𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙮

The memory of the tryout was a blur. The burn in your arms from holding a position too long, the nervous shake in your voice as you shout out the cheer – you swore you’d be cut immediately.

So imagine the shock you felt when in your student inbox sat an acceptance email.

Dear Kim ___,

Congratulations!

We at Cheonghwa University’s cheer team, The Hwa-roes, are excited to inform you of your acceptance into the team.

Please reply to this email within 3 working days to let us know if you will be joining us on the quads to hype up the players and crowd!

Warm regards,

The Hwa-roes.

(Word play on Heroes)

You read the email at least three times – waiting for the words to morph into a rejection email, for someone to tell you it was sent by mistake.

Yet, here you were – pom-poms in hand and sneakers laced tight, standing with the other newcomers in the basketball stadium in a uniform that was low-key a little too short for your liking. As the seniors began the introduction, announcing a little freshies night would be done that weekend, you realised that… maybe this wasn’t a joke anymore.

You were in.

The late afternoon sun stretches across the quad, the grass looking more vibrant; even a little golden. The sound of a whistle being blown pierced through the field, followed by the heavy thud and grunts of The Hwa-rriors, Cheonghwa’s rugby team, as their bodies collide with one another during their on-going practice.

Enter Choi Seungcheol, Captain of The Hwa-rriors.

Seungcheol is the type of man where one look at him out on the field, you’d know he was meant to play. Knew that he was meant to be captain with how he barked orders whenever someone slacked.

He practically lived for the game. The sweat, the grind, the competition – nothing could ever divide his attention from the field.

Or at least, nothing used to.

His gaze had managed to stray from his team to the corner of the field where The Hwa-roes were practicing their cheer routine. Half the team were forming a base while some of the male cheerleaders were balancing the girls mid-air, laughter filling the air in a way that was infectious – causing a small smile to tug at his own lips.

Then, his eyes land on a particular cheerleader.

Unlike the stereotypical looks most female cheerleaders would have – long hair that’s pulled into a ponytail, probably one of the two main colours of the university as a bow stuck at the top; this cheerleader had a bob that almost went past her shoulders.

Seungcheol felt… something in his stomach, but it wasn’t from the mediocre cafeteria food for sure.

It was weird.

The Hwa-roes and Hwa-rriors had always co-existed during practices, yet since two weeks ago, he finds himself watching the bobbed-hair cheerleader.

“Captain, ball!”

He came back to his senses a little too late – the rugby ball smacked against his head, bouncing off onto the grass.

Groans echoed from his team.

“Seungcheol, I swear to God,” Jeonghan huffs, flicking sweat out of his hair. “If you’re going to keep staring at the cheer squad, at least don’t ogle to the point you’re physically here, but mentally there.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Seungcheol defended, muttering a curse as he picked up the ball.

Joshua snorts, leaning an elbow against Jeonghan. “Sure. Your eyes probably have a mind of their own and decided to wander off.”

His jaw tightened at the jest, but he knew they were right.

He barks at the team to get back to practice, trying to regain his focus in the process. Yet, when he hears the cheer captain announcing they take five, his head snapped back towards them just for a minute too long before he starts the countdown.

On your side of the field, you’ve learned to treat the rugby team’s shouts and grunts as background noise for your practice. In a way, it helped the cheer team in finding the tempo.

However, several cheerleaders, including the seniors would point out that their captain was staring – specifically at you. From what you’ve heard, Choi Seungcheol was practically Cheonghwa’s pride and glory.

He was tall, broad – even his presence was commanding, the kind that made people pause mid-step whenever he walked by. When your head of cheer announced a five minute break, you glanced over to the rugby team and watched as he barreled into a tackle. The sound of impact was enough to make even the cheer team wince.

Still, he didn't flinch.

You shake your head, reminding yourself of the reputations rugby players had – loud, cocky, out of your league. You may be a cheerleader, but you were a new cheerleader. You were one voice in a choir at the sidelines.

You weren’t someone special.

“Mingyu.”

“ ‘Sup, hyung?”

Seungcheol hesitated, mainly because Mingyu gave him a knowing grin. God, he was never going to hear the end of this. He inclines his head subtly towards the cheer team, “The girl at the top of the pyramid. Layered bob. You know who she is?”

The giant followed his line of sight, his grin widening almost instantly. “Ohh, I see.”

“See what?”

“Our captain’s taken a fancy to one of the cheerleaders,” Mingyu teased. “I thought Joshua was just imagining things, but apparently not. Guess I owe him ten bucks.”

“You lot are impossible,” the elder groans, running a hand down his sweaty face. “Just answer the question, Gyu. Unless you’d want to run five laps.”

Mingyu laughs, clearly having a blast poking at his captain. “She’s one of the newcomers they recruited. Kim _.” He observes Seungcheol’s face for any sort of reaction, his canines showing off when he sees the tips of his ears turn red. “I think she’s in her first year, final sem. Heard from one of the cheer guys that Haesoo told them she wanted her in after she left the audition. Kinda obvious why.”

Seungcheol nods, repeating the name in his head.

Kim ___.

Pretty name for a pretty girl.

“So,” Mingyu leaned in with a wicked grin, “Planning to shoot your shot?”

Seungcheol scoffed, “Get back to practice, Gyu.”

The campus library was almost empty that evening. The scratch of the metal nib against your tablet screen paired with the soft hum of the air conditioning was almost perfect until someone slots themselves into the empty seat across from you.

“Hey there, Miss Cheerleader.”

The voice was unfamiliar to you yet the owner greets you with such familiarity it felt… odd.

Looking up, you’re greeted by none other than Choi Seungcheol himself. Captain of The Hwa-rriors, heartthrob of the campus. He hangs his backpack over the chair he’s seated in with a big puppy grin on display.

He looked far too alive for the library. Out of place. Sweat clung to his temple, dark hair pushed back and messy like he’d run his hand through it dozens of times before this.

You blinked at him, “Shouldn’t you be out on the field, Captain?”

Seungcheol shrugs, “Practice ended. What about you? Was expecting you out on the field cheering and doing flips.”

“Thursdays, Fridays and weekends are our off-days.”

“Off-days, huh?” He leans closer, propping his arms on the table. “Didn’t think you guys would have that kind of schedule.”

You raised a brow, deciding to tease him a little. “We don’t run on triple A batteries, Captain. We like to preserve our energy unlike you jocks that can’t go a day without needing to run into a wall of muscles.”

Something about your tone made his heart flutter. He hadn’t expected you to tease back and the fact that you did intrigues him. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your little focus bubble,” he continues. “Just… didn’t expect to see you elsewhere other than… y’know, flying through the air.”

“Are you assuming cheerleaders are bimbos, Captain Choi?”

HIs eyes widened, scrambling to defend himself and forgets his surroundings momentarily. “No!”

The librarian shoots him a look and Seungcheol smiles sheepishly before bowing his head apologetically. Turning back to you, he lowers his voice. “No, I would never have that ideology. It’s just… I expected you to be more of a social butterfly like the others.”

“Well, cheerleaders can be academically driven too,” you said dryly.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Noted. Guess I only ever see you on the sidelines cheering us on.”

“Well, that’s the whole point of the cheer team, Captain.”

“Yeah.”

You set your stylus down, deciding to give him your time. “So, what brings you here, Seungcheol?”

God, his name sounds so right when it comes from your lips.

“Trying to look academic to swoon some girls?”

“Maybe,” he teases. You watch as he then turns to the shelf behind him and grabs a random book, “Or maybe I came to get some study materials for my subject.” Glancing at the book he had just plucked off the shelf, he regrets it instantly.

‘The Trade Policy of the European Union’ by Gstöhl and De Bièvre.

You let out a small laugh and it made the tip of Seungcheol’s ears go beet red. “I understand you’re a Business Major, Captain. But try something less… heavy… next time. That one will put you to sleep before the first chapter.”

That pearly white grin returns, “Got it, Sunshine.”

You blinked, “What?”

He froze, realising what he’s just said. “Oh– Sorry. It’s just…” He awkwardly gestures towards the window. “The… The light is… It makes you look bright.”

Get a grip, Choi Seungcheol. You’re Captain of the football team. Why are you fumbling over your words?

God, you look like such a–

You can’t help the quiet laugh that slipped past your lips, caught between being thrown off guard and amusement. “Didn’t realise you were terrible at giving compliments, Captain.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… Guess a pretty girl like you has me fumbling over my rehearsed lines.”

“Uhm… Thanks..?” You turn your focus back to your study material.

“Anytime, Sunshine.”

There’s a faint pink in your cheeks when you look up again. “You gonna start calling me that now, Seungcheol?”

He shrugs, grinning again. “Only if it annoys the hell outta you.”

“Careful now,” you warned, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “It just might.”

“Then I’m not stopping.”

“Hey, Yejin?” One of the seniors called out to the Head of Cheer.

“ ‘Sup?”

“Sky’s looking a little gloomy… Should we call in a rain check?”

The Head of Cheer waves her hand dismissively with a smile, “Oh, y’know the sky is always gloomy. We’re nearing the middle of fall season so the sun is just a little shy.”

“But what if it rains? We can’t risk the team falling sick or getting injuries. The big game is coming up and we can’t really form a new routine if we do have casualties.”

Yejin seems to consider the words before announcing to the cheer squad that they’ll do one final routine and call in a rain check. The others, you included, agreed but not before casting a glance up to the sky where the graying clouds start to gather. You hear Seungcheol’s voice behind you, barking out orders and telling his team to keep an eye out for the weather.

It was clear the gloomy weather had both teams on high alert.

But it was soon pushed to the side when the rugby team was halfway through scrimmage drills, and the cheer squad ran through several formations that needed more focus in perfecting. This routine had somehow become a source of to you – how everything falls into a steady rhythm.

5 minutes later, any trace of sunlight was gone.

Then came the first drops, turning the once green field into a polka dotted pattern. Both teams glanced at each other, as though they were telepathically asking – “Are you retreating? Because if you do, I do.”

They didn’t have much time to ponder as within the seconds, the slight drizzle turned heavy. Y’know, the kind of downpour that soaks you in less than a minute.

Chaos broke out when a gust of strong wind swept across the fields. Laughter, squeals and shouts rang through the field as everyone sprinted towards the auditorium to take cover. In contrast to the humid rain outside, the auditorium had its air conditioning running and the coldness sent shivers down your spine and damp uniform.

You wring out your skirt and tried your best to laugh with the others, but the cold was starting to get to you. Your hands were freezing, the fabric of your top was sticking to your skin and no matter how much you rubbed at your arms, the goosebumps wouldn’t go away.

You hear Seungcheol talking to the Head of Cheer, “Did everyone from the cheer team make it in?”

“Yea, I counted three times. Yours?”

“All counted for. Make sure neither of you cheerleaders get sick, yea? We’d be lost without y’all cheering us on.”

Yejin snorts, “Yea?” She nods towards his team that were raking their hands through their damp hair, teasing them about resembling golden retrievers trying to dry themselves off. “Better make sure neither of them get the flu either. Not only will Coach kill you, we won’t have a team to cheer for.”

Mingyu chuckled behind Seungcheol, “Well, I’m sure Cheol hyung can cover for all of us.”

“Careful, Gyu. I might just drag you with me.”

The trio laughed, knowing the threat wasn’t serious nor that deep.

His gaze soon landed on your shivering figure.

You stood a little further from the others, staying quiet while your teammates whined about their ruined hair and soggy sneakers. One of the newcomers complained about how the soaked fabric of the uniform was starting to stick uncomfortably against their skin. You smiled when one of them teased you for shivering like you were just dumped into the middle of a snow pile, but the smile was tired.

Mingyu noticed Seungcheol was staring somewhere and following his line of sight, he smirked. “Staring at the pretty cheerleader again, Captain?”

Yejin’s eyes followed and she too joined in on the teasing. “Fancy our little ___, Cheol?”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes, “Both of you.”

The Head of Cheer grins, leaning in, “Well, you didn’t hear this from me, but so far she’s still single. But, unfortunately jocks don’t seem to be her type.”

“Why not?”

Yejin shrugs, wringing the edges of her skirt. “Well, nobody really knows, but my two cents is that it has something to do with jocks being players with better stamina. You know how the rumours are with you guys – always flirting, never really committing. Probably forgetting a girl’s name once the next game rolls around.”

Mingyu frowns, placing a hand over his chest. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“Um, dramatic much?” Yejin snorts. “She probably doesn’t want to end up as another cautionary tale in the locker room or y’know… The entire campus of why you should steer away from jocks.”

“Hey, we can’t be that bad.”

She raises a brow, “For some of y’all? Maybe. But the reputation the media paints? Kind of hard to shake it off when a few of them fit the bill. Loud, cocky, always surrounded by cheerleaders or girls.”

She turns to one of the senior cheerleaders, “Kinda allergic to communication.”

Seungcheol moved to his duffel before his brain could catch up, grabbing his varsity jacket – the black one with his name stitched in gold thread. “You say that like we’re a species, Yejin.”

She all but grins, watching with Mingyu as he crosses the room, “Well, if the boot fits, Cheol.”

You sat on a bleacher that was close to the heater, rubbing your arms to try and chase the chill away. While you adored the sleeveless design of the cheer uniform, sometimes you wished the sleeves were a little longer to make it less chilly. Not that it’d help in your current situation.

The rest of your squad huddled nearby, helping each other to brush out their damp hair or to undo the ponytail it’s been put in.

A shadow looms over you and looking up, you see him.

“Sunshine.”

“Captain.”

He held out his varsity jacket, voice low and steady, “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his gesture. “What?”

Seungcheol chuckles, “I’m offering you my jacket, sunshine. You’re freezing.”

“I’m okay, Seungcheol. I’ll live.”

He raised a brow, “_, even I can see that you’re clearly shaking from the cold.”

