Sorry I Totally Spammed You. I Just Finally Had Some Time To Read And Your Blog Was One I Wanted To Catch

sorry i totally spammed you. i just finally had some time to read and your blog was one i wanted to catch up on. i think i’ve officially read everything and i patiently await your next post 😭

seriously looove your work.

AND I LOVE YOU!!! Thank you SO MUCH for your support I appreciate it so much!!! you never bother me <333 I hope you’ll like my next works!!

They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Chan

Gah finally trying to finish this set of fics!!

Bangchan x Gn!Reader

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The studio was a second home by now. The soft hum of equipment, the flickering lights of the soundboard, and the distant rumble of music playing through Chan’s headphones. You had been here countless times before, but tonight felt different- heavier. Chan’s sighs, the way his fingers tapped nervously on the keyboard, all of it told you that something was off.

You watched him from the couch, phone forgotten in your hands. He hadn’t said much since you arrived, and his silence was unsettling. You could imagine the look he had on his face. His brows furrowed, his lips pouting but also somehow in a straight line at the same time and also pursed.

Finally, after what felt like hours of him brooding in front of the screen, hands hovering without touching a single key, you spoke up. “Chris, is everything okay?”

He didn’t turn to look at you right away. His fingers twitched above the keyboard, hands still hovering just above the keys as if he was debating whether to say anything at all. A long sigh escaped him before he slumped back in his chair, his eyes staring blankly at the monitor. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Just…feels like I’m not doing enough.”

The words hit you harder than they should have, but you kept your face neutral. You had heard Chan talk like this before, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a constant storm cloud. But tonight, it felt more personal, like his doubts were cutting into something deeper.

“You always work so hard, though,” you said softly, trying to find the right words to ease his worries. “Everyone sees it. The members, the fans, everyone.”

Chan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he swiveled his chair to you. “That’s the thing. I don’t think I’m enough. I feel like I’m always faking it, just doing what I can to stay afloat. One day, people are going to see right through me. They're going to be disappointed.”

You frowned, your heart aching at how harsh he was being on himself. “That’s not true. You do more than enough. You-” But your words faltered as something shifted inside you, a familiar knot tightening in your chest. "You won't disappoint anyone Chris. You haven't and you won't."

Chan’s self-criticism, the way he doubted his worth, resonated too closely with the insecurities you kept buried. If someone like him-talented, hardworking, and loved by so many- could feel this way, then what did that say about you?

If Chan didn’t feel like he was enough, how could you ever feel like you were doing enough to support him?

You swallowed hard, trying to push the thought away. This was about Chan, not you. He needed reassurance right now. But the insecurity had already latched on, creeping into the back of your mind.

“I’m serious, Chan,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re amazing, and you’re doing more than anyone could ever ask of you.”

He sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face. “I wish I could believe that.”

You wanted to say more, to keep comforting him like you always did, but doubt tugged at you, making your chest feel tight. Maybe your words weren’t enough. Maybe you weren’t doing enough to show him how much you cared.

Chan stood abruptly, pulling off his headphones. “I need a break. Let’s get out of here.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?”

He shrugged, grabbing his jacket. “Anywhere but here.”

You stood and followed him out of the studio, but the knot in your stomach only tightened as you walked side by side through the darkened halls.

His doubts had stirred something in you, and now, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t showing your love well enough. Maybe that was why he felt like this- like he wasn’t enough.

The night air was cool as you walked together, the city buzzing quietly around you. Chan hadn’t said much since you left the studio, and you didn’t push him. Sometimes, he needed space to sort through his thoughts, and you respected that.

But the silence only made your mind race.

You ended up at a small diner a few blocks away. It was nearly empty, the late hour ensuring you’d have some privacy. The bell above the door jingled as you entered, and Chan slid into a booth, his shoulders still tense, his eyes distant.

You sat across from him, fiddling with the edge of the menu but not really reading it. The weight of unspoken words hung between you both, heavier than ever. You swallowed the knot stuck in your throat.

