Omg. How Can I Post Chan's Fluff Ending For Bsn When He's Like This TT

omg. how can i post chan's fluff ending for bsn when he's like this TT

240824 DominATE in Seoul ©️Shuyichnyia

Swear it again

(bsn ending #6)

Bang chan x reader !! Christopher Bang x reader !! word count: 2.8k

bsn alternative ending #4 wherein; chan.. is what your heart wants

an: any team chan here? coz babe! i wasnt in any team but i can say that.. i love chan here!! (and seungmin */sobs)

part 1 and part 2 first

Bang Chan was the most mature person in your circle.

He was the one who would scold everyone for their wrongdoings, always making sure they understood the consequences of their actions..

He gave advice like a big brother, offering guidance that was both thoughtful and practical, always with your best interests at heart..

He provided help whenever he could, going out of his way to make sure no one felt left behind, even when it meant sacrificing his own time or energy..

And he protected your friendship in the best way he could, often stepping in to mediate conflicts, always striving to keep the group united and strong.

He wrote songs, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric and melody, creating music that resonated with everyone who listened..

He wanted to become a singer ever since he was a kid, because he loved making people happy..

He sang well..

He produced beats..

He got his driver's license at an early age..

He was gentle, his kindness evident in the way he treated everyone around him, always with a smile and a reassuring word..

He was a good cook..

He liked sunny days more than rainy ones..

His hobby was playing sports..

He thought his charming point was his dimples when he smiled, a feature that made everyone around him smile too, his happiness infectious..

He could rotate his hand 360 degrees, a quirky talent that never failed to amuse you, just another thing that made him unique..

He was handsome..

And cute at the same time.

—Wait. Were we still talking about how mature he is?

Well, no! You were talking about how much you knew him.

And why did you know him that much? Because, yes indeed, you liked him.

But—

"I swear to God! I would never fall in love with someone like Chan!" It was just a teasing moment as you lifted your right hand, as if pledging an oath.

You were playing truth or dare with your friends one time. And then you picked truth, and they teased you, asking if you liked Chan—where you immediately denied it by swearing.

And you thought you would never.

But then there was him, always taking care of you, asking How are you after your major exams.

Asking what your cravings were for the day so he could buy them for you.

Asking what you were eating in your apartment. If are you just eating cup noodles again.

Patting your back and giving you a hug when you cried after failing your physics subject, holding you close as you let the tears fall.

The first one to greet you on your birthday, warm and cheerful as he wished you all the happiness in the world.

You felt like… you didn’t understand.

Yes, others cared about you, but Chan… there was something about him you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

And when the way he slowly placed a pair of headphones on you and then played a song he had written and composed by himself, his eyes watching your reaction…

You finally admitted it to yourself—yes… you liked him.

"I swear to God…" Now, you couldn’t continue your words as the others looked at you, waiting for your answer.

"I'm tired of playing. Let's sleep." Then you stood up, leaving them with confused faces.

Well, don’t overthink it. They were just wondering if you really knew how to play truth or dare.

When he wrote that blue sticky note song… you thought he was the one who sneakily slipped it into your binder.

"We helped in making that song," he said as you faced him, "but Changbin wrote the title and most of the lyrics."

That answered your question—it was Changbin who really did put it there.

Not gonna lie, you really hoped it was him. But knowing that another friend did it, you felt anxious. If you were to tell everyone you liked this man standing in front of you… what would their reaction be?

After that night at the party, when you got home and cried, you knew now that Bang Chan liked you. But you didn’t know what to do.

It was because of your stupid swear to yourself!

Why did you pledge something when you couldn’t even handle the consequences?

You continued your life after that, but things felt different. You started putting up barriers between yourself and your friends, especially Seungmin and Changbin, who you always saw in class.

Thankfully, they seemed to understand, giving you the space you thought you needed.

But deep down, you hoped that everything would go back to normal. In just a few days, you already missed the closeness, the easy laughter, the sense of belonging that came with your friendship. And so, you made a promise to yourself that you would fix this—no matter how difficult it might be.

You were about to take a different path home when you spotted Seungmin walking in your direction. He caught your eye, and for a moment, you considered slipping away before he could reach you. But before you could decide, he stopped you.

"Wait. Let's talk."

Even though you weren't ready to face him, there was a pull, a longing to reconnect. You missed Seungmin—your best friend, the one who always understood you without needing many words.

As you both sat down, sipping on your favorite coffee, an awkward silence hung between you, thick with unsaid words.

"I know this is hard for you," Seungmin began, his voice gentle and steady, as if he had rehearsed what to say a hundred times before. "But I hope you won't go through with your plan of distancing yourself from us. We don’t want to lose you."

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of his words sink in. That wasn’t what you wanted either. They were all precious to you. You were just trying to give yourself some space, to sort out your feelings before they got even more complicated. "It’s not that I want to leave…" you mumbled, struggling to find the right words. "I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this right now."

Seungmin nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "But we’ll give you the time you need," he said softly, taking a small step closer, as if he wanted to bridge the gap that had formed between you. "Just know that we're here for you. We're friends, and we should be with each other, especially when things get tough."

It was as if he could read your mind—he knew exactly what you were thinking, even though you hadn’t said a word. The unspoken understanding between you was comforting, but it also made you feel guilty for even considering pulling away.

"I’m sorry," you finally spoke, your voice trembling with emotion. You weren’t entirely sure why you were apologizing, but you felt it deep in your heart. Maybe it was because you were about to break his heart, to put a crack in the foundation of your friendship. "I… I just…"

You wanted to tell him everything, but the words were stuck, lodged in your throat, as if admitting them out loud would make everything too real to bear.

Seungmin looked at you, his expression softening with concern. "Hey," he said gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "It’s okay. You don’t have to say it all at once."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. "I just don’t want to hurt anyone," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You like someone, but you're afraid to choose because you don’t want to hurt the others, right?" Seungmin’s words hit the mark, once again proving how well he knew you.

You didn’t nod, but you didn’t deny it either. Instead, you lowered your head, unable to meet his gaze. How did he always know what you were thinking? How did he always manage to say exactly what you needed to hear?

"Don’t be sorry, you silly," Seungmin chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. His laughter was warm, like a blanket on a cold day, wrapping around you and making you feel safe. It was as if he wasn’t hurt at all, like this was just another one of your usual conversations. "Why would you be sorry? It’s not like this is all your fault."

"But it is," you insisted, your voice cracking as you finally met his eyes. "It feels like it is. I never meant for this to happen, but now… now everything’s so messed up."

"Well it was your fault to be pretty.." He mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite catch—But then before you could ask what, he spoke up again, louder this time, "Don’t be sorry!"

You were thankful for his words, but the anxiety gnawing at you only grew worse. What if Seungmin was just saying this to comfort you while he was hurting inside? What if he was pretending everything was fine just for your sake?

"Who is it, by the way?" he asked casually, as if he were asking about the answer to a quiz question. His tone was light, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes,

"It’s--" your heart starting to race,

"It’s Chan, right?" He slapped the table, a triumphant smile on his face as if he’d just solved a puzzle. "I knew it! Ever since we played that game years ago, I had a feeling. You swore you’d never fall for him, and you think I’m a fool to believe that?"

You blinked at him, startled. "How… how did you--"

Seungmin grinned, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence. "Come on, it’s not that hard to figure out. You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think." He paused, his smile softening. "And honestly? I’m glad it’s Chan. He’s a good guy. Just… I didn’t expect it to happen so soon."

Seungmin’s laughter was infectious, and despite the situation, you found yourself smiling. "I mean… I didn’t want this to happen, but--"

"But you—"

"Wait, let me finish talking," you interrupted 'cause he was always cutting you off, laughing at his eagerness Seungmin joined in, the tension between you easing with every shared laugh.

As you continued to talk, the comfort and ease you always felt with Seungmin returned. He had a way of making everything feel right, even when it wasn’t.

"What I want to say is… go for it! Go get that Chan!" He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But if he ever hurts you, I swear to God, he won’t be able to walk again."

You laughed at Seungmin’s playful threat, feeling a warmth in your chest that only a friend like him could bring. In the end, you sent him a grateful smile, and Seungmin returned it, understanding exactly what you meant without needing to say it out loud.

You hesitated for a moment before knocking on Chan's studio door. The silence that followed felt like an eternity. You knocked again, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. Still, there was no response. With a deep breath, you knocked a third time, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Chan, are you mad at me? Please… let's talk." Your voice wavered as you spoke to the door in front of you, desperation seeping into your words.

But there was still no answer. The lump in your throat grew as you fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. Just as you were about to give up, a voice behind you made you freeze.

"Why are you here?" Chan's voice was laced with surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you were standing there. He must have come back from somewhere, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "I mean… I’m glad you’re here!" He quickly added, realizing how he might have sounded. "I’m sorry, I just went to get some coffee. Come on, let’s go inside."

You blinked away the tears that had gathered in your eyes and followed him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open for you. The familiar warmth of his studio washed over you as you stepped inside, the soft hum of equipment and the faint scent of coffee mingling in the air.

You took a seat in the extra chair beside his workstation, and Chan set his coffee down on the table. "Wait here for a second," he said, heading toward the small kitchenette. "I’ll get another cup so we can share this."