He’s not wrong. The heater wasn’t doing much to warm you up and you could practically feel the cold seep into your bones. Before you could reject him a second time, he had already draped his jacket over your shoulders. The warmth hit in an instant – the jacket soft, heavy and carried a faint scent that was him. Behind him, you hear several ‘ooohs’ and ‘awws’ from the others.

“Feel better?” He asks quietly, knuckles making contact with the side of your neck as he brushes your hair to the side.

You swallowed, “A lil..”

He smiles, taking a seat next to you but with enough distance so he doesn’t crowd into your personal space. “Won’t you need it?” You asked. The Captain simply shakes his head, “Nope. I’ll live without it.”

You snort, “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s because I need you on the sidelines,” he teased. “If you catch a cold, whose chants am I supposed to listen to? I might start missing passes and pissing the whole team off.”

You rolled your eyes, though a soft smile tugged at your lips. “So now your entire performance depends solely on me?”

“Kinda, yea.”

You huff, tugging at the jacket to wrap it tighter around you. It was definitely one or two sizes larger, engulfing your body in warmth – though some of it wasn’t actually from the piece of clothing. Seungcheol tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, catching you off guard and he’d half expect you to pull away – but you didn’t.

He gives you a small smile, lips parting to say something until one of his teammates yelled from across the room. “Yo, Seungcheol! If you’re done flirting, Coach said to hit the showers so we don’t get sick!”

A chorus of laughter erupted in the auditorium – some of the boys whistled while the cheerleaders had teasing smiles on their lips. The noise mixed with the distant patter of the rain outside, making the whole situation feel a little lighter.

You caught the way a faint flush crept up Seungcheol’s neck before he sighs, turning to give you a sheepish smile. “Well, guess that’s my cue to leave.”

You nodded. “Don’t catch a cold, Captain. Otherwise you won’t hear my cheers.”

He grins at your tease, lingering by your side just a second longer before walking across the room to his teammates.

Your thumbs brush against the fabric of the jacket, trying your best to ignore the stupid flutter in your chest.

📣 Hwa-roes Squad 🤸🏼‍♀️

HoC Yejin: hey there Hwa-roes, Head of Cheer here with some news !! HoC Yejin: our Cheer Coach & the Hwa-rriors’ Coach organised a little squad bonding this weekend for us to well, bond with each other. deets are as follows: Date: XX October - XX October 20XX, Saturday - Sunday Time: 8AM Sat - 3PM Sun Venue: Busan Coastal Beach Planned activities include Balance Exercises Grill Night !! Bonding Bonfire Tug of War And more… 🫦 HoC Yejin: attendance is compulsory unless there’s a valid reason for absence. see yall this weekend !!

The morning air at Cheonghwa’s main parking lot was a little chilly, but definitely noisier than most weekends. The clattering of luggage wheels against the gravel pavement, thumping of duffel bags being loaded onto the bus’ luggage compartments. Some were already on the bus to try and catch a quick nap, others were discussing what food they bought for the Grill Night.

The cheer squad, all wearing their navy warm up jackets, were gathered near the front of the bus as Yejin conducts her usual headcount that reminds the rugby team of a military headcount. Just a few feet behind them were the rugby team loading the rest of the luggages onto the bus.

You arrived a minute later, tote bag hanging off a shoulder with a cup of iced coffee in one hand, a pretty pink luggage in the other. “Morning, Yejin,” you greet with a smile. She checks your name on the clipboard, “Morning, honey,” she greets back, peeking behind you and shoots you a teasing smile.

“Looks like fanboy there is already staring.”

Turning your head to follow her gaze, you make eye contact with Seungcheol. He gives you a small smile, and while you were unsure of how you felt – the corner of your lips lifted to return the smile.

“Cheer squad, anyone missing right now?” Yejin calls out.

“Minjoo went to grab snacks from the vending machine with Jeonghan!” Someone from the rugby team calls out. Coach Song, the rugby team’s coach, glances at his watch. “Better hope those snacks will last the two hour bus-ride.”

On the bus, you managed to find a seat near the middle and slid in, tucking your tote under your legs. Halfway through pulling out your earphones, a familiar voice came from the aisle.

“Hey sunshine, mind if I sit here?”

Seungcheol stands there, a paper bag in one hand while the other holds his water bottle. “Oh– Uh, no,” you said, realising you were staring.

“Thanks.” He slides in, shoulder brushing against your for just a brief second.

You took a sip of your coffee and watched as the campus rolled past when the bus departed. The early sunlight flickers through the windows and you finally take out your earphones, glancing at the paper bag in his lap. He notices and reaches in, pulling out a KitKat bar and offering it to you. “I got a bunch of snacks for the trip. Some healthy, some unhealthy.”

You took the chocolate, chuckling, “I’m not sure I should be having a KitKat for breakfast, Seungcheol.”

He grins, fishing out a sandwich box with the words ‘Egg Mayo’ written on its packaging. “Well, lucky for you, I also got some sandwiches.”

Two thoughts popped in your mind.

First – Wow, this man is well prepared.

Second – Why is that lowkey hot?

Successfully getting your earphones out and plugging them into your phone, the captain leans closer. “What’re you planning to listen to, Sunshine?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” you mutter, “Any suggestions, Captain?"

“Hmm, why don't you give Love Again by Dutch Melrose a try?”

You offered him the left piece of the earbud, “Wanna join?”

He blinked, surprised at your offer. But who was he to pass up on, what he deems, the opportunity of a lifetime. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Mingyu, sitting two rows behind, catches the little interaction and elbows Wonwoo who’s sat next to him. “Would you look at that,” he teases. “Captain’s whipped as hell.”

It was roughly 10AM when the squads arrived at the beachside – the air filled with the scent of seawater and coconut (add a bit of sunscreen into the mix). Several of the boys from the rugby team were helping the cheer girls move their stuff into the beach cabins, some snack stealing going on because Dokyeom claimed while they didn't need to do drills,they certainly were too early for dinner.

Everyone was brainstorming on activities to pass the time until the designated beach activities. That is until – “Guys, I found water guns!”

“Where the hell did you even get these?” Yejin asked. Wonwoo snorts, “Hey, I warned you not to let him wander off when he’s bored.”

The tall giant shoots his signature grin, “Found these and a few more in the duffel bags Coach packed. Let’s have a water gun battle to see who’s the better squad. Winning team gets bragging rights for the rest of the season!”

That’s all it took.

In just minutes, the rugby boys and cheer team split up into “teams”.

You crouched behind one of the benches, peeking over the seat as you pumped your water gun in a random direction, somehow successfully hitting Chan who yelped – “Noona, I didn’t even do anything to you!”

You can’t help but giggle, shouting out an apology while Seungcheol barked out orders like this entire game was a championship match instead of a simple water battle – typical.

You squeal when cold water splashes onto your arm. “Hey! Whoever that was, you better count your days!”

“Would be a dream!”

“Jiwoo, she’s off limits!”

You like this. The chaos that fills the air with laughter. It’s simple and pure, just like how the movies portrait or romanticise college life for cheerleaders and the rugby team.

Rounding a tree for cover, you collided with someone else who had the same idea. You squeak and a strong arm caught you by your waist before you could fall on your butt. Looking up, there stood Seungcheol in all his glory.

His shirt was drenched and clinging to his chest, droplets of water ran down his neck and Gods, if you didn’t have some form of self control, you’d probably jump him.

He looked just as surprised as you were – but it only lasted a second before that infuriating smug grin of his spread on his lips. “Didn’t think I’d find you here, sunshine.”

You huffed, trying to play it cool. Trying to act like your heart didn’t do that stupid flutter. “This is a water gun battle, Captain. You’re supposed to be fighting, not flirting.”

Seungcheol chuckles, “Who says I can’t do both?”

Before you can come up with a comeback, the captain lifted his water gun and fired at you at close range. The stream hit your shoulder, the water cold enough to make you gasp at the sensation.

“Choi Seungcheol!”

He laughs, dodging the spray of water you fired in return. You chased after him across the beach, trying both your best to not trip over your steps, shouting half-formed threats in between laughter. The rest of the squad had fallen into a similar form of chaos – Jihoon was wrestling Mingyu for some waterballoons, some of the cheer squad had formed a barricade with one of the picnic tables and Yejin was chasing after Joshua for a spare water gun.

You finally caught up to Seungcheol near one of the beach cabins, both of you panting, soaked, but still fiercely competitive.

“Okay, okay,” he said between breaths, “You’re a tough one, Sunshine.”

He extends a hand towards you, “Truce?”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicions high. “You’re a Leo who’s fiercely competitive. You don’t do truces.”

He smirks, “Maybe I make an exception for a certain cheerleader whose smile reminds me of the rays of sun.”

You hesitated, but decided to trust him. “Fine. Truce.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his water gun. “See? We can work together afterall.”

Just as you lowered your gun, you felt a stream of water his you right in the chest.

You blinked. “You–!”

He was already laughing, running away with his hands raised in the air as you chased after him. “You should know better than to trust the enemy who is also a competitive Leo, _!”

“You are so dead, Choi Seungcheol!”

Whoever said the sunsets look even more gorgeous at the beach was right. The sky was a blend of soft pink, purple, and orange. Whatever team bonding or rivalry was done for the day and everyone settled into a new routine with the rhythmic rolls of the ocean waves in the background.

Several of the rugby boys moved the grills a little further from the campsite, but not too close to the tides so they could enjoy both sides without compromising too much.

Yejin claps her hands together, “Alright! Cheer squad on sides. Rugby boys on grilling.”

“Try not to poison us with the grill,” Minjoo teases.

“Excuse me,” Mingyu scoffs. “We know how to cook. In fact, we’re excellent cooks!”

“Seungcheol had to search up how to cut an onion last time,” Yejin snorted.

“Hey!” Seungcheol called out from the grill, raising the tongs at the cheerleader. “That was one time!”

Moments go by and you’ve decided to hover nearby Seungcheol’s grilling station, watching his actions curiously. The sizzling sounded promising, but the smell… not really. “I don’t think they’re supposed to smell like that, Captain.”

Seungcheol frowned, “It’s fine, sunshine. They’re on a grill.”

He lifted a skewer and is rendered speechless when one side is visibly blackened. You tilted your head to the side, “Define… fine.”

Mingyu picks up another skewer, waving it in front of the captain's face. “I think it's fighting back, hyung.”

Seungcheol glares at him, “Go and see if the cheerleaders need help with the sides, Gyu.”

The giant raises his hands in surrender, walking away with a shit eating grin that makes the captain want to punch it off his face. You stepped closer, "You're flipping them too late, Seungcheol.”

“It's not that bad.”

You raised a brow, “Would you eat them when they look like that?”

He huffed a laugh and stepped aside to make room for you. “Alright, ___. Show me how to not turn dinner into… charcoal.”

You sprinkled some water onto the grill to lower the heat and spread out the skewers while the captain observed quietly, secretly impressed. “Didn't think you'd be the type to be good with grills, sunshine.”

“Went on several camping trips with my family and had my dad teach me some tricks.”

“So you're an outdoors girl, eh?”

“Only if food isn't about to be burnt and I'm not shoved deep into a forest.”

Seungcheol didn't think he'd be more attracted to you, but here he is – whipped because his little cheerleader crush enjoys the great outdoors.

Food was finally ready by the time the sky darkened and stars started blinking in one by one. Everyone gathered around the grill and bench table with paper plates and plastic cups. “Remember to throw your trash in the bags, team!” Minghao called out, “If I see anyone littering, you will get an ass whooping!”

Jihoon takes a seat next to you on one of the driftwood logs. “So… ___, right?”

You turn to him, “Depends on who's asking.”

“The Flanker.“

You shift and he chuckles, “Don't worry, I'm not here with ill intentions. Just curious about the girl that's got the captain so down bad.”

You snort, “Oh, please. You say that like it's something serious.”

He chuckles, taking a sip from his red plastic cup before replying. “Well, I did grow up with him so it's safe to say that I know when something's up. Cheol is… I guess you can say he's not the type to fall for people. If I remember correctly, he's had two ex-girlfriends but he didn't really like them as much as they did to him.”

“Why did he get together with them, then?”

Jihoon's lips twitch into a smirk. “Curious, arent'cha?”

You narrowed your eyes and he shrugged. “He likes them enough to be with them, but relationships aren't exactly a priority to him. During his first year, when we just enrolled, it was studies and the girl was more of a party animal which did kinda turn him off.”

You raised a brow. “I thought you jocks like going to parties. Alcohol, hook-ups, weed–”

“Okay, maybe some of them do. But, Seungcheol is more like… He's there to keep an eye on us, y'know? Gotta make sure his boys don't end up too deep in trouble.”

You hum in understanding. Maybe not all jocks are hormonal party animals, you thought.

“In second year, when he got accepted into the rugby team, his priorities became study and rugby. It was a little hard for him to balance those two while maintaining a relationship so, yeah.”

“And you think that this time it'll be different because I'm a cheerleader?”

Jihoon snorts. “Please, if you're thinking of that stereotypical jock and cheerleader trope, you can abandon it. I think it'll be different because you check out at most eighty percent of whatever his ideal type is.”

“And that is?”

“Passionte about what you love. Independent. You talk back or challenge him in a sense, and trust me when I say that shit turns him the fuck on.”

“Excuse me?”

He smirks, “You'll find out sooner or later. That is if you give him the chance. Kink aside, you also prioritise your studies.”

A beat of silence before he nudges your arm, “But, you didn’t hear it from me. Anyways, I gotta bounce because I can feel Cheol staring daggers at me. I'm not saying all these things to persuade you into accepting him as a boyfriend if he does decide to tell you. Think of it as me vouching for some kind of long-term investment that will benefit you both.”

“Nice business talk, Jihoon.”

