How Can I Move On?

How can i move on?

minho x reader x jisung!! han jisung x fem.reader x minho!! fluff and angst! word count: 3.5k

summary: How do you move on from your ex who hurt you? Jisung knows, but it seems you have another way.

an: this just enters my imaginary senses that i have to write it. enjoy btw. this is oneshot guys

“How are you?

Are you getting what you deserve?

You deserve love…

Love that will break you

Like how you broke mine!

You piece of—"

Your hands shook as you stared at the angry words on the screen of your computer, your heart pounding in your chest. The unfinished message to your ex-boyfriend, Minho, burned into your eyes. It felt good to type it, to imagine how he would react if he read it. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t send it. You couldn’t.

Because even after all that he did… you still loved him.

“Ugh! You’re such an idiot!” you groaned, slamming your head down on your desk. How could you still have feelings for him, after everything he put you through?

But you had to get over it. You were determined to move on.

That is… until you found out Minho was now working in the same office as you.

Of all the places, why here? Why in your carefully built world, the one you’d managed to keep free from the wreckage of your relationship?

You clenched your fists, staring across the room as Minho moved effortlessly through the office, chatting with a couple of coworkers. His smile—that damn smile—was still the same, as if nothing had changed. As if your heart hadn’t shattered.

How could he look so unaffected? Did he not feel anything?

You quickly averted your gaze when his eyes met yours, the familiar smirk spreading across his face. It made your blood boil. You hated him, hated the way he made you feel so small and foolish. And the worst part? You hated how much you still cared.

You were done. Done with his games, his charm, his casual disregard for the pain he caused.

Done.

“Ready to leave already?” a voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts. You blinked and turned, realizing your coworker Jisung was standing beside your desk, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You hadn’t even noticed that you had started packing your things.

“No,” you lied, dropping your bag and sitting back down. “Just… organizing.”

“Uh-huh,” Jisung said, his tone playful but knowing. He had been working next to you for a year, long enough to recognize when you were hiding something. “So, what’s the deal with you and the new guy?”

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting back to Minho, who was now stirring his coffee at the pantry. His eyes flickered toward you again, and that damn smirk appeared, as if he could sense the tension building inside you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you muttered, returning your attention to your computer screen.

“Sure.” Jisung laughed softly, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. He could see right through you. “You always glare at people like that, right?”

Your cheeks heated as you turned to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

Jisung chuckled again, but his tone softened. “I’m just saying… If looks could kill, Minho would be in the hospital by now.”

Your lips twitched, but you fought back the smile. Jisung had always known how to defuse your temper, but you didn’t want to admit that he was right.

“You’re imagining things,” you muttered.

“Mhm,” he said, clearly unconvinced but too kind to press further. “Well, whatever it is… you should probably be careful. The last thing you need is for him to know he’s getting to you.”

You glanced at Jisung, surprised at his perceptiveness. He was right, of course. But it was easier said than done.

Minho had been your boyfriend for three years. Three long years where you thought you’d spend the rest of your life together. You had plans. You’d graduate, find your dream jobs, buy a place together, maybe get married one day… have kids, one girl who looks like you and one boy who looks also like you because that's what he wanted. It was everything you wanted and promised.

And then… he broke your heart. One stupid mistake, and everything you’d built came crumbling down. You couldn’t forgive him. Not after the betrayal.

Yet, here you were, still trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside you as you watched him now—calm, collected, and completely unfazed.

As if on cue, Minho approached your desk, holding a piece of paper. You felt a jolt of something deep inside—anger, hurt, and maybe a twinge of something more—something you hated yourself for feeling.

“Ms. Kim wanted you to do this,” Minho said casually, placing the paper on your desk. His voice was smooth, professional, but there was something in the way he looked at you. Like he was testing the waters, seeing how much he could push you.

You didn’t bother looking at him, simply nodding as you picked up the paper. “Okay.”

You kept your eyes on your computer, focusing on the task in front of you. But you could feel him still standing there, lingering. Waiting for… what? A reaction? An acknowledgment?

You refused to give him that satisfaction.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

Your stomach twisted. He had asked you that so many times before, back when things were… different. When he cared.

Or when you thought he cared.

You didn’t answer, hoping he’d just walk away. But he stayed, his presence hovering over you like a storm cloud.

“Hey, you should eat this,” Jisung’s voice broke through the tension like a ray of sunshine. He appeared out of nowhere, placing a lunch box in front of you with a proud smile. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thanks,” you said, forcing a smile. Relief washed over you as you took the box from him, grateful for the distraction.

Jisung turned to Minho, his smile widening. “Oh, hey! I didn’t realize you were here.” He extended his hand toward him. “I’m Jisung, by the way.”

Minho hesitated for a split second before shaking his hand. His expression was unreadable as he nodded but offered no introduction in return.

Jisung didn’t seem to mind. He flashed Minho a friendly smile before turning his attention back to you. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Minho stood there for another moment, his eyes flicking between you and Jisung before he finally turned and walked away.

The second he was gone, you let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Jisung shook his head and sat down next to you. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, still feeling the weight of Minho’s presence lingering in the air. “He just asked if I’d eaten.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t answer?”

“Of course not,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good.” Jisung patted your head affectionately. “You need to stay strong. Don’t let him get to you. If you ever need help moving on, you know I’ve got your back.”

You stared at Jisung for a moment, his offer unexpectedly lifting your spirits. “How?”

Jisung smirked, leaning in closer. “Oh, I’ve got my ways.”