You nodded silently, watching him as he moved around. When he returned, he poured more than half of his coffee into your cup, leaving himself with only a small portion.

"Here," he said, handing the cup to you before sitting down beside you. "How are you?" he asked, his eyes searching your face for any sign of how you were really feeling.

You tried to maintain eye contact, but the weight of everything that had happened over the past week made it impossible. You looked down, your hands trembling slightly as you held the cup. "I’m… fine," you mumbled, knowing full well that Chan could see through the lie.

He didn’t push you, though. He knew you well enough to understand that you weren’t ready to talk about what was really going on. "I really wanted to come to your apartment," Chan said softly, his voice filled with concern. "But then I realized you might need some time alone."

His understanding, much like Seungmin’s, was both comforting and heartbreaking. You appreciated how well he knew you, but it also made you feel even guiltier for pulling away from him.

Chan hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Uhm, since you’re here… Can you listen to the song I’m working on?" His voice was tentative, almost as if he was afraid you’d say no.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, I’d love to."

Chan’s face lit up at your response, and he quickly grabbed a pair of headphones. Even though you were perfectly capable of putting them on yourself, he carefully placed them over your ears, making sure they were adjusted just right. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t describe.

He pressed play, and the music flowed into your ears. The first few notes were soft, an acoustic intro that was both unexpected and captivating. Then the piano joined in, followed by the steady beat of drums. It was unlike anything you had heard from Chan before—new, refreshing, and undeniably beautiful.

"Are you the one singing?" you asked, your voice full of awe as the song continued to play.

"Yeah," Chan replied, his voice barely audible over the music. He smiled at your reaction, a mix of pride and nervousness in his eyes.

You focused on the lyrics, trying to piece together the story they told. The words were tender, vulnerable, and they struck a chord deep within you. As the song came to an end, you slowly removed the headphones, letting the silence settle around you.

"What’s the title?" you asked, as you always did after listening to one of Chan’s songs.

Chan chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll tell you later," he said with a playful grin.

"It was amazing, Chan," you said sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. You could tell he felt the depth of your words, his smile softening into something more genuine.

For a moment, you simply looked at him, taking in every detail of his expression. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the warmth in his gaze, the slight flush on his cheeks—it all made your heart race. Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and kissed him.

Chan froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then he responded, his lips moving against yours in a way that felt both hesitant and eager. The taste of coffee lingered between you, warm and comforting, but it was the intensity of the emotions that overwhelmed you. Your tears, which you had been holding back for so long, finally spilled over.

You realized what the lyrics were really about. They were about you. Every word, every note—he had written them for you.

I swear I would never fall in love with you that was what I always told myself too, but every time I saw you, I couldn’t help but fall harder

Swear that you will like me too, just like how I liked you. I hoped you know it… Please swear again

and that was the title.

---

an: help

I dont know if im still doing it right but it kinda hurt me making alternative endings🤧. Maybe ill write a chapter where she chooses no one or she choose all??? Is that possible

Blue Sticky Note

straykids fic wherein a mysterious note confession appears in your binder. Unsure of who left it, you embark on an investigation among your eight close friends, each with their own quirks and possibilities.

genre: Fluff. and fluff

ot8 x reader! stray kids x reader!! word count: 3.3k

AN: i want to make a fic with multiple members in it but i might make more of it after i finished all individual members. btw can you teach me how tumblr works? i might pin a masterlist soon hehe

You just got back to your apartment after a long day of classes. Exhausted from wrestling with numbers and equations, you flopped down on your bed and closed your eyes.

But your moment of peace was interrupted by the sudden ringing of your phone.

“Hey,” your friend Seungmin’s voice greeted you through the speaker.

Used to how he always greeted you, you sighed and listened as he continued, your tiredness making it hard to focus.

“You didn’t turn in your literature assignment. I’m on my way to your building,” he said, causing you to bolt upright in surprise.

You had forgotten to give it to him during class earlier. Glad he reminded you. And you were glad to be friends with him because he was the class representative. You enjoyed a lot of benefits from being his friend.

“Okay, thanks for the reminder. No need to come up—I’ll meet you downstairs,” you replied before ending the call.

Grateful for Seungmin’s help, you quickly gathered your things and checked your binder for the assignment. You sighed in relief when you found it. “I thought I lost you.”

As you were about to close your binder, a flash of blue caught your eye. A blue sticky note on the front page—one that you definitely didn’t own.

You pulled it out and read the message, which made your heart skip a beat: “I like you. But i you only see me as a friend.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d received a confession, but this note felt different. There was a mystery to it that intrigued you.

Confusion swirled in your mind as you tried to piece together who might have left this note. The message was neatly written in capital letters, offering no clues about the writer's identity.

Who could it be?

You had a lot of friends, but who might have done this?

You had male friends, all of whom felt like brothers to you. Could it be one of them? But they were like family.

The note was a sweet but outdated way to confess—charming in its own way but not something you’d expect from anyone in particular. You read it again and again, hoping to find a hint about who it might be from. But aside from the neat handwriting on a blue sticky note, you found nothing.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell ringing. You immediately sprang out of bed, remembering Seungmin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, peeking through the door.

“It’s okay,” he smiled reassuringly. “I know you were tired, so I decided to come up.”

“Oh, thanks,” you replied, quickly picking up some clothes that were strewn on the floor. You grabbed your assignment and saw the sticky note again, hastily hiding it by placing a book on top.

As you handed over your paper, you decided to test the waters, curious about who the note could be from. “Do you own any sticky notes?” you asked casually.

Seungmin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I was taking notes and thought I might need some,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You have plenty already,” he said, gesturing to the stack of colorful sticky notes on your study table. “And no, I don’t have any. I keep running out of them. I should buy more.”

He glanced at his watch and then looked back at you, his eyes full of concern. “I should go now. You should continue resting, and don’t forget to eat.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. President,” you said, a playful tone in your voice.

“No problem. Take care and always lock your doors. Bye, see you tomorrow.”

Before he left, Seungmin ruffled your hair affectionately.

As the door closed behind him, you found yourself staring at the sticky note again, your mind racing. If it was Seungmin who left the note, did he feel that way about you? His caring nature and playful attitude seemed to match the tone of the note, but could he really be the one?

Then again, what if it wasn’t him? You couldn’t jump to conclusions based solely on a sticky note.

You took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts aside. Until you had more evidence, you couldn’t be certain. You needed to consider all possibilities before drawing any conclusions.

Sticky notes and neat penmanship alone weren’t enough to figure out who left the note. Everyone in your class had decent handwriting, and blue sticky notes were too common to offer any real clue. They were practically identical—anyone could have bought them. It wasn't unique, not even close.

So who could it be?

"What are you thinking about?"

You were lost in thought when a voice pulled you back to reality. You looked up to see who it was.

"Uh, nothing," you replied, somewhat startled.

It was Changbin.

He was a friend of yours, though vastly different from Seungmin. If Seungmin was a green flag, then Changbin was the complete opposite—a walking red flag who had a reputation for playing with people’s hearts.

"Let me copy your physics assignment," he demanded more than asked, flashing you a grin that was both charming and mischievous.

Changbin had that bad-boy aura, and you sometimes wondered how you two even became friends. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t be the one who left that sticky note in your binder. When Changbin liked someone, he didn’t shy away from telling them directly. He would flirt openly, not leave anonymous notes.

So no, it wasn’t him.

"Why should I?" you replied nonchalantly. You were used to his antics, which might be one of the reasons why you were friends.

"Because I’m cute, and after class, I’ll buy you your favorite toothpaste-flavored ice cream," he teased.

"It’s not toothpaste! It’s mint chocolate!" you corrected, rolling your eyes.

"My bad," he smirked, unfazed. "Now, let me copy."

Too tired to argue further, you handed him your assignment. Changbin eagerly started copying, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

As you watched him scribble down your answers, you noticed his messy handwriting. There was no way it could have been him—the note’s handwriting was neat and careful, the opposite of his chaotic scrawl.

"You really have terrible handwriting. What are you, a kid? It looks like a storm blew through it," you teased, watching him.

"If I had more time, I could make it look like it was printed with a font," he shot back, not looking up. "But since the prof will be here in a few minutes, I don’t care what you say. Now, shush."

You let him finish copying, trying not to overthink the situation again, when suddenly he pulled out a blue sticky note from his bag.

"I almost forgot to give this to you," he said, handing it to you slowly. "It’s the address for the party this weekend. You should come. If I don’t see even a glimpse of you, I won’t enjoy it."

Surprised, you stared at the sticky note in his hand. It was the same color and size as the one you found in your binder. Why would he have this?

Seeing that you weren’t taking it, he grinned mischievously and stuck it to your forehead, laughing at your shocked expression.

Could it be him?

But…

You glanced at the two sticky notes in your hand, comparing them as you strolled through the expansive university yard.

Confessing like this wasn’t his style.

So it couldn’t be, right?

But the sticky notes were identical—the same length, the same height. Plain as they were, they were unmistakably the same.

Yet, you remembered how he would laugh if he knew someone confessed like this. He’d call it plain, boring, and probably mock the person as weak.

You shook off the thought, placing the sticky notes back in your binder and hugging it to your chest, forcing your mind to focus on your lessons.

"Hey, monkey!" You halted mid-step, rolling your eyes at the familiar voice and nickname.