“Hey, I'm a Finance major. Gotta know how to talk business.”

Both teams gathered around a bonfire after dinner. Joshua strummed the chords of the guitar while Dokyeom sang a random line from one of Mariah Carey's songs. You and Yejin passed around some marshmallows while someone yelled out, “Alright, time for a game of Truth or Dare!”

“I got a good one!” One of the cheerleaders announced. Pointing at Seungcheol, she asks him to pick. Being the Leo that he is, the captain chose Dare. The cheerleader grins, “Sit next to someone you'd like to get to know better.”

For a moment, he hesitated.

You felt his gaze on you even as your gaze was focused on the fire, watching the sparks rise and disappear. The silence was torturous to the group, but their gaze soon followed his and landed on you. Mingyu nudges him, “You buffering, Captain?”

Seungcheol cleared his throat, his neck turning a light shade of red. He moves to sit next to you and the teasing was immediate

“OHH–”

Seungcheol glares at his team, “Shut your mouths before I make you lot run laps tomorrow morning.”

The cabin lights flickered on one-by-one as everyone retreated for the night.

In your cabin, Yejin is quick to start the conversation as soon as she kicks off her sandals and plops onto her bed. “So, are we going to talk about it or pretend it didn't happen?”

All eyes were on you.

You blinked, “Talk about..?”

Another girl turned her head, mid-way putting on her face mask. “Don't play dumb, ___. Obviously about Choi Seungcheol.”

The cabin erupts into a chorus of hums and giggles. You groaned, “Come on, girls. What's there to talk about?”

“Um, have you forgotten the incident where he lent you his jacket when it rained a few weeks ago?”

“How he sat next to you for the dare?”

“Not to mention the way he kept looking at you whenever you laughed. Like, constantly.”

You rolled your eyes, braiding your hair for sleep while also hoping the somewhat dim lighting managed to hide the warmth creeping up your neck. ”It doesn't mean anything. He's just being nice.”

Yejin snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right, nice. Last I remembered, the only people who got this level of ‘niceness’ were those girls he dated. And based on my observations, there's a difference when it comes to him being nice in general and down so bad I need this girl to be mine kind of nice.”

You don't respond – partially because you had no idea on how to respond to that. Even if you were to respond, what were you supposed to say? That for some odd reason, you kind of liked the way he hovered around you without it feeling like he was invading your personal space? That occasionally your heart would flutter at the thought of giving him a chance?

Noticing your lack of response, Yejin diverts the topic – not wanting to pry even though she wanted to.

Eventually, the voices softened. Someone had fallen asleep mid-scroll, the dim light of their phone lighting up their face before blacking out. Another cheerleader muttered something in her sleep before rolling over, snoring softly. One by one, the girls in your cabin settled into sleep – except you.

You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling with the sound of waves rhythmically crashing against the shore playing in the background. Your mind replays several instances of Seungcheol essentially pining after you. While you try to convince yourself that it meant nothing, you begin to doubt your thoughts too.

That doesn't really answer a lot though – why you?

Out of all the cheerleaders, out of all the girls – why specifically you?

You shifted carefully, careful to not wake either of the girls as you slipped out the cabin. Walking along the shoreline, you let the tide roll onto the cool sand and occasionally soak your feet. It was peaceful and the view was breathtaking, bringing you a sense of peace.

You stop when you feel someone behind you. Turning around, you're face-to-face with Seungcheol.

“Creeping up on me now, Captain?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “I view it more as me making sure you don't get hurt out here, sunshine.”

“By walking at a very questionable distance behind me?”

“Touche.”

You let him come up to stand next to you, watching the silver painted ocean while the gentle breeze blows in your faces. “Guess I'm not the only one that can’t sleep tonight,” he starts. “Penny for your thoughts?”

For a second, you had an internal debate. Do you ask him about his feelings? Or should you just… play dumb and act like nothing is going on?

The words slipped through your lips before you could stop them.

“Do you like me?”

The captain blinks, clearly caught off guard. His lips part, then shuts; and opens again. For a second, you wonder if you had maybe read too much into it – that maybe Yejin and Jihoon also read too much into his actions. But, he lets out a quiet huff. “Should've known Jihoon said something to you when he sat next to you.”

“Yejin said some things too,” you added.

“Of course she did.”

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, looking up at the stars. “They're not wrong, though. I do like you. Like, like like you. As in, I want you to be my girlfriend kind of like.”

You stare at him, taking in the way he looks right now. The moonlight softened his usual sharp features, stripping away any roughness that's usually seen on the field. Right now, he just looks… gentle. Soft. Like he just belongs to the calmness of the night.

“But… Why?”

He looks at you,”Do I really need a reason to like you, sunshine?”

“Um… In this day and age, clearly. How can I be sure you aren't those jocks that tell cheerleaders they like them to get up their skirts?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah… The media and how some of the boys act aren’t really helping my case, huh?” Sighing, he turns to look at you – really look at you. What caught your breath was the look in his eyes.

Genuine. Full of emotions.

“Look, I just… I don’t want you to look at me and think I’m like that,” he starts. “How jocks, athletes and captains are all the same. I get it, y’know. A few bad apples s’all it takes to ruin the bunch, but I don’t want you thinking I’m just another version.”

“Another version of what, Seungcheol?”

“That I don’t mean what I say. That I thrive off of attention, which while is true, doesn’t apply to… romantic interests. I don’t want you thinking that I’m doing all this just to get up your skirt and leave.”

A breeze picked up and a shiver shot up your spine. The word slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away, tearing his gaze away from you to look at the dark ocean. “I do things with intent, sunshine. Sure, you could look at what I’m doing right now like I’m trying to increase my chances of sleeping with you; but that’s not my intention. You… You kind of… expect the worst from people, which I don’t blame you for. But I don’t want to be that.”

You swallowed, “You don’t know me that well.”

“And I want to.”

Silence followed – the air charged with something and the ocean kept lapping at the shore.

“I don’t offer my trust to just anyone. Especially when that trust involves my feelings.”

He waited for a ‘But’ that never came. It was evident to the rugby captain that chasing after this little cheerleader would be a challenge.

Luckily, he’s never one to back down.

After a while, he stood. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s probably going to be even hectic before we head back to campus.” He offers you his hand, and you hesitated for several seconds before taking it.

“Yeah… Yeah, we should,” you mumbled.

He gently helped you up and only let go when you were steady.

“Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, captain.”

Several weeks have passed since that night by the beach.

There was no drastic change in the way Seungcheol interacts with you, but he has been acting more… thoughtful? Considerate? You weren’t even sure what word to use. Sure, your routine in Cheonghwa is pretty much the same – it’s just that now you’re seen with a particular rugby captain more often.

How it started?

Well, let’s just say that Seungcheol has taken it upon himself to walk you home.

It started off unintentionally, or at least that’s what you both have been telling yourselves.

Practice ran later than expected one evening. By the time you had finished stuffing your pompoms into your duffel and zipped up your hoodie to hide the cheer uniform, the field light flickered to life. You sigh, slinging the bag over your shoulder and begin to walk across the field towards the gates.

You were about halfway there when you heard quick footsteps catching up to you.

“If you’re thinking of jumping me–”

“Whoa there, sunshine.”

Seungcheol had his hands raised in mock surrender, his own duffel hanging over his shoulder. “I’m not a threat.”

“Count yourself lucky I didn’t have my pepper spray in hand, captain,” you retort. “Could’ve blinded the star player before his Friday game.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Honest. I just… Well, your studio is in the same direction as mine so…”

The jock almost wants to kick himself at how bad he’s failing in trying to act and sound non-chalant.

“Are you offering to walk me home, Seungcheol?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

From that night on, it became part of your routine if practice ran on longer than usual. He’d catch up to you without a word, his pace adjusting to match yours almost immediately. After the first three times, Seungcheol’s even took it upon himself to carry your duffel bag for you – letting it hang over his own shoulder. You’ve tried to protest several times, technically every time, but he just shrugs it off.

“I want to do this, sunshine. Let me, alright?”

The walks with him were comforting, easy even. The conversations you both had never felt forced. It just came naturally – he’d ask about your routines, you’d ask about his pre-game ‘rituals’. Sometimes he’d even ask you about your classes, which subject made you nervous or which lecturer needed to be better at their job. Whenever you complained, he’d always make sure your feelings were valid.

When you talked about pressure and expectations, he shared some of his own experiences. How while he loved being captain, it was still a role he wasn’t expecting to receive.

“I always thought it’d be either Wonwoo or Jihoon to be honest,” he chuckled. “They’re both more… strategic.”

He goes on about how there were days he wishes he wasn’t captain – that the weight of leadership was heavy, especially when everyone expects you to have all the answers when you were figuring things out too.

Whenever you reach the lobby of your studio, he’d always make sure you walked through those gates. He never insisted that he followed you up to your studio in case it was crossing a line.

“Text me when you’re inside,” he would say, every time.

And every single time, you would.

What you didn’t know was that he’d only leave the lobby if he got that text. On the days you’d forget or were too tired to, he’d linger around for about ten minutes before leaving.

seungcheol 🏉: hey sunshine seungcheol 🏉: u up? seungcheol 🏉: kinda need hlp with some stuff sunshine ☀️: it’s 12am captain sunshine ☀️: what help could u possibly need? seungcheol 🏉: can i call u?

At first you thought he just needed to jog up his memory from previous classes – ones he’s taken before but had forgotten, and since you were both in the same course, it’d only make sense for him to do so. It was just two students helping each other with their grades, until you remembered he’s made the Dean’s List the past two years.

“You don’t actually need help, do you?” You asked over the phone.

Seungcheol lets out a laugh, one that’s warm and sheepish – like he’s been caught red-handed. “Okay, you got me. I don’t really need help with my studies.”

“Then why the calls?”

A pause.

It wasn’t the awkward kind, but you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully.

Then, he sighs. “Look, sunshine. I… I really like hearing your voice. I think it’s cute and admirable that you’re trying to explain something that you haven’t learnt, but still did it because you wanted to help me. And… Well, I like you.”

“You know I don’t trust anyone with my feelings, captain,” you reminded him. “Especially jocks.”

“I know,” he mutters. “I know you’re… scared of something, and I know my… courting methods probably aren’t making it any better. But, that doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying to earn your trust.”

His words had your fingers tightening around your phone. He wasn’t begging nor was he making a promise that’s too big to deliver.

He was just being honest.

Those calls stretched longer as time went on. Sometimes it’s about classes and exams; other times it’s just him indirectly getting to know you a little better. He’d ask you about your favourite colour, your childhood memories – sometimes he’d manage to get you to open up just enough where you’d say things you rarely said out loud.

Then, there were nights when exhaustion wins over you and you’d fall asleep mid-sentence.

Seungcheol never tried to wake you up.

He doesn’t hang up immediately either. He just listens to your steady, quiet breathing for a few minutes before he does hang up.

Like he’s making a silent promise to stay with you even when there are days where the world feels too heavy, where you’re too tired to speak.

One afternoon, right after practice, Yejin approaches you in the locker room. She leans against one of the mirrors, arms crossed when she says very matter-of-factly, “Seungcheol’s in love with you.”

You scoffed, “He’s not.”

“___, he carries your bag.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I heard he’s been calling you at night, too.”

“Studies.”

Yejin raised a brow.

You pursed your lips together, realising how weak that argument was. “Okay, fine – I’ll let you have that one…”

Another girl chimed in softly, “I’m gonna be honest, girl, he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the room. Anyone would kill to have that kind of attention from him.”

Your words came out harsher than intended, “That’s the problem.”

The silence that followed was heavy. You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Everyone wants his attention. Everyone wants him. Sure, he says all these sweet words and pays attention to me now; but jocks are all the same. They’ll get bored, ‘busy’, or maybe someone else will come along and then suddenly, you’re just… an afterthought to them.”

Yejin sighs, “Seungcheol isn’t like that, _.”

“How do you know for sure he isn’t like that?”

Tense silence fell over the locker room once again.

Against your paranoia or overthinking self, part of you wants to believe what Yejin is saying about Seungcheol. Hell, you want to believe the captain is genuine, too – especially with how his unspoken confession was seen everywhere.

In the way his knuckles brushed yours when he walked you home.

In the way he searches for you after winning every game with that stupid grin.

In the way his gaze softened whenever it met yours.

To the cheer and rugby squad, it was obvious that Choi Seungcheol’s feelings and intentions were pure even if you didn’t want to admit it.

And that terrifies you.

Seungcheol finds you sitting on one of the bleachers later that evening, lost in your own thoughts. He takes a seat next to you, maintaining a small; yet respectable distance between you both. The kind that tells you he’ll give you space, but if you need a shoulder to cry on, he’s just within reach.

“Yejin came to me to have a little chat,” he said carefully.

He hears you suck in a sharp breath. Turning to look at you, he studies your face. “She didn’t say anything bad about you, don’t worry. Just said that based on her observations or conversation from earlier, you have some… trust issues.”

He lets his words hang in the air for a moment.

“I’m not here to corner you, sunshine. I’m not here to force answers out of you too. I just… I want you to know that whatever it is you’re carrying, I’m not offended nor am I afraid of it.”

You let out a slow breath, though it trembled just a little. “It’s not you. I’m just… not good at trusting people without being reminded that there are consequences.”

He nods. “People don’t build walls without reason.”

He nudges you a little with his elbow, “I’m patient too, y’know.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Again, my feelings or actions aren’t temporary, sunshine. I really mean it when I say I want to be a part of your life. Highs and lows. Pretty and ugly. All of it.”

You desperately wanted to believe him, but the fear won’t let you.

“I’m not going to forcefully tear down your walls. I just… I want you to know that I’m willing to stand by your side. If you’ll have me.”