-

It was another day for lunch break, and you were sitting in the cafeteria with Jisung, absentmindedly picking at your food. Your mind was elsewhere, swirling with thoughts of Minho. Ever since the news that he’d be attending tonight's team celebration, you hadn’t been able to focus.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Jisung commented, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth as he watched your expression closely. “You sure you’re okay?”

You sighed heavily, dropping your fork onto your plate. “It’s just… Minho,” you admitted, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know if I can handle seeing him tonight.”

Jisung’s brow furrowed, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “You knew he’d be there. This isn’t new information."

“I know, I know,” you said quickly, “but every time I think about facing him, I just—” Your voice cracked, betraying your emotions. You hated how easily the mere thought of Minho affected you.

Jisung rolled his eyes, putting his chopsticks down with a soft clink. “Listen to me,” he said, leaning forward, his voice serious. “You need to show him that you’ve moved on. No more pining, no more sad looks. You need to act like you’re perfectly fine, like he doesn’t even exist in your world anymore.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Easier said than done.”

“I’m serious, " Jisung insisted, his gaze unwavering. “If you let him see that he still has an effect on you, you’ll never be able to move forward. You’ve got to play it cool. Laugh, smile, act normal. Show him you’re better off now.”

You bit your lip, the knot in your stomach tightening. Jisung made it sound so simple, but the thought of pretending like everything was fine when you were still hurting seemed impossible.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you admitted, your voice small.

Jisung sighed, but his expression softened. “I know it’s hard, but trust me. If you show him that you’ve moved on, it’ll hurt him more than any words you could say.”

You glanced up at him, doubt lingering in your eyes. “And what if I haven’t moved on?”

There was a pause, the weight of your words settling between you both.

Jisung looked away for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looked back at you, there was a flicker of pain in his eyes, but he covered it quickly with a reassuring smile. “Then fake it till you make it. Eventually, you’ll get there.”

You let out a heavy sigh, staring down at your untouched food. Jisung’s words rang true, but pretending to be unaffected by Minho felt like lying to yourself. Still, he was right. You couldn’t keep letting Minho control your emotions.

“Fine,” you muttered, pushing your plate away. “I’ll act normal. But if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Jisung grinned, his playful side coming through as he nudged your shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

-

Tonight was a team celebration.

The department head insisted on treating everyone to drinks. Normally, you would have declined, but when Jisung nudged you with a reassuring smile, saying he’d take care of you, it was impossible to say no. Your friends chimed in, encouraging you to join. You didn’t really have a choice.

As the night wore on, you found yourself getting drunk—drunker than you anticipated. The alcohol wasn’t strong enough to numb the ache you felt after seeing Minho again, though. Each glance in his direction reminded you of the past.

Jisung, who sat beside you, silently observed the way your expression shifted whenever Minho laughed or cracked a joke with your other female co-workers. You told yourself not to care, but it stung anyway, the memories too fresh. You couldn’t let him see that he still affected you, that you were still tethered to him by emotions you wished you could bury.

But as the alcohol coursed through your veins, your emotions began building up, dangerously close to overflowing. You fought the tears stinging your eyes.

Before a tear could slip, Jisung was on his feet. “I think it’s time for us to head out,” he announced to the group, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder.

You wanted to protest, but the words didn’t come. Jisung’s arm wrapped around you firmly as he led you outside, and once you were away from the loud chatter and clinking glasses, he finally let go.

The silence between you both was heavy. Without a word, he let you cry.

“I still love him,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

Jisung inhaled deeply, his gaze soft but filled with pain as he let you spill your heart out.

“Even after everything he’s done… I still love him,” you cried louder, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of it all.

Jisung guided you to his car, gently supporting you while you vented, calling Minho a jerk, but then confessing how you still remembered the way he loved you—the way you loved each other.

“You know…” you said between sobs, “there was this one time, he rented out my favorite park for our anniversary. There were flowers everywhere, and in the center… there was this table. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life…”

Your voice trailed off, the memory twisting the knife deeper into your heart.

“I thought… I thought he was the one. I thought we’d get married, that we’d be together forever,” you said, and the fresh wave of tears spilled over as Jisung opened the passenger door for you. He guided you into the seat, gently fastening your seatbelt.

Before he could move away, you reached up, cupping his cheeks, holding him in place. His eyes widened in shock, unsure of what you were about to do.

“I wish… I wish I had fallen in love with you,” you whispered, voice raw with regret.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other. The world around you seemed to slow down, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Jisung whispers your name, his voice cracking slightly.

Before he could finish, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. It was soft, hesitant at first, but the pain in your heart surged forward, and you kissed him harder, trying to drown out the lingering feelings for Minho.

Jisung froze for a split second, caught off guard by your actions. Then, he closed his eyes, kissing you back, but there was a hesitation in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands hovered near your shoulders, unsure whether to hold you or push you away.

It had become a pattern—getting drunk, crying over Minho, and kissing Jisung in the process, that end up you making out in his car. Jisung knew about Minho -- from the start, he

knew how much he still haunted you, and now, after seeing Minho in person, a deep fear settled within him.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His eyes, still wide, searched yours for an explanation, for something to hold onto.

“Every time…” Jisung whispered, his voice trembling. “Every time you kiss me… I know it’s not really me you’re thinking about.”

The honesty in his words stung.

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes again. “I wish it was you…”

“I know,” he replied softly, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. “But it’s not. And it never will be, will it?”

You didn’t have the heart to answer him, so you simply leaned your head against the car seat, eyes closing in exhaustion. The drive back was silent, the tension between you and Jisung suffocating.

