The Evening Star

[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

Merman Jeongin x reader

Warnings: attempted suicide

Dividers by @diviniyae

Jeongin glided effortlessly through the cold waters of the east china sea. Jeongin’s body had not yet adjusted, switching from the warmer waters that surrounded Australia to the colder temperatures of this part of the ocean. It was that time of the year when his pod migrated from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific.

Jeongin drifted closer to the sandy ocean floors, keeping an eye out for any lost treasures. His strong tail moved in slow undulating motions allowing him to glide through the gloomy water without disturbing the creatures of the sea floor. Not much light was able to filter through the heavy layers of water but his body was designed to catch the slightest of movements in the water.

Something sparkly caught his eye in the distance. He swam closer towards the mysterious object, the excitement of finding something new tingling his body. Jeongin reached out his webbed fingers and grabbed the shiny treasure half buried in the sand. He recognised the item. It was called a necklace. Jeongin knew the name that the humans gave to this shiny piece of treasure because Chan Hyung had taught him the word the first time that Jeongin had found one and brought it back to his pod.

Since that day Jeongin has found many more necklaces and has kept every single one. They were artifacts of a life that was so strange to him.

Humans were strange creatures.

Jeongin couldn’t fathom how they could get very far with those legs of theirs. And they had so many little fingers on their feet. A shiver ran down Jeongins tail at the thought of their little feet. But yet he was so drawn to the shiny treasures that the humans would carelessly let fall into the waters. They all seemed rather clumsy to Jeongin whenever he got the rare chance to observe one from afar.

Jeongin made his way up to the surface. He broke through the water and took a breath of sharp crisp air through his nose. He looked around and spotted the familiar jagged rocks near a sea cave where he kept all of his treasure. He swam closer to the rocks and used his upper body to hoist himself up on one of the cool slippery rocks. He knew that his Hyungs would scold him for being above water so close to a human pod but a heavy fog kept the rocks hidden from the shore line. The only thing that brought concern to him was the raised wooden human platform above the water nearby but Jeongin had come to these rocks many times before and not once had he ever seen a human on it. He wasn’t too worried about it and even if a human did show up he would simply slip back into the water.

Once he was settled Jeongin brought the necklace closer to his face for further inspection. The necklace had a silver pendant that hung on a thin silver chain. He turned it over and saw that there were words engraved on the back. Jeongin couldn’t read human. He only knew a couple of words and phrases that Chan Hyung had taught him over the years. The idea of bringing the necklace to his Hyung crossed his mind before he abruptly dismissed it. Chan will want to know where he found it and Jeongjin didn’t feel like getting scolded for swimming too close to a human island.

The sound of creaking floorboards interrupted Jeongins’s thoughts. He pressed his body against the cool jagged edges of the wet rock he was sitting on and listened. He heard the old wood creak under light footsteps. Jeongjin held his breath while his heart beat wildly in his chest. He could hear some shuffling and then a soft thud.

Panic and fear rushed through his body but there was also something else rushing through him. Something dangerous.

Curiosity.

Channie Hyung is going to kill him, Jeongin thought as he raised his head high enough to take a peak. There on the wooden platform sat a human. Their legs crossed, their eyes staring down into the deep blue sea. The only noise between them was the rhythmic lapping of the water against the wooden pillars. Jeongin cocked his head to the side like a curious seagull. Their hair was long enough to cover the humans facial features from Jeongin at this angle but judging by the petite frame and long hair he deduced that it was a female human.

He saw the human shift and he crouched down. The female human only dipped its fingers into the gloomy water and started to trace invisible patterns, creating small ripples.

The first thing that Jeongin noticed was how small the human’s hand was. Its nails were short and round and there was no webbing between its fingers. They weren’t very practical for catching food. Jeongin never wondered till now what humans ate. They looked like they couldn’t catch a cod fish even if it swam right up to them.

Jeongin didn’t leave until the human did. The human didn’t do much else but dip their fingers into the water and the occasional heavy exhale. Once the human had left Jeongin slipped off the rock and into the water without making a single splash in case the human was still somewhere nearby. Jeongin swam into his small sea cave that was near the jagged rocks. He stored his new treasure into one of the rock shelves that was filled with other necklaces he’d found lying in wait for him at the bottom of the sea floor. Jeongin left his cave and began to swim back to his pod. During the swim back his mind drifted back to the human.

It looked lonely.

The next day Jeongin swam back to the jagged rocks. He knew he shouldn’t have come back now that he had seen a human there, but what were the odds the human would come again to the very same spot at the same time?

Apparently very high.