You slowly turn to meet his gaze. The longing and devotion in them were loud. They were telling you that he’s already chosen you.

You should’ve told him to leave. Tell him you wanted him to stop this pursuit quest he’s set his mind on.

But, you don’t.

taglist;

it's really been a while since i came back on this blog to actually say or post something really. even writing this now feels... foreign... but, i'm sure some of you have been wondering where i've been and without diving into too much details, the best way i can put it is --

2025 was not my year. from the start up to the very end, even bleeding a little into the start of 2026

some time towards the middle of 2025, my mental state was slowly slipping & was honestly really just held together by a frayed thread that's been duct taped together over & over & over... just when i thought things were looking up for me, it somehow manages to just be worse than the last 🫠

i'm not one to be open about my mental struggles, but i figured everyone who's been a dedicated reader of my blog; even the ones that are new, deserve some form of transparency regarding my sudden drop off of the face of the earth.

as much as i wanted to write my fics & post them out, i knew i couldn't put out something half assed with the excuse of -- "i wasn't doing well". you all deserve something better, or at least something of quality -- or maybe that's just my perfectionism talking. still, the state my mental health was in at the time really did get in the way of my writing.

i was rewriting paragraphs.

i was stressed about deadlines.

i was drowning in so much.

eventually, i just... went & reconnected with nature (fancy way of saying i went to touch grass, i know) & believe it or not, myself.

within that grass touching period, i remembered what it was like to do or create something out of love, out of passion. that the reason i write these fics was because i love writing, and i love it even more when people enjoy my writing.

and thus, i'm returning after like... i don't even know, like 8 months??

a fic is coming up, but for my mental well-being, i won't set an actual date. all i can say is that it will be coming out some time this month, march 2026.

hope you're all looking forward to it.

and i hope you still remember me-

and also hope you'll continue to support me ♡

This offer is subject to your acceptance and the signing of the attached employment contract. Please review it carefully, and kindly revert a signed copy if you agree to the terms by July 18th 20XX.

We are excited to have you join our team in a full-time capacity and look forward to supporting your continued growth and success at DINO & CO EVENTS.

Should you have any questions or require further clarification, do not hesitate to reach out to us.

Warm regards, Boo Seungkwan PA to Lee Chan (Surprisingly the brain behind the Dino madness) 📞+82 12 345 6789 | 📧[email protected] DINO & CO. Events 🌐www.dinoncoevents.com We make the magic happen, and the party roar ✨

“Truthfully, I have no idea why you’ve accepted this role,” Seungkwan snorts as he walks you through a tour of the office. “Chan’s… He’s a sucker for details and he absolutely hates it when clients want to change shit last minute.”

You shrugged, “Can’t be worse than your groupmates bailing on you on the day of presentation without a heads-up or script.”

Seungkwan pauses mid-step, shooting you a look, “Oh, ____, it’s so much worse.”

You laugh, unsure if he’s joking or being painfully honest – but knowing him, it’s probably both.

The office still feels familiar to you. Same desks. Same chaotic bulletin board full of post-its, printouts and marker notes. Whatever stress or pain from their last event still lingers in the air. To best describe the feeling, it’s like slipping into an old hoodie of yours – wrinkled and a little worn out, but still gives you comfort.

Hell, the exact same pink hoodie was what kept you together during your internship when you had to bring work home to chase deadlines that were delayed.

“Still can’t believe I’m back here…” you murmur, mostly to yourself, but your senior hears it.

“Believe me, no one can.” He pushes open the glass door to the planning department. “When Hansol told Chan they were bringing back one of our interns to fill my role, he was one second away from going ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ until he said it was you.”

Your brows lifted in surprise, “He remembered me?”

Seungkwan hums, leading you toward your soon-to-be desk. “Duh. You’re the only intern who actually made it through a full event cycle without quitting or crying. That fashion expo a few months back? He’s still impressed you did the entire run-through on my behalf while I was dying from food poisoning.”

You cringe at the memory, “Please don’t remind me. Chan didn’t even look up from his iPad!”

“___,” he deadpans. “That’s how you know he liked you. If he didn’t, he’d start grilling you as to why the post-event report didn’t get sent to his inbox the very same day.”

You take a slow breath and glance around. There’s paperwork everywhere, whiteboard covered with crossed-out datelines with scribbled dates, tired staff tapping away on their laptops. Chaos lives within this company, but somehow, you feel weirdly comfortable.

“So… I heard you handed in your notice.”

Seungkwan turns to you.

You shifted, “Why and how long?”

He gives you a solemn smile. “An old friend of mine, Dokyeom, reached out and offered me a short gig as an emcee for one of his events. Let’s just say… that gig sorta ignited my long snuffed out love for being an entertainer or y’know, a menace with a mic.”

You snort, “So you’re leaving this chaos to cause more chaos on stage?”

“Precisely,” he grins. “Never realised how much I missed it until I was back up there. The lights, the crowd… It’s like I remembered who I was before selling my soul for a more secure future, only to be met with near impossible deadlines and vendor tantrums.”

You lean against the edge of a desk, “Sounds like a midlife crisis, but for thirty-somethongs.”

Seungkwan places a hand over his chest with mock offense. “Excuse you, I’m not that old.”

“Seungkwan, no offense but you’re older than Chan. Like, thirty-five? Thirty-six?”

“Chan’s thirty-three, I’m thirty-four. And you’re..?”

“Twenty-four.”

He blinks, “Jesus… And it’s called a quarter-life awakening, thank you very much.”

“How much ‘til you’re out of here?”

“Two weeks. Probably enough time to brain-dump everything into that pretty head of yours and hopefully you’ll survive your first proper event with the boss-man without any seniors or supervisors watching over you.”

Your head snapped towards him. “What?”

He waves at you, “Oh, relax. You’ve dealt with worse. Remember that influencer bride who decided to change her whole wedding theme the night before?”

You cringe. “Lavender to gold. And she wanted peacocks, Seungkwan. Live peacocks and a literal Labubu bouquet.”

Seungkwan shudders. “Traumatic. But also why you’re chosen. You were… calm in the face of absolute nonsense, and you’re absolutely competent. Chan loves that.”

You drum your fingers against the wooden surface, “So this is you passing the torch?”

He grins, “More like throwing it in your lap and saying ‘Good luck’. But I trust and believe that you’ll do great!”

He pauses before adding, quieter this time. “Chan’s got a hard shell, and he has this air of aloof to him, but don’t let it get to you. I’ve been with Chan since his early days of starting this company and once you crack that shell, he’s… actually nice to be around. Just keep doing what you’re good at and he’ll come around.”

“Or..?”

“Or he’ll grumble about it in a Google Doc no one reads.”

You let out a laugh and Seungkwan smiles. “You’re like… a strange ray of sunshine in this office, ___. I’d say you have what it takes to deal with Chan.”

“Two weeks…” you echo.

“Let’s make ‘em count!”

You still remember Chan’s words on your first day.

“Keep things professional. I don’t do small talk or distractions.”

He didn’t even look up from his screen when he said it. He just kept typing away on his monitor as the blue lights painted sharp edges on his face. His tone was cold and that alone should’ve been your cue to back off.

Most people did.

But, you weren’t most people.

The air in which Chan carries himself intimidates you in a way that also intrigues you. Because to you, something about the way he said distractions sounded personal. Like he was talking to himself more than he was talking to you.

Now, 3 months in, you were practically the company’s golden child. During a chaotic gala lunch in ShangHai, it was revealed that one of their backdrops came broken. You managed to find a replacement and had it installed in three hours.

A beachside wedding that was in the middle of a monsoon season and should’ve never been accepted but did anyway because the bride was an old client’s niece? You handled it – messy hair and preventing things from blowing away, and all.

You were no longer just the intern who stayed.

You were the one handling things.

The team trusts you now, some even looking to you before they approach Chan. Of course, there were some… sexist comments being thrown around. Several of the male employees felt inferior as to having a female colleague surpass them.

You heard it one afternoon thanks to a poorly timed entry into the pantry.

“Bet she slept her way into that position… Chan wouldn’t hire her otherwise.”

You gave him a look, firing back with calm, cutting, “Careful, Mr Park. With words like those, I might start thinking you’re projecting.”

The room went quiet. You grabbed yourself a cup of freshly made tea before continuing, “Is that what you tell people or yourself when a woman outpaces you?”

The smirk from his face vanishes before he can even cover it. You didn’t yell nor curse, but the unimpressed look says it all.

You left without a second glance. You didn’t need to defend your work.

It spoke for itself.

Three successful back-to-back events, zero client complaints, and a CEO who – notoriously known for being impossible to please – has stopped double-checking your timelines and started directing client negotiations to you.

But that doesn’t stop moments like these from happening. The whispers in the hallways, the lingering looks you get when you step out of Chan’s office with his feedback in hand.

Sure, you were young; but you were competent, and you didn’t flirt to get what you wanted. For some people, that was threatening enough.

To you, though? It meant that you were doing your job a little too well for people to be comfortable.

Later that same day, Chan noticed the tension. He doesn’t directly ask about it – he’s not the kind to get involved in gossip, but he noticed the change in your demeanor when he called you in to review the venue list for next quarter.

“You’re quiet today, ___.”

You don’t look up from your notebook, “Just tired.”

He studied your body language – how your shoulders were tense, the grip you had on your pen a little tighter than necessary.

Then, without looking up from his screen, “If anyone’s making the work environment uncomfortable for you, you let me know.”

His tone was sharp and low. “I do not tolerate people turning the office into their little high school gossip ring.”

You blinked. Sure, his eyes were glued on his screen, but there was no performative softness in his words. No CEO-to-subordinate pretense.

That was when you came to notice the subtle way Chan stood up for people. He doesn’t do it loud or obvious, but you could feel it.

Next were the unspoken acknowledgements and/or encouragements.

Every morning there’d be a cup of coffee at your desk. Not just any coffee, it was your exact order – vanilla latte with a pump of honey, less sugar. There was no note, no explanation. Just a coffee drink, exactly the way you like it.

A shoulder tap during a venue inspection when you’re two steps away from saying something you’d regret to a passive-aggressive florist who insists that purple wrapping goes well with a purple bouquet.

The most shocking of all? He let you pitch to a client without him present. Trusted you 100% with the whole thing.

You too came to learn to read the man.

The way he taps his pen when he’s anxious about a particularly large scale event. The way his brows furrow together when he’s trying to re-do a brief. The way he calls out to you in that sharp, but gentle tone, for when he needs you before he says something that could lose a client.

You both fall into a rhythm. Sure, it was tense, but it felt… strangely familiar.

Today as you’re wrapping up the final preparations for another high-profile conference, Chan steps into the room quietly, scanning the layout with those critical dark brown orbs, hidden behind a pair of silver frames that perch perfectly on his nosebridge.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just walks while making those tiny mental notes you’ve come to anticipate. Then, he nudges a vase just a little over to the right on one of the tables. “You missed a spot.”

You snort, “Oh no. The world is ending.”

He shoots you a look, unimpressed. But then, you notice the corner of his mouth twitching ever so faintly that you could’ve missed it. It was the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him.

And you realise – Lee Chan does do small talk. He’s just selective on who he has it with.

You aren’t exactly as naive as people make you out to be. You know exactly what people think when they see you side by side with Chan.

A young woman working closely with a man like him? With all sorts of access and the kind of influence that could change industry trends if he wanted to?

There’s only two stories people choose to believe. Either you’re sleeping with him, or you’re in love with him.

The truth is far less romantic, and way far off what they spread.

Truth is you Chan. And he understands you.

And apparently, that is harder to believe than anything else.

A year into your employment, Chan has come to learn 2 things:

You’re terrifyingly good at your job.

People hate that you are.

He never intended to play favourites, Hell, he never wanted to rely on anyone the way he does with you.

But to Chan, competence is rare.

Trust? Even rarer.

So when someone consistently shows up before he even asks, thinks at least five steps ahead and has countless backup plans? It becomes impossible not to notice.

You don’t panic during a crisis, at least not outwardly. And in the silence of after office hours, when the company lights dim and the air stills; when he thinks he’s the only one left in the building – he hears your pen scratching across your notebook just outside his office door.

He doesn’t tell you he appreciates the things you do for the company.

He doesn’t tell you most of the gratitude he’s felt towards you.

Yet whatever he does say, someone always finds a way to twist it.

The rumours began quietly, like they always do. A whisper. A laugh. A snide remark disguised as a joke.

“Boss’ favourite.”

“Can you believe her reports get fast-tracked? I have to do at least 5 revisions on mine!”

“C’mon, she’s got to be sleeping with him. Why else would he let her get that close?”

The first time Chan heard these rumours were outside the restroom. Two junior executives decided to not only assume you were sleeping with him, but that if you’d let them, they’d and he quotes, “Would hit that ass in front of the entire office in a heartbeat”. The way their faces paled when he stepped out would’ve been funny had it not been so pathetic.

Chan doesn’t care about perception, he used to, but not anymore. But he knows you do.

He sees it in the way you sit straighter during briefings. How you wear your earbuds more often at your desk. How your lunch breaks got shorter, you enter the pantry less frequently – opting to create your own little snack stash in your drawer.

He can feel your anger, your exhaustion. But more than that, he knows you’re hurt.

Because it wasn’t fair.

You didn’t ask for this dynamic nor did you ever try to manipulate it. If anything, you’ve respected Chan’s words of keeping things professional. Blurred lines don’t interest him, and it surely didn’t interest you too. What you were both interested in was work – keeping the business afloat.

Chan still remembers the first time you said no to him.

“With all due respect, Chan,” you said, gesturing to a vendor proposal. “This is a bad move and you know it. You’re making this decision out of frustration instead of logic.”

You’ve earned his trust not through loyalty, but through truth.

That’s what made them talk.