-

The next morning came, and you were running late to work. The events of the previous night flooded your mind—crying over Minho, kissing Jisung. Shame twisted in your chest, but you tried to brush it off. Being late once wouldn’t hurt.

You hurried towards the elevator when suddenly, a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you back.

“Let’s talk,” Minho’s deep voice commanded, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me go,” you protested, trying to pull away, but he was too strong. He dragged you to the emergency exit, closing the door behind you. The sudden isolation made your heart race.

Now you were alone with him—again.

“We don’t need to talk,” you snapped, trying to walk towards the door, but Minho’s arm slammed against the wall beside you, blocking your path.

“We. Need. To.” His voice was calm but forceful, his eyes dark as they bore into yours.

“Minho…” Your voice wavered, all the anger you wanted to hurl at him caught in your throat. You weren’t ready for this.

But Minho wasn’t going to let you escape.

“Do you still love me?” he asked bluntly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You stared at him, your lips trembling. You wanted to say no. You wanted to lie, to tell him he meant nothing to you anymore. But the truth was lodged in your throat, refusing to let you speak.

Minho’s gaze softened, a hint of sadness slipping through his cold exterior. “I know you still love me,” he whispered. “I can feel it. I still have an impact on you.”

His words snapped you out of your trance, anger bubbling up. The audacity.

You laughed bitterly. “How can you say that after everything you’ve done to me? After leaving me in the dark, after breaking me?”

Minho flinched but didn’t move. “Because I know you. And I know you can’t forget me.”

Your laugh turned hollow. “And if it’s true? What then, Minho?” you spat. “What does it matter?”

“If it’s true,” Minho stepped closer, his breath fanning your face, “then we should get back together.”

You stared at him in disbelief, laughter spilling out as tears blurred your vision. “Just like that? After everything?”

“I…” Minho faltered, his confidence wavering. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Liar!” You pushed him back, fury spilling out. “I saw you with her. You kissed my best friend.”

“I was drunk,” he muttered, his voice low with shame.

“Being drunk doesn’t excuse it!” you screamed, your voice cracking. “You still knew what you were doing.”

“I didn’t know… I didn’t realize it,” Minho insisted, his hands gripping your shoulders, eyes pleading. “I didn't know it would happen.”

“You’re lying, Minho. If it wasn’t true, you should’ve explained it then. But you didn’t. You just left.”

Minho’s eyes dropped, unable to meet your gaze anymore. “I…” His words failed him. Minho has a lot to tell but then he was now the one who can't talk.

“I wish I never saw you again,” you whispered, tears falling freely now. With that, you pushed past him and left the stairwell, slamming the door behind you.

Instead of going to your office, you headed straight for the exit. You couldn’t stay here. Not anymore. Not after this.

As you stepped outside, a familiar figure approached you—Jisung. He didn’t need to ask what happened. One look at your face told him everything.

Wordlessly, he guided you to his car, letting you cry in the passenger seat. The only sound in the car was your quiet sobs.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jisung,” you whispered after a long stretch of silence. “I can’t stay here. I need to leave. I need peace.”

Jisung’s heart clenched at your words, but he simply nodded, his voice soft. “I’ll come with you.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “No. I can’t drag you into this. I can’t keep hurting you.”

“You’re not a burden to me,” Jisung said, his voice raw with emotion. “I love you. I would do anything for you.”

You already knew he loved you, but hearing it still took you by surprise.

“If my heart was ready… I would choose you,” you whispered. “But right now… it’s too tired. It’s too hurt. I can’t just forget Minho and love you. I wish I could, but…”

Jisung nodded, understanding the weight of your words. “I’ll wait,” he whispered. “For as long as you need.”

-

You stood in the middle of the bustling airport, your suitcase by your side and your heart heavy with the weight of everything you were leaving behind. The noise of travelers passing by, announcements over the intercom, and the occasional laughter from nearby families faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you.

The sunglasses you wore hid the emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. You glanced around the busy terminal, trying to remind yourself why you were here, why you made this decision. You needed peace. You needed to be far away from Minho, from the memories, from everything that hurt. This was your chance to start over, somewhere no one knew your name or your past.

You took a deep breath, your hands tightening around the handle of your suitcase. You could do this. You had to. For your own sanity, for your heart. It was the best way to move on.

-

an: sdjahdj

..maybe that's why

(bsn ending #8)

jeongin x reader! i.n x fem reader!! wordcount: 2.2k

bsn alternative ending wherein jeongin doesnt want to call you 'noona' but you dont know why.

(an: last alternative ending. next to this will be the special chapter where a lot of yoou requested.)an: help! im dying! college is too hard.

an: i love jeongin!

part 1 and part 2 first

“Can you give me that spoon, please?”

Jeongin’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and a teasing grin spreads across your face as you quickly hide the spoon behind your back. “Okay, if you call me ‘noona,’” you tease, already knowing the answer but still hoping.

He sighs, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “I won’t,” he replies, standing up to head towards the kitchen to grab a new spoon.

You shake your head with a small chuckle and place the spoon back on his plate. Was it really that hard to do?

Jeongin was just one year younger than you—a small gap, really. When you were nine, he was eight. That never felt like much of a difference. But then again, he had that same gap with Seungmin, and Seungmin got the honor of being called "hyung." So why didn’t Jeongin ever call you "noona"? The thought lingered in your mind often, and you teased him about it constantly.

But no matter how much you tried, he always brushed it off, never giving in.

You couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t treat you like he did the others.