"What?" you snapped, turning to face him.

"So you really accept now that you’re a monkey?" he teased, laughing. It was Minho.

Your friend (well, sort of?). In your group, you were like a cat and dog—he was the cat, and according to him, you were the dog because your face reminded him of one.

Despite the constant teasing, you appreciated how he looked out for you and was always there when you needed him.

But what did he just say?

"I'm not in the mood to fight with you," you muttered. On a normal day, you would have started bickering with him, refusing to back down until he surrendered (yes, like kids). "What are you, a chicken?"

"Oh, you noticed my hair. Do you like it?" he winked.

"You look like a rooster." His hair was dyed orange, and although he didn’t look like a rooster, you wanted to get back at him.

"That's better than being a monkey," he grinned.

"Crazy."

The two of you walked together, talking about random things with the usual bickering sprinkled in. Then, you remembered the sticky note. You knew it wasn’t from him because, well, why would it be?

Still, you decided to show it to him.

"Who do you think did this?" you asked, handing him the note.

He read it aloud, the words dripping with sarcasm, "That’s the cringiest thing I’ve ever read in my whole life."

Just as you expected.

"You shouldn’t say that! He must’ve gathered a lot of courage to do this."

"Why wouldn’t he just tell you in person? Is he weak?" Minho scoffed, lowering his voice when he saw you weren’t amused.

"Maybe he didn’t want to ruin our friendship."

"Then he shouldn’t have liked you in the first place."

"Can we control our feelings? It’s hard, you know!" You rolled your eyes. "Why am I even telling you this? You don’t understand anything," you mumbled, though loud enough for him to hear. "Anyway, I should go. I have something to do at the library."

"I like you."

You froze in your tracks at his words.

"That’s what he should do! It’s really easy, you know," he said, smirking before suddenly sprinting off in the opposite direction.

What was that?

Confused by Minho's words, you made your way to the library, replaying the conversation in your mind.

"What was that? Does he like me, or was he just using it as an example?"

You tried to shrug off the thought as you arrived at the library. The familiar scent of books enveloped you, a comforting distraction.

At the librarian's desk, you spotted Han, your friend who worked there as a student assistant.

"Oh, what brings you here?" he greeted you with a smile, lowering his voice in contrast to Minho’s usual volume.

"Hello. I’m returning this book." You handed him the physics book you had been hugging to your chest.

"Already? Are you sure you’re done with it? It’s okay if you missed the deadline. You know I can always talk to the senior librarian for you," Han offered, his tone warm and reassuring.

If you were to consider another suspect in your mystery investigation, Han would be a possibility. You’d never questioned how he took care of you before, but now, as you tried to solve this puzzle, you began to wonder.

Could he like you?

Or were you just overthinking things?

No, you shouldn’t read too much into Han’s actions. Like Seungmin, he was someone who genuinely cared for the people he loved.

"No, it’s okay. I’m done with it. Thank you, Han. And thanks for the offer—I might take you up on that one day and maybe never return the book," you joked, earning a laugh from him.

"Now I should go. I need to meet Hyunjin—he asked me for a favor."

"Sure! Take care!"

"Thanks. You too."

As you left the library, you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Turning around, you saw Han, slightly out of breath.

"Hey, was this yours? You forgot it," he said, handing you the sticky note.

You didn’t know how it ended up with him, but you quickly took it and placed it in your binder.

"Oh, thanks."

"No worries. That was a cute confession," he said, still catching his breath, then laughed. "I should get back—lots of work to do."

You nodded, watching as he returned to the library.

A question formed in your mind: Was it Han?

Why didn’t he ask who wrote it?

Why wasn’t he curious?

But then, he did ask if it was yours, as if he didn’t know.

So maybe… it wasn’t him.

"You literally owe me for this one," you whined, though you knew you didn’t have much of a choice as you glanced at your friend Hyunjin, a med student with an ever-present smile.

"Yes, I promise I'll buy you whatever you want," he said, clasping his hands together in gratitude, his eyes gleaming with a sincerity that made it hard to stay annoyed. You sighed, relenting, and extended your arm.

He needed a blood sample for one of his "you-don’t-know-the-details" assignments, and apparently, you were exactly what he needed.

Like a seasoned pro, he pricked the needle into your skin and attached a small hose to collect your blood. It wasn’t the first time you’d been his willing guinea pig, but you couldn’t say no to Hyunjin.

"Thank you," he said earnestly after he was done.

"Right. You should be thankful," you retorted with a mock glare, though you couldn’t help but smile when he laughed.

Hyunjin had the most stereotypical 'doctor-y' penmanship you’d ever seen—impossible to decipher, even as you watched him scribble something in his records.

"By the way, I left a note before in your binder," he said casually.

His words rang in your ears. "What note?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying the suspense. "A note about how you should remember to take the vitamins I gave you."

Oh.

Seeing you internalize his words, he added, "And I noticed another note in there." He adjusted his white coat, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "And I know who put it there."

You looked up at him, curiosity written all over your face as he towered over you.

"And you should find that out on your own," he teased, winking before walking away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

"Why’d you call me here?" Jeongin asked as he walked into the coffee shop, a guitar slung over his back.

"Because I promised to buy you coffee," you replied with a smile.

Jeongin was a year younger than you, a music major who could play practically any instrument, though piano was his favorite.

"Really? But I’m not craving coffee right now. You should buy me a meal. I’m hungry," he said, not even trying to be cute but somehow managing to be utterly adorable.

As per his request, the two of you headed to a nearby restaurant. You let him order whatever he wanted and watched as he dug into his food.

"You must’ve been really hungry," you remarked.

"I didn’t have lunch or dinner yet," he admitted between bites.

"You shouldn’t skip meals like that! Our bodies are our main investment. We need to take care of them," you scolded, playing the role of the older sibling.

"I know, Mom," he teased.

"Good son," you laughed.

"Are you going to Changbin’s party?" he asked after stuffing more food into his mouth. You took a sip of your strawberry latte, considering your answer.

"I don’t know. I’m kinda busy."

He got back to eating, and you hesitated, feeling a question bubbling up inside you. It felt awkward, but you knew you wouldn’t be at peace until you asked.

"Uh, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"You're already doing it," he said, his mouth still half-full.

"Let me finish!," you squinted at him. "This question is kinda weird, but…"

"Faster! I’m curious!" He leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Uh, do you know if anyone who’s close to us… erm…" You coughed, trying to find the right words. "…likes me? I mean, like, likes me?"

Jeongin looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "I don’t know who, but I know everyone loves you."

Well, that much was true—friendship came naturally with your group.

"And me too. I love you," he added casually.

"Aw, thank you. I love you too."

He didn’t reply, just smiled at you for a moment before turning back to his meal, leaving you with a warm feeling that was hard to shake.

"I'm so tired of that neighbor of mine!" Felix, a friend who lived three floors above you, burst into your apartment wearing pajamas and hugging his pillow.

"You can’t sleep again?" you asked, watching as he plopped down onto your sofa bed with a dramatic sigh.

"I don’t know what the hell he’s doing in the middle of the night! Was he doing construction or something?" he whined, making himself comfortable. "Oh, this is so comfortable. Let me crash here."

It wasn’t the first time he’d crashed at your place, so you were used to it. You didn’t mind at all.

"Did I bother you?" he asked, his head still buried in the pillow.

"Never."

"I should really move to this floor. It’s so peaceful."

"You could always move into my apartment and be my roommate," you suggested, a plan you’d considered before.

"No way. Someone might get angry."

"Who would that be?"

Felix didn’t answer, his silence leaving the question hanging in the air. You thought he might be teasing, but his continued silence suggested otherwise.

"And I don’t think I could handle living with you," he added.

"Why’s that?"

Once again, he didn’t respond.

"You should get some sleep. It’s past midnight," you said, heading toward your room.

As you were about to close the door, Felix called out, "I know about the blue sticky note in your binder."

You stopped in your tracks.

"Keep it, okay?" he said with a knowing smile before burying himself back into the pillow.

You wanted to ask more, but Felix seemed to be done with the conversation. With a curious mind, you went to bed, pondering over his cryptic words.

“Chan, did you really make this?” you asked, your voice brimming with excitement as you listened intently.

He nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face as he observed your reaction.

“This is the best music I’ve ever heard!” you exclaimed, pressing the earphones deeper into your ears.

“Oh, of course you’d say that because I’m your friend,” Chan said with a chuckle.

“No, I’m serious!” you replied, though you could only read his lips. The music’s high volume made it difficult to hear clearly. “This is amazing!”

“Yeah, that’s Han in the background and Changbin rapping.”

You bobbed your head along with the beats, completely immersed in the music Chan had created.

“Was Jeongin in it?” you asked, recognizing a familiar voice.

“Yes, and Hyunjin, Felix, Minho, and Seungmi—”

“This part is definitely Seungmin!” you shouted, and Chan laughed at your enthusiasm.

You continued listening, enjoying every note until the very last one, which was a soft piano melody.

“Wow, that was beautiful! I still can’t believe my friend created this. It’s a masterpiece.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s a great compliment from the person the song was inspired by,” Chan said with a knowing smile.

You didn’t catch that last part, too absorbed in the music to fully register his words.

“What’s the title of the song?” you asked, still in awe.