Because they can’t understand why he listens to you; why he lets you lead when he wouldn’t let those in senior positions to. They don’t know why or how you’ve become the person he trusts the most since Seungkwan.

“Do you hear them?”

You both were working late for an upcoming last minute event – Hong Jisoo, Health Minister and an old friend of Chan’s reached out in hopes of being able to plan his daughter’s 10th birthday. Despite it being last minute, Chan valued the years he’s spent with the minister and agreed without much hesitation.

Your question was unrelated, but he knew what you were referring to.

“I don’t acknowledge baseless rumours born out of jealousy.”

You sigh, “That’s easy for you to say.”

Chan wanted to argue but he stopped. Not because he didn’t think it was worth his time, but because you were right.

The armour he wears had taken years to build, same goes for the immunity of his title. Plus, you were the one they’re talking about. You were the one they’re isolating.

“It goes against the principles I’ve built this company on.”

There wasn’t any softness nor sympathy in his tone, just truthfulness. He sets down his pen, “I do not tolerate workplace bullying or harassment of any sorts, ___. However, I’m worried that my words or involvement will reinforce the narrative.”

He expects you to snap at him, to tell him that by doing nothing, he’s essentially indirectly enabling their behaviour.

But you don’t. You just resumed your Pinterest scrolling to put together a moodboard for the child’s birthday.

And for the first time in Chan’s entire life, the silence terrified him more than yelling ever could.

The next morning, you find a box on your desk. 

There were no ribbons, no card – just a sleek, matte black rectangular box that hints at its expensive content. It was as if it had been placed there with intention (it was). When you opened it, it revealed several pens – each one engraved with your initials in Serif font.

You know who left them there. Nobody else would reach the office this early besides the CEO himself. You don’t thank him, he doesn’t expect you to. But when you place the pen down during a meeting with the minister to discuss the details of his daughter’s birthday party, you feel Chan’s eyes lingering on the stationery longer than necessary.

Chan had a difficult time falling asleep that night. He doesn’t know why but the thought of you being isolated on purpose because of his trust in you angered him beyond his belief.

outperforming adults

chan 🦦: you guys still up? horanghae 🐯: 👀👀👀 horanghae 🐯: ohohohohoho horanghae 🐯: chan seeking advice? chan 🦦: what makes you think im seeking advice? minghao 🐸: call it a feeling we have minghao 🐸: so minghao 🐸: whats up chan 🦦: the PA horanghae 🐯: CALLED IT horanghae 🐯: YALL OWE ME 100 BUCKS EACH chan 🦦: wtf moonjun 😺: we all made a bet that you’d inevitably fall in love with your PA chan 🦦: what chan 🦦: why???? chan 🦦: she’s just my PA???? horanghae 🐯: that’s what they all say horanghae 🐯: and that’s how they all start minghao 🐸: minus that minghao 🐸: ngl chan minghao 🐸: it’s surprising to us that you’re letting her this close to you minghao 🐸: given your closed off nature moonjun 😺: we know it’s something to do with her competence moonjun 😺: and how rare it is for you to find someone just as moonjun 😺: or if not more competent than Seungkwan chan 🦦: wow chan 🦦: you make it sound like Kwan’s the golden standard horanghae 🐯: my dear Chan horanghae 🐯: you literally trust Seungkwan with your life  minghao 🐸: and your schedule moonjun 😺: and your coffee order chan 🦦: well yea chan 🦦: he knows how to deal with bs minghao 🐸: uh huh minghao 🐸: sure moonjun 😺: so moonjun 😺: what happened?? chan 🦦: idk chan 🦦: like ppl are talking down on her chan 🦦: downplaying her competency chan 🦦: and it just angers me that they’re saying this bcs she’s a woman minghao 🐸: that shit is so petty for a bunch of ppl that are years minghao 🐸: or even decades older than her lol moonjun 😺: he’s oddly giving off protective but won’t show it energy lol horanghae 🐯: HE LIKES HERRRRR chan 🦦: i did not say that minghao 🐸: didn’t deny it though moonjun 😺: you are doomed my boy chan 🦦: i hate you all

His friends had a point though. Chan was oddly protective over you – not because you’ve become too important to lose, but you were also too dangerous to keep you so close without any risks.

He thinks about it. About multiple scenarios.

If he were anyone else, he would’ve blurred the line by now.

If you were anyone else, maybe you would’ve let him. You would’ve let him cross that line and dive into a mess that is confident to have dozens of consequences.

Yet a year of working with you had made him realise that you don’t mistake attention or praise for affection nor care. Now, he’s laying in his bed, wondering how long you’ll stay. How much longer of this misogyny you’ll take.

And whether one day, someone else – someone who won’t keep you at an arm’s length or admire you from afar; will see you the way he does.

He also wonders if he’ll hate himself for letting you slip through his fingers.

You think about it from time to time.

About your relationship with Chan.

Of course, you weren’t foolish enough to want to tempt fate, because you know curiosity will kill the cat. Or that it never asks for permission and always opts to just barge into your life without notice.

You knew that if Chan were any other older male with no self-control, he definitely would’ve blurred that line by now. If you were anyone else, you probably would’ve let him. You would’ve leaned into that magnetic pull. Given into that unspoken intrigue he carries behind his measure words and steady gaze.

However, you weren’t anyone else. And he wasn’t just anyone.

Then again, people love drama. They love gossip. Of course they’d whisper behind your back, nitpicking every detail of your work relationship, twisting your competence into something ugly.

The Boss’ Favourite.

It’s comical how people can turn such simple moments into something scandalous. If you were handing him a document, you were ‘flirting’. Staying late to finalise event timelines? ‘Angling for a raise through other means’. Never mind that the reason you were so trusted by the Boss himself was because you were good at your job.

“Woo?”

Wonwoo looks up from his laptop, fingers stopping mid-hover and mid-type. He takes just one glance at you before asking, “What’s bothering you at work?”

Your brows furrow, “What makes you think it’s about work?”

Your brother raises an eyebrow. “___, I’m a trained and licensed therapist.” When he sees your unamused look, he gives you a small chuckle. “Look, I’ve been noticing how… you don’t seem as preppy or cheerful as compared to when you first started or the first day of your internship.”

“Talk to me.”

You cross your arms, shrugging. “I dunno, Woo. It’s just… exhausting, y’know? The whispers, the side eyes… They’re all treating me like I’m some kind of office seductress just because I’m competent and that Chan trusts me.”

Wonwoo leans back in his chair, a rare softness in his eyes. “I’m gonna be honest, babysis. The industry you’re in is unfortunately a predominantly male industry. I’m not saying it to dismiss or invalidate your feelings, but you need to remember that a man’s ego is easily challenged, especially those whose ego is already frail.”

“That doesn’t justify their actions though?”

“I’m not trying to. All I’m saying is, people love to spin stories because it’s easier for them to believe a drama than accepting the simplest of professionalism. I know you’re capable of many things, ___. Don’t let their projection of insecurities and assumptions get to you. You know you’re good, so just keep doing it. You’re stronger than their gossip.”

You give him a small yet grateful smile, “Thanks, Wonwoo. I needed to hear that.”

He smirks, “Hey, anytime. And remember, if they get too loud, you’ve got a licensed therapist on call at your convenience.”

You laugh, chest already feeling lighter. “Good to know.”

And so, you’ve stopped wasting your time on people who want to misunderstand you. You stopped trying to correct the narrative.

Instead, you let your work speak for itself.

Maybe that’s why you continued to stay. Why despite everything – the gossip, the age gap, the weight of Chan’s position against yours; you still chose to stay. Because while the ‘what ifs’ seemed tempting, you also know that whatever it is you both had built, it was built on something far more secure than temptation.

“___, you’ll be traveling with me to Shanghai for a wedding event deal.”

The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, like you both had been traveling together for work a thousands time before – but you hadn’t. He’s only ever asked you to accompany him to dealings within Korea, not out.

Your pen, the exact one he’s given you last year, stalled against your notebook. “Is this an old-time client?”

You glanced up from your desk when you asked the question, meeting his gaze where he stood in the doorway of his office. He had one hand braced against the frame, as though he wasn’t leaving until he got your confirmation of joining him. “No, it’s an old friend of mine. He doesn’t trust anyone else to do his wedding apparently.”

His tone was professional, yet his eyes… There was something about his eyes that made your stomach feel… strangely unsettled.

“When?” you asked.

“Next week,” he answers. “It’ll be a five day trip. I’ll send the itinerary to your inbox.”

It was past 8pm when the hum of the office began to sound like white noise.

The rain outside hadn’t let up either. It had started sometime after 4pm. A soft patter that was barely noticeable but by 6pm, the sound had shifted into a relentless downpour – each droplet smacking against the glass like it was trying to break in.

You glance up from your screen, shoulders stiff from hours of sitting. The clock on the wall said it was 8:30 at night and the rivulets of water race each other down outside the window. Everyone had left the moment the clock hit 6 – you stayed because you needed to finalise the the wedding pitch for the Shanghai client (who you’ve learnt was named Wen Junhui).

The low hum of the AC fills the now empty office space. You stop typing, rubbing at your wrist and flexing your fingers after hours of work. A mug of tea sits on your table, forgotten for at least two hours. You think of reheating it or making a new cup, but you hesitate on whether or not to walk to the pantry.

“You’re still here?”

You turn, startled.

Chan leans against the frame of his office door. He had one hand shoved into the pocket of his slacks, the other carrying his own mug. His tie was loosened, the knot hanging lower than usual and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hair in slightly mussed, probably from running his hands through it multiple times.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Just… finalising the documents.”

His eyes scan your desk, then flick back to yours. “And here I thought I was the last one in the building.” Stepping closer, he adds, “You don’t need to be precise with this one. It’s Junhui and I’ve known him since we were teens; he’ll probably do lots of changes just to fuck with me.”

You let out a small laugh. “Those kinds of friends, huh?”

The building gives a low groan in the wind and somewhere outside, thunder rolls. You wanted to leave after Chan’s comment regarding the pitch, but the storm outside is enough reason to delay. Your boss sets his mug down on the corner of your desk, “Perhaps my workaholic tendencies have rubbed off on you.”

Then, he chuckles. “Not sure if that’s good or bad.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die when the overhead lights flicker.

Once. Twice,

Then everything goes black.

The hum of the air conditioning comes to a halt, the silence growing louder. The only light now comes from the city outside and the light from your laptop screen. “Umm…”

Chan glances up at the lights, then back at you. “Backup generator should kick in soon.”

And it does, though not as effective in lighting up the entire room. A sharp crack of the thunder rattles out the windows, followed by a gust of wind that seems to push the rain harder against the glass. Your boss moves towards the windows, peering out at the blur of lights in the storm. “Seems like the whole block is out.”

Then he looks back to you, “You should be home, ___. Not here working your early twenties to the bone.”

You arched a brow at him, “You’re telling me that I shouldn’t be working myself to an early grave?”

He mirrors your expression. “Fiesty…” He walks back to your desk, pulling a chair and sits down. You study his expression, noticing how it looks different in the shadows – sharper, more unreadable, yet a hint of softness. He was always this no-bullshit boss who is always razor-sharp in meetings with low patience towards inefficiency. But, being stuck with him in the office building as the storm continues outside, he feels less like the CEO everyone whispers and more like –

You stop the thoughts before they could fully form.

“You’ve been here for a year,” he says after a moment, his voice lower. “I know you’ve heard things.”

You blinked. “Things?”

“Rumours. Whispers,” he continues. “Why you’re in this position. Why you’re always trusted with tasks that should’ve been handed to one of the senior execs.”

Your fingers twitch slightly on the desk. “I’ve… I’ve learnt to ignore them.”

He leans back, the shadows shifting across his face. “You shouldn’t have to.”

You open your mouth to respond but another crack of thunder makes you flinch slightly. It’s not fear; but the sudden, deep rumble that vibrates through the floor. “You don’t like storms?” Chan asks, watching you closely. You shake your head, “Kinda, but it’s more of… it’s too loud.”

The silence between you stretches, but it doesn’t feel hostile – instead it feels… soothing. Picking up his mug, he takes a sip before finally speaking again. “People talk because they think I don’t notice or that I don’t care about my employees. I do, but… I don’t know how to show it without making things worse for you.”

You blink, caught off guard. You try to process where this was coming from because up til now, you’d only ever seen this man in sharp suits and sharper suits.

Outside, the wind howls as the rain batters against the windows. “I suppose we’re stuck here until the storm passes,” you say.

“I suppose so.”

You aren’t sure how much time passes after that. It feels strange – not the kind that leaves you twitching in discomfort, but the kind that felt domestic. Terrifyingly domestic. You find yourself listening to the rhythmic patter of the rain, the occasional low rumble of the thunder mixing with the subtle sounds of your boss shifting in his chair across from you.

"You've been here for a year now.”

You glance up, “Almost. Two more weeks.”

He arches a brow, “Really? It feels longer.”

“Is that a good thing?”

The corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Depends.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, but you catch the undercurrent in his tone. The conversation drifts after that – they were smaller things at first. He asks you about the demands of past clients, you tell him about the endless back-and-forth you had with one client regarding colour palettes. Next thing you know, Chan admits that he hates attending networking dinners (even though it helps out a ton). You find yourself talking about your first week at the company, during your internship, how you had somewhat gaslit yourself into thinking you’d accidentally addressed him by the wrong name in email.

He laughs at that, the sound low and genuine. And just for a moment, you forget the storm entirely.

Another flash of lightning.

This one was bright enough that it bleaches the room white for half a second before you’re plunged back into darkness. The thunder followed almost immediately and was loud enough to vibrate the glass. You let out a shaky breath, glancing out the window. “That was… close…”

Chan follows your gaze, “If it gets worse, we can wait it out in one of the conference rooms downstairs. No windows.”