Everyone doted on him, hugged him, and treated him like their adorable little brother. He would roll his eyes and push them away half-heartedly, but it was clear they all adored him. And who wouldn’t? Jeongin was cute. The kind of cute that made you want to squish his cheeks and ruffle his hair.

But he never seemed to mind when you hugged him. Like now, for example.

Your arms wrapped around his waist while he sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone as if you weren't even there. He didn’t push you away, didn’t squirm or protest like he did with the others. He just let you hold him, completely at ease, even as your head rested against his shoulder.

You don't know why, but you are willing to know the answer.

You never had a younger sibling, and the thought of taking care of Jeongin stirred something in you. He was just so easy to dote on—so talented, smart, and capable. Yet, there was this small part of you that still saw him as someone you wanted to spoil.

If he were your little brother, he’d probably be the most spoiled kid in the world.

But no matter how much you treated him like a little brother, there was always that lingering question: why didn’t he call you “noona”?

“Can you tie this for me?”

His voice breaks your thoughts again, and you look up to see Jeongin standing in front of you, holding the ends of his necktie. He’s dressed for his presentation, and you don’t hesitate to set your notebook aside and move to him.

You start tying his tie carefully, focusing on the task as his eyes linger on your hands.

Maybe it’s because he’s taller than you now?

That thought crosses your mind as you glance up at him, only to meet his steady gaze. The teasing thought bubbles up again, and a mischievous grin tugs at your lips.

“You should say, ‘Please, noona,’ if you want me to finish,” you say, your hands pausing mid-tie as you look up at him playfully.

Jeongin sighs, his patience visibly wearing thin. “Just finish it, please. I’ll be late,” he says,

“Not until you call me noona,” you insist, stepping back with your hands on your waist, fully embracing the playful banter. You expect him to groan or roll his eyes, but instead, his gaze sharpens, and the room feels suddenly smaller.

His next move catches you off guard.

Without warning, Jeongin steps forward and pins you against the wall, his hands braced on either side of you. His face is close—too close—and your breath catches in your throat. For a split second, all the teasing falls away, replaced by a tension you can’t quite place.

“I. Won’t,” he says, each word slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that leaves you speechless.

You blink up at him, your brain trying to catch up to what just happened. But before you can say anything, he pulls back, adjusting his tie on his own with a swift motion. “You can stay as long as you want. Just lock the door when you leave,” he says coolly, grabbing his bag without a glance back and heading out the door.

You stand there, heart racing, still pressed against the wall, wondering what on earth just happened.

Did you push him too far? Was he mad? Or… was it something else?

Days pass, but teasing Jeongin about calling you "noona" doesn’t feel the same anymore. There’s something different now, something unspoken lingering between the two of you. You can’t quite place it, but it makes your chest feel tight, and the teasing doesn’t come as naturally as it used to.

Even now, as the others gather at your friend's hideout.. which was Jeongin’s apartment, you find yourself watching him a little too closely.

“My favorite baby is here!” Chan announces dramatically as he bursts into the room, immediately engulfing Jeongin in a hug. Jeongin struggles against him, whining, “Hyung! I’m not a baby!” but Chan only tightens his grip.

Minho, who’s busy in the kitchen, glances over with a smirk. “He’ll always be our baby,” he teases, and you can’t help but laugh, even though a small part of you feels envious. They always get to smother him in affection.

“He’s my baby,” you chime in proudly, earning a playful glare from Jeongin as he squirms under Chan’s grip.

“I’m not your baby,” Jeongin mutters, his voice slightly muffled as he tries to push Chan away.

“If he doesn’t want to be your baby, I can be,” Minho jokes, causing everyone to laugh.

“Shut up, Minho, you’re old,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

or maybe that’s why Jeongin doesn’t call you "noona"—because sometimes, you act like the younger one.

“I want ice cream,” you announce, pouting dramatically.

Jeongin, ever the responsible one, shoots you a disapproving look. “You haven’t even had dinner yet. You should eat something proper before you have ice cream,” he scolds, sounding more like an older brother than anything.

You sigh dramatically. “But I’m not hungry for dinner. I want ice cream,” you insist.

“Are you a baby?” he asks, laughing at your pout. But when you straighten up and fix your posture, you say, with as much dignity as you can muster, “I’m your noona.”

He smirks, clearly amused, and after a moment, he gets up to leave. “I’ll be back,” he says.

A few minutes later, he returns with a gallon of your favorite ice cream, and you light up, but before you can grab it, he holds it just out of reach.

“Eat this first,” he says, handing you a bag of fast food.

You sigh but comply, because, well, he’s Jeongin.

…maybe he doesn't want to call you noona 'cause he hates you?

"Do you hate me?" you asked one time

"Why would I?" he asked back. As far as he can remember he told you he loved you in that restaurant where you treat him.

"'Cause.. I don't know," you don't know how to explain

He ruffles your hair affectionately. “Stop overthinking. I don’t hate you.”

Or maybe he doesn’t wanna call you noona ’cause… he loves you?

That one sentence played over and over in your mind. It was the answer you’d been searching for, though you weren’t ready to admit it at the time.

After the sticky note incident and that night at Changbin’s birthday, things started to make sense. All the little moments clicked into place.

He didn’t want to call you noona because he didn't want to.

A week after Changbin’s party, you found yourself wanting to talk to someone, and Jeongin came to mind. He’d always been the one checking on you, sending you messages even when you didn’t reply. In one of them, he’d said, “If you ever need someone to talk to, just call me.”

But you hadn’t called.