“I don’t get it,” Chan muttered after a long pause, breaking the silence. He was staring at the table now, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the surface. “I should be happy. I should feel grateful for everything I have, but I just… don’t, sometimes. I feel like I don't deserve any of this.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the knot in your stomach tightening painfully. The doubt in his voice mirrored the doubt that had been growing in you since the studio. You bit your lip, trying to find something- anything -to say that would make him see his worth.

But then his next words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Maybe I don’t deserve the love people give me,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Maybe I’m not doing enough to earn it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and suddenly, everything he’d said before fell into place. His doubts weren’t just about his work- they were about him. And the worst part was, those same doubts had already crept into your own heart.

Was that why he didn’t feel loved? Because you weren’t showing him enough?

You stayed silent for a moment too long, lost in your thoughts, and Chan looked up, frowning slightly. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now, more concerned.

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, quickly glancing down at the menu. “Just…thinking.”

Chan studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, but thankfully, he didn’t push. He sighed, leaning back against the booth, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just tired, I guess.”

You nodded, though the heaviness in your chest made it hard to focus on his words. The conversation from earlier kept replaying in your mind, each sentence twisting the knife of insecurity a little deeper.

The waitress came by to take your orders, and you mumbled something about getting fries and a drink. Chan ordered without much thought, clearly still lost in his own world.

As you waited for the food, you found yourself staring out the window, watching cars pass by on the quiet street. Your thoughts were louder than the hum of the diner, the doubts louder than anything Chan could say to reassure you.

Maybe you weren’t enough. Maybe you hadn’t been showing him enough love, enough care, enough support. If Chan—someone who was adored by millions -felt like he didn’t deserve love, then what did that mean for you? What if you were part of the problem?

Chan was rambling on about something, but you barely registered his words. His voice faded into the background as your mind spiraled. How many times had you thought you were doing enough? How many times had you comforted him, thinking your words were making a difference? And yet, here he was, doubting everything, including whether he deserved to be loved.

You must have spaced out because suddenly, Chan was waving his hand in front of your face. “Hey, baby, everything good? You’re really out of it tonight.”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m just…tired, I guess.”

Chan frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure, love? You’ve been kind of quiet since the studio.”

You nodded quickly, trying to push away the insecurity gnawing at you. This wasn’t about you- it was about him. You needed to be strong, to be the one who could lift him up.

But before you could say anything, Chan leaned forward, his expression softening as he grabbed your hands. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…processing.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he let it go, turning his attention back to the table. The food arrived shortly after, and the conversation turned light again, though there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between you.

Hours had passed since you both left the studio. Chan’s apartment was usually a safe space, where the weight of the outside world faded into the background, but tonight, the air was thick with unspoken tension. You were both physically exhausted, but it felt like there was more lingering beneath the surface.

Chan sat beside you on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, fingers idly playing with the fabric of your shirt. The TV flickered in the dimly lit room, but neither of you was paying attention to whatever show was playing in the background. Your thoughts were miles away, circling back to the conversation in the studio and the strange, uncomfortable tightness that had settled in your chest since.

You had been silent for too long. Normally, the quiet between you and Chan was comforting, but tonight it felt suffocating. He had been distracted, the way his fingers twitched against your shoulder, but you could feel his concern. You could tell he was debating whether or not to ask you once more what was up. He knew something was off with you, even if he hadn’t yet figured it out.

But you couldn’t keep it in any longer. Your unshed tears burning your eyes like acid.

“Do you think I’m doing enough to show you that I love you?”

The question came out before you could stop yourself, your voice soft but weighed down by the emotions you’d been pushing down all night.

You felt Chan stiffen beside you, his arm freezing mid-motion as the weight of your words sank in. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, brows furrowing as confusion flickered across his face.

“What?” His voice was quiet his thick accent laced with surprise, as if the thought had never even crossed his mind.

You bit your lip, heart racing, unsure if you should continue. But the knot in your chest was too tight now, too heavy to ignore.

“It’s just… earlier, in the studio, you said you don’t feel like you deserve love,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I started thinking… what if I’m not showing you enough? What if I’m not loving you the way you need me to?” You swallowed.