“Blue Sticky Note.”

The title made you stop dead in your tracks. Chan’s gaze lingered on you with an unreadable expression, as if he knew something you didn’t.

The realization hit you—the lyrics, the melody, everything about the song—

We’ve been friends for so long, shared laughter and tears, But there’s something more inside, I’ve held back for years. So I turned our feelings into a song, hoping you’d see, How much you mean to me, how much you mean to me.

Oh, blue sticky note, you’re my secret, my confession, Wrapped in notes and beats, my heart’s true expression. In every verse, in every line, it’s you I adore, From a simple blue sticky note to a melody I’m pouring out.

it was all connected to the note you had hidden in your binder.

part 2 here!

guys i love felixTT

Unseen Barriers

Felix x reader!! felix x fem reader!! skz yongbok x reader!! word count: 5.5k

a stray kids fic wherein You have feelings for Felix. But Felix, despite being aware, remains determined not to reciprocate for a reason.

(or a forbidden love between you and felix)

an: i know i promised for part 2 of some of my works. but then i posted another fic again, i just cant help it as i read it in my drafts. please i love this soo damn much. so please love this also as much as i love it.) an(2): can you teach me how to make taglist? hehe. enjoy reading

It was Valentine’s Day, and Felix sighed as he stared at his locker overflowing with flowers, letters, and chocolates. He knelt down to pick up the ones that had fallen, his expression void of any excitement. It wasn’t that he was boastful about receiving so many presents—far from it. The weight of unreciprocated affection made him sigh again, knowing that he couldn’t return the feelings that so many people had for him.

As he organized his things, a girl shyly approached, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear when Felix’s indifferent gaze fell on her.

“Uh, Felix…” she began, her voice wavering, “I accidentally bought two tickets for the movie tonight, and I don’t have anyone to give the extra to. Do you want to come with me?”

“That’s nice of you, but I’m sorry. I have something to do tonight.” His tone was polite but detached, making it clear that there was no room for negotiation.

“Oh… okay.” The disappointment in her voice was unmistakable. “But, um, could you at least take this cookie? I baked it with love.”

Felix’s eyes flicked to the cookie, then back to her. “You should share it with your friends,” he replied flatly, his gaze briefly shifting to the group of girls peeking from behind a nearby wall. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving the girl to stand there, clutching her cookie with a crestfallen expression.

Felix didn’t like taking advantage of those who liked him. It was better to let them down early than to let their hopes build up, even if it meant being distant. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he headed back to his classroom, his mind already shifting to the next task when a sudden shout echoed down the hallway.

“Oh my god, she’s here!”

Felix glanced up briefly, noticing the shift in the hallway’s atmosphere as all eyes turned to you. He merely shrugged, relieved that, for once, the attention was no longer on him. He slipped away quietly, grateful for the distraction.

Back in the classroom, Felix focused on writing down everything the professor said, his concentration broken only when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, noting the sender's name—“Little Boss”—and dismissed it, returning to his notes. But when the phone buzzed again with another message, he reluctantly read it:

Come to the garden. I have something to give you. -

He ignored it, but when his phone rang for the third time, Felix sighed, realizing it wouldn’t stop until he responded. He excused himself from the classroom, and the professor nodded without hesitation. Felix was known as a diligent student, a model for others, so his rare requests to leave class were never questioned.

“What do you want?” Felix’s voice was colder than the crisp air of the garden as he found you admiring the roses.

“You’re late,” you noted, turning to face him with a gentle smile.

“Because I knew this wasn’t important.” His words were like ice, cutting through the warmth of your gesture.

Your smile faltered, but you quickly pushed the hurt aside, stepping closer to him. You thrust a paper bag into his hands, forcing him to take it.

“This is expensive,” Felix remarked, his tone more of an accusation than gratitude.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal money from my dad again. I worked hard to buy it, so just take it.”

Felix sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He knew arguing with you was pointless. You were stubborn, and no matter what he said, you’d do things your way.

“You should go back to class,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He turned to leave, eager to put this interaction behind him, but you stopped him with a soft, “Wait.”

He paused, but the impatience was clear in his eyes as he turned back to you.

Gently, you plucked a rose from the bush, you were the one who planted it there, and slipped it into the pocket of his uniform jacket, your fingers brushing against the fabric. “Now you can go,” you said with a small smile, as if the gesture could melt the wall he had built between you.

Felix’s expression remained unreadable as he walked back to his locker, the paper bag hanging loosely from his hand. He opened the locker and stared at the box someone had placed near it—a gift from a janitor who had grown tired of cleaning up the endless cascade of letters and chocolates.

Felix opened the paper bag you gave. Inside was an expensive pair of shoes, the exact ones he had been eyeing but couldn’t afford. His chest tightened with a mix of emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. This was too much. He couldn’t accept something like this, not from you.

He quickly gathered the rest of the gifts from his locker, piling them into the box. But when he glanced at the paper bag and the rose you had given him, Felix hesitated. He placed the items carefully inside his locker, closing the door with a soft click.

-

It was time to head home. Felix slung his bag over his left shoulder, letting it hang casually as he walked towards the school gate with both hands buried deep in his pockets. He paused near the entrance, his eyes following you as you got into a car. Once you were out of sight, he continued his walk to the bus stop, the familiar route offering little solace.

As he waited for the bus, he found himself absentmindedly staring out into the distance, lost in thought. The bus arrived, and Felix took his usual seat near the window, watching the city blur by as he made his way to your address.

Arriving at your family’s mansion, Felix smiled at the guard stationed at the entrance, offering a polite greeting before stepping inside the expansive grounds. The pathway to the mansion was lined with lush greenery, the carefully tended plants and flowers giving the place an almost paradisiacal feel. He nodded in acknowledgment to the gardener trimming the trees and his wife sweeping up the fallen leaves, their warm smiles a welcome and Felix smiled like a sunshine he was.

The mansion loomed in the distance, its grandeur almost oppressive. Despite its size, it felt empty to Felix—a hollow shell filled with wealth but devoid of warmth.

Felix didn’t head toward the main house, though. Instead, he walked to the smaller house near the garden, where he and his mother lived. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the comforting scent of home.

"My son is here," his mother said with a bright smile, wrapping him in a tight hug. Felix held her close, his heart swelling with the comfort of being home. He pulled out a bouquet of flowers hidden under table near them, carefully arranged with blooms he had picked from the garden the day before.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

His mother’s eyes welled up with tears as she accepted the bouquet, her voice thick with emotion. “Aw, thank you, my son. I love you so much.”

Felix felt a warmth spread through him as he hugged her again, this time even tighter. He knew how much his mother had sacrificed, and he was determined to give her the world one day.

His mother had been working as a cleaner for your family since Felix was seven, a job she had taken after his father’s business went bankrupt. When his father ran from their responsibilities, leaving them in financial ruin, Felix’s mother sold everything they owned to pay off the debts. The job with your family had been a lifeline, allowing them to survive.

Felix had grown up in your mansion, helping out where he could, especially in the kitchen, where his knack for cooking quickly became apparent. It was during those moments in the kitchen that you first noticed him. He was just a boy back then, but something about his quiet determination and gentle kindness drew you in.

At first, you and Felix became close because you were the same age and both felt lonely in the huge, empty mansion. The house, no matter how grand, felt cold and quiet when your parents were away on business trips, which happened a lot. Felix, who worked at the mansion and lived in a small house on the property with his mother, was a comforting presence. He kept you company, told you stories, and filled the silence with laughter. You spent hours together, finding comfort in each other's company.

But when your mother found out about your friendship with Felix, she was furious. She had always been strict and powerful, and her anger seemed to grow even worse. One evening, she barged into your room, her face full of rage.

“How dare you?” she yelled. “How dare you spend time with someone like him?”

Felix, who had always been kind and respectful, suddenly became the target of her wrath. She saw him as a threat to her carefully managed image and status. To her, Felix was just a poor worker who didn’t belong in her world.

“You will never see him again,” she said, her voice cold. “If you keep this up, I’ll have him kicked out of school and make sure he pays for it.”

Her threats were harsh. She made it clear that if Felix stayed in your life, she would use her influence to ruin him. She promised to take away his scholarship, get him removed from the mansion, and make sure his family suffered. Her power was strong, and the fear she created was real.

Felix, struggling to make ends meet, knew how serious the situation was. He realized that being friends with someone like you, someone from a different world, was too risky. The gap between your lives was too big, and the consequences of defying your mother were too severe. He understood that her threats were real and could destroy not only his future but also his family’s well-being.

Felix saw that you had feelings for him, and even though you were willing to risk everything, he knew it was a fight he couldn’t win. Despite your determination to stand up for him, Felix knew he had to protect you from the fallout. He tried to explain that your worlds were too different and that staying friends was not possible. His words were harsh, and he acted cold, but it was all to keep you from getting hurt.

You didn’t want to listen to his warnings. You were determined to fight for him, believing that love could overcome anything. But Felix, knowing the real dangers and the threats hanging over both of you, stayed firm. He pushed you away to keep you safe, even if it meant hurting you.

The mansion, once warm with your friendship, became a place of silence and sadness. Felix’s absence left a big gap, a constant reminder of how love alone couldn’t overcome the differences between your worlds. The friendship you had was broken by the harsh realities of power and social class, leaving you with the painful lesson that sometimes, beautiful things are destroyed by forces beyond your control. You were both only ten years old at the time.

