How eloquent, his inner Minho snarked. Then his thoughts caught up with the situation.
“Fuck,” Chan said, rushing to your side. His hands hovered above you, unsure if his touch would frighten you. His eyes left yours and fell onto your cheek where a red mark was blooming. His fingers ghosted over your skin, trembling. “Are you ok?” he asked. “Did he-did he hurt you anywhere else?”
A shake of your head had Chan’s shoulders relaxing. “Good,” he breathed out. The adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving Chan anxious and worried.
You might not be hurt badly physically, but you weren’t ok, Chan realized. He recognized the dazed look in your eyes and the way your legs shook. You had just been followed—stalked, even—and assaulted by the ex that had been tormenting you for months.
Hesitantly, Chan laid a gentle hand on your arm. The contact seemed to break through the haze of onsetting trauma, and you sucked in a breath, then another. Your lips began to tremble and Chan winced when you dug your teeth into the bottom one.
As tenderly as he could, Chan drew you close. It was then, with your body close to his, that Chan realized he was shaking, too. He felt your hands grasp the back of his jacket, and he held you tighter. Chan savored the feeling of you, safe and whole.
“Let’s get you home,” Chan murmured.
—
Your apartment was very…you. Chan could see pieces of your personality in every knickknack, art piece, and well-worn book. And much like you, Chan thought your home was cozy and beautiful.
He sat you down on the couch and asked if you had any ice packs. You did, and Chan found them right where you said they’d be in the freezer. He came back with an ice pack and a warm, wet rag. Chan made sure his touch was gentle as he dabbed around your bruise with the rag, then cradled a towel-wrapped ice pack against it.
“I can hold it,” you said softly.
Chan shook his head, offering a smile. “No need,” he replied. “I got you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “First you tackle my creep of an ex,” you said with humor. “Then you bring me home and tend to my wounds. You sure are attentive.”
Chan adjusted the ice pack. “I’ve been told I’m very protective of the people I care about,” Chan said with a huffing laugh.
You smiled, and even with the now purple bruise on your cheek, Chan thought you looked stunning.
Then you seemed to register the deeper meaning behind his words, a meaning Chan hadn’t known was there.
“You…care about me?” you asked.
Chan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah, I do.” His fingers tightened around the ice pack to keep them from shaking. He cleared his throat and forced himself to continue. “I’ve cared about you for a while now,” he admitted. He intently avoided your gaze, afraid of your reaction to his confession.
He saw the slight movement of your arm out of the corner of his eye, and Chan was unable to suppress the shudder that rolled down his spine when your fingers lightly touched his jaw. His eyes flit back up, and he was immediately drawn into your stare. A little spark of hope kindled inside him when he saw the emotion in your irises.
“I care about you too,” you whispered.
His heart stuttered, his pulse quickening. Chan couldn’t control his trembling and he set the ice pack down. He swallowed again, his voice coming out in a rasp. “Really?”
You simply nodded.
“Why?” The question shocked Chan as much as it seemed to shock you. He drew his eyebrows together as he wondered what the hell was wrong with himself.
But a stifled sound made him stop his (annoyingly Minho-like) thoughts. Your lips were pressed together, but it didn’t completely muffle the little giggles that had your shoulders shaking.
“Hey!” Chan protested, even as his own grin cracked. Your laughter broke free and you leaned in to rest your forehead on his shoulder. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, his hand running along your back and feeling your giddiness.
“Chan,” you said through bubbling laughter. “You literally body slammed a guy to the ground for me today.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you went on, tapping your fingers on his arm as you listed, “You are so caring, always asking me how I’m doing even when we just talked the night before. You listen to my insane facts without complaint, and you show genuine interest in what I have to say. You make me laugh and bring so much joy to my days.”
You sat up, face close to his. Chan kept his arms around you, looking down and vowing to commit the curve of your lips to memory.
“You’re my safe place,” your voice was as soft as your smile.
Chan’s throat clogged. “Your safe place,” he echoed.
“Yeah.”
Her safe place, Chan thought. I’m her safe place.