Half of Jeongin’s face was submerged in the murky water hidden by the cluster of the jagged rocks as he looked out to the wooden platform. The female human was back. Its second skin hung loosely on their frame, billowing out like a sail whenever a strong gust of wind blew. Jeongin wondered if the human would behave similarly to yesterday or if it would do anything different today. His thoughts were answered immediately when he heard a loud splash. His eyes widened in horror at the realization that the human had jumped into the water. Little bubbles surfaced marking the spot where the human jumped in. Blood pounded in his ears, his eyes were locked on to the spot where the human had jumped in. It felt like eternity as he waited for the human to break through the still surface.

He’d seen humans swim before but did this one not know how?

Had they not meant to jump in?

Jeongin’s tail started moving before he could fully comprehend what he was doing.

Merfolk had one rule that ruled above all else.

Never interact with the humans.

But fear for the human's life overruled his fear of the punishments he would receive if anyone ever found out.

Jeongin sliced through the dark waters. He stopped once he was next to the wooden pole covered with barnacles. Hesitation ran through him at the sight of the human thrashing against the water. Its hair drifted around them like ink. The human’s second skin only weighed them down further. He was broken out of his panic stupor when the human's movements stilled.

This time Jeongin wasted no time before swimming up to the human and wrapping his arms around them. The human's eyes widened in shock for a moment before they lost consciousness. Jeongin’s strong tail worked to get both of them up to the surface. It was a bit of a struggle for Jeongin to get the human on top of the platform but he managed.

The human was on its side but it didn’t look like they were breathing. Another wave of panic ran through Jeongin. He didn’t know how to help you.

Breathe. Please breathe. Jeongin prayed to any spirits listening.

The sound of the human drawing a sharp heavy breath shattered the silence of the foggy morning. It was a violent, rattling sound as her chest convulsed, forcing the murky sea water out of her lungs. Jeongin flinched back into the shadows of the platform, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched her shudder, gasping for the thin, cold air of the upper world. Her soaked second skin clung tightly to her frame, completely exposing the fragile, sharp angled bones beneath. She was shaking uncontrollably, her face pressed against the wet wooden planks of the platform.

Jeongin instinctively sank lower into the water, gripping the barnacle-encrusted pole. He knew he should dive. He should disappear into the dark, murky layer of the sea where no human could ever find him. But as he looked up at her, he couldn’t move his tail.

The female human was curled on her side, shivering so hard that her teeth clicked together. Her eyes fluttered open, but they were glassy, bloodshot from the salt, and unfocused. She stared blindly into the thick fog, her chest heaving as she tried to pull the freezing air into her starved body.

“Who…” her voice was nothing more than a wet broken whisper, swallowed instantly by the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

She dragged her gaze downward, toward the edge of the wood where the dark water lapped.

Through the veil of her soaked hair and the heavy mist, she saw him.

A dark silhouette of a face half submerged into the gloomy water. For a long breathless moment, the only sound between them was the rhythmic slap of the tide against the wood. The human opened her mouth, perhaps to take another breath or to speak, Jeongin wouldn’t know, he sank fully into the water and swam away from the platform, leaving the human drenched and alone.

Jeongin didn’t return back to his pod until deep into the night. He was shaken from the encounter and he knew his Hyungs would pick up on his jittery behavior. After the trembling in his hands had subsided he curled up into himself on top of the shared bed rock that lay surrounded by tall sea grass that swayed to the rhythm of the ocean.

Guilt flooded at Jeongin for leaving the defenseless human alone while they were at their most vulnerable. She should be alright, he tried to console himself. But Jeongin didn’t know what kind of land predators hunted along those foggy shores or if the fragile human would even survive the night. With a heavy heart, he could only offer a silent prayer to the spirits of the deep as he closed his eyes to let the familiar lullaby of the sea lull him into a restless sleep.

🫧

The early morning mist rolled in from the sea, covering the rocky beach in a thick fog that made it impossible to see five steps ahead of yourself. You followed the familiar path to the empty pier, the cold wind seeping through your many layers of clothing. The island's weather was unforgiving to those who didn’t know how to dress for it. You made your way down the winding dirt path, your feet stepping on soft grass to grainy sand.

The wooden plank creaked under the weight of your feet. You walked until you reached the end of the pier. You stared down at the deep gloomy water, the memory of water bullying its way down your throat and strong arms wrapping around you rushed to the front of your mind like a tidal wave.

Yesterday you had tried to drown yourself but someone had pulled you out of the water. The blurry image of a face half submerged in the water made its way to the forefront of your mind. You had come to the logical conclusion that it must have been a diver that attempted to save you from drowning, but then why leave so suddenly?

Why leave the person you rescued wet, cold, and alone instead of getting them help?