You nod in understanding, but neither of you make a move.

The rain keeps falling relentlessly, and it is at this moment, in the dim light that you realise the world outside is muted and blurred, the office feels like its own small universe. A small universe where you and Chan are cut off from everything else.

The morning of the wedding arrived and you were already at the venue before most of the staff to do a final check on the details. You went through the seating charts, floral arrangements, and the pacing of the ceremony rehearsals. Junhui had practically spared zero expense – the ballroom looked like it was plucked straight out of Cinderella's ball. The ceiling was glittered with crystal chandeliers and silver-trimmed tables draped in ivory linen.

Then again, who wouldn’t splurge on their wedding if they had the chance to. And according to Chan, Junhui gets off of spending money on his fiancee, now soon-to-be wife.

It’s a weird kink, but hey, who are you to yuck someone else’s yum?

Chan had been there since early too, though unlike you, there was no sign of fatigue on his face. Even in the dim lights of the ballroom, his presence is unmistakable – you can’t miss it even if you tried. He stands near the stage, giving quiet instructions to the sound team and judging by the looks on their faces, it’s the kind that shouldn’t be repeated; and shouldn’t be done wrong.

When he finally turns to you, you caught a glimpse of something – something softer than his usual stoic CEO composure. That something felt just like the memory of the night in the office weeks ago, when the storm had made the air hum and his voice dropped into that rare, unguarded tone.

But, you shook off the thought and returned to your clipboard.

By mid-afternoon, you were back in the bridal suite, double checking the emergency kit you’ve prepared: safety pins, double-sided tape, a small sewing kit, oil control film, breath mints. You can hear the bride’s laughter echoing from the adjoining room as her bridesmaids teased her, and you were so focused on sorting through the kit when you heard the door open.

You turned and was face-to-face with Chan. Your brows furrowed, “Chan? You shouldn’t be in the bridal suite.”

“I know,” he replies, voice even and low. “But they need you for the family seating plan. One of the uncles decided he doesn’t like where he’s sitting.”

You sigh, standing up as you mutter, “Of course he didn’t.”

Chan scans your face briefly. Then, “You’ve been running around since morning, ___. Have you eaten?”

You wanted to brush it off, tell him that you’d grab something later, but his eyes drifted to the small tray on the table where a cup of tea and pastries sat untouched. They were sent up for the bridal party. Not waiting for your answer, he picks up the tea and offers it to you.

You hesitated, but took it, fingers brushing against his for the briefest of seconds. Not even the warmth of the cup could explain the quick, uneven beat of your heart.

“Thanks…” you murmured, taking just a sip in a poor attempt to calm yourself.

He doesn’t step back immediately. Not into that professional distance that you were used to. Instead, his eyes lingered and studied you the same way he had done during that stormy blackout night. You remembered the way the shadows moved over his face, how his voice softened when he’d spoken about the thoughts he’d usually lock away.

You wondered if he was thinking about it too.

The moment ended when one of the bridesmaids peeked in, asking you for help with a clasp on her dress. You set the tea down and followed her out, not even noticing the way Chan’s eyes followed you until you disappeared into the hallway that seemed endless.

The reception hall was in full swing once vows were exchanged. The evening air is filled with clinking glasses and laughter.

Chan lingered at the side of the dance floor, a champagne flute in hand as he watched Junhui dance with his new wife, their expressions radiant as they spin in each other's arms. Around them, guests swayed, couples leaning into each other as though they had all the time in the world.

Once the newlyweds were done with their first dance, they approached him.

“You’ve really outdone yourself with this wedding reception, Chan,” Junhui says with a big grin, pulling the younger one into a tight embrace. “Everything is perfect. More than we could’ve imagined.”

“That’s what I always aim for,” Chan says with a polite smile. “Congratulations again, hyung. You both look–”

He pauses. Then, just for a brief second, his eyes softened. “Happy. You both look happy.”

There’s a mischievous glint in Junhui’s eyes as he glances at his wife who shares the same look. “We most definitely are. And you need to join in the celebration. Don’t tell me you’re just going to stand here all night and watch everyone else dance – they might think you’re a cardboard cutout.”

Before Chan could form an answer, the bride chimes in. “It’s your event too, Chan. Why don’t you just dance to one song? For us?”

His brows raise for a fraction of a second.

Chan doesn’t dance, well he kinda does, but not at these events. Not where eyes could linger and assumptions could multiply by dozens. He almost refuses until he sees the way they’re looking at him, expectant and warm.

Then, his gaze shifts to you before his thoughts could finish.

You looked up when he approached you, brows lifting slightly in surprise. Before you could ask if there was an issue with either the tech or if one of the cousins had an allergic reaction to the food due to a failed allergen disclaimer – “I need a partner. They want me on the dance floor.”

Confusion is evident on your face as your lips parted, “And… You’re asking me?”

He shrugs, “I’m close with Junhui, but not with any of the other guests to pull them away from their evening.” A beat passes, then he adds, “I also preferred it to be you.”

You swallow hard before slipping your hand into his when he extends it, letting him lead you onto the dance floor. The crowd parts just enough to let you both through, a new melody spilling from the strings. Chan positions you with ease, one hand settling on your wait while the other guides you fingers into place.

“Just follow my lead,” he whispers into your low, voice low yet oddly warm.

Slowly, your body moves with the rhythm, your steps syncing with his.

As for Chan, he can’t stop thinking about the warmth of your hand in his, how your other hand felt against his shoulder. “You do realise this isn’t part of my job scope,” you murmured, a teasing edge to your tone. You catch the faintest curve of his lips, “Consider it hazard pay.”

You raised a brow, “And hazardous for who exactly?”

His thumb shifted against your waist. “Well, it’s a risk either way.”

He felt you stiffen slightly, but you didn’t pull back. And neither did he.

“You’ve done well today, ___.” The admission surprises even himself – they weren’t something he gave freely. He watches the way your eyes flicker up to his, the surprise evident when your soft voice answers. “Thanks.”

The music slowed into something quieter, more intimate. His hand shifts, his thumb brushing deliberately along the side of your rib. He felt the subtle shiver and held your gaze when you looked up. Just for a moment, he forgot about the crowd, the job, and the distance he was supposed to keep.

When the song ends, he releases your hand slowly, thumb grazing your knuckles before releasing you as the guests applauded.

“You did well.”

You gave him a small smile, “Guess it’s part of my job scope now.”

He chuckles softly, then nods his head towards the edge of the room. “Come. We still need to make sure nobody digests something they shouldn’t.”

And just like that, he turns away – but not before making sure you caught up to him, the lingering touch of his hand on your waist carrying on throughout the night.

Chan had just wrapped up a meeting in one of the smaller meeting rooms when he overheard the sound of hushed voices coming from Conference Room 3. He wasn’t the type to eavesdrop but when he caught your name being whispered amongst the attendees inside, he couldn't help but to slow his steps and stop just outside the door.

“...I heard she’s leaving.” His voice was low, but Chan had managed to catch it.

The air seemed to shift around him.

Leaving? You?

“Really?”

“Yeah. Marketing division in a different firm. Heard they’re offering her a good package.”

“Why would she though?” Another asked. “She’s got it made here. Everyone knows she’s the boss’s favourite.”

One chuckled, though it wasn’t entirely cruel. “That’s the thing. You know how people talk about that label. Plus, she’s practically his shadow half the time.”

“Honestly,” a third voice chimes in. “I can’t say I’m surprised. The hours and work here are brutal. What surprises me is the fact that she didn’t leave sooner.”

Chan stood outside the door, the words threading like fine, invisible wired straight into his chest.

Boss’s favourite.

It’s a phrase that’s been going around the moment he hired you full-time. He’s heard it whispered in the hallways, caught in awkward silences when either of you entered a room; even in the knowing glances his own board members would give him. In his own words, he thought you’d learned to tune it out. Now he was wondering if maybe he’d just convinced himself that you had.

Rationally, it was ridiculous for him to feel betrayed(?) by the news, or rather whispers of you leaving. After all, people came and went all the time – the industry culture is precisely why there’s such a high turnover rate. Hell, he’s had many assistants before you, Seungkwan being one of them – some were competent, some less so. And yet, the thought of you leaving scraped something raw in him, something he rarely acknowledges.

He walks away before anyone could notice him. By the time he reaches his office, he shuts the door behind him as the calm facade starts to crack. The phrase of you leaving the company replayed in his head like a broken record. You hadn’t said anything to him. There was no hint, no complaint, no dissatisfaction – nothing that suggests you were looking to work elsewhere.

Granted, you weren’t obligated to tell him. But his mind constantly wanders back to that night of the blackout, how he told himself that there was something different about the air between you, yet it wasn’t enough for him to act on. Of course, there was your stance of professional boundaries and Chan respected it – maybe because he thought you’d be fine with it.

Maybe because he didn’t trust himself to cross it.

He sits at his desk, his eyes drifting to the mug you’d left there this morning. It sits next to the files he’d requested – its handle pointing to the left. You’d set it down that way so he could pick it up without adjusting. That small act of consideration, one that he didn’t even realise you gave ‘til now, hit him harder than expected.

Was this a habit you’d train yourself into because it was your job? Or was it something else?

Did you really want to leave because of the rumours?

If it was, he can’t blame you either. He’s seen the way the whispers seemed to follow you. They were subtle but persistent – the glances from other departments, the quick way conversations ended when you walked into the room.

He hated it.

He hated how his position made things harder for you instead of easier.

Chan leaned back in his chair, thinking back to that night of the blackout once again. The storm battering the city, how you flinched at the bright flash of lightning… how you sat across him, voice soft and unguarded. That night, you had looked at him like he wasn’t just your boss. It was like you were looking at him like he was someone you wanted to understand.

Now he wondered if that night had been the turning point, but instead of turning toward something – it was turning away.

Sometimes he wonders how things would change had he told you he understood how you felt, how it wasn’t just you who carried that weight.

Was this his fault? It can’t be – he’s always made sure he’s kept his distance. Made sure that the professionalism is always maintained, but could that also play a role in your departure? That he’d made you feel invisible in the one place you shouldn’t have? Or could the rumours about favoritism finally reach a breaking point that it pushed you away?

He exhaled slowly, though it did little to ease the knot in his chest. Being faced with the possibility of your departure had finally made him confront the tsunami of emotions he’s kept bottled up. This was no longer about his ego, power or the fact that you’ve worked with him for more than a year – it’s how you’ve seamlessly integrated yourself into his life.

How you managed to fit into his rhythm of life, how you knew the answer to his questions before he even asked.

Chan wasn’t the type to beg someone to stay. Not in business, not in anything. If a client wanted out, he’d sign the papers and move on. In the past, when a romantic partner wanted to see other people, he’d just agree and go back to work.

But this wasn’t business, yet it wasn’t a romantic affair either.

If you left, replacing you wouldn’t be as easy as pie. Not because there wouldn’t be competent candidates, but because they wouldn’t – couldn’t – be you.

The thing about Chan is that he’s always been good at keeping his business and personal life apart. But this? He doesn’t even know where to begin – this wasn’t personal nor professional. It was just… you. And the possibility of losing you unsettles him more than he’d like to admit.

By the end of the day, when the office filed out and the Friday sky fades into the heavy blue of the evening, Chan finds himself walking toward your desk.

Of course, you were still sitting behind your desk, still working even though everyone else had probably gone off for a Friday night party. He stood a few feet away, watching the soft glow of your desk lit up your face, your brow drawn in quiet concentration. He studies a moment too long before you notice him.

“Chan?” You set down your pen, “Is something wrong?”

His throat was tight when he swallowed, “Come to my office, ___. I’d like to have a chat with you.”

His words came out sharper than he intended, and you stiffened. Still, you nodded and rose to your feet, following him into his office. When the door shut behind you, your steps continued until you stopped right at his desk.

“I overheard a conversation the executives had,” he starts, searching your face. “I… They said you were resigning. That you were accepting an offer elsewhere.”

The silence that followed after was heavy. You turned away at first, eyes drifting to the bookshelves. He lets out a shaky breath, “So it’s true.”

“I… I can’t keep acting unbothered by the whispers forever.”

Your jaw tightened, “I… They think I’m here because of you. That I’ve–” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “You’ve heard what they say. You know what they say.”

Chan feels his chest constrict. “I know. But that doesn’t make it true. You–”

“Doesn’t it?” Your voice raised just slightly, gaze snapping back to him. “Because what if they’re right? What if I am using you? To advance my career? That I’m just infatuated by the power you have that–”

You take a moment to steady your breath. “If what they say is true, if that’s the case – then what does that make me? What does that make us?”

Your words struck him hard, chipping at every brick he’s put up around himself. He steps closer until the distance between you both was only able to accommodate at most, a thin piece of paper. “Don’t say that, ___,” his voice is low, rough even. “Don’t degrade or reduce yourself like that. Not after everything that you’ve done and proven. You’ve carried this company through hellish peak periods, handled clients that could’ve broken others. Your competence is why I hired you, not because of–”

“That’s not the point!” Chan is stunned. Not because you raised your voice at him, but because your voice was trembling. “The point is the power imbalance in between us, Chan… You’re my boss. Older. You have the power to make or break me.”

“I know.”

The words left his lips and with a weight that’s been sitting on his chest for months.

“Did you think I haven’t thought about it? That I don’t know what it looks like? I’ve been keeping my distance and holding back because I didn’t want to ruin your future, ___. You have so much potential that the mere thought that I could risk it… I don;t want you to be seen as less than what you are because of me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but he wasn’t finished. He raised a hand, then stopped, letting it hover over your cheek. “The age difference… Because of the age difference, I’m supposed to know better, to protect you from things like this. But, the truth is, ___…”

His voice faltered for a second, then came the raw truth:

“Truth is I love you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

“This whole time, I’ve loved you quietly and from a distance. I thought it was the only way to keep you safe but now that I’m hearing you leaving, it’s like I’ve already lost you without even getting the chance to show you.”

