˗ˋˏ 𝕤𝕥𝕧𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕩 ˎˊ˗

Masterlist

♪ | 19 | she/her | writer core | ♪

♪* Stray Kids, everywhere, all around the world. *♪

✮⋆˙ Writing, listening to music, fangirling, daydreaming.

✮⋆˙ Moonwake stories featuring Stray Kids and you.

✮⋆˙ Starry-eyed wishes at 11:11pm.

…thank you🥹.

Part 3

Part 1 ~ Part 2

ot8!members x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n gets a text from an unknown number telling her she has four months to figure out who he is. What starts as a mystery turns complicated as his messages grow more personal-and harder to ignore-while she's already falling for someone real in her life.

✮⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮

Please accept this picture of Lee Know as a peace offering 😔

Part 2

Part 1

ot8!members x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n gets a text from an unknown number telling her she has four months to figure out who he is. What starts as a mystery turns complicated as his messages grow more personal-and harder to ignore-while she's already falling for someone real in her life.

✮⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎤✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Sypnosis: You’re having a mental breakdown and Chan is trying to comfort you.

TW: angst, mental health, mentions of sickness, crying.

WC: 1.3k

a/n: just a little something I wrote instead of doing my biology homework 🫠

You don’t remember the last time you cried.

Not a vague “a few months ago,” not even “a few years.” It’s just… gone. Like a word on the tip of your tongue that never comes back.

You don’t cry.

It’s almost something you’re proud of.

When you were little, you cried over everything—spilled juice, scraped knees, sad commercials that your parents insisted weren’t even sad. You were soft then. Tender. Easy to break.

But somewhere along the way, something in you hardened.

You stopped crying.

You didn’t cry when you got bad grades.

You didn’t cry when you were cheated on.

You didn’t even cry when your best friend got sick.

Or when the sickness won.

You thought maybe… that was just who you were now.

Someone who didn’t cry.

And yet there you were, curled up on the kitchen floor, sobbing so hard your throat burned.

Over noodles.

Stupid, plain, buttered noodles.

It had been a long day. The kind that sticks to your skin and weighs down your bones. The kind where all you want is something simple, something warm, something that doesn’t ask anything of you.

So you made noodles.

Noodles.

You remember thinking, this will fix it. Just this. And for a second, it almost did.

Until Berry came tearing across the room, nails clicking against the floor, a blur of energy and excitement—and suddenly she was under your feet, and you were stumbling, and the plate slipped.

The sound rang too loud. Too sharp.

Noodles lay limply on the floor. Butter smeared across the tile. Glass shards flew everywhere in glittering, broken pieces.

You just… stood there.

Then sighed.

Of course.

Of course this would happen.

You grabbed the broom and started sweeping.

It wasn’t a big deal.

It wasn’t.

Then your eyes started to sting.

You blinked hard, annoyed more than anything. You didn’t have time for this. You just needed to clean up. But the sting didn’t go away.

Instead, it spread.

Your vision blurred, edges softening, the room tilting slightly like you were underwater.

And then a tear slipped down your cheek.

You froze.

No.

Another one fell. Then another.

You wiped at them, irritated. “Stop,” you muttered under your breath, like your body might listen.

But it didn’t.

They kept coming, hot and fast, growing heavier and heavier with each passing moment.

Until suddenly you couldn’t see at all, couldn’t breathe properly, your chest tightening as something deep inside you cracked open.

Everything you didn’t feel before came rushing back all at once.

Everything you thought you were okay with stopped feeling okay.

The grades. The heartbreak. The hospital room.

It all hit you at once, too much, too loud, too everything.

You sank to the floor, the broom clattering out of your hand as sobs tore out of you, ugly, broken, and uncontrollable. Your whole body shook with it, like you were falling apart from the inside out.

You felt like you were drowning, but there was no water.

Like you’d been holding your breath for years and your lungs finally gave out.

The door creaked open.

“Baby, I’m home,” Chan called out.

Panic shot through you, sharp and immediate.

He couldn’t see you like this.

You weren’t this person- messy, weak, crying on the kitchen floor over nothing.

But it was too late.

“Oh my gosh- y/n, what’s wrong?”

His voice was closer now. Too close.

“Just leave me alone,” you choked out, your voice barely holding together. “Please.”

But he didn’t move away.

Of course he didn’t.

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“I said leave me alone, Chan,” you snapped, harsher this time, something frantic clawing its way up your chest.

“Y/n, please, I just want to help—”

“I don’t want your help.” The words ripped out of you before you could stop them, louder than you meant, sharper than you intended.

You noticed the flicker in his expression. Confusion. Hurt.

But for some reason you couldn’t stop. It was like everything inside you had finally found a way out, and it wasn’t going to be gentle.

“Can’t you just listen for once?” you yelled, shoving his hand away when he tried to touch you. “I said I want to be alone and you just keep—keep pushing and it’s suffocating!”

Your throat burned, but the words kept coming, spilling over each other, messy and uncontrolled.

“You’re so clingy and annoying and I just—” your voice broke, but you forced it out anyway, “—I just wish you would leave”

Silence.

For a split second, you thought maybe that would do it, and he would walk away, giving you what you asked for.