Now, seven years later, you stood at your bedroom window, watching Felix as he trimmed the plants in your garden. He was still the same Felix—kind-hearted and hardworking—but there was a distance between you now, a coldness that hadn’t been there before. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Felix sensed your presence but didn’t look up. He focused on his work, pretending not to notice you watching him.

“Felix!” you finally called out after watching him in silence for nearly twenty minutes.

He lifted his head and met your gaze, his expression unreadable.

You waved at him, trying to break the ice. “Can I come down there?”

Felix shook his head without hesitation, his face remaining neutral.

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, but you managed to muster a small smile. “Okay… maybe next time,” you said softly, almost to yourself.

In the past, you might have ignored his refusal and come down anyway, defying the unspoken barriers between you. But today, something held you back. Perhaps it was the realization that no matter how much you loved him, Felix wasn’t going to reciprocate those feelings. Not now, not ever.

-

"Happy birthday to you!"

The cheerful voices of the workers in your mansion filled the room, their smiles bright as they sang the birthday song for Felix. The cook proudly held up the cake he had baked, and Felix's mother carefully lit the candles, her face glowing with love and pride.

Felix had just arrived home from school, tired but content, when he flicked on the light and was greeted with the surprise. His eyes widened in shock, a smile breaking out across his face as he took in the sight of everyone gathered just for him. The warmth of their affection wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.

After they finished singing, Felix went around hugging everyone, gratitude bubbling up inside him. These people had become his family, and he cherished each one of them.

"Now, make a wish," someone called out playfully.

Felix, though not one to believe in wishes, closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. He made a silent prayer, then blew out the candles in one smooth breath.

"What did you wish for?" his mother asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Mom, if I tell you, it won’t come true," Felix chuckled, pulling her into a tight hug.

Dinner was a simple affair, but the laughter and camaraderie around the table made it feel like a feast fit for royalty. The night was filled with stories, jokes, and the clinking of glasses as they celebrated not just Felix's birthday, but the bond they all shared.

As the night wore on, the celebration wound down, and Felix found himself outside, gazing up at the stars. The sky was clear, the stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across a velvet blanket. His mother had already gone to bed, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the peaceful sounds of the night.

Felix closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the tranquility wash over him. Life was beautiful in its own way, but his dreams were bigger than this small world he lived in. He longed for more, to reach heights that seemed distant but not impossible.

His gaze drifted to the window of your room, noticing that the lights were off. He glanced at his phone; there were just ten minutes left of his birthday. A small pang of disappointment tugged at his heart.

Why hadn’t you greeted him?

He looked at your window again, feeling a twinge of regret. "Maybe I was too hard on her," he mumbled to himself, a sigh escaping his lips. Just as he was about to turn away and head to bed, a soft glow illuminated your window. His heart skipped a beat as you opened it, and your eyes met his across the distance.

You smiled at him, a gentle, sincere smile that made Felix’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar emotion. He couldn’t help but smile back, the corners of his mouth lifting as if on their own accord.

You pulled out your phone, and a moment later, Felix's phone rang. He answered it, holding it to his ear as he continued to watch you.

"Happy birthday," you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth that reached him even through the distance.

Felix didn’t respond right away, just listening to the sound of your voice, letting it wrap around him like a warm blanket on a cold night.

"I wanted to be special," you continued, your voice tinged with a shy sweetness. "I hope I was the last one to greet you."

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You both simply looked at each other, words unnecessary in that moment.

"Thank you," Felix finally whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Goodnight," you said after another long pause, your voice as gentle as the night breeze. You smiled at him one last time before ending the call and closing your window.

Felix stood there for a moment, his phone still pressed to his ear even after the call ended. A soft smile played on his lips as he looked up at your now-dark window.

The truth was, he had been waiting for you too.

-

The next day at school, Felix was walking through the hallway when one of the teachers stopped him. “Felix, could you do me a favor?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “Ms. Kim is out sick today, and we need someone to supervise the class. Could you assist?”

Felix, always willing to help, nodded. “Of course, I’ll take care of it.”

He made his way to your classroom, his expression neutral as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room went silent as the students noticed him, some whispering to each other in surprise. Felix was well-known around school—an achiever, a leader, someone everyone looked up to.

You, sitting near the window, couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat when you saw him. You’d been staring out at the clouds, daydreaming, when his presence snapped you back to reality. Felix walked to the teacher’s desk, setting his bag down, and then addressed the class.

“Ms. Kim isn’t here today, so I’ll be supervising,” he said in his usual calm and composed tone. “She left some seatwork for you to complete. I’ll distribute it now.”

As he handed out the worksheets, Felix moved methodically through the rows, his attention focused on the task. When he reached your desk, you looked up at him, hoping for a moment of eye contact, but he never glanced your way. He simply placed the paper in front of you and continued on.

You sighed softly, feeling a mix of admiration and disappointment. Felix was always like this—distant, almost as if there was an invisible wall between the two of you that you couldn’t break through. As the rest of the class began working on the assignment, you stared at the paper in front of you, your mind suddenly blank. The questions seemed more difficult than you expected, and you realized with a sinking feeling that you hadn’t studied enough.

Felix had settled at the teacher’s desk, a book in hand, his attention seemingly absorbed in its pages. You felt nervous, knowing he was just a few feet away. His presence, while usually comforting, now only added to your anxiety.

You began to scratch your head, frowning as you tried to make sense of the first question. Your seatmate, Seungmin, noticed your struggle and leaned over slightly. “Need some help?” he whispered, a friendly smile on his face.

You looked at him, relief washing over you, and were about to nod when Felix’s voice cut through the room.

“Everyone,” Felix announced without looking up from his book, “no talking during the seatwork. And no sharing answers.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

You froze, your heart pounding. Seungmin quickly turned back to his own paper, and you were left to face the assignment on your own. The nerves made it even harder to focus, and you found yourself barely able to complete more than half of the questions.

When the time came to pass in the papers, your classmates rushed to the front, eager to hand theirs directly to Felix. The girls, in particular, took the opportunity to chat with him, their voices laced with admiration and interest. You watched from your seat, feeling a pang of envy but also a sense of reluctance. You didn’t want to hand in your half-completed work, knowing it would only disappoint him.

As the last few students left the classroom, you remained seated, nervously tapping your pencil against the desk. Felix was now alone at the teacher’s desk, organizing the papers with his usual efficiency. Finally, mustering up the courage, you stood and walked over to him, clutching your paper tightly in your hands.

“Felix…,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. He looked up from the papers, his expression unreadable. “Is it okay if I… maybe, pass this as an assignment? I… I ran out of time.”

He glanced at the paper you were holding, then back at you. There was a long pause, and for a moment, you thought he might agree. But then he shook his head. “No. You need to submit it now.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze, even though his tone was still calm, almost indifferent. Reluctantly, you handed over your paper, unable to meet his eyes. Felix took it without a word, his expression unchanging as he glanced over your answers. He didn’t say anything—no criticism, no encouragement. Just silence.

You bowed your head, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you waited for him to say something, anything. But Felix simply added your paper to the pile and looked back up at you. “Goodbye,” he said, his tone as cool as ever, before turning away and leaving the classroom with the stack of papers in his hands.

You stood there for a moment, feeling ashamed and a bit defeated. You knew you hadn’t done well, and the thought of Felix seeing your poor performance made you feel even worse. With a heavy sigh, you returned to your seat, packing up your things slowly, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment.

What you didn’t know was that after leaving the classroom, Felix found a quiet spot in the school office. As he flipped through the stack of papers, he came across yours. Without hesitation, he pulled out a pen and began filling in the answers you hadn’t been able to complete, his expression softening slightly. He made sure the work was correct before carefully placing your paper in the middle of the stack, ensuring it wouldn’t stand out.

-

"Congratulations, Felix! You've been accepted to your dream university with a full scholarship! Your dreams are finally coming true!"

The principal’s voice rang out, followed by a wave of applause from the entire faculty gathered in the office. Felix stood there, slightly overwhelmed, as everyone around him clapped and congratulated him.

The smiles on their faces weren’t just for show; they were genuinely proud of him. They had seen firsthand what Felix had gone through at such a young age, how he had fought hard against the odds, and how he had slowly but surely been achieving his dreams. Seeing him take this monumental step forward was a moment of pride for everyone who had supported him along the way.

Felix felt a warm flush of happiness spread through him. He took a moment to thank each teacher, each mentor, each person who had been a part of his journey. Their words of encouragement and pride felt like a soothing balm to the years of hard work and struggle he had endured. This acceptance into his dream university was more than just a milestone; it was the culmination of every sacrifice, every late-night study session, and every ounce of determination he had poured into his education.

When he finally got home, Felix couldn’t contain his excitement. He rushed inside, barely pausing to kick off his shoes, and found his mother in the kitchen. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw him.

“Mom!” Felix called out, his voice bubbling with joy. “I got in! They accepted me with a full scholarship!”

His mother turned to him, and the pride in her eyes made Felix’s heart swell even more. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she rushed forward to embrace him. They held each other tightly, the joy and relief washing over them in waves.

“I’m so proud of you, Felix,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. Tears slipped down Felix’s cheeks too, and he didn’t bother wiping them away.