The confession hung between you both, thick and undeniable. His lips parted, but no words came. Chan searches your eyes, waiting for your rejection. Instead, you whispered, “I never saw you as just a CEO.”

You notice the way he tenses. “From the start, you’ve always been someone who inspired me. Someone who makes me want to be better. You make me feel seen when no one else does. It’s not about titles  or power, Chan… It’s about you.”

Chan lets out a shaky exhale, his hand finally resting on your cheek. His thumb brushes the curve of your jaw in a tentative manner. The feel of your skin against his palm was enough to undo him. Slowly, he slides the hand to the back of your neck, pulling you a fraction closer and his lips stop just above yours. He searches your eyes for permission, waiting for you to give him consent so he could finally taste you.

And when you lean in, the brush of your mouth feather-light against his – he doesn’t hesitate to snake his arm around your waist to ground you both as the kiss deepens, slow and searching as he pours out every bit of emotion.

The kiss wasn’t rushed nor reckless. It was the kind of kiss that lingered, that promised more. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you trying to steady your breaths.

“This changes everything,” he whispered, thumb stroking the skin of your neck.

You smiled faintly, lips swollen from his kiss. “Good..”

Something flickered in Chan’s eyes. His hands slide from your jaw to your waist, gripping it firmly like he was trying to convince himself that this was reality.

Before you can catch your breath, he spun you around and guided you towards his desk. In the next instant, he had you bent over the polished mahogany surface, his body pressing flush to your back. Papers scatter from the sudden movement, a few sliding onto the floor, but he doesn’t care.

All his focus was on you.

His hands are rough with urgency, running up your sides, squeezing your sides, then sliding higher to palm your breasts through your blouse. A low, strained groan rumbles from his chest, the sound of a man finally giving into his desires. His fingers fumble with the buttons of your blouse, undoing them impatiently until the last is free.

He doesn’t bother to remove your bra. Instead, he pushes the cups over breast so his hands can greedily squeeze them. His thumbs brush over your nipples until they harden under his touch, your arousal already starting to dampen your black panties.

“Just a little bit of teasing and your nipples are already hard?” he teases, breath hot and ragged. “Fuck, baby. It’s like you’re begging me to ruin you.”

He flips up your skirt, palm spreading across the curve of your ass. He gives it a squeeze before a loud smack echoes in his office, the stinging causing you to gasp. Chan chuckles at your reaction, pressing his growing hardness against you. He grinds slowly, one hand gripping your hip while the other slowly drags itself between your thighs. “You’re so hot when you’re bent over my desk like this. Looking like you belong here.”

The air is thick, the faint ticking of a nearby clock and the hum of city life just beyond the office windows – and the sharp sound of your breath as Chan presses two fingers against your clothed pussy. He hisses under his breath, tracing the outline of your slit through the fabric. “Fuck, babygirl. You’re soaked for me already.”

He teases your clit through the fabric, each teasing rub pulling another helpless moan from your throat. He tightens the grip he has on your hips, leaning over your back to press the full weight of his chest. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, his voice seductive, “Sometimes I think about what it’d be like to have you like this.”

His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles over this thin fabric between your thighs, not quite exactly giving you the friction you crave. He relishes every noise you let out, every twitch of muscle while nuzzling into your neck with a low hum of satisfaction. Grinding his hips against your ass, Chan swore he almost cummed in his pants at the sensation. “Feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me every day.”

Slipping his fingers beneath your panties, he drags them through your slick folds with deliberate slowness. You let out a moan of relief and Chan happily swallows the sound with a kiss.

“I could fuck you right now,” he growls out. “Rip off these fucking panties, shove my dick inside this pretty little cunt… And you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

He tugs your panties down just enough to expose your drooling cunt, spreading you open. The cool air against your click folds sends a shiver up your spine, but the heat from his touch returns instantly. Two calloused fingers slide through your wetness, coating themselves before pressing lightly at your entrance. He moves them in teasing circles until you’re whimpering and pushing back against him.

“Impatient girl,” he chuckles. “I’d like to take my time with you, but tonight is not the time for that.”

He eases a finger inside, groaning at the way you clench around the digit. He pumps it slowly, letting you get used to the intrusion before slipping in a second. “God, you’re tight.” The heel of his palm grinds against your clit as his fingers start to work deeper and faster into you. Chan’s dick strains harder against his slacks as the wet sound of your pussy mixes with your soft moans.

“Gonna stretch you out good on my fingers before I fuck you, babygirl,” he murmurs, curling his fingers and pressing them against your g-spot. He thrusts his fingers deeper, faster; the feel of his palm grinding over your clit has your thighs shaking with the effort needed to hold yourself up. Your nails scrape helplessly over the mahogany desk, leaving faint marks over the polished wood as the band of arousal grows tighter and tighter.

“C-Channie–” you gasp, voice breaking as your body arches against him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he rasps against your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin. “So wet and tight for me, yea? Letting me stretch this cunt out with my fingers so I can fit my dick inside you.”

He curls them just right, constantly rubbing against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. You’re just about to cum when he pulls his fingers away from your pussy, leaving you clenching desperately around nothing.

You cry out in frustration, but before you can protest, you hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled. “I know, babygirl,” he coos, adjusting your stance as he rubs his leaking red tip against your pussy lips. “Poor baby was close to cumming, wasn’t she? Don’t worry. You’ll get to cum as much as you want on my cock.”

He slides the heavy head of his cock against your slick folds, savouring the way your arousal coats the tip. Then, in one harsh thrust, he pushes his cock in, filling you to the hilt. Chan lets you adjust to the stretch, committing the moan you let out to memory while his hands held you close to him. Like he’s terrified you’ll slip away at any second.

“Shit–” his voice cracks, “You feel so much better than I imagined.”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, pulling all the way out only to fuck his cock back into your clenching pussy roughly. The motion is enough to make the desk creak beneath you – papers crumpling, pens rolling off the edge; but Chan couldn’t give a shit. He’s too lost in the way your pussy is dripping all over his dick, too consumed by the moans that spill from your throat. 

He fucks into you rougher, one hand sliding up against your back to press you harder against the wood. “You like this? You like being bent over and fucked like a good slut by your boss, baby?”

“Yes, Channie!” You cry out as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Feels so good! F-Fuck!”

The office is filled with the lewd sound of skin against skin, blending with your moans. Chan’s tempo is brutal, fueled by longing and the need to make you his. His hands leave your hips to lace with yours against the desk. “I love you,” he moans into your ear, “I love you so much, ___.”

Your voice breaks, “I love you too, Channie. Love you so, so much..!”

Chan slows the pace of his thrusts, instead he shoves his dick deeper inside you and grinds, making your whole body shudder as his cockhead rubs against the spongy spot deep inside your pussy. He keeps you pinned in place, like he’s afraid the world will steal you away if he loosens his hold on you for even a millisecond.

His lips find the side of your neck, planting kisses between ragged breaths. “Do you feel me?” he murmurs, “How deep my cock is inside your little pussy?”

You tilt your head back, letting it fall onto his shoulder. Fuck, he’s so big and deep that you briefly wonder if one creampie from him is all it’ll take to get you pregnant. Your pussy flutters at the thought. “So deep, Channie,” you whimper, trying to fuck yourself back onto his fat dick. His hips stutter for a moment, grinding deeper into your sweet pussy. His hands let yours go to hold you steady by the hips while the other comes up to cup your face. Tilting your head toward him so he can see your expression, his cock pulses at the sight – your cheeks were flushed, lips parted and eyes hazy with pleasure.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your lower lip. He makes a mental note to praise you more because he feels your gummy walls clenching at his statement. “Do you want more, babygirl?”

You nod, whimpering when his hips roll forward just a little. “Always want more if it’s you.”

Chan groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, slow kiss. Pulling away, he slides a hand up to wrap itself around the column of your throat. He doesn’t squeeze with the intent to hurt, just applying enough pressure for you to feel it – enough to make your breath catch.

His hips snap forward with a renewed force, the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy swallowing his cock bouncing off the walls of his office. “Say I’m yours, please.”

“M-Mine..!”

Chan chokes you just a fraction tighter, watching you with hooded, desperate eyes. The combination of the pressure on your throat and his rough thrusts rips your climax right out of you – back arching, pussy walls convulsing while you cum with a strangled cry. “That’s it,” he grunts, already growing obsessed at the way you clench and gush around his cock. “Cum for me, baby. Milk my cock just like that.”

But even as your body quivers in the aftershocks of your climax, Chan doesn’t stop driving his cock into your soaked heat. The table creaks beneath you as your nails rake helplessly over the polished wood, each thrust of his hips punctuated by his low moans. He releases your throat, holding your jaw so he can tilt your face back for a hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue as he claims your mouth just like how his dick is claiming your cunt.

“You think I’m done just because you came first?” he chuckles, “Not a chance.”

He pounds his fat dick into your pussy harder, deeper as he chases his climax. Each thrust sharper and stretches you further, but your walls flutter around him like you want more. Your moans break into gasps and whimpers, feeling that familiar tension building up once again in your abdomen.

He asks if it was too much to handle, yet his hips don’t slow. There was a note of tenderness in his tone, but something in you said it was twisted in a sense that he gets off of overstimulating you.

You tried to respond, tried to find the words, but when he angles his hips to start slamming against your g-spot, your body betrays you. You clench hard around him and he chuckles darkly, tightening the grip he had on your hip. “Pussy sucking me in like it doesn’t wanna let go. Is that what you want, baby? Want me to keep this cunt stuffed?”

You whimper his name, nails dragging over the smooth surface. Your legs tremble with the effort of holding your entire body up, but Chan moves the hand that was holding your jaw down to your stomach. Pressing down, you feel the bulge of his cock sliding inside you.

“Feel that?” he rasps, rutting his cock harder, faster – the desk rocking beneath you. “This is where I’m gonna cum, baby. Gonna cream this pretty cunt of yours even when you’re begging for me to stop.”

The stimulation burns through you, body convulsing as another orgasm crashes through you. Your cry was raw and guttural, and Chan loses himself completely in the way you tighten and gush around him. “Yes, that’s it,” he groans, thrusts turning ragged. “That’s my good girl. Cum on my cock again, baby. Make a mess for me.”

He presses his forehead to the back of your shoulder, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pants.

“Fuck. You’re squeezing me so tight. Feels like I’m in fucking heaven. Shit–”

He slams into you to the hilt, and you feel it – the way his cock pulses before hot, heavy spurts of his cum flood your womb. He lets out a low growl as he grinds himself deep, filling you full of his spunk until it leaks back out around the base of his length. You hear him curse again, the hand on your belly pressing down a little harder so you can feel the weight of his cum being fucked deeper into you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and desperate. “Been wanting you for so long. You’re mine now, yea? And ‘M all yours – fuck.”

Chan stays buried deep inside you, his chest pressed against your back. His lips press shaky kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your hair – like he’s trying to coax you through your orgasm. But he doesn’t make an effort to pull out though. Instead, he adjusts his hold and lowers himself into the chair behind him and drags you along; his cock still buried inside your swollen, stimulated pussy.

His hips shift just enough to make you feel the stretch of his dick – his hot, sticky cum sloshing inside you. “Gonna have you cockwarm me like this for a while, okay?” he murmurs against your ear, a faint smile stretching on his lips when you nod. One large comes to cup your breast, kneading it lazily while his thumb flicks at your nipple. The other drifts to your thigh, caressing it with a tenderness that makes you involuntarily clench around his half-hard dick.

“My baby did so well for me,” he praises, nipping at the curve of your neck when you whimper at his touch. He loves how you arch into his touch, how your walls squeeze his cock despite your body aching from overstimulation.

His hand squeezes your tits harder, hips rising to grind his cock just a little deeper. Your hands fly to grab at his wrist when his fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. 

“Channie…” you whine, unsure if you were pleading for him to stop, or for more.

“I know, baby,” he coos, teeth scraping over your earlobe as he presses harder against the sensitive nub. “I know you’re sore. But, you can give me one more, right?”

Your whole body jerks when he flicks your clit just right. You try to wriggle free, but his arms tighten its hold on you, keeping you pinned in his lap, cock still pulsing you as your pussy walls clench and unclench around him rhythmically.

“You’re squeezing me again,” he groans, grinding his hips up more as his fingers circle your clit faster. “Do you love it when I play with this needy pussy while it’s stuffed with my cum? Didn’t think my innocent looking PA likes to be used as a fucktoy by her boss.”

You let out a strangle moan, hands tightening around his wrist but made no effort to push it away. “T-Too much!”

His fingers pressed harder, circling faster on your clit until the coil inside you snaps. Chan groans in approval as you convulse in his lap, clear liquid gushing out of you as you squirt over his hand, some landing on his table where several documents were laid out.

He doesn’t care about it now, though.

He could just get you to print a few more copies.

“Fuck yeah, baby.” His hand doesn’t stop until you’re shaking from overstimulation. “Squirting all over me, soaking me like you’re my little office whore.”

Chan finally removes his hand from your clit, but he still keeps his cock buried inside you. You collapse back against him, body still buzzing with pleasure from the pleasure of release. He loosens the hold he has on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You did so good for me baby.”

You whimper, feeling his hands start to roam your body. “Just let me hold you,” he murmurs, giving your breasts a teasing squeeze. Once his dick softens inside you, he slowly eases out, not missing the way you wince from the oversensitivity. He carefully tilts you forward, reassuring you that he’s got you while grabbing a folded handkerchief from his desk drawer. He carefully wipes the mess from your thighs, muttering soft apologies when you flinch at every touch.