But instead you felt his arms wrapping around you.

Tight, unmovable, grounding.

“Let go of me!” you struggled, pushing against him, hitting his chest weakly, trying to break free.

He didn’t let go. He didn’t even flinch.

“I hate you,” you screamed, the words tearing out of you like they might finally make him stop.

He didn’t respond. He just held you, steady and patient.

Like he knew.

Like he understood that none of this was really about him.

Your strength gave out faster than your anger did.

Your arms fell limp. Your body sagged against his, exhaustion crashing over you in a heavy wave.

The fight drained out of you all at once, and all that was left was the hurt.

He adjusted his hold without a word, lifting you like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the couch. You didn’t resist this time.

Didn’t have it in you.

He sat down, pulling you onto him, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped securely around you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Your sobs quieted into shaky breaths and small tears.

“Shhh,” he murmured softly, running his fingers through your hair over and over again, slow and careful like he was putting you back together.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered eventually, your voice raw, barely there. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

“I know,” he said immediately. No hesitation. No doubt.

And somehow, that made your chest ache more.

“I feel so stupid.” You swallowed hard, your fingers curling weakly into his shirt.

His hand stilled for a moment, then resumed, gentler this time.

“You’re not stupid,” he said quietly. “It’s okay to cry. You need to cry sometimes.”

You let out a weak, broken laugh at that.

“I think you’ve just been… holding everything in,” he observed. “For so long that you forgot how to let it out.”

Your grip on him tightened slightly. “I didn’t mean what I said to you,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave. I think I was just… scared that if you stayed, you’d see all of this and—”

“And what?” he asked gently.

“That you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

The words hung there, fragile and exposed.

His arms tightened around you instantly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly, like it wasn’t even a question. “Not when you’re upset. Not when you cry. Not when you fall apart.”

His thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek.

“If anything, it just makes me want to stay more.”

Your chest tightened—but this time, it wasn’t painful.

It was something else.

Something warmer.

Safer.

You took a shaky breath, letting your eyes close as you leaned fully into him. “I love you, Chan.”

Part 1

Part 2

ot8!members x fem!reader fake texts

Summary: Y/n gets a text from an unknown number telling her she has four months to figure out who he is. What starts as a mystery turns complicated as his messages grow more personal—and harder to ignore—while she’s already falling for someone real in her life.

✮⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮

Unknown Love

and wow 🫠.

best night ever.

Part 3

Part 1 ~ Part 2

“And all those years of hatred were forgotten in the love of a minute.”

Lee Felix x fem!reader

Summary: Everyone is born with a special shaped necklace that's half of a unique shape. The other half? It belongs to your soulmate. You don't believe in soulmates. So you keep yours hidden- until an accident leads you to find out Lee Felix, the person you hate most, is your soulmate.

CW: Angst, grunge, family issues, fluff, smut-free, soulmates au

wc: 4.4k

⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⟡ ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆.

“I’m leaving.”

You look up from your oddly familiar K-drama to see Felix standing in the doorway, his figure framed by shadow, his eyes distant—cold, unreadable.

“What?” You spring to your feet, the motion sudden and frantic, your stomach twisting violently as his words carve themselves into you.

“I’m leaving,” he repeats, already turning away, his footsteps retreating before you can catch your breath.

You run after him, but the hallway stretches impossibly long, bending and warping as if the world itself is pulling him away from you. With every step, he grows farther, until he’s nothing more than a fading phantom, just beyond your reach.

You stop, breathless- until your necklace tugs at your chest, a sharp pull that drags you forward, collapsing the distance in an instant. He’s close now. So close it hurts. 

You grab his hand and gasp, releasing him immediately.

It’s cold.

Not just cold—icy.

So cold it burns, blistering your palms with a pain so sharp it steals the air from your lungs.

Felix turns back to you. His eyes aren’t cold anymore- just empty, like black voids swallowing all light. 

He extends his hand towards you. 

He says nothing, but his eyes say everything.

Come with me.

Your hand throbs, still screaming with agony. You know if you take his hand, it will hurt you again. 

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice barely there.

And then he dissolves into the darkness, fading until only the hollow space where he stood remains—an absence that lingers, heavy and suffocating.

You scream his name over and over again, arm outstretched, reaching for everything and nothing, your hand still aching with the ghost of his frozen touch.

Your necklace tightens around your throat, constricting, choking the breath from you until stars burst behind your eyes…

And then it snaps.

It shatters against the floor, fragments scattering like fallen stars. 

Broken. Lifeless. Hollow.

You wake with a violent gasp, drenched in cold sweat, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. Your chest rises and falls too fast, too shallow, each breath tangled in the remnants of the nightmare. Warm tears streak down your cheeks, blurring the world.

Your senses feel distant, dulled, drifting somewhere far away-so far that you barely register when someone- Felix- sits you up, steady hands rubbing slow circles into your back, grounding you until you can finally see again. Feel again. Think again.

Your ears ring, the sound overwhelming, almost drowning out Felix’s soft voice beside you.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs gently. “It was just a nightmare.”

When the fog in your head finally clears, you turn toward him. His blonde hair falls messily around his face, freckles glowing softly in the sunlight spilling through the massive windows. His brows are drawn tight, eyes heavy with concern.