"Mom, we’re almost there," he murmured into her shoulder. "I’ll become a doctor, and then we can finally live happily. I’ll buy you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

His mother pulled back slightly to look at him, her smile radiant through her tears. “I don’t need anything, my son. You’re all I’ve ever need. I’m so happy for you, and I’m so proud of you.”

She kissed his cheek, her lips soft and warm against his skin. Then, with a tenderness that made Felix’s chest ache, she said, “You’ll be living far away now. So you must take care of yourself, alright? Promise me that.”

Felix nodded, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. He wrapped his arms around his mother again, holding her as if he could imprint this moment into his memory forever. The happiness he felt was indescribable, a mixture of relief, accomplishment, and love.

But as he held his mother, another thought crept into his mind, unbidden and persistent.

How about you?

The question lingered in the back of his mind, casting a small shadow over his joy. Felix pushed the thought away, not wanting to dampen this moment, but it stayed with him, a quiet reminder of something unresolved.

-

Days had passed, and now it was your 18th birthday—a milestone you had been looking forward to, with a grand celebration planned in the garden. From early in the morning, the entire estate buzzed with activity. Workers moved with purpose, setting up decorations, arranging tables, and ensuring that everything was perfect. Despite your parents hiring the most famous event organizer and the best chefs, Felix was among those helping to prepare. He worked tirelessly, assisting wherever he was needed, and when the night came, he was assigned to be a server at the event.

As the evening descended, the party commenced. The garden was adorned with twinkling lights and fragrant flowers, a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Felix moved through the crowd, his expression focused as he carried trays and attended to guests. But amidst the elegant decorations and the mingling of your guests, you were nowhere to be seen. Everyone waited in anticipation for your entrance.

Then, the host's voice boomed over the speakers, announcing your arrival.

Every spotlight in the garden shifted, illuminating the grand doors that led from the house. And there you were, stepping into the light like a vision.

Felix froze in place, his breath catching as his eyes locked onto you.

You were a vision in your debut gown, an opulent violet off-the-shoulder ball gown that shimmered under the lights. The voluminous skirt cascaded like a waterfall, reminiscent of the one Belle wore, but yours was a deep, rich violet—a color that only served to enhance your beauty. You looked like a princess, ethereal and untouchable.

As you walked down the carpet, Felix couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were on one end, and he stood at the other, watching as you approached. When your gaze met his, you smiled— a smile so radiant it made Felix’s heart stumble in his chest.

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. The noise of the party, the clinking of glasses, and the murmurs of conversation all faded away. It was just you and him, two souls drawn together in a moment of pure, unspoken connection. Felix, who had never believed in fantasies or romances, found himself ensnared by the magic of this moment. You were walking towards him, and he stood there, lost in you, until you passed by him, breaking the spell.

Felix blinked, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as you climbed up onto the platform, where the crowd erupted into applause. He realized he had been standing there, staring, completely forgetting his duties.

“Uh, my champagne, please,” a voice beside him interrupted.

Felix snapped back to reality, scolding himself for losing focus. The rest of the evening, he kept his head down, avoiding looking at you, determined to do his job without further distraction.

As the night wore on, the party slowly drew to a close. It had been the best birthday you could have asked for, filled with laughter, music, and joy. But as you bathed and changed into more comfortable clothes, a feeling of incompleteness settled in your heart. The party had been perfect, but something was missing.

You stood by your window, gazing out at the now-quiet garden. The clock showed it was almost midnight. Felix had wished you a happy birthday earlier, but it had been through a simple text, and somehow, that didn’t feel special enough.

Quietly, you left your room, careful not to wake your parents, and slipped out of the house. The garden, which had been full of life earlier, was now still, the remnants of the celebration tidily cleared away. You made your way through the bushes until you stood before the small house you often visited.

Lifting your hand to knock on the door, you were suddenly pulled back. Startled, you turned to see Felix standing there, his grip firm but gentle on your arm.

Without a word, he led you away from the house. You followed him, trusting him implicitly, until you both reached the fountain. The sound of the water bubbling softly in the night added to the sense of intimacy that surrounded you both.

Felix stopped and turned to face you. Even after a long day of hard work, he looked as handsome as ever, and your heart ached with the depth of your feelings for him. You held his gaze, waiting, hoping, not daring to look away for fear that he might disappear again, as he often did.

He sighed, his breath mingling with the cool night air, and reached into his pocket. Your eyes followed his movements as he pulled out a small velvety box. Extending it toward you, he met your gaze once more.

"Happy birthday," he said, his voice low and steady.

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering. You had heard those words countless times today, but coming from him, they felt different—more special, more meaningful.

He opened the box, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a rose pendant nestled inside. The simplicity and beauty of it took your breath away.

"It’s not as expensive as what you’re used to, but I hope—"

"It’s beautiful!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with genuine delight. It was the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen.

Felix smiled, a small but sincere curve of his lips that made your heart race.

"Can you put it on me?" you asked, your voice soft with anticipation.

Felix hesitated, his eyes widening slightly before he nodded. You gathered your hair in your hands, lifting it to expose your neck, and Felix stepped closer. The proximity made your heart pound in your chest. You could feel the warmth of his breath near your ear as he carefully fastened the necklace around your neck. Every second stretched, and you found yourself wishing you could stay like this, wrapped in his presence.

But all too soon, Felix stepped back, breaking the spell once more. You almost shivered from the loss of his warmth, but his words brought comfort.

“It’s beautiful on you,” he said, his voice soft as he admired the necklace resting against your skin.

You held the pendant between your fingers, feeling the warmth of his sincerity. “Thank you so much, Felix,” you said, your voice full of emotion. “You made my day complete.”

In that moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of your feelings, you stepped closer to him and leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, tentative, but it held all the emotions you had been carrying for so long. It felt magical, a perfect expression of the love you had kept hidden in your heart.

A lone tear escaped your eye as you pulled away, the realization of how deeply you loved him settling in. It was a love that hurt, a love that felt too big to contain.

But as you started to turn away, Felix caught your wrist, pulling you back to him. Before you could react, he kissed you.

It was different this time. His lips moved against yours with a steadiness that took your breath away. When you finally registered what was happening, you wrapped your arms around his neck, responding with all the love you had stored in your heart.

Felix had always been a part of your world, a constant presence in the background of your life. But now, standing here with him, you realized that love wasn’t always easy. Loving him had been hard, full of obstacles and unspoken words, but for Felix, this moment was a revelation.

He realized he had been too much of a coward, hiding behind his own fears and uncertainties. But as he kissed you, he knew that hiding was no longer an option. This was the moment where everything became clear.

As you both held onto each other in the quiet of the night, you understood that love was worth the risk.

uhmm.. helloo.. just wanna say bsn is now updated hehe

Kayewrite's Masterlist!

warning: full of fluff

ask me anything and suggestions here!

Series:

Blue Sticky Note (stray kids ot8 x reader) - fluff a mysterious note confession appears in your binder. Unsure of who left it, you embark on an investigation among your eight close friends, each with their own quirks and possibilities.

Blue Sticky Note part 2 (stray kids ot8 x reader) - fluff, angst you know the answer of the mystery of the blue sticky note you found in your binder, but then keep denying it.

Stack of books (bsn ending #1) - han x reader x skz

falling in the wrong way (bsn ending #2) - minho x reader x skz

I hate to admit (bsn ending #3) - changbin x reader x skz

You were beautiful (bsn ending #4) - seungmin x reader x skz

this is going to hurt (bsn ending #5) - hyunjin x reader x skz

swear it again (bsn ending #6) - chan x reader x skz

knock on your door (bsn ending #7) - felix x reader x skz

paper rings (bsn ending #8) - jeongin x reader x skz

Time and again (chan x reader x hyunjin) - fluff You thought acting was just another gig, until a simple favor spiraled into something more complicated. As you step into a world of wealth and deception, you meet Chan and Hyunjin—two men whose lives you’ve unintentionally entangled with your own.

One shot:

Like I do ( skz jeongin x reader) -fluff you tried to stop you feelings for your best friend especially he has a girl.

How to love? (skz seungmin x reader) - fluff, angst  You are just curious what love is, and you asked for tips from your friend, who just willingly helped you.

Want so bad (skz Lee know x reader) - fluff Minho is everything you never wanted in life. But he wants you….so bad.

Maybe This time ( skz jisung x reader) - fluff, angst Two old friends reunite and reminisce about their shared past.

Unseen Barriers (skz felix x reader) - fluff You have feelings for Felix. But Felix, despite being aware, remains determined not to reciprocate for a reason.

note: this will update timely note2: also please bear with me im an uni student and dont have always time to update but ill do it as i can (and yes no nsfw in this blog)

Time and Again

bang chan x reader x hyunjin!! word count: 4.2k

a straykids fic wherein; You thought acting was just another gig, until a simple favor spiraled into something more complicated. As you step into a world of wealth and deception, you meet Chan and Hyunjin—two men whose lives you’ve unintentionally entangled with your own.

an: let's rest from bsn everyonee~ i got a new fic!! hope you'll like it

What can’t we stop in life?

Time.

That thought lingers in your mind, unshakeable.