Chan's right hand came to cradle your uninjured cheek, the other finding your fingers and linking with them. “I want to be your safe place,” he said. A sudden realization had him feeling a little breathless. “And you’ve become my safe place, too.” It was a realization that had been coming for a while, Chan supposed.
“That first time you helped me sleep was the first night in a week that I got more than four hours of sleep,” he confessed. “I felt so guilty for bothering you again, but you agreed like it was a simple act of kindness.” Chan ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “But it was a big deal to me. And you did it out of pure goodness.”
Your free hand covered Chan’s and he savored the warmth that spread down his arm. “I guess it’s easy for us to help each other,” you said.
Chan nodded and squeezed your hand. “I didn’t have to think twice about coming to help you today.”
For the first time since Chan had arrived at your apartment, he saw tears well in your eyes. You blinked, and Chan watched crystal liquid spill down. He swiped it away tenderly.
“I’m so sorry for what happened,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for what he put you through. The fear, the hurt, all of it.” He felt a familiar burning behind his eyes and blinked back his own tears.
“I’m sorry too,” you agreed. A teary smile had Chan drawing even closer. “But it led me to you.”
Chan didn’t resist his urge to get closer. His arms tightened and he scooted your body until he had you almost on his lap with your arms resting on his shoulders and his hands on your waist.
“And I’m thankful for that,” he whispered. “And even though this isn’t how I wanted to meet you, I’m glad I could be there today.”
Your eyes were so deep, your feelings on display for him. Chan hoped you could see his own emotions in his eyes. He hoped you could see how much he felt for you. Your fingers tangled idly in the curls at the base of his skull. The touch sent pleasant shivers down his spine.
Chan ran his thumb over the dip of your waist and pressed his forehead against yours. “I know it’s probably too soon,” he said, his voice thick. “And I won’t be upset if you say no. But, can I kiss you?”
He heard the hitch of your breath, and felt your fingers still. Your whispered ‘yes’ was all he needed. Chan leaned in, tilting his head and capturing your lips with his. A slow, comforting warmth started in his stomach and spread into each limb. Kissing you was like coming home after weeks of touring. It was like seeing the final draft of a song he’d poured months of labor into.
Kissing you, Chan felt whole.
Chan was almost dizzy when he drew away. And, by the look of it, you were equally as affected. He watched as you blinked several times as if trying to keep ahold of yourself.
He found himself laughing lightly, staring at you in wonder. “Wow,” Chan said. “I should have asked to meet you weeks ago, if it meant I could have been doing that.”
Your nose wrinkled as you laughed, and Chan resisted the urge to kiss it. “I guess we have a lot of time to make up for,” you said with a playful glint in your eyes.
Chan kissed you soft and quick. “I take it you’ll go out with me, then?” he asked hopefully.
You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “Duh.” Then you kissed him again.
All of Chan’s thoughts fled as he focused only on you. The weight of your body close to his, the feeling of your shirt under his hands, and the fingers still in his hair, all made Chan want to dive headfirst into you.
He chased after your lips and barely suppressed a whine when you leaned back. Instead, he just let you shift until you were in your lap and he was holding you properly. Your head rested on his shoulder, his cheek against your hair. Holding you was just as good as kissing you, Chan thought.
All of Chan’s panic, adrenaline, and fear was gone. It had been replaced with the feeling of you and the safety Chan had helped you create. He dearly hoped he could always make you feel safe.
Chan’s thoughts drifted into the future as he held you close. He was halfway through planning your first anniversary when you spoke.
“Chan?” you asked.
“Hm?” he hummed idly.
Your next words completely derailed his train of thought.
You shifted to look at him, a teasing glint in your eye and an evil little grin playing on your lips. “When were you going to tell me that you’re a world-famous idol?”
Chan stared down at you, mouth open and completely dumbfounded. Oh yeah, he thought stupidly. I forgot about that part. He scrambled to say something—anything, really, but words failed him.
Then your gorgeous, beautiful laugh broke his stupor, and Chan couldn’t help but join you. He hid his face in your shoulder, unable to muffle his giggles.
I think, Chan thought as he listened to your joyous sounds. I think I’m falling in love.