Instead, you went to his apartment. You knew the passcode, as did most of the group. Still, you knocked. When no one answered, you entered, your steps careful, almost hesitant.

The silence was comforting, in a way. You sank into the soft cushions of his couch and waited, hoping the familiar space would calm the chaos in your mind.

It was getting dark when Jeongin finally came home, guitar strapped to his back. He hadn’t expected to find you here, yet there you were—curled up on his couch, looking so peaceful despite the turmoil you had been feeling.

For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes softening as he took you in. All his worries, the small frustrations, the confusion—it all faded away when he saw you like this. His heart ached in ways he couldn’t explain.

Quietly, as if afraid even the sound of his breath might wake you, he moved closer, kneeling beside the couch. His fingers hesitated before gently brushing the strands of hair away from your face, lingering in that tiny gesture, his thumb grazing your cheek.

His smile was bittersweet.

You had no idea how hard it was for him to stay in the role of the younger brother. How much he despised the label, how much he longed to break free from it. You didn’t know how many nights he lay awake, wishing he could grow up faster, become someone you’d look at differently—someone you might want to be with.

When you stirred slightly, he jerked back, standing in an instant. His heart raced as he quickly slipped into his usual facade, moving to sit on the smaller couch across from you. By the time you opened your eyes, he had an upside-down book in his hands, pretending to read.

"Oh, you’re awake?" he asked casually, as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just been admiring you moments ago.

You stretched, sitting up, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. "When did you get home?" you asked, your voice still soft from sleep, your lips curling into a smile.

"Not long ago." He shrugged, placing the book down carefully, his voice neutral, though his heart was anything but calm. "You should’ve called me."

"And disturb your class?" You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No way."

He wanted to tell you that it didn’t matter. That no class, no distance, nothing could stop him from coming to you if you needed him. But instead, he just smiled.

"How are you?" he asked, his gaze searching your face, seeing through the mask you always wore.

"I’m fine." The lie rolled off your tongue with practiced ease, but even you could feel how hollow it sounded.

Jeongin’s eyes lingered on you a little too long. He wanted to push, to ask why you were really here, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He knew you wouldn’t open up until you were ready.

Then, out of nowhere, you asked, "Can you call me noona?"

Jeongin blinked, caught off guard. The request was so unexpected, it almost felt like a joke. He scoffed lightly, unsure if you were teasing him or testing him.

You bit your lip, looking down as if you were afraid of his answer. "I just… I want to confirm something."

His heart sank. He didn’t want to call you that. Not now, not ever. He had spent so long trying to distance himself from that word, from the idea that you’d always see him as just your younger friend.

"Just once…" Your voice was softer this time, and it broke something inside him.

He swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at you. "Noona," he said quietly, barely able to force the word out, his voice thick with emotions he tried so hard to hide.

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he had ever felt before. You didn’t say anything, and it scared him. He finally dared to glance at you, only to see you staring at him, your expression unreadable.

"Now I know the answer to my question," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Jeongin’s chest tightened. He didn’t ask what you meant, but every fiber of him was screaming for an explanation.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes glistening as you finally looked back at him. "Noona doesn’t feel right coming from you."

He froze, the weight of your words sinking in. He knew what you meant—he could feel it in the way your voice trembled, in the way you were struggling to keep your feelings contained.

"I don’t want to be your noona."

It wasn’t just a statement. It was a confession. A quiet, undeniable truth.

You, who had once been so unsure, so careful with your feelings, were now looking at him with a clarity that left no room for doubt. You didn’t want to hide from it anymore.

And neither did he.

--

an; i saw vids of jeongin bowing on stays and it made my heart warm. jeongin was indeed raised right by his hyungs. so precious.

Knock on your door

(bsn ending #7)

felix x reader! Lee yongbok x reader! word count: 1.6k

bsn alternative ending wherein; felix was the light in your dark days.

an: im sorry i cant respond to any messages yet huhuhu \. and yes i changed the title for felix . please love this also

part 1 and part 2 first

According to science, everyone needs the sun.

And you understand why.

The Earth needs the sun…

The plants need the sun. You need the sun.

But what happens when you’re trapped in your darkest days? How can you find the sun when everything around you is drenched in shadows?

Not everyone knows this, but you’ve been quietly suffering from depression. It’s a constant, heavy weight you carry, and anxiety is its relentless companion. And to be honest, you aren’t okay. You’ve managed to keep going, somehow, some way. But then, you met your friends, and they brought a spark of light into your life. They became your lifeline, your reason to keep moving forward.

Yet, even with their support, there are times when the words get stuck in your throat, when you can’t bring yourself to talk about the storm raging inside you. Yes, they would understand, without a doubt. But there’s a part of you that insists you should keep it to yourself, that you should solve these problems on your own.

But Felix… Felix saw through the cracks in your armor. As your friend who lives just three floors above you, Felix has always been more attuned to your unspoken struggles than anyone else. He’s the one who noticed when your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes, when your laughter felt just a little too hollow. He’s the one who could sense something was wrong, even when you tried your best to hide it.

One night, when the weight of it all became too much, Felix knocked on your door, holding his familiar yellow chicken stuffed toy—a silly, comforting thing that always managed to make you smile, even on the hardest days. It took you minutes to gather the strength to move, to drag yourself toward the door. But in the end, you didn’t open it. The effort was too much, the darkness too overwhelming.

When you didn’t answer, Felix’s heart sank with worry. He tried the handle and found it unlocked. Anxiety coursed through him as he pushed the door open. Without hesitation, he rushed inside. And then he saw you—crumpled on the floor, your body trembling with silent sobs, your face buried in your hands as tears poured down. Seeing you like that broke something inside him.

Without a word, he dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, as if he could shield you from the pain that threatened to consume you. He didn’t ask what had happened, didn’t press you for answers. He just held you, his warmth seeping into your cold, aching bones. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear was a lifeline, a reminder that you weren’t alone. He stayed with you the whole night, cradling you in his arms, his presence a barrier against the darkness that sought to engulf you.

Indeed… science is correct. We all need sunshine in our lives.

And in the midst of your darkest days, you found it in Felix.

At first, he had an excuse—a noisy neighbor who supposedly kept him up all night, a reason for his sleepless nights. But that wasn’t the whole truth. Felix did talk to the neighbor, but that wasn’t why he started staying over.

The real reason was you. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone in the dark. Whenever he felt something was off, whenever he sensed that your silence hid more than you let on, he’d grab his stuffed toy and head straight to your door.

The yellow chicken became more than just a toy; it was a symbol of his silent promise to always be there for you, to be the light in your darkness. And whenever the nightmares came, when the shadows threatened to pull you under, he would place the toy next to you, hoping it would bring you a small measure of comfort, hoping it would remind you that you weren’t alone.

Felix had been thinking about something important for a while. One day, he brought it up to Han in the library.

“I’ve been considering something,” Felix said, his voice a mix of uncertainty and determination.

Han looked up from his book, curious. “What’s on your mind?”

Felix took a deep breath. “I think it might be better if she had someone close by. Someone who can be there for her.”

Felix was genuinely worried about you. He believed it would be better for you to have someone close by who could support you, especially during those tough times. But Han, who knew Felix had feelings for you and also had his own affection for you, wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Han didn't know the full extent of what you were going through, as Felix had promised to keep that private.

Han was skeptical, partly because of the complicated emotions involved. He wondered if it was just Felix’s way of trying to be close to you or if it was about something more practical. A man and a woman living together could easily be misinterpreted, and Han felt uncomfortable with the situation, even though Felix's intentions were purely protective.

Felix understood Han's concerns but felt conflicted. He wanted to be there for you, to offer the support you needed, but he didn’t know how to navigate these delicate feelings or how to convince Han of his good intentions.

So, Felix continued to do what he knew best: checking in on you whenever he felt you might need someone..

and that was to knock on your door, with his yellow chicken stuff toy.

and whenever he knocks, he just wish he would never see you again in that state again.

Why would Felix go to such lengths for you, especially when you were just a friend?

You thought of yourself as just a friend to him, but Felix felt something different from the very first moment he saw you.

The way you greeted him the first time with a simple "hello" struck a chord deep within him. It was as if, from that very instant, he realized that you were more than just a friend to him.

Felix's feelings for you grew beyond friendship, and he found himself wanting to protect you, to be there for you in ways that went beyond mere companionship. He felt a strong urge to support you, to be the person who could make a difference in your life, especially during your toughest moments. His desire to be close to you and offer his support came from a place of deep care and affection.

after that night in the party..

did you know what Felix do?

he knocks.. on your door.

His heart was heavy with worry and guilt. He felt sorry and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was responsible for what was happening.

He knocked urgently, his mind racing with fear about what might be happening on the other side. When no response came, his anxiety grew. He felt a desperate urge to break through the door if it meant reaching you faster. His voice cracked with desperation as he shouted, "Open it!" He hoped his plea wouldn’t disturb the neighbors, but his concern left him with no other choice.

When the door finally swung open, Felix’s eyes met yours. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled you into a tight, protective hug. His embrace was firm, but gentle, trying to convey all his worry and care in that single, comforting gesture.

Felix’s face was etched with deep concern as he held you close. His worry was palpable, his fear evident in every fiber of his being. He had been so frightened about what he might find and was deeply relieved to be by your side, ready to support you however he could.

"Felix…" you murmured, your voice trembling. He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. His gaze was filled with a deep, genuine worry.

"What is it?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"I'm doomed," you said, your voice rough from crying. The tears had stopped, but the pain was still evident in your expression.

"Why?" Felix asked, his voice steady but filled with concern.

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain what you were feeling. The turmoil inside you was hard to put into words.

"I…" you started, struggling to find the right words. The weight of your emotions made it difficult to speak.

"I love you." Your eyes locked onto his, hoping he would understand.

Felix froze for a moment, his mind trying to process what you had just said. He stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and tenderness. The silence stretched between you, and it made you feel anxious and exposed.

"I…" you began again, but before you could continue, Felix made a decision. He gently pulled you towards him and kissed you.

The kiss was tender and full of emotion. It was a kiss that spoke of comfort and healing. Felix’s lips on yours were soft, and the warmth of the kiss seemed to wash over you, easing some of the fear and anxiety that had been building up inside you.

In that moment, you felt a profound sense of peace. Felix, who had been your anchor during the hardest times, was now offering you solace through this kiss. It was as if the kiss was telling you that you didn’t have to be afraid anymore, that everything would be okay.

As you pulled away, you realized that with Felix by your side, the fears and worries seemed a little less daunting. He was your light in the darkness, your comfort in the storm. With him, you felt that you could face anything.

--

an: this was kinda short but i hope you felt what im trying to show. i love precious yongbok it hurts.

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

240824 DominATE in Seoul ©️Shuyichnyia

I hate to admit

(bsn ending #3)

changbin x reader!! changbin x fem.reader!! word count: 2.5k

bsn alternative ending #3 wherein; changbin who can't believe that he falls in love with you, and do the dumbest thing he thought he would never do.

an: i love this.

an: i have alot of upcoming exam so maybe i would post some parts at the same time.

part 1! part 2!

At first, Changbin just wanted to tease you. It was like a game to him, a way to pass the time and keep things light. You had this way of reacting that was just too entertaining—your exaggerated eye rolls, the way you'd huff in mock annoyance, and then the inevitable laugh that would bubble up despite yourself. Changbin thrived on that; it made him feel like he had the upper hand, that he could easily get under your skin in the most harmless way.

It started innocently enough. You were just friends, and that’s all it was supposed to be. He loved the banter, the ease with which you two could go back and forth, trading playful insults and teasing each other about the smallest things. He loved how you’d get flustered when he pushed your buttons, and how you’d always try to get him back but never quite succeeded. It was fun, nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But then, things started to change, even if he didn’t want to admit it. It wasn’t just about the teasing anymore. He started noticing little things about you—how your smile could light up a room, how you’d chew on your lip when you were thinking, how your laughter was the one sound he always wanted to hear, no matter how bad his day was going. He found himself looking forward to seeing you, to hearing what you’d say next, to feeling the warmth of your presence.

It didn’t hit him all at once. It was gradual, like a slow burn that he didn’t even realize was happening until it was too late. He started to notice how his heart would skip a beat when you were around, how he’d feel a strange sense of protectiveness whenever someone else got too close to you. He hated it. It didn’t make sense. You weren’t his type—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. You were just his friend, nothing more. But no matter how much he tried to push those feelings away, they kept coming back, stronger and more persistent each time.

He told himself it was just a phase, that he’d get over it. But then there was that day, the day you cried in his arms. It was unexpected, and it shook him to his core. You weren’t the type to cry easily; you were strong, independent, always ready with a comeback. But seeing you like that, so vulnerable and in need of comfort, it did something to him. He held you close, whispering soothing words, and in that moment, he realized just how much he cared about you. Not just as a friend, but as something more.

That’s when it hit him—he wasn’t just having fun anymore. This was serious. He had feelings for you, feelings he had been trying to deny for so long. And he hated it. He hated how you were starting to become beautiful in his eyes, how you were becoming more important to him than anyone else. The girls he used to date, the ones he thought were perfect, suddenly seemed so superficial in comparison. You were different. You were real, and that scared him more than anything.

But there was no denying it now. The more time he spent with you, the deeper he fell. And that terrified him.

“I think I like her,” he finally admitted to Hyunjin one day, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared at the ground, unable to meet his friend’s eyes.

Hyunjin paused, blinking at Changbin like he'd just grown a second head. It was the first time Hyunjin had ever seen him look so vulnerable. Changbin, the tough guy who always had a snarky comeback, was bowing his head, almost as if he was ashamed.

Hyunjin snorted, trying to stifle his laughter. "Why do you look like you just admitted to committing a crime?" he teased, twirling a pen in his hand as he eyed Changbin with amusement.

"You don't understand," Changbin grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She’s seen me with all those other girls. She probably thinks I'm a jerk."

"Well… you kind of are," Hyunjin said with a smirk, earning a glare from Changbin. "And besides, she’s your friend. Doesn’t that make it even more complicated?"

Changbin sighed, leaning back against the couch. "She deserves someone better. Someone who doesn’t have a track record like mine."

Hyunjin nodded thoughtfully before breaking into a mischievous grin. "You know who that is, right?"

Changbin frowned, not catching on to the joke. "Who?"

"Me," Hyunjin said with a cocky smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Changbin’s eyes widened in shock, and without thinking, he gave Hyunjin a playful shove. "Don’t tell me…"

Hyunjin just laughed, the kind of laugh that echoed with a challenge. "What? Scared of a little competition?"

Changbin rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. And just like that, the two of them were in a playful competition—both too stubborn to confess, both too proud to back down.

Changbin had never been one to second-guess himself, especially when it came to girls. But this time was different. For days, he had wrestled with the idea of confessing to you, feeling torn between his usual confident self and the unfamiliar vulnerability that came with liking someone genuinely.

It was a feeling that gnawed at him, a mix of excitement and fear that kept him up at night. He’d planned it out in his head a thousand times—how he’d approach you, what he’d say, and how he’d try to keep his cool. But every time he thought about it, his heart would race, and his words would get jumbled up in his mind.

Finally, one day, Changbin decided he couldn’t wait any longer. It was now or never. He’d confess to you, and he’d do it in a way that was both personal and meaningful—something that showed how much you meant to him.

But when the moment came, Changbin found himself sitting at his desk, staring down at a small blue sticky note. His heart pounded as he held the pen in his hand, trying to figure out the right words. He couldn’t believe he was doing this—writing a confession on a sticky note like some lovesick kid. It felt so unlike him, yet at the same time, it felt like the only way he could express what he was feeling.

“Love really does change you,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “It makes you a fool.”

The playboy who used to flirt with girls without a second thought was now reduced to sneaking around, trying to leave a secret note in your binder. It was almost laughable, but Changbin couldn’t deny the fluttering in his chest as he wrote down his confession.

He stared at the words for a long moment, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and anxiety. This was it—his feelings laid bare on a tiny piece of paper. He quickly folded the note and looked around the classroom, making sure no one was watching.

When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Changbin seized the opportunity. His heart raced as he sneaked over to your desk, his hands shaking slightly as he slipped the note into your binder. He quickly pulled back, almost as if the binder had burned him.

“It’s done,” he thought, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, though the nervousness still lingered in the pit of his stomach.

But just as he was about to head back to his seat, Seungmin walked in, his sharp eyes immediately noticing Changbin’s unusual behavior.

“What was that?” Seungmin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Changbin shot him a nonchalant look, trying to play it cool. “Mind your own business, puppy,” he replied with a smirk, using the nickname that always seemed to get under Seungmin’s skin.

But Seungmin wasn’t so easily fooled. He had known Changbin long enough to recognize when something was up, and the way Changbin was acting only made him more curious. His eyes narrowed as he watched Changbin walk back to his desk, the usually confident boy now looking slightly rattled.

Seungmin frowned, glancing towards your desk. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with him, and despite Changbin’s dismissive attitude, Seungmin couldn’t help but feel like there was more to this than met the eye.

Once Changbin’s back was turned, Seungmin casually strolled over to your desk, his curiosity getting the better of him. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but something was urging him to take a look. Slowly, he reached out and opened your binder, his heart pounding as he found the blue sticky note tucked inside.

As he unfolded it, Seungmin’s eyes widened in surprise. There, in Changbin’s unmistakable handwriting, was the confession. The words were simple but sincere, and Seungmin felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. He knew Changbin cared about you, but seeing it written out like this made it all too real.

He took a deep breath, trying to process what he had just discovered. Changbin, the notorious playboy, was confessing to you. Seungmin couldn’t believe it, and yet, at the same time, it made perfect sense.

But as he was about to close the binder, something else caught his eye. There, in the back of your notebook, was a small drawing—a sketch of Changbin, with a heart drawn beside it. Seungmin’s heart sank as he stared at the drawing, the reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“They’re so childish,” he muttered under his breath, trying to brush off the pain he felt creeping into his chest. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the truth was there, staring him in the face. He liked you too, and seeing this only made it harder to deny.

Seungmin quickly closed the binder, hiding the note and the drawing from sight. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to acknowledge the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, or the fact that he might be losing you to Changbin.

As he walked back to his seat, Seungmin forced a smile, trying to act like nothing was wrong. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to change, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

--

"Here is the toothpaste-flavored ice cream I promised you," Changbin said, shoving it into your hands with a playful grin.

You glared at him, giving him the most deadly look ever. "Why do you like this stuff? It’s like eating bubbles while you’re brushing your teeth," he teased, his face twisted in mock disgust, though you could see the laughter in his eyes.

Ignoring his teasing, you took a bite, savoring the cool minty flavor. "Why do you care? You even like pizzas with pineapples on top! Pineapples are pineapples!" you retorted, raising an eyebrow at him.

Changbin burst out laughing, "Pineapple on pizza is the best!"

"No, it’s not," you shot back, rolling your eyes.

"And mint chocolate chip ice cream is never," he countered, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

You pouted, shielding your ice cream protectively as if it had feelings. "Don’t talk like that right in front of my ice cream."

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to tease you. The two of you were sitting on a bench, overlooking the vast field at your school. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything.

"There are indeed things that shouldn’t be put together," he said, his tone more serious now, "but others love it."

You nodded silently, sensing the shift in his mood.

"Everyone thought it was wrong, but for some, it was perfect," he continued, his voice softer, almost reflective.

You listened quietly, understanding what he was trying to say. "No matter what other people say, you don’t want to care. Because their opinions don’t matter," you added, your voice filled with quiet determination.

Changbin looked at you, and you looked back at him. A small smile tugged at his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile back. In that moment, everything felt simple and clear.

He hated to admit it, but he was really in love with you, deeper than he had ever expected.

-

When his birthday came around, you carefully packed the watch you had bought for him. It was special, not because it was expensive, but because it held a little secret—something only you knew about. Inside the box, you slipped in a small drawing you had made, along with a letter.

You arrived at the party, trying to feel happy, but the tension in the air made it hard. There were too many emotions swirling inside you—happiness, confusion, and a nagging sense of guilt. You didn’t know what to feel.

Before you could walk out, you handed Changbin his birthday gift, your heart pounding in your chest. He had planned to confess to you on his special day, but now, seeing the look in your eyes, he wasn’t sure what to do. So, he decided to give you some space.

After the party, when everyone had gone home, Changbin sat down and opened your gift. Inside, he found a watch. He already had many watches, but this one immediately became his favorite.

He thought that was all you had given him, but then he noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside the box. Curious, he unfolded it and found a drawing of himself, accompanied by a letter.

As he read the letter, his heart began to race.

"I wish you a happy birthday. I hope you have the best day…" the letter began.

Changbin suddenly sprang from his seat, grabbing his keys and jacket in a rush. He had to see you, and he had to see you now.

He hurried to his car.

"I hate to admit but this is a very lame way to confess…"

His eyes welled up with tears as he sped down the road, the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over.

"…I like you… but I know you also see me as a friend."

You stood by the window of your apartment, feeling the cool evening breeze on your face. Your heart was heavy with all the emotions you had been holding back.

"and… I know you were the one who put the note,"

Just as you were about to turn away from the window, a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew who it was before you even opened the door.

It was Changbin.

You both hated to admit it, but you were both childish, caught up in your own fears and insecurities. But now, standing there in the doorway, all that mattered was the truth that had finally come to light.

--

em: i love this changbin. i cri. why no one chooses him btw TT

masterlist

this is sooo bad i was writing fluff fic about binnie then i'll see this??????? TT

© TinyzooOO | do not edit and/or crop logo