We can't stop growing up. Time is relentless. It pushes us forward, even when we want to stay still. One day, we'll notice gray hairs sprouting like uninvited guests, our teeth might loosen and fall like autumn leaves, and our once smooth skin will crease and roughen, mapping out the years we've lived.

We can't freeze a moment, no matter how desperately we want to linger in it. The seconds tick on, pulling us along whether we're ready or not.

We can't slow time, even when we're anxious about an upcoming exam that looms over us like a storm cloud. No matter how much we wish for more time to prepare, the day will arrive, just as it always does.

We can't hold onto the minutes when we're engrossed in a movie, lost in another world, hoping it never ends. But as much as we resist, the credits will eventually roll, pulling us back to reality.

We can't pause time, even when we long to remain a carefree child, untouched by the worries and responsibilities that come with growing older.

We can’t stop time.

Just like you couldn’t stop yourself from turning 25.

You sit quietly, a single cupcake in front of you, the tiny flame of the candle flickering in the dim light of your apartment. The room is silent, the only sound the soft hiss of the air conditioner. You lean forward and blow out the candle, the flame extinguishing with a small puff of smoke that curls into the air.

You clap your hands together, a small, solitary celebration. There’s no one here to cheer with you, no one to share this moment. You glance around, your eyes tracing the familiar shapes of your home—the worn sofa, the stack of unread books on the coffee table, the kitchen with its unwashed dishes. The shadows stretch long in the quiet room, filling the spaces where laughter and voices used to be.

Growing up, birthdays started to feel just like any other day. The excitement, the anticipation—it all faded, replaced by a quiet acceptance that time was moving on, with or without you.

If it weren’t for your friend Nana, who surprised you with a cupcake earlier, you might not have even remembered it was your birthday. She’d smiled brightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she handed you the small cake, her voice cheerful as she wished you another year of happiness. Her warmth lingered even after she left, the cupcake a sweet reminder that someone cared.

You sigh, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and take a bite of the cupcake. The sweetness fills your mouth, a brief comfort. You chew slowly, savoring the flavor, letting it dissolve on your tongue. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting yourself be present, here in this small, quiet moment.

And just like that, another birthday passes.

You slip into bed, the sheets cool against your skin. You turn off the lights, the room plunging into darkness, and whisper a thank you to yourself for making it this far—a quiet acknowledgment of your perseverance, of the little victories that have brought you here. Your body relaxes into the mattress, the day’s weariness catching up to you. With a deep breath, you close your eyes, giving in to the pull of sleep, the last thought in your mind a simple, comforting one—you’ve made it another year.

We can't stop time, indeed.

The next morning, you’re jolted awake by the shrill ring of your alarm. You fumble for your phone, your fingers clumsy with sleep, and press the snooze button, craving just five more minutes of rest. The bed is warm and inviting, and you sink back into it, pulling the covers over your head.

But those five minutes stretch longer than intended. The next thing you know, you’re blinking your eyes open, and a glance at the clock sends your heart racing—it’s already 8:00 a.m.

Your workday starts at 8:30.

Panic sets in, adrenaline flooding your system as you throw the covers off and leap out of bed. You move as fast as you can—faster than you thought possible. Your mind races through the tasks ahead, prioritizing speed over everything.

If only you could stop time, you could take a peaceful shower, let the warm water wake you up slowly, ease you into the day. But since you can’t, you resort to multitasking in a desperate attempt to catch up with the minutes slipping away.

You brush your teeth while standing under the showerhead, the water splashing over you as you try not to miss a spot.

You toast bread while ironing your clothes, darting back and forth between the kitchen and the ironing board, hoping nothing burns.

You eat your breakfast standing by the window, glancing out every few seconds to see if the bus is coming, chewing quickly as you mentally run through your day’s schedule.

You apply your makeup on the bus, your reflection shaky in the tiny mirror, hoping you don’t smudge your eyeliner as you rehearse your work script under your breath.

You slip on your heels while running through the building’s entrance, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.

But despite all your efforts, you are still late. If only you could blame time. sighs

You work as an extra.

An extra in any movie or TV show that needs someone to fill in the background, to be a part of the scenery, blending into the lives of the characters who take the spotlight. That’s your job. It pays the bills, keeps you afloat, but sometimes you wonder if it's enough.

"You’re late," your friend says with a smirk as you frantically try to fix your hair, fingers shaking as you attempt to tame the unruly strands. "They were about to replace you. Thanks to me, I practically had to kneel on the floor and beg them to keep you on."

You know she didn’t really do that—she just wants to remind you not to push your luck by being late again. Extras like you, well, you're replaceable. The director doesn’t wait for anyone in your position. You’re just a face in the crowd, someone who can be swapped out without a second thought.

"I’m sorry," you murmur, the words feeling heavy in your mouth. You know the truth: you’re not important enough to hold up production. Who are you to be waited on?

The scene begins. You’re seated in a cozy restaurant, a man across from you who’s playing the part of your date. The two of you chat quietly, exchanging smiles that mean nothing, just a prop to fill the space. Then, the two main characters walk past, their presence commanding attention as they take a seat at a table a few spots away from you. They start their lines, their voices clear and confident, pulling everyone’s focus toward them.

You keep the conversation going with your ‘date,’ even though you know your words won’t be heard, and you might not even be seen on camera. Your job is to blend in, to make the world of the show feel real, even if your face never truly appears.

Later, you find yourself in a different role—a gossiper in a crowded café. You sit with a group of women, exchanging whispers and sideways glances at the main female character, who is seated nearby. She plays her part well, her expression sad and weary, as if your gossip has cut her deeply.

"I heard she got impregnated by an addict," you say with a laugh, delivering your lines with just the right amount of disdain. Your friend beside you joins in, adding to the conversation with her own sharp lines. You play your role, small as it is, with the same effort and energy you’ve been putting into it for the past two years.

It’s a job that keeps you going, one that lets you continue living, but sometimes you wonder… is it enough?

Another day, another set. This time, you’re part of the audience for a game reality show. You clap and cheer, your voice blending with the others as you pretend to be thrilled by the events on stage. You’re paid to be enthusiastic, to create an atmosphere of excitement, and it’s fun in its own way.

Then comes one of your biggest roles yet: a funeral scene. This time, you get to cry, and it’s not just background work—you actually have a solo shot. The camera focuses on you as tears stream down your face, and you give it everything you have. When the scene wraps, you mentally clap for yourself, feeling a small surge of pride.

But when the lights dim and the day’s work is done, you can’t help but ask yourself… are you content with this? Being an extra? Is this all there is for you?

You arrive home to your small apartment, exhaustion weighing on your shoulders. You flop onto the couch, turning on the TV to catch the latest episode of the series you’re currently working on. You munch on chips as the scene plays out, eyes scanning the screen, looking for yourself in the background.

The camera pans to a hospital scene, and there you are, laying on a hospital bed, playing the part of an injured patient. It’s a fleeting moment—just a few seconds of screen time—but you spot yourself. And despite everything, you can’t help but smile.

You have big dreams for yourself, dreams of being a star, a known and respected actress. But those dreams feel so far away now, almost impossible. Still, you hold onto the hope that one day..

time will take you there.

"Please, can you do this for me? I'm begging! You're a great actress; I know you can pull it off."

Had the time finally taken you to this point?

"How much are we talking?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

No, you were still just playing an extra in someone else’s story.

"I’ll give you whatever you want. Name your price, I promise—just this once, please."

Your friend, Kim, the daughter of a multimillionaire, was asking you for a favor for the first time. That alone told you she was desperate. And money? Of course, you always went for the money.

"What exactly do you need me to do?"

"I want you to pretend," she said, her voice low but insistent.

You were good at pretending.

Yes, you were really good at acting (if only everyone could see it).

You felt a spark of excitement at the challenge her offer presented.

"Then get that money ready," you smirked, your confidence returning.

This was just another job. Consider it your usual work—a role you’d mastered time and again.

The party was extravagant.

It felt like only the truly rich could reach this level of opulence.

Everything was so formal, so unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

Was this where the wealthy spent their riches?

You marveled at the bartender, who crafted your drink with a precision and flair you’d only seen in movies. A glass of alcohol here likely cost more than your monthly wage.

You were still in awe when you suddenly shook your head, reminding yourself why you were here.

But then, you decided to savor the moment. You should stay a while, just to taste what it was like to be rich, even if only for a few minutes.

You perched on a high barstool, letting yourself sink into the role.

You began your act—moving slowly, carefully, like someone accustomed to luxury. The dress you wore made you nervous; you were scared it might get ruined, so you moved as elegantly as possible, like you imagined rich people did.

You were so focused on your act that you didn’t notice someone sitting on the stool beside you until he spoke.

"I’ll have what she’s having," he said, nodding toward the bartender.

You took a sip of your drink, your eyes scanning the room, trying to blend in.

But you flinched as the burning liquid slid down your throat. This stuff was expensive, but in that moment, you still preferred the soju from the convenience store.

Who were you kidding? Of course, this was better.

You noticed the man beside you giving you a curious look, like he was judging your strange behavior.

Mentally, you scolded yourself and snapped back to your role.

"So, how are you?" you asked, turning to the man beside you, trying to recover.

He looked at you with a puzzled expression, as if he was trying to figure out who you were.

Internally, you cringed. He wasn’t part of your task. Get your head back in the game!