“Are you okay?”

Then the memories of last night rush back all at once. Delicious brownies melting in your mouth, a terrible k-drama you couldn’t take seriously, warm arms wrapped around you…

And then it hits you like a burst of cold air that you’re not on his couch anymore.

You’re in his bed. 

Damn it.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you rush out, tugging at the covers. “I didn’t mean to—”

Felix doesn’t let you finish. He catches your wrist and pulls you toward him, arms wrapping securely around your waist, his cheek settling against your shoulder.

“I asked you something,” he mumbles. “Are you okay?”

No.

The image of him disappearing—the way your body froze while your heart screamed—feels too vivid, too raw to dismiss as a dream.

You wanted to go with him. Lord, you wanted to reach out so badly.

But his hand had been so cold. You can still feel it now, even awake, even held safely in Felix’s arms.

And then he had faded. 

You let him fade. 

And the pain of that realization is sharp, real. 

“I’m fine,” you lie, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Good,” he says, tightening his hold just slightly.

You pull away from his suffocating grasp and turn to face him, messy hair framing your tear-streaked face.

“I’m hungry.”

The house is quiet as you sit facing across from Felix at the kitchen table, the oversized t-shirt he lent you warm and soft against your skin. 

You stare at him as he scrolls through his phone, absently stirring your cereal, willing yourself to ask him the question gnawing at your mind. 

He glances up and catches you staring at him.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

You tilt your head. “Why?.” His brows crease in confusion. “Huh?”

“Why did I…” You pause, letting the unspoken words hang cautiously in the air.

Why did I wake up in your bed?

Felix somehow reads your mind, because he averts his eyes from yours and smiles shyly. “You seemed uncomfortable on the couch.”

“Oh.” You try to focus yourself on stirring your cereal, now soggy from being left in the bowl for too long.

“Are you always so clingy in your sleep?”

Your head snaps up and heat floods your cheeks. “What?”

Felix is smirking, leaving you uncertain whether he’s teasing or serious. Instead of elaborating, though, he lets out a quiet laugh and returns to his phone, the smirk still lingering. 

That wasn’t your last sleepover with Felix. As the weeks pass by, your walls come crumbling down with every smile, every hug, every moment. The time you spend together becomes an escape from reality, from your mom, from life. Every moment, every unspoken promise, every whisper in the dark slowly breaks your carefully built walls. 

Your necklace no longer feels like a chain, but more like a reminder.

A reminder that you belong to Felix and he belongs to you. 

Some nights, the nightmare returns- the endless hallway, the broken necklace, the hollow eyes.

 And every time you wake up screaming he’s there, comforting you, holding you gently, wiping away your tears, reminding you it’s just a dream- and he’s there. 

He never asks what the nightmare is about. 

“How come I’ve never met your parents?” 

You blink, startled. 

“My parents?” You’re lying in his backyard side by side, grass cool beneath you, staring up at the sky painted with stars.

It feels ironic how they only shine when everything else is swallowed up by darkness. 

Felix turns to face you, propping himself up on one arm. “Every time I'm at your house it’s just us.”

You never told Felix about your parents- he never asked.

His parents are amazing, both his mom and his dad, and yours…

You don’t look at Felix. “My dad left when I was little,” you say quietly. “And my mom is just never around.” 

Your gaze stays fixed on the night sky as you trace your favorite constellations. Ursa Major, Orion, Cassiopeia, Polaris. The stars glow softly, suspended in moonlight.

“Y/n… I'm so sorry,” Felix says, his voice thick with sympathy.

You almost laugh. 

He’s apologizing as if it’s his fault. Apologizing as if it will fix every crack, as if it can somehow undo what’s already been done. 

Apologizing as if it will bring your dad back. 

You don’t really remember the day your dad left. You were only seven. The memory is like a foggy window, no matter how hard you try to look through it, everything is blurry and distant, far from your reach. 

You just woke up one morning and he was… gone. No goodbye. No explanation. 

He just left silently, his absence haunting you like a ghost until you felt like you were suffocating. 

The only clear memory, the only break in the fog, is your mom- sitting in a corner sobbing. Her soulmate necklace wasn’t around her neck anymore. It was cradled in her hands, dull and cold. 

Soulmate necklaces don’t just represent existence- they represent recognition, connection, choice. 

And your father chose to leave. 

He chose to stop loving your mom. He chose to be free of the crushing weight of unrequited love. So your mom’s necklace broke- along with her heart. Along with her memories. 

Along with her love. 

And that’s why you hate everything about soulmates. You hate the sociological concept, the forced devotion and intimacy.  But more than anything, you hate the way that people can still leave. You hate that even though you’re bound together forever by metal and elements, if you abandon fate, the necklaces are detached and your fate is sealed. Forever.

And as you explain this to Felix, tears blur your vision, the stars dissolving into a haze just like your memories.  

“I know I'm difficult,” you choke out. “I know it’s hard for you to love me. I’m just scared.”

You look at Felix.

But this time, you really look at him. His freckles. His soft, blonde hair falling gently around his face. The crease between his brows. His eyes glassy with emotion as they search yours.

And the words that have been aching inside of you spill out, raw and trembling. 

“Please don’t leave me, Felix.”

He pulls you to his chest, softly kissing your tears away as he strokes your hair.  

“I’ll never leave you,” he whispers. “I promise.” 

When you get home the next morning, a surprise is waiting.

Your mom.

She’s standing in the kitchen like she never left, arms crossed tight against her chest. She’s always been like this—coming and going, disappearing for days, sometimes weeks—but this time feels heavier. Wrong.

She’s been gone for two weeks this time.

Two weeks of silence. Two weeks of loneliness. Two weeks of wondering if she’d even come back at all.

“Where have you been all night?” she demands, eyes sharp, voice already raised.

Something in you snaps.

“Where have you been for the last two weeks?” you fire back. You don’t even recognize your own voice—low, shaking, angry in a way that scares you.

For just a second, her face falters. You see it: the guilt, the hesitation. Then it’s gone, replaced by anger like armor. “I know you found your soulmate.”

Your heart slams so hard it hurts. “What?”

You never told her about Felix. You knew exactly how it would end. You knew she’d tell you that you’re making a mistake. You knew she would twist it, ruin it, make it ugly.

And for once in your life, you’re right.

“I’ve seen you wearing his T-shirts,” she says. “I’ve seen your phone wallpaper. You think I don’t notice anything?”

Your throat tightens. Those were supposed to be safe things. Small things.

“Mom—”

“Break up with him.”

The words are flat. Final.

Your breath catches like you’ve been punched. “I— I can’t just—”

“Do you want what happened to me to happen to you?” she cuts in, voice suddenly loud, almost desperate.

There it is.

The words that you’ve been trying to avoid. Trying not to think about. 

“Felix is different, Mom,” you say, even though your voice is shaking now. “He’s not like—”

“That’s what I said about your father,” she snaps. Her eyes are glossy now, and that somehow makes it worse. “I thought he was different.”

You hate this part.

You hate that she always drags the past into the present, always bringing your father into this, always comparing everyone to him. But you do the same thing. 

Maybe not out loud, but inside, deep in your heart, the past is there- clawing its way back out until it rips your heart and breaks free. 

“You don’t understand how fast it falls apart,” your mother says more quietly now. “One day you’re in love, and the next day you’re alone, cleaning up a mess you never thought would be yours.”

“I’m already alone every single damn day,” you say before you can stop yourself. “You leave all the time.”

Silence slams down between you.

Her mouth opens, then closes. Her shoulders sag just a little, like something heavy has finally settled.

“I’m trying to protect you,” she says. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You shake your head, tears burning behind your eyes. “But you are hurting me.”

And for the first time, she doesn’t have an answer.

“I love him,” you say, the realization of your feelings towards Felix raw and real now. “And I’m not breaking up with him.”

Her jaw tightens. “Everyone leaves, y/n. Everyone.”

And it hurts- because deep down, you know she’s right. 

Felix knows something's wrong. 

Your mom’s words had sunk deep into your mind, burning and haunting you every time you see him .

You don’t lean into him like you usually do. You don’t smile. You don’t ask for his hoodie or brush your fingers against his when you walk side by side. You keep space between you, like there’s an invisible line you’re scared to cross.

He doesn't say anything- until you’re walking home from school a week later, pouring rain slapping against the pavement, clouds heavy and gray in the dull evening. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head too fast. “No.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. 

“You’ve barely texted,” he continues, careful now, like he’s approaching something fragile. “I was worried.”

You hear her voice instead of his. 

I know you found your soulmate. You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.

“I’ve just been tired,” you say. You don’t look at him.

Felix frowns. “Did I do something?”

That’s the worst part. He always asks like that—like he’d take the blame if it meant fixing things.

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s not you.”

Then why does your chest hurt like it’s breaking?

You stop walking. Felix stops too, turning to face you fully now.

“Talk to me,” he says. “Please.”

Your mom’s face flashes in your mind. Her tired eyes. Her bitterness. The way she said your dad’s name like it still tasted like betrayal.

One day you’re in love. The next day you’re alone.

You swallow.

“I think…” Your voice cracks, and you hate yourself for it. You clear your throat and try again. “I think we should slow down.”

Felix blinks. “Slow down?”

“Yeah,” you rush on. “We moved really fast, right? And maybe that wasn’t smart.”

You step back. Physically. Deliberately.

Felix’s face falls in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“Are you starting to regret this?” he asks quietly.

You stiffen. “Regret what?”

“Giving the whole soulmates thing a chance,” he says. “Giving me a chance.” 

“I just don’t want to wake up one day and realize I ruined myself over something that was never going to last.”

Felix’s eyes search yours. “Is that really what you think we are? Just soulmates?”

You think about how safe you feel with him. How he laughs with his whole chest. How he looks at you like you’re something good. 

And you think about your mom—alone, angry, hurt, warning you like love is a trap you can never escape once it closes.

“I don’t care that we’re soulmates, y/n,” his voice is rising now. “I care about you. I love you.”  He’s yelling now, the sound of the rain and his voice piercing your ears. “Isn’t that enough?”

You don’t answer fast enough.

His jaw tightens. “Do you want this?”

The question is simple.

The answer isn’t.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

That’s the moment something breaks.

Felix nods slowly, like he’s bracing himself. “Okay.”

Okay.

Not I’ll wait. Not we’ll figure it out. Just okay.

He’s finally fed up with your hesitation. How you always pull away from his lips first. How you isolate yourself from him instead of telling him when you’re upset. 

Guilt floods you, hot and choking. You want to tell him you’re scared, not done. Tell him that you love him so, so much, so much it hurts-

But love is terrifying. Love takes trust. 

And no matter how many times he promised he would never leave, deep down you know that promises are meaningless. 

“I’m sorry.” 

That’s all you can say.

“I know,” Felix replies.

He takes a step back this time. And the distance feels final. 

When he turns to leave, you don’t stop him. You tell yourself that this is the right decision and that you’re just trying to protect yourself from heartbreak. That leaving hurts less when you choose it first.

You let yourself linger for a moment as the rain comes down hard. 

Cold droplets strike the top of your head and run into your eyes, blurring the world as your clothes cling to your skin. 

You turn- for one final look at Felix, one last reminder of his warmth in the cold, pouring rain…

Just in time to see him step into a car's path.

Three hours 

“He’s in a coma. A bad one. We don’t know if he’ll ever wake up.”

The words are spoken gently, like they’re trying not to hurt you. That almost makes it worse. They don’t sound like an ending, but they feel like one.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

The words repeat in your head until they blur together, until they stop sounding like language and start sounding like truth. They fill every quiet space, every breath, every second you’re awake. There is no room for anything else.

You shouldn’t have exploded at Felix. You should have kept your mouth shut.

You shouldn’t have let him walk away.

My fault.

Six hours

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting in the hospital waiting room.

Probably for a while. 

Time doesn’t move the way it used to. It stretches thin, fragile, like it might snap if you touch it.

It’s empty now.  

Everyone went home.

They have people they love to go home to.

People that they can touch and talk to and tell them they love them. 

You don’t.

He’s here, unconscious, lying limp in a hospital bed hooked up to wires and breathing through a mask. 

You know you should go home.

But every time you close your eyes the memory comes flooding back, drowning you until you can’t breathe. 

The way time had stopped as his body was suspended in the air, before landing on his head, a broken, bloody mess on the rain-soaked pavement.

That image is carved into you now. You don’t think it will ever leave.

Running to him, shaking him, screaming his name like it might pull him back. Tears falling onto his face as you begged him to wake up while he lay there, still and unresponsive.

The guilt settles deeper when you remember holding his cold hand in the ambulance, your fingers wrapped around his as the paramedics tried to bring him back. You held on like letting go meant losing him forever.

You wonder if he knew you were there. If he knew you were holding on to him, if he knew you were sorry.

Twelve hours

You sit in the empty waiting room for too long, starving and exhausted, staring at the fluorescent lights until everything feels washed out and unreal.

Just waiting. Hoping.

Until your mom finally comes after 25 missed calls and takes you home.

She doesn’t ask how you feel, or if you’re okay.

She doesn’t need to.

She drives in silence, eyes fixed on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

The silence between you is thick and suffocating, filled with everything she doesn't say. 

I warned you. I was right. 

Two days

At home, all you do is sleep. Sleeping helps you escape.

Escape the thoughts you can’t outrun while you’re awake.

Your phone feels empty without his good morning texts, without proof that he’s still out there somewhere, breathing, moving. 

Your bed feels too big. Too empty. You miss the way he used to lie beside you, absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, whispering quietly until you fell asleep to the sound of his voice. 

Your lips feel cold without his pressed against them, warm and comforting.

Your necklace feels heavier than it ever has, a constant pressure against your chest, a reminder you can’t take off no matter how badly you want to forget.

You lie in bed, numb from crying and shaking from hunger, your body slowly wearing itself down and losing itself the same way your heart already has.

You spent so much time pushing him away. Hating him. Hurting him. Convincing yourself you didn’t care.

And now the space he left behind is unbearable—like a sky without stars, like standing in a room where something important has been ripped out, leaving nothing but the phantom of an echo.

He was warmth. He was comfort.

Now everything feels distant and hollow, stripped from color and meaning.

And still, there is hope.

Small and fragile, but still there. 

You cling to it like it’s the last thing keeping you alive, because it is. 

He’s still alive, still breathing. It’s just a coma, you tell yourself. He’ll wake up. He has to.

You know you have no right to feel this way. You’re the one that pushed him away, who stood in the pouring rain and told him you don’t trust him and he’s not worth it.

You let your fear that he would leave consume you so much to the point that you left him. 

It seems that you’re no different than your father. 

One week

Your mom stops feeling sorry for you and forces you to go to school.

You wander the hallways without direction, your body moving while your mind stays somewhere else entirely.

You hear the whispers and you feel the stares of people wondering what’s wrong with you, where Felix is.

You don’t care. 

Instead, you discover that it’s possible to exist without really being there.

You breathe air, you speak full sentences to people, you show up to class. 

But everything feels empty. Every word, every step, every heartbeat. 

Empty. 

Everything is empty without him.

Three weeks

Days blur into weeks. Weeks blur into months.

You miss him so much it physically hurts- your body is fighting to survive, while your heart is trying to die. 

He’s alive, but he isn’t here. 

It feels as if he might as well be dead.

And you deserve it. 

One month

You’re sitting on a hard plastic chair that bites into your skin, your hand intertwined with Felix’s limp one.

His fingers feel like ice.

You listen to his breath—slow, soft, but still there.

The hospital room is so quiet you can hear your own heart. 

You fill the silence with your voice, hoping it reaches wherever he is.

“I used to hate you. I hated how happy and popular you were, and I hated how blonde your hair was. Everyone knows you bleach it.” You laugh softly at the memories. They feel so far away now. “When our necklaces connected, I was so, so pissed. Of course the one person I hated more than anything was my fate.”

 You swallow, tightening your grip on his hand. “But Felix, you never gave up. You pulled every single one of my strings and pushed harder and harder every day until I finally snapped and went out with you.”

You stare at the floor, guilt flooding you. “And even when I was difficult, even when I treated you badly, even when I thought I was hopeless, you stayed. You didn’t love me because we’re soulmates, you loved me because you chose to.”

But seeing him like this—lying there, so small and still—makes something deep inside you just snap.

“I don’t believe in soulmates. And I don’t think I ever will.” You whisper the next words like a forbidden promise. I believe in you, Felix. I love you.”

You promise yourself you’ll tell him that if he ever wakes up. 

Two months

You sit on the floor of your room, staring at the wall with blank, tired eyes. Five assignments lie scattered in front of you, unfinished and untouched.

You’re exhausted, your grades have fallen apart, and you haven’t showered or eaten for what feels like a long time. 

But you don’t care. 

You don’t care about anything anymore.

A bitter laugh slips out of you, hollow and sharp.

This is all on you. 

You’re the one who fell in love.

But not really.

Because in the end, you pushed Felix away and now he is in a coma.

You spent years building walls to protect yourself, tried so hard not to end up like your mom and avoid her reality.

And you failed. 

You failed miserably. 

Three months

He’s awake.

The two words glow on your phone screen like sunlight breaking through the clouds after months of darkness. 

Two words that shatter your numbness and make your heart lurch back to life.

You jump up out of your seat in the middle of class and bolt out the door, ignoring the threats of your English teacher and the gasps of people in the hallways. 

You just run. 

You’ve never run this fast in your life.

You run until your lungs burn and the street noise turns to a hum. You don’t see the cars swerving past you- you only see him.

You keep running as you push open the hospital doors and run up too many flights of stairs for you to count. 

You only stop when you finally reach his room, sweating and breathless, strands of hair flying loose, willing yourself to open the door.  

And when you finally do… 

There he is.

Awake. Alive. Breathing. Standing. 

Staring blankly out the window, fidgeting with his IV cord, blonde hair gently falling over a white bandage around his head.

He’s not a dream. He’s real. 

“Felix,” you breathe.

Your body moves on its own. You run to him, locking your arms around his neck. You hide your face against his skin, letting the tears fall hot and fast.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob. “It’s all my fault.”

He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't hold you back.

You pull away to look at him, reaching for his face, searching for the boy you know. 

But his eyes are blank. Empty. Confused.

Your heart sinks, and your hands drop to your sides. 

The silence grows heavy, thick enough to drown in. 

He’s mad. He hates you. You deserve it. 

You brace yourself for him to voice your thoughts- for him to tell you he hates you and he never wants to see you again. 

But instead, he tilts his head, frowning, and looks at you as if he is studying a photograph he doesn’t remember taking. 

And then his voice drops, barely there, but clear. 

“I’m sorry… who are you?” 

And then everything falls into evanescence as your necklace slips from your neck and falls to the floor with a sharp, final clatter. 

⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⟡ ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆.

Oddinary- felix x fem!reader

You- hyunjin x fem!reader

Found- minho x fem!reader fake texts (3 parts-completed)

Soulmates- felix x fem!reader (3 parts-completed)

Unknown Love- ot8!members x fem!reader (ongoing)

Cry- BangChan x fem!reader

Part 2

Part 1 ~ Part 3

Lee Felix x fem!reader

Summary: Everyone is born with a special shaped necklace that's half of a unique shape. The other half? It belongs to your soulmate. You don't believe in soulmates. So you keep yours hidden- until an accident leads you to find out Lee Felix, the person you hate most, is your soulmate.

Cw: Angst, grunge, family issues, fluff, smut-free, soulmates au

wc: 2.1k

⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⟡ ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆.

It’s a peaceful, sunny afternoon.

The usual gray fog that clouds the sky has retreated for the day, allowing the sun to shine brightly overhead, small patches of sunlight seeping into your living room.

You’re sprawled lazily in your living room, soaking in the warmth of the morning when the loud sound of the doorbell cuts through the silence.

You lazily slide off the couch and trudge to the door, opening it without a second thought.

There, standing on the porch, is Felix, wearing a light blue oversized t-shirt and baggy black pants, a nervous smile planted on his face as he runs his hand through his somehow perfect bleached hair..

Suddenly you are aware of your stained sweatpants and lazily pulled back hair.

“Felix? What are you doing here?” You say, hiding behind the door so he won’t notice your current state.

Felix’s eyebrows crease in confusion. “Um… our date? Remember?”

“A date…?”

Felix’s face falls. “Did you forget?”

You keep your eyes on the floor as you force yourself to nod, a shadow of guilt forming in your gut.

“It’s- it’s fine.” His words come out in a cheery voice, but his smile looks forced. “I’ll just come back another-”

“Wait,” you interrupt. “Can you just.. give me a couple minutes to get ready?”

This time, Felix’s smile is real. “Sure.”

You reluctantly open the door and motion for him to come inside.

You notice how he doesn't say anything about your lousy appearance.

He follows you into your house, his gaze flicking from wall to wall as he takes everything in. You scramble to straighten up your messy living room before he notices, mentally slapping yourself for being so careless.

But Felix is too busy staring at the photos on the wall to notice.

“Just stay here, I’ll be right back,” you say before disappearing into your room.

You stand in front of your open closet, inspecting your clothes. All you own are oversized t-shirts with names of bands you've never listened to and your school uniform.

You don’t own any particularly nice clothes due to the fact that you never go anywhere, preferring the warmth and comfort of home over the busy streets of Seoul.

Plus, you have no friends to go out with in the first place.

You pull out almost every piece of clothing you own, hating everything. You must have spent a while rethinking your life choices and discarding clothes when Felix saunters over to your room.

“Need help?” he asks, leaning against your doorway, a smirk painted across his features.

“I think I’m capable of choosing an outfit, thank you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“Really?” He shoots a pointed look towards the growing pile of clothes on your bed as he strides across your room.

He pauses at your closet and scans it before pointing at a faded gray zip-up sweater with the word Brooklyn printed across the front.

“That’s cute,” he remarks, and saunters out of your room as if he just made the easiest decision in his life.

You want nothing more in the world than to wipe the smug look off his face, but he’s right. It is a cute sweater.

You don’t care about his opinion. Or how you look in front of him.

Really, you don’t even know why you’re struggling so hard to choose an outfit.

So you pull it over your tank top, not because Felix thinks it’s cute, but because you think it is.

Or that’s what you try to tell yourself.

When Felix reappears, you give him a triumphant look and feel immense satisfaction at his surprise.

You don’t notice the way his eyes soften and how his heart beats faster at the small but warm gesture.

You glance at Felix before reaching for your jeans.

“Turn around,” you command.

In response, he saunters into your room and plops down on your bed as if it’s his own, staring intently at you. “And if I don’t?”

You stand there blinking at him, stunned. You’ve never seen this side of Felix before. This new flirty side of him is in huge contrast to his usual warm smile and sunshiney demeanor.

You grab a shirt from the discard pile on your bed and throw it at his face in response. “Pervert,” you mutter as you quickly slip on your jeans. Felix laughs but doesn't remove the t-shirt until you’re done.

You move to your vanity and take out the pins clasping your bun together, letting the dark waves unravel onto your shoulders. You reach for your brush and start roughly working it through your hair, struggling to brush out your tangles.

Felix strides over to you and pulls the brush from your grasp. “You’re being too aggressive. Let me.”

Before you can answer, he lifts the brush and slowly draws it through your hair with soft, unhurried motions, his touch patient and calm. He untangles the strands in long, gentle strokes, saying nothing- the gentleness of his gaze says everything.

When he finishes, he looks at you with an affectionate smile and runs his hands through your hair, fingers briefly brushing the nape of your neck. You try to keep your cool under his gaze. “You look perfect,” he says softly, breaking the silence.

You’ve never received affection before. Not from your mother or the brief time you had your father.

Affection, kind words- all were rare, if not nonexistent.

Until Felix.

His soft eyes, his gentle touch, his reassuring words- you hate it and you love it.

How can you hate something yet love it at the same time?

You abruptly stand up and turn towards Felix, leaving a significant amount of distance between you.

“Ready?” you smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

The car ride to Felix’s house is silent, other than the radio playing Enhypen songs. You stare blankly out the window, Heesung's melodic voice filling your mind. You close your eyes, letting the evanescence of his voice consume your anxious thoughts.

You anxiously tug at your necklace, twirling it around your fingers absentmindedly. It feels suffocating around your neck, and the silver crescent-shaped charm looks especially annoying in the bright sunlight.

His fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel as he hums softly to the music, his eyes occasionally wandering softly towards you.

“You okay?” he suddenly asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yea,” you reply, willing it to be true as you tug harshly on your necklace.

The rest of the drive is spent in tense silence, you starting to regret agreeing to this and Felix determined to prove that he’s worth giving a chance to.

The silence only breaks when the tires crunch against his gravel driveway. He kills the engine, but neither of you move. The sudden lack of motion makes your regret feel twice as heavy, the weight of his unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air. Felix doesn't wait for you to change your mind- he's out of the car and holding your door open before you can even find the handle.

He leads you up the driveway and fumbles with the key on the door until the lock clicks.

His house is a mix of modern and homey.

Massive windows are everywhere, letting the natural sunlight spill onto everything, making the place feel warm and bright. It’s absolutely spotless, the floor is so clean you’re reluctant to step on it.

“So what’s your plan?” you ask as Felix leads you into the sleek, spotless kitchen.

The question hangs for a moment before he grins and crosses to the counter, already tugging open a cupboard.

“First,” he says, pulling out measuring cups, “we bake brownies.”

“Baking…?”

You can’t bake.

At all.

You spent your childhood living off of microwave ramen and stovetop rice- you never learned how to bake. Your mother never taught you. When you were little, your father promised you he would teach you when you got older. He broke that promise.

He broke a lot of promises.

“I don’t know how to bake,” you admit, eyes on the floor.

Felix is pulling out eggs from the fridge as he says, “That’s fine. I’ll help you.”

You sigh.“I don’t know if this is a good-”

“Trust me, y/n,” He finally turns his gaze to you, his eyes soft and almost… pleading.

And something in you melts under his gaze..

“So… brownies,” you mumble. “You’re sure you wanna do this?”

Felix grins, already rolling up his sleeves. “Positive.”

His kitchen feels too neat for what you’re about to do. The counters are spotless, everything lined up like it lives here on purpose. You stand anxiously by the island, clutching the recipe printout as if it might bite.

Felix hands you a mixing bowl. “You stir. I’ll measure.”

It turns out you’re terrible at stirring. Flour shoots up in a pale cloud the second you try to stir the dry ingredients, drifting into the sunlight and settling into his light hair. You freeze. He blinks, then shakes his head slightly, sending a few white specks flying.

“Guess I deserved that,” he says lightly.

The awkwardness between you doesn't push you apart; it just sits there, warm and shy, like something new you’re not naming yet. You crack an egg too hard. Shell pieces slip into the bowl. You and Felix reach for them at the same time, fingers brushing. You feel the contact like a spark you hadn’t expected.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“It’s okay,” Felix replies, softer now. “You’re doing fine.”

Cocoa powder turns the batter dark, the smell of chocolate wrapping around the kitchen. You stir slowly this time, trying to be careful, but a streak still lands across the back of your hand. Felix notices before you do.

“Hold still,” he murmurs.

He wipes the chocolate away with his thumb, then hesitates like he just realized what he’s doing. Neither of you speak for a second. The oven hums, and the room feels smaller, somehow.

You look at him — really look — at the way he’s trying not to make a big deal out of anything, the way he’s been patient the whole time, the way he smiles at you like it isn’t a performance. The way his smile is different around you. It’s softer. Less forced.

The feeling arrives quietly, like stepping into warm water without even realizing that your feet had left the air in the first place.

Hm, is the only thought your mind can create in the moment.

You and Felix spread the batter into the pan together, shoulders bumping every few seconds. You don’t pull away. He doesn't either.

The pan slides into the oven. You and Felix stand side by side, leaning against the counter in his kitchen, pretending you’re just waiting for brownies and not anything else.

“So the next step is… waiting?” you ask.

Felix nods. “Yeah. Waiting.”

You don’t move. And you don’t want to.

You didn’t mean to stay this long.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway, as the sun starts setting, painting the sky in warm pink and orange tones. The k-drama hums in the dim light of Felix’s living room and the glow from the TV paints his stupidly warm smile in soft colors. You sit stiffly at first, arms crossed, pretending you’re totally invested in the cringe worthy k-drama and not in the fact that your thigh keeps accidentally brushing his.

He laughs at something—too bright, too easy—and the sound curls into your ribs. You don’t laugh. You don’t soften. You roll your eyes instead.

“Don’t pretend that wasn’t funny,” he says, bumping your shoulder with his. He says it like everything with you is simple. Like you aren’t a walking disaster of what-ifs and don’ts and don’t-get-close.

“I’m not pretending,” you mutter, even though the corner of your mouth betrays you for half a second.

The room is warm. The blanket you swore you didn’t need is somehow over both of you now. Your eyelids feel heavy, and that annoys you—because falling asleep means vulnerability. Trust. And trust feels like standing on the edge of something high and trying not to fall. You don’t do edges. You don’t do falling.

But your head tips anyway.

You try to catch it, to sit straight, to remember all your rules, but gravity doesn’t care about your boundaries, and neither does the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. Your cheek brushes his shoulder. He goes completely still.

You freeze. You should move. You should apologize. You should do anything except stay.

Instead, his voice drops to a whisper. “It’s okay.”

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He doesn’t tease. He just shifts the tiniest bit so your head has a better place to rest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to lean on him and not break apart.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears. Trust is loud. Trust is terrifying.

You tell yourself you’re only closing your eyes for a second, only because you’re tired, only because the movie is too hard to watch. It has nothing to do with the warmth of his shoulder or how safe his presence feels, like sunlight that refuses to burn you.

His hand adjusts the blanket, careful not to disturb you. You feel it even through the fog of sleep—the gentleness. The patience. The way he treats your sharp edges like they’re not a problem to solve, just parts of you he’s already accepted.

You drift.

The last thing you’re aware of is his quiet breathing, softer now, almost as if he’s trying to control it, and the steady thump of his heart under your ear—steady enough that, for once, you stop trying not to fall off the edge.

⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⟡ ⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆.

a/n: Tysm for reading 🫶. Part 3 (the last part) will come out on the first week of February, and trust me, you don’t wanna miss it 😉.