This is where your mind started looking into less logical conclusions.

The word mermaid came to mind.

Impossible. But yet…

You crouched down and unzipped your boots. You took them off and set them down beside you, followed by your thick socks, leaving your bare feet exposed to the biting morning air. Shifting forward, you let your legs dangle over the edge of the weathered wooden platform, hovering just inches above the murky water.

You took a breath, holding it in your chest, and lowered your feet. The moment your toes broke the surface, the ocean bit back. You let out a quiet gasp into the empty fog as you lowered your legs further, letting the dark water swallow your feet inch by inch.

The murky grey water swirled around your ankles like heavy, cold silk. It was freezing, an icy ache that settled deep into your bones. After a few moments, the intensity faded into a dull, numbing calm. You stared down into the gloomy depths between your knees, your eyes straining against the reflection of the mist.

You were waiting. Part of you felt entirely foolish, a depressed girl chasing mermaids in the fog. But as you swirled your feet through the freezing current, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something down there was watching the ripples expand.

“I know you’re there.” You whispered into the mist. The frigid water lapped at your calves like attention seeking puppies. You felt like a fool. You braced your hands against the worn wood and leaned down as far as you could go to peer down at the endless deep.

Your reflection stared back at you. You took a moment to study yourself— dark permanent circles under your eyes, chapped lips, and hallowed cheeks. Weren’t you a sight for sore eyes.

You closed your eyes and took a moment to breathe in the cold salty air. When you opened your eyes again they locked onto dilated pupils.

You froze, the breath catching like a shard of glass in your throat.

He hadn’t broken the surface. He was hovering just beneath the dark, glass-like reflection of your own face, so close that the space between your bare toes and his crown was only a matter of inches. Through the murky water, his eyes looked massive, pitch-black pools that had completely swallowed his irises, staring unblinkingly up into yours.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. The water continued to lap lazily at your calves, but the puppy-like playfulness was gone. Through the silver distortion of the surface you studied the stranger's face. His skin was pale with a distinct undertone of cold blue. Instead of a healthy, rosy pink, his lips were a muted nude color. His cheek bones were high and prominent, and the bridge of his nose looked flawlessly sculpted to fit his face. Framing his face were ears that were long and tapered, lined with a delicate, translucent webbing that caught the dark current. His eyes were monolid- an elongated, oval shape that tapered sharply at the corners. Dark strands of hair flowed carelessly around his face like ink bleeding into the current.

Your gaze drifted down past his shoulders and to the long tail lined with blue scales that moved effortlessly in the water.

You held back a gasp, afraid to startle the creature below you, as your eyes widened comically.

Mermaid. Or you suppose it’s merman.

You looked back up to the merman’s face and saw that he, too, was taking you in. He was staring curiously at your feet, you wiggled your toes as demonstration and he flinched back, surprise flickering his face. You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips.

The merman’s eyes snapped up to your face at the sound before settling right back onto your feet again. Slowly, he floated until he was right beneath you. He reached up, a pale hand broke the surface as he extended a single, sharply clawed finger towards your skin.

This time, it was your turn to flinch.

The merman pulled back his hand and retreated slightly into the gloomy water. You thought that he might disappear again like yesterday, but you were wrong. Slowly, he raised his head fully out of the water. His ink-black hair was plastered to his face, and water droplets dripped down from the dark strands onto his shoulders and glided down his toned chest.

“H-hello.” The single word echoed softly in the morning fog, breaking the suspenseful silence between you.

“Hello.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The whole interaction felt completely unreal and you were terrified that one wrong move might wake you up from a dream.

The merman’s face was scrunched up in thought before he attempted another word.

“Jeongin.”

You cocked your head to the side, trying to figure out what the word meant.

“Jeongin.” He said again, more adamantly this time.

“Is that your name?”

He placed a wet, webbed hand against his chest and repeated the word firmly. “Jeongin.”

“Jeongin…?” You tried. The sound of his name was foreign on your tongue, but you practiced saying it until you finally got a nod of approval from him. Gracing him with a small smile, you told him your own name.

He repeated it back to you. When he said your name, it sounded like something precious.

The biting cold of the water was starting to reach every part of your body. You started shivering, you clench your teeth together to prevent them from clattering against each other.

Jeongin’s observant eyes immediately noted the slight tremble in your body. He supposes humans are not adapted to live in frigid waters like he is. The vivid memory of you shaking and coughing violently yesterday surfaces to the front of his mind.

“Cold?” He voiced his concerns.

Your eyes widened for a moment before you responded. “Yeah, I’m cold.” Pulling your feet out of the biting water, you tucked them close to your body and covered your numb toes with your hands, trying to warm them up quicker.

“You not know how to swim?” Jeongin asked. He thought very carefully before he spoke, racking his brain for all the words he knew. He wanted to understand why you had jumped into the water yesterday when it was clear you couldn't swim.

“I-...” The explanation died in your throat. Trying to explain your failed sucided attempt to a mythological being who barely knew your language felt almost comical. “I fell. On accident.” The lie felt heavy on your tongue. “Not on purpose.”

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded in understanding anyway. He supposed that you don’t owe him a full explanation of your actions, but still, he hoped you would be more careful from now on.

“Stay.” He commanded gently, before dipping his head beneath the surface and disappearing into the gloomy water.

His sudden departure left you startled. He told you to stay so it must mean that he’s going to come back. You waited for a few minutes, staring intently at the spot where Jeongin disappeared. It wasn’t very long before Jeongin resurfaced.

“Give me more of a warning next time,” You breathed, a faint smile touching your lips. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming back.”

Jeongin’s lips turned down at the corners, his eyes looking apologetic. Slowly, he raised a wet hand out of the water. Hanging between his webbed fingers was a silver chain that held a delicate silver pendant.

“Necklace.” Jeongin stated proudly.

You hid a smile behind your hand at his enthusiasm for the piece of jewelry. “Did you find the necklace in the ocean?” You asked curiously. You bet there was a wealth of jewelry lost to the deep, just waiting to be found.

He nodded once and reached out his hand toward you. “Treasure.”

“For me?”

Jeongin nodded again, gesturing for you to take the necklace. As you reached out for the necklace, your fingers brushed his webbed ones briefly during the exchange. His skin was wet and shockingly cold, nothing like normal human skin.

You held the silver pendant in your palm, turning it over for closer inspection. There were elegant words engraved on the back.

“To my love.” You read aloud. A sudden blush rose to your cheeks, even though you highly doubted Jeongin knew what the inscription meant when he chose it.

“Love?” Jeongin repeated the word, tilting his head as he looked up at you curiously.

You cleared your throat, trying to dispel your flustered state. “Thank you.” You told him genuinely.

“I see you tomorrow?” Jeongin asked, a flicker of uncertainty evident in his voice.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. Around this same time.” You answered honestly. You definitely weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to get to know the merman that saved your life.

The walk home was uneventful, a blur of passing the same weathered fish stalls, quiet markets, and unfamiliar people. Overhead, the ever-present gloomy clouds blocked the sun, refusing to let even a single warm ray break through the grey sky. This island was a cage, a place where the days bled together, but you couldn't even begin to entertain the idea of leaving. Where would you go? How could you escape a life you barely had the energy to live?

​You fished the keys out for your apartment and stepped inside, the heavy silence of the rooms rushing to greet you. Chucking your shoes near the door, your stomach grumbled, demanding attention. With a quiet sigh, you dragged yourself over to the fridge. The shelves were nearly bare: just a carton of milk, a container of leftover rice, and half an eaten box of pizza. You grabbed the rice and popped it into the microwave.

​For a minute, the mechanical, droning hum of the microwave was the only noise filling the small, empty apartment.

​When it beeped, you took the warm container out and began to eat right there, standing numbly in the quiet of the kitchen. Once finished, you wandered into your bedroom and plopped onto the mattress.

The mattress engulfed your thin frame, making you feel smaller than ever. Turning your head, you stared at the picture frame resting on your nightstand. Your family’s smiling faces stared back at you from behind the glass—a painful reminder of a warmth that felt lifetimes away.

​You rolled onto your back, turning your gaze away from the past and focusing instead on the heavy silver pendant resting in your palm.

​Merfolk were real.

​You had seen one. You had talked to him. Closing your eyes, you pictured Jeongin’s face—those sharp, elegant features and those massive, dark eyes wide with innocent curiosity. A strange, unfamiliar spark ignited in your chest at the thought of him. Maybe... maybe you could be friends. For the first time in months, the anticipation of waking up to a new day filled your mind, soothing your thoughts and lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Notes: I've been thinking about a skz mermaid/siren au lately and I finally got it posted! Let me know if I should write a pt 2?

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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May or may not have written a Han Spiderman fic 👀

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 10 (Final part)

Series Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: kissing 😗

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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

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

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

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.

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Part 8

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

@jordan16

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 6

Series Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: none

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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.

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Part 7

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 5

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️: none

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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.

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Part 6

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

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog

Idol Bang Chan x backup dancer female reader

Part 4

Part 1 is here

Warnings ⚠️: angst

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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.

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Part 5

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

Tags:

@mangalovesanime-blog