#hanxreader

the scrape across his knuckles is shallow but angry, skin split and red. you click your tongue softly and stand without letting go of him.

“stay,” you say, already reaching for the first aid kit.

he does.

you sit close when you clean the cut, closer than necessary, your thumb steadying his hand while the other works. you scold him under your breath, not sharp, more like worried. minho watches your face instead of his injury.

“you don’t have to do this,” he says.

“i know,” you reply. “i want to.”

his fingers curl slowly around yours.

the door opens.

hyunjin freezes halfway inside the room.

you’re kneeling between minho’s knees, holding his hand like it belongs there. minho doesn’t move. doesn’t pull away. just looks at hyunjin and says, calm as anything, “close the door.”

hyunjin’s mouth opens. closes. he leaves.

you finish bandaging him carefully. when you’re done, minho doesn’t let go right away.

“thanks,” he says, quiet.

later, he sits closer to you than usual at dinner. no one comments.

Changbin

changbin pretends he doesn’t need reassurance.

he jokes, laughs, fills the room so no one looks too close. but you see it after practice when he lingers, rolling his shoulders like they still ache, expression tight.

you hand him a towel. then a bottle of water.

“drink,” you say.

he does. immediately.

you pack his post workout snacks into his bag while he talks, not really watching what you’re doing. when you tug his hoodie strings even and pull the hood up around his neck, he pauses.

“you baby me too much,” he says, fond.

“you like it,” you reply.

felix walks in right on cue.

he stops short at the sight of you adjusting changbin’s hoodie, pressing a protein bar into his palm, telling him to stretch later.

changbin flushes red instantly. “okay wait. don’t look at me like that.”

felix grins. “hyung. you’re being babied.”

changbin groans, embarrassed, but he doesn’t move away. doesn’t give anything back.

when felix leaves, changbin leans closer to you.

“you can keep doing that,” he says, softer. “just not when everyone’s watching.”

you smile. “sure.”

he finishes his snack anyway.

Hyunjin

he’s limping slightly when you find him backstage, one ankle wrapped in tape, sitting on the edge of the practice floor. his hands run absently over his hair, over the loose strands sticking out from the clip, but he’s tense—like he’s trying to hide it.

“you’re limping,” you say softly, kneeling down without asking. your hand hovers over his ankle first, careful, and then moves to brush a stray lock behind his ear.

hyunjin freezes. his head tilts toward you, eyes sharp but vulnerable. “i’m fine,” he mutters, but the corner of his lip twitches, betraying him.

you smile gently. “not fine enough to ignore.”

he lets you help him lie back on the mats. your fingers find the knot in his ankle wrap and work slowly, softly, loosening it just enough for him to relax. your other hand brushes against his hair again, smoothing it, and you murmur encouragements like it’s second nature.

“you… you don’t have to fuss over me,” he says quietly, almost ashamed.

“i’m not fussing,” you say, voice warm. “i’m taking care of you. you’ve taken care of everyone else long enough.”

he swallows. his chest rises and falls unevenly. you brush your thumb across the side of his face without thinking, brushing away a speck of sweat, a tiny instinct of comfort.

jisung walks in just as you lean your forehead against his shoulder to steady him.

he freezes. hyunjin freezes. you don’t move.

“i… uh…” jisung stammers.

hyunjin hides his face in your neck, voice muffled. “don’t look.”

jisung backs out, shutting the door softly, muttering, “didn’t see anything.”

when it’s just the two of you, hyunjin’s hands find yours, gripping lightly, holding on. “you’re too close,” he whispers.

“never,” you reply.

later, he leans against you completely on the couch, head on your shoulder, letting you braid the loose strands of hair. he’s quiet but his fingers braid yours into his, squeezing now and then, a silent thank you that doesn’t need words.

the first time he kisses your hand softly, brushing his lips across your knuckles, you realize neither of you wants to let go.

Jisung

he’s tense before practice, pacing the small studio like he’s trying to outrun the nerves building in his chest. you find him leaning against the wall, shoulders tight.

“hey,” you say, stepping closer. “look at me.”

he does. just barely. “i’m fine,” he mutters, but you can see the truth in the way his eyes flinch.

you reach for him, gently tugging him toward you. “no. look at me.”

he hesitates, then finally leans into your touch. you guide him to sit on the floor, back against your legs, and your hands find his shoulders, massaging slow circles.

“breathe with me,” you murmur. “in, out. in, out.”

he swallows, shoulders loosening just enough for his head to fall against your chest. you adjust so you can rub the tense knots along his spine, murmuring encouragements in between soft kisses on the top of his head.

seungmin walks in, eyes widening. “oh—uh…” he freezes, not moving.

han glances up at you, expression a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “did you see that?”

you shake your head, smiling. “he didn’t. it’s okay.”

han laughs quietly, breathless, before leaning back against you again. his arms curl around yours, holding on, not letting go.

later, when practice is over, he threads his fingers through yours. “you… you make me feel like i don’t have to do everything alone,” he says softly.

“because you don’t,” you reply, tilting your head so your lips brush his hairline.

he tilts his head back, eyes closing, and kisses your shoulder gently, a soft promise that he’ll never pull away when you’re like this with him.

he stays in your arms until the room empties completely, and even then, he doesn’t move. he just whispers your name like it’s a secret meant only for you.

Felix

he sits between your knees on the couch, eyes half-lidded, exhausted after practice, and you brush balm over his lips carefully. his lower lip trembles slightly under your fingers, and he lets out a quiet breath, leaning forward without realizing it.

“don’t,” you murmur softly, tracing the line of his jaw with the pad of your thumb. “let it sit.”

his fingers curl around yours, holding on just a little too tightly. “you don’t have to,” he whispers.

“i do,” you reply, tilting his chin up slightly to check his lips. your thumb lingers against the corner of his mouth, brushing lightly, and his head tilts into your palm without thinking.

changbin walks in.

he stops mid-step. his mouth opens, then closes. he doesn’t say anything. he sees the way you lean into felix, the way felix’s eyes close as you brush a stray strand of hair from his face, the way his hand presses lightly against yours.

felix’s eyes flutter open, cheeks flushed. “she… she cares,” he says softly, and you catch the hushed gratitude in his voice.

changbin groans and leaves, muttering about “gross baby stuff,” but felix doesn’t move away from you. he tilts his forehead to rest against yours, breath warm, fingers tightening slightly around your hand.

later, he leans into you on the couch, head on your shoulder, thumb brushing the back of your hand as if memorizing it. every small touch becomes a wordless conversation, an unspoken promise that he’s yours when you take care of him.

he closes his eyes, and you feel his lips press lightly to your shoulder, soft and steady. he murmurs your name almost reverently, and you press a kiss to his temple in return. he doesn’t pull back.

Seungmin

he’s sitting at the table, script in hand, jaw tight, fingers drumming absently. the weight of schedules and expectations sits on his shoulders like armor he can’t take off.

you come up behind him, hands brushing over his tense shoulders, down his back in slow circles. your fingers linger at the base of his neck, tracing tiny patterns as you murmur, “you don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

he exhales sharply, tilting his head back into your chest almost instinctively. your cheek rests lightly against his hairline, lips brushing the crown of his head in a small, reassuring press.

“i… i don’t know how to stop thinking about messing up,” he says quietly, voice muffled against your shirt.

“then stop worrying and let me help,” you reply, thumb brushing along his jawline. “you’re safe with me.”

his hands find yours on the table, fingers entwining. he leans forward slowly, pressing his forehead into your chest. you adjust your arms around him, one hand cradling his head, the other tracing his back. every movement is gentle, deliberate.

jisung walks in quietly and freezes in the doorway. seungmin stiffens for a moment, cheeks flushed, before he leans further into you, forehead pressing against your chest like he belongs there.

“don’t leave,” he whispers, and you press a small kiss to his temple, murmuring, “i’m right here.”

after practice, he sits close on the couch, head against your shoulder, hands holding yours, thumb brushing in small circles. your fingers cradle his jaw, brushing his hair back, and he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your collarbone, murmuring your name as he closes his eyes, trusting you completely.

even when the world is around him, when schedules and expectations return, he carries this closeness with him, a reminder that he doesn’t have to face anything alone.

Jeongin

he’s restless in the corner of the practice room, flipping through the script, voice low and distracted. you crouch down beside him, hand brushing along his forearm, fingers lingering where tension gathers.

“hey,” you whisper, tilting his face gently toward you. “look at me.”

he swallows, eyes softening, leaning into your touch. “i’m fine,” he murmurs, but his shoulder relaxes under your hand before he can stop himself.

you guide him onto the floor, sitting behind him so your chest presses lightly to his back. your arms wrap around his shoulders, tracing slow, soothing circles as you murmur encouragements. his head tilts back, brushing your chest lightly, and he sighs, letting himself melt against your warmth.

hyunjin walks in and freezes. jeongin stiffens but doesn’t move away. instead, he tilts his forehead to the side, brushing it against your shoulder almost shyly.

“don’t move,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the crown of his head. your hands stroke down his arms, over his back, anchoring him without words. he hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, and leans further into your embrace.

later, he shifts slightly, tilting to press a gentle kiss along your collarbone, fingers squeezing your arms lightly, and you respond with soft presses of your lips to his hair and temple. every movement is quiet, intimate, patient, a conversation of trust without needing to speak.

even after the room empties, he rests there, head against your shoulder, hands holding yours, not wanting to let go. the closeness lingers long after, a reminder that it’s safe to lean on someone, and he chooses to lean on you.

Masterlist Taglist