"Never mind, don’t answer that," you quickly added, dropping the act. Tired of pretending when your target was still nowhere in sight, you let a bit of your true self show. Anyway, this man didn’t know you at all.

This only seemed to confuse him more. He stared at you as if trying to figure out why you were so… weird.

"Can you tell me what this drink is called again?" you asked, turning back to him.

He said a name you didn’t recognize, and you didn’t bother trying to remember it—you’d forget it anyway.

"Right. That," you replied nonchalantly.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Why would I be? Drinks like this don’t get me drunk after just one shot," you laughed.

He shrugged and returned to his drink, staring into nothing as if lost in his own thoughts. Even when a gorgeous woman passed by, he didn’t seem to notice her, and she walked away without a second glance.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked, genuinely curious.

The man turned his attention back to you, shrugged again, and answered, "Nothing."

"Oh, come on, you can tell me. You know it’s better to talk to strangers," you encouraged, taking another sip. "And I promise you, you won’t ever see me again."

Were you drunk? No, definitely not.

The stranger looked at you, seeming to debate whether to open up to you.

"I’ve just got a lot of problems," he began, his voice tinged with frustration.

"I can’t believe even rich people have problems," you chuckled. "But then again, everyone has problems."

"Rich people are people too," he laughed softly.

"Right, I forgot," you laughed along with him.

"So, yeah… have you ever been forced to love someone?" he asked, swirling the drink in his glass.

"No. Why would someone force me to? Do they own my heart? I own myself!" you declared.

"Right," he laughed again, and you found it strangely attractive. But rich people weren’t for someone like you. "But what if you don’t have a choice?"

"I still wouldn’t. I stick to my principles. No one should own you unless you want them to. No one should rule your life—you own it," you said firmly.

"That’s easier said than done," he replied, a hint of sadness in his tone.

"It’s hard, but you need to stand up for yourself," you insisted.

He found your bluntness amusing. He didn’t reply but took another sip of his drink, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I’m Chan," he said, finally introducing himself and extending his hand. You shook it but didn’t offer your name in return, as you were supposed to. So he asked, "What’s your name?"

"I’m staying a stranger tonight," you chuckled. "And I’m not who I am tonight."

Chan found you hilariously weird, but in a good way. He didn’t want to walk away from your strangeness.

"Look at that man," you said, nodding discreetly toward a man not far away. Chan followed your gaze.

"Ah, that’s Hyu—" he started to say, but you weren’t listening.

"He’s a jerk. He plays with girls’ hearts, and I’m here to tell him off," you said, standing up. The sudden movement made you dizzy, and you almost stumbled, but Chan caught you. You quickly steadied yourself, focusing on your goal—your task.

You marched over to the man sitting on the couch with his new girl. Was this what all rich people did? Collect girls like trophies?

"Hyunjin!" you called out, the reason you were here. "How dare you!" You approached him and slapped him hard across the face, your acting skills kicking into high gear.

The people around him froze, but thankfully, most were too absorbed in the jazz music to notice. Still, you almost wished more eyes were on you.

"You cheated on me!" you cried, tears welling up in your eyes. "How could you? I loved you so much, and you do this to me?"

Hyunjin looked utterly shocked, clearly having no idea what was happening. The girl beside him began to pull away from his embrace, doubt creeping into her expression.

You continued to cry, letting the tears fall freely, until you felt it was time to make your exit. You ran back to the bar, grabbed your bag, finished the rest of your drink in one gulp, and hurried out of the scene.

Once you were outside, you wiped away the tears, blowing out a long breath.

"Wow. That was harder than I thought," you muttered to yourself, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Sorry, Hyunjin. I promise, you won’t be seeing me again.

As Kim had explained, your task was to teach Hyunjin a lesson. According to her, Hyunjin was a playboy jerk who toyed with her sister's heart, and he deserved to be taken down a notch. Now, after your little performance, anyone who overheard would probably believe that the angelic-looking Hyunjin was nothing but a cheater.

Well, you couldn’t deny that he was handsome. But a jerk is a jerk.

Later, your friend Kim was thrilled with your story.

"Really? You believed me right away?" you rolled your eyes. "People like you are too easy to fool. You get carried away by stories without looking for evidence. What if I lied?"

"Why would you lie? I know you," she said confidently, handing you an envelope—probably full of money.

You thanked her, but when you saw the amount, you quickly tried to hand it back.

"That’s too much," you protested.

Even though you were friends with a rich girl like her, you would never take advantage of it.

"It’s fine," she laughed, as if she were giving away pocket change.

You knew from experience that she was stubborn and wouldn’t listen, so you just took the money and mumbled a quick thanks. "If you have any more jobs for me, I’m always here… but that was the last one."

"Okay, thanks," she said cheerfully. "And that dress—you can keep it. You look stunning in it."

You laughed, "You think I’d give it back after feeling like a princess in it?" You admired yourself in the mirror in her room. "Just kidding. Thanks for this."

Last night was a great racket job.

You felt good acting. Maybe it would even be shown on television—who knows? But one thing was certain: you loved acting. Even when the roles were small, the thrill of pretending to be someone else was addictive.

But now, as you stepped back into your everyday life, everything felt dull by comparison. Dressed in a school uniform, you were playing yet another role, this time as a student taking a test. Just an act, but as you glanced at the girl across from you—crying on her desk for the scene—you felt a pang of envy. For a moment, you wished you were her, caught up in a dramatic life that wasn’t your own.

It was break time, and you found a corner to sit in, nibbling on the free snacks they provided. The munching was interrupted by Jeremy, one of the extras and a friend you’d made on set.

"There’s an audition this Saturday," he began, excitement bubbling in his voice. "They’re looking for doubles for an action series."

Good news, perhaps. But you’d been down that road before. Playing the main character during action scenes sounded thrilling, but it usually ended with you in the hospital. So..

"No," you said firmly, shaking your head. "Never again."

Jeremy tried to persuade you. "I get it, but this is a big opportunity! The director will be there, and rumor has it he’s scouting for a new star. We could be more than just extras—we could get real lines if we do well."

His words struck a chord. The possibility of stepping out of the shadows, of being more than just a face in the background, was tempting. You could feel the spark of hope igniting in your chest.

You entered the building, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe it was indeed your time.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped up to the podium, ready to deliver the lines you’d been practicing for days. Your moment had arrived, and you were determined to make the most of it.

But just as you opened your mouth to speak, a voice interrupted.

"The director is here."

You turned, your mouth hanging open in shock. Entering the room was someone you never expected to see.

"Good morning. I’m Bang Chan."

The confidence you’d carefully built up began to crumble. The man sitting before you, staring intently, was someone you never thought you’d meet again.

Chan smirked, his gaze locking onto yours. "Show us what you’ve got."

Your hands trembled as you tried to remember your lines. The words that had come so easily in front of your mirror at home now felt foreign and distant. But you pushed through, forcing yourself to focus, to give the best performance you could muster.

When you finally finished, you left the room feeling weak, as if all your strength had been drained away. Your mind was a whirlpool of uncertainty. Had you done well? Would you be called back? You couldn’t be sure.

But as it turned out, it really was your time.

Days later, you sat staring at your computer screen, reading the email from the network you auditioned.

The word "passed" jumped out at you.

Passed?

You weren’t sure how to feel. Happiness? Shock? Disbelief?

Of course, you should be happy—this was a huge opportunity! And yet… how could you have passed when you were so uncertain about your performance? Was it Chan’s influence that got you through?

No matter how it happened, you had to be grateful. Maybe Chan had seen something in you. Maybe this was your chance to prove yourself. But at the back of your mind, one question lingered: Had he recognized you from the scandal you’d created with Hyunjin?

On the day of the script reading, you arrived early, standing in front of the tall building with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

A script reading? And you were invited?

You practically bounced with excitement, the reality of your situation sinking in. You jogged to the entrance, your heart soaring with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Chan had seen something in you worth believing in.

As you entered the room, you noticed it was already filled with people—many of whom were familiar faces from the industry. But you didn’t let it faze you. You found a quiet corner to sit in, waiting for the session to begin.

It was strange. You hadn’t received any details in the email—just an invitation. And yet, you didn’t feel out of place. The thought of maybe having a role, of stepping into a new chapter of your acting career, kept your spirits high.

Soon, more stars began to arrive, and though you’d grown used to seeing celebrities up close, the buzz of excitement was still contagious. You watched them interact, some putting on airs, others more down-to-earth than their public personas suggested.

Then Chan entered, his presence commanding the room. You hadn’t realized it at first that he was the director—it was surprising. He seemed more like a CEO than a filmmaker. Curious, you leaned over to the person next to you.

"He’s new," they whispered, as if sharing a secret. "Apparently, it’s been his dream to direct, and now he’s finally pursuing it. But yeah, he’s the son of a big businessman, so everyone knows this project will be a hit because of his connections."

You nodded, your curiosity piqued. But as you tried to settle back into your thoughts, the door opened again, and someone else walked in.

Your heart stopped.

It was Hyunjin.

The same Hyunjin you’d sworn you’d never see again.

Your eyes met, and he smirked, a glint of recognition in his gaze.

"The main star is here!" Chan announced with a broad smile, welcoming Hyunjin with a warm hug.

Main star?

At that moment, you wished time would freeze, giving you a chance to escape.