Once he’s satisfied, he pulls back up your panties and gives your now clothed cunt a few soft pats before pulling you back into his lap. Tucking you sideways against his chest, he grabs his suit jacket and drapes it over your front like a blanket.

“How do you feel?” Chan whispers, one hand rubbing soothing circles along your back, the othe cradling the back of your head. “A lil’ sore…” you managed to murmur, voice weak and drowsy. You shift a little closer, fingers curling into his shirt to anchor yourself.

“Stay the night at my place,” he says quietly. “Hell, maybe even every night if that means I get to hold you like this every night.”

His thumb strokes your cheek, titling your face up slightly so he can get a better look at you. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and eyes starting to lose focus. His expression is softer, stripped of any dominance – only tenderness.

You laugh weakly, the sound muffled against his chest, and he chuckles with you, pressing a kiss to your forehead once more.

For the longest time, the office is only silent except for your breathing evening out against him. In the steady weight of his arms, you’re reminded that you’re safe, cared for,

Wanted.

Stepping into the building felt different this time. Sure – the lobby hadn’t changed, the soft clicks of heels still echoed, the polite hush of voices that made you straighten your back; but you had. You no longer carried a clipboard in your hand, no more schedule running through your head, and no stack of contracts tucked neatly under your arm.

Instead, you’re just on your day off and walking back into a place that had once consumed every hour of your life.

Your stomach did somersaults when the doors slid open to the executive floor. Again, nothing had changed.

Glass walls reflected the sterile overhead lights, several employees scattering about to chase for deadlines, and the faint scent of coffee lingered in the air. Heads turned at the sight of you – recognition flickering across faces, before turning into curiosity.

You could hear it.

She doesn’t work here anymore. Why is she back?

Your heels clicked against the carpet as you walked down the familiar corridor, towards that one door that stood out at the end. Pushing the door open, you greeted Jungwon, the new PA Chan hired before knocking.

“Come in.”

Pushing it open, you see him sitting behind his desk – sleeves rolled up, jacket draped over his chair. His glasses slipped slightly down his nose, and he almost scolds whoever entered his office and not immediately telling him their reason until he looked up.

The second his eyes landed on you, his posture relaxed.

“You.” His voice dropped, quieter but a small smile accompanied it. “What are you doing here on your day off, baby?”

“Can’t a girl visit her boyfrien?” you teased, shutting the door behind you.

He raises an eyebrow. “Visiting, huh? That awfully sounds like you’re trying to distract me.”

You stride over to his desk and the second you’re within reach, he tugs you into his lap. “How’s your new job treating you?”

“Fewer all-nighters. Less drama,” you admitted.

He chuckles, “Yet you still came back here.”

You tilt your head, like he just asked you the most ridiculous question. “Of course I’d come back! You’re here.”

Chan’s hands slid up the sides of your waist, his touch causing goosebumps to rise. “You shouldn’t make a habit of visiting me at work, y’know,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I might forget I’m supposed to be professional.”

You giggle, glancing up at him. “Maybe that’s the point.”

He grins, the air between you shifting, heavy with everything neither of you could do in his office at the moment.

Yet his hands remained where they were, yours resting on his chest. He leans down to press his lips against yours, soft and unhurried. When he pulls back, his eyes hold yours and soften in a way that no one else can ever see. “Later.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Later,” you echoed.

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The woman’s gaze swept over you again, this time more admiring than analytical. “I have an eye for these things, cupcake, and you have it. You have a presence, a posture, even the way you carry that outfit. It’s simple, yet very editorial.” She gestures lightly at your clothes, causing you to glance down at the outfit you’d thrown together.

“That skirt with that jacket? Effortless. You know what you’re doing, even if you don’t realise it yet.”

You felt your cheeks warm, fingers curling slightly around your cup of iced coffee.

“I’m a talent scout,” she adds, flipping her portfolio and pulling out a sleek business card, offering it to you. “If you’re open to it, give me a call. I’d love to talk more.”

“Soonyoung–”

“Please, ___!” Your cousin pleads with you for the nth time that week, hands clasped dramatically in front of his chest. “You’re overwhelmed with studies and your modelling gig. You need a manager and I can totally do it!”

You raise your head and shoot him a skeptical look from over your laptop. “Since when do you know anything about being a manager?”

“I Googled it,” he says, expression dead serious. “And I’ve watched like… dozens of documentaries. Plus, I already help you with blocking out your schedule half the time anyway. Remember that shoot you had last week? Who reminded you to bring backup heels?”

You sigh, knowing Soonyoung was right. He was there when that talent scout spotted you outside the cade; and your life had shifted in ways you’ve never imagined. Castigns, fittings, shoots, and runway preps… It was a lot to balance on top of your academics.

“Just imagine, cuz,” he continues, hands in the air like he’s pitching to a boardroom. “You walk on the runway all calm and collected while I deal with scheduling nightmares and last-minute fittings. You won’t even have to look at an email unless it’s good news!”

“No offense, Soonyoung, but I put more trust in Jeonghan. At least he’s close with Joshua, and Shua knows Jihoon.”

Soonyoung gasps, dramatically placing a hand over his chest like you’d just told him the tiger in his living room wasn’t his son, and instead a taxidermy. “Excuse me!? Both of us quite literally grew up with Jihoon! I even performed with him!”

You raised a brow, “You mean that HxW stage you both put together during the uni fest?”

“Yes! You know how rare it is to perform with the Lee Jihoon?”

“You and Jidae screamed into the mic, and Jihoon looked like he’s one second away from whooping your ass for your Horanghae agenda.”

“He still stayed, though. That is what you call art.”

You stare. “You almost flicked his forehead and I saw your life flash before your eyes.”

He huffs. “Art is messy, ___. But Jihoon and I? We had chemistry, you can’t deny that. He called me ‘not terrible’ after so that definitely means something.”

“Heard Soonyoung appointed himself as your manager.”

You glanced up from your notes, blinking as Jihoon slid into the seat across from you like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest statement like it was small talk. You’re tucked away into your usual corner of the library – headphones halfway in, highlighter stopping mid-way from making contact with your notes.

“He what?” You asked, sliding off your headphones and letting them rest around your shoulders, padded cups pressing lightly against your collarbones.

Jihoon shrugs, resting his arms on the table. “He’s been sending me business emails using an address that ends in horanghae101.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

He cracked the smallest hint of a smile. “He’s oddly persistent. But surprisingly organised.”

“That’s what makes it worse,” you muttered, before narrowing your eyes. “Wait. Why do you know that..?”

“Because the signature he used was Executive Brand Director & Emotional Support to ___.”

You slowly shake your head, “No… You’re lying.” Jihoon simply turned his tablet around, and there it was – screenshot and all.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whispered.

“But,” he said, tone shifting just a little. “His chaos aside, I actually came to talk to you about something else. A little more serious, if you will.”

You raise a brow, straightening in your seat as he pushes the tablet toward you. “Because you set me as your reference in the forms when you signed under Semicolon, and before Soonyoung self-appointed himself as your manager, I was the one getting most of your gig offers.”

“There’s this Dior campaign. Couple’s concept and minimalist luxury. It’s an editorial-style shoot with subtle intimacy. They saw your Vanguard test shots and flagged you immediately.”

You blinked, “Me..?”

“You.”

Tilting your head to the side, your brows knit together, “I’m just doing modeling as a part-time thing, though… Or freelance, as some of them call it. Why me? Why not those full-timers?”

Jihoon gestures to you, “Because you’re… you. I don’t know how to say it, but best way I can put it is you don’t try too hard, y’know? You’re natural. Authentic. Something all these big brands are desperately chasing for ever since authenticity became ‘trendy’. They want someone who doesn’t look like they’re trying to be iconic, but somehow is.”

You stared at him. Jihoon doesn’t usually hand out compliments, that’s something you learnt in the many years you’ve spent growing up with him and Soonyoung. But, when he does, though not straightforward, they carry weight. Subtle and rare – paired with his own natural talent and how he’s already made a name for himself as a producer – it means something.

Jihoon never says things just to be nice – never sugar coating or entertaining the idea of false praises.

And everyone in the entertainment industry knows it.

So if he thinks you’re a right fit, it’s not just flattery.

“...And the other half of this couple’s concept?”

He non-chalantly replies, “Mingyu.”

Your jaw drops. “Mingyu? As in Kim Mingyu? Pledis’ talented art major?”

“Giant. Heartthrob and walking cologne commercial?” Jihoon adds on before nodding, “The very same one. Let’s just say that Dior is looking for chemistry, some kind of beauty and the brain vibe.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Brains? Mingyu? I once saw this man run into a glass door.”

The young producer snorts back a laugh, clearing his throat while he pulls up the pitch deck for the shoot and showing it to you. “Hey, it could be the other way around. Point is, they think you and that giant could balance each other. Visually and energy-wise.”

You take a look at the pitch – mock-ups of the set, mood boards, wardrobe swatches.

Everything looked impossibly real.

“You interested?”

You glanced back at Jihoon, mind still processing the news. “Can Soonyoung come if I say yes?”

Jihoon laughs, reaching out to show you a separate screen. “He’s already trying to print name cards.”

The soft hum of the engine shifts as the plane starts to descend. Through the oval window, the clouds are scattered like pulled cotton, revealing a quilt of lights stitched into the city below. You lean your head against the frame, the glass cool against your skin.

“Soonyoung,” your voice was barely louder than the thrum beneath your seat, but you know he’s listening. “Do you think people assume I’m not that good of a person because I’m in this whole… modeling thing?”

You don’t look at him, but you feel the slight shift in his posture. You can tell he’s frowning just from his voice, “Is this because of the fall out you had with Haemin and the rest?”

You nod faintly, still watching the night view of the city from the plane.

“She said I’ve changed,” you reply. “That ever since I signed with the agency and gone freelance, I’ve been… different. Distant. That all I talk about besides my studies were castings or editorials.”

You pause, “She said I don’t like myself anymore.”

Soonyoung is quiet, but you can tell the new information upsets him. He knew about the fall-out you had with your friend group, but he never knew the exact reason until now. His jaw tightens – he always hates it when people put you down or your self-doubt gets the best of you.

You had potential.

He knows and sees it.

“If she can’t be happy that you’re making a name for yourself,” he starts, voice low but firm, “and she’s saying all these things to make her look like a better person… is she really a friend?”

The edge in his voice takes you by surprise..

“The same goes for the rest of them,” he adds. “They were so quick to side with Haemin without even hearing you out. That’s not what friends do, ___. You know that.”

You turn your head towards him slowly. You know he’s not angry, just tired of watching you carry guilt that was never yours to begin with.

“I don’t… I don’t think they meant to hurt me…” you murmur quietly.

Your cousin shakes his head, “No, but they did. And yea, maybe they didn’t mean to. But they chose to listen to just one side of the story. It was easier for them to pick a side than sitting in the middle, trying to understand the whole picture. That tells you what kind of person they are, ___.”

The plane dips again, wheels lowering beneath the roar of wind and drag. The seatbelt sign dings softly above as it lights up.

You slump into the chair a little, “It just… It just sucks,” you whisper. “To feel like I’m losing people just because I’m doing what I love or doing good in something I wasn’t expecting to.”

Soonyoung gives your knee a reassuring squeeze, his voice softer now. “You didn’t lose them, okay? They let go of you. There’s a difference.”

You don’t say anything. The runway lights rise to meet the plane, and the wheels touch down with a jolt – screeching, then slowing as gravity catches up. Soonyoung doesn’t take his eyes off you, not even as the cabin fills with sounds of buckles clicking, phones buzzing back to life and the polite announcements in two languages.

“You’re not a bad person, ___,” he says simply. “You’re just growing. And it’s okay if not everyone keeps up.”

DIOR: L’Instant à Deux

You barely have time to take in the studio before the director drags Soonyoung to the side to discuss the details of the shoot while a stylist guides you past racks of garments and light fixtures that hum softly. Heels click over concrete – the set smells like linen, coffee and something that you assume to be either jasmine or orange blossom.

It smells like there’s a small promise floating in the air.

“Hi, Kwon ___, right?” a staff member asks with a smile. She’s dressed in head-to-toe black, with a headset slung around her neck with a tiny Dior pin glinting on her collar.

“That’s me,” you respond with an equally warming smile.

“You’re early for call time,” she chuckles, flipping through the printed shoot-sheet in hand. “But, that’s a good thing! Gives us a little breathing room before we get started.”

“Yeah, our family has this whole ‘arrive earlier than stated’ in our blood,” you joked, fingers brushing your coat lapels while you try not to look as jittery as you feel. You glance over at the set – and it was breathtaking as hell.

Like the inside of a Parisian style apartment that’s been plucked from a property magazine. Ivory curtains billow in the breeze of a hidden fan, and there’s a table on the side that's been set for two, the candle just waiting to be lit.

Everything is so carefully curated, yet somehow there’s a romantic feel in its stillness.

“So, welcome to L’Instant à Deux, officially.” She gives you a brief wink before continuing, “The theme is modern intimacy. Not the ‘fire that burns the brightest also goes out the fastest’ kind. Think quiet moments between two people in love. The synergy and chemistry is just there. NO words are exchanged, but one look and you know exactly what the other needs.”

“Dior made it very clear that they want connection. Eye contact. A kind of vibe that makes people believe you’ve known each other for years.”

You hum in understanding, already understanding the picture she’s painting out.

“After this short briefing, they’ll start styling you for the first set. It’ll be a morning shot so you’ll be dressed in soft neutrals and satin, like you just woke up in love in the penthouse. Then we’ll transition to more tailored looks in the afternoon.”

“Any night shoots that need to be done?”

She raises an eyebrow, as though asking if you had any plans later that night. “Oh, I don’t have anything going on. Just curious if you guys planned some kind of ‘night in the romantic city’ kind of shoot.”

She thinks about it, “