Chan blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to say something, but no words came out at first. He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes wide with shock and something else- something softer, more worried. His arm tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer, as though trying to shield you from your own thoughts.

“Where is this coming from?” he finally asked, his voice gentle but filled with concern. “Why would you even think that?”

You lowered your gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “Because you feel like you’re not enough,” you admitted quietly. “And if someone like you-who works so hard, who gives so much- feels that way, then maybe I’m not doing enough to help you see how much you mean to me. Maybe that’s why you feel like you don’t deserve love.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the soft hum of the TV in the background. Chan’s expression shifted from confusion to realization, the weight of your words settling over him like a heavy blanket. He shifted his body to face you fully now, one hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“That’s not-” He stopped himself, his brows knitting together as if he was searching for the right words, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a soothing motion. “That’s not why I feel that way. It’s not because of you. Please don’t ever think that.”

You swallowed, your chest tightening even more. “But Chan, if you’re still doubting yourself, if you still feel like you’re not enough, then how can I not wonder if it’s something I’m not doing? If it’s something I’m not saying?” You pressed your palm to your eye as to not let the tears fall.

His thumb stilled against your skin, and for a moment, Chan just stared at you, a deep frown pulling at his lips. He looked pained, like the idea of you doubting your love for him was something he couldn’t quite comprehend nor deal with.“ No, no…” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s not like that. Not at all baby. Not at all.”

“Then why?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of the question. “Why do you feel like you don’t deserve love? I love you...”

Chan exhaled deeply, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest in his lap, his eyes dropping as he wrestled with his thoughts. For the first time since the conversation began, he looked vulnerable- completely stripped of the confident persona he so often carried around you. “I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve felt like this for a long time. Even before you.”

He paused, glancing up at you briefly before looking away again, as if it hurt him to admit this. “Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard I work, no matter how much I give, it’s never enough. I think it’s more about me being stuck in my own head. It’s not about you. You’ve been more than enough for me. You've eased a lot of my insecurities love. I promise. I swear.”

“But how can you say that when you still feel like this?” you asked, your voice rising with frustration. You hadn’t meant to sound upset, but the insecurity you had been burying for hours was clawing its way to the surface, pushing you to confront the painful thoughts you hadn’t wanted to voice. “How can I believe that when you still doubt your worth?” Your lips were trembling.

Chan’s eyes widened slightly at the intensity of your words, but he didn’t flinch away. Instead, he sat up straighter, leaning closer to you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache.

“You’ve always shown me love,” he said quietly, his eyes locking with yours. “More than I ever thought I’d deserve.”

His words made your chest tighten in an entirely different way now, a mixture of relief and lingering doubt swirling in your heart.

“But I don’t know if I’m doing enough,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m showing you the love you need. Why can't I fix your doubts...” You looked at him sadly. "Why can't my love fix that?"

Chan’s gaze softened further, and he reached for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You show me love every day, in more ways than you realize. The little things, like how you’re always there for me, how you listen when I’m having a hard time, how you never let me feel like I’m alone.”

You blinked, feeling the sting of tears behind your eyes as his words washed over you.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with sincerity. “You don’t have to fix everything for me,” he said softly. “Just being here with me, just caring- that’s enough. More than enough.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch grounding you in a way that made it hard to hold onto the doubt. “But what if it’s not?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if you still feel like this tomorrow? Or the next day? What if I can never make it better?”

Chan’s expression softened even more, and he reached up with his free hand to gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I don’t expect you to make everything better,” he said quietly. “You’re not responsible for fixing me, and I don’t want you to think that. I’m working on it, I promise. And one day I won't think about those things anymore. But you-” He paused, his thumb brushing over your cheek once more. “You’re more than enough. You’ve always been.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time that night, the knot in your chest began to loosen, the weight of your insecurities lifting slightly. You could still feel them there, lingering at the edges of your thoughts, but Chan’s presence- his warmth, his reassurance -made them feel more manageable. Less suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “I didn’t mean to doubt you…or myself.”

Chan pulled you into his arms then, wrapping you up in his warmth, his chin resting gently on top of your head. “You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured against your hair. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like that, baby. I never want you to think you’re not enough for me. You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for.”

You closed your eyes, letting the comfort of his embrace wash over you. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, grounding you in the moment, reminding you that you were here, together. That you didn’t have to carry the weight of your insecurities alone.

The doubts might still be there, but with Chan by your side, they didn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

Chan pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I love you,” he whispered back, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

And for the first time that night, those doubts were finally quiet.

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hi loves <3 I have absolutely NO IDEAS for another story… angst, fluff??? who??? idk??? please help 😭

hi cutie ^^

It’s the anon who wrote into ur inbox about ur last fanfic. Maybe u already know who I am but idc <33

I just wanted to ask how are u? I rlly hope u are well, and pretty please take care of yourself✨💕

hi luv!!

thank you so much for asking me and being always so nice <33 I’m doing better! Even tho school is so stressing and the situation at home doesn’t change, I just hope for a better future. But I’m fine now <3

How are you? You know you can always text me!!

xoxo 🫶🏻

Keep it secret | Jeongin x Reader

Even tho your relationship is secret, Jeongin asks you to come with him at the milano fashion week. You have to try your best to perfectly fake being a manager.

a/n: you can tell I LOVE fashion shows!

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The chaos of fashion week was palpable from the moment you touched down in Milan. The air buzzed with anticipation, a hum of energy that clung to the cobbled streets, and the world’s finest designers and most iconic models seemed to glide over it effortlessly. You had to remind yourself to keep your cool, though it was easier said than done when you were walking into one of the biggest events of the year — the Bottega Veneta fashion show. Not as an ordinary attendee, though. No, this time, you were walking into it as the secret girlfriend of Yang Jeongin.

Jeongin, with his signature charm and confident smile, was as much a part of the event as the models, yet your heart still fluttered when you saw him, even after months of keeping your relationship under wraps. Every stolen glance, every subtle touch shared away from the limelight, had built an intimacy that you treasured, but hiding it was becoming increasingly difficult. Especially now.

You could still hear his soft voice from this morning in your head. He had smiled at you over the breakfast table, his eyes dancing with mischief, as he casually dropped the bomb.

“I want you to come with me,” he had said, his lips quirking into a smile.

“To Milan?” you had asked, nearly choking on your coffee.

“To the Bottega Veneta show at fashion week. I’ll get you in as a manager, and no one will suspect a thing.” His eyes twinkled with excitement, but you knew better. The man could have been a professional poker player with how well he masked his emotions in public, but you could tell by the way his fingers had tapped the table lightly that he was nervous.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you there — quite the opposite. He wanted nothing more than to walk arm in arm with you, to show the world that you were his. But, as one of the rising stars in the K-pop scene, there were pressures and expectations, fans and media that scrutinized every single move.

You had agreed, of course, but as you sat in the limousine that was slowly crawling toward the venue, the gravity of the situation weighed down on you. You could feel your heart thudding against your chest. Jeongin sat across from you, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his hair styled to perfection, his features sharp and striking. It wasn’t fair how effortlessly he looked like he belonged at these events, while you, draped in an elegant dress that he’d handpicked for you, felt like an imposter.

“You look stunning,” he said softly, as though reading your mind.

You blushed, glancing out the window to avoid his gaze. “Don’t say that. You’ll make it harder for me to act like your manager.”

His chuckle was low, barely audible, but it warmed you nonetheless. He leaned in, his fingers brushing yours ever so slightly. The gesture was small, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You’ll do great,” he whispered. “Just… don’t let them catch us.”

---

The fashion show was a dazzling blur of lights, music, and beautifully crafted designs. The moment you stepped onto the plush carpet leading into the venue, cameras flashed in every direction, capturing every movement of the celebrities and fashion icons in attendance. You kept your distance from Jeongin, trailing behind as any good manager would, though your heart tugged with every step that separated you.

Every now and then, you felt his eyes on you — a fleeting glance here, a brief brush of hands there — all while pretending you were nothing more than a member of his team. He greeted the designers, smiled for the cameras, and even posed with a few celebrities, his face lighting up in that way only he could manage.

You tried to focus on your role, to blend into the background as you observed the crowd. But every time your fingers accidentally brushed against his, or your shoulders bumped as you navigated the tight spaces, a spark ignited. It was intoxicating, the way the most innocent of touches held so much weight. The world may not have known, but between the two of you, every glance, every whisper was charged with a secret.

At one point during the show, when the lights dimmed for a brief intermission, Jeongin leaned over. His voice was barely a murmur, his lips just inches from your ear. “You’re handling this better than I thought.”

You smiled, trying to suppress the warmth that spread across your cheeks. “You’re not making it easy.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. But I can’t help it.”

The fabric of his hand brushed against yours once again, but before either of you could react, a photographer’s flash went off close by, reminding you both of where you were. Jeongin quickly pulled back, his expression shifting into one of professionalism as if the moment had never happened.

But it had, and you felt the lingering effect long after.

---

The after-party was another test in patience. The music was loud, the champagne flowing freely as models and designers mingled with guests in an opulent ballroom that overlooked the city. Jeongin had kept his distance for most of the evening, busy making the rounds and schmoozing with industry insiders. Every now and then, he would send you a discreet smile or a playful wink, but it was never more than that.

You couldn’t wait for the night to be over. The tension between you two was almost unbearable, a tight string that threatened to snap at any moment. And when it finally did, it wasn’t in the way you expected.

As the party began to wind down and people started to trickle out, Jeongin found his way back to you. His hand grazed yours briefly before pulling back, a reminder that you still had to be careful. "Ready to leave?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning the room.

"More than ready," you replied, your voice barely audible over the music.

Together, you slipped out of the venue, avoiding the main exit where paparazzi were camped out, waiting for a glimpse of any celebrity they could get. Instead, you followed Jeongin through a quieter side exit, where a limousine was waiting. The driver opened the door for you both, and as soon as it shut behind you, the pretense of professionalism dissolved.

The moment you were out of sight, Jeongin’s hand found yours again, but this time he didn’t pull away. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he let out a sigh, his body relaxing into the seat.

“That was torture,” he admitted, turning to face you.

You laughed, leaning your head against the back of the seat. “You’re telling me. I think I nearly forgot how to breathe back there.”

He smiled, his eyes softening as they roamed your face. “But you did amazing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you teased, though your voice was softer now, more intimate.

Jeongin shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours, his hand now resting fully on your thigh. “I hated every second of pretending you weren’t mine,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and before you knew it, you were leaning in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft at first, slow, like the two of you were still testing the waters even though you had kissed a hundred times before. But it didn’t stay that way for long.

The tension that had built up throughout the night — the stolen glances, the brief touches, the whispered words — all came crashing down as your lips met his. The kiss deepened, your hands sliding up his chest and into his hair, pulling him closer. Jeongin groaned softly against your lips, his hands slipping to your waist as he tugged you into him.

The limousine felt smaller by the second as you struggled to get as close to him as possible, the weight of the evening melting away with every kiss, every touch. His hand slid up the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips never leaving yours.

“I missed this,” he murmured between kisses, his voice breathless. “Missed you.”

You smiled against his lips. “We were together all night.”

“Not like this,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against your jaw as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“No,” you agreed softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Not like this.”

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, just held each other close, basking in the warmth of the moment. The city lights outside flickered by, casting fleeting shadows across the inside of the limo, but in this space — in this quiet, stolen moment — it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

As the car rolled on through the streets of Milan, Jeongin’s arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you close to his chest as he kissed your forehead. "One day," he murmured against your skin, his voice barely a whisper. "One day, we won’t have to hide anymore."

You smiled, closing your eyes and sinking into his embrace, content with the secret world you had carved out for yourselves, even if just for tonight.

"One day…" you whispered back.

some of my favs <33 i really love all of your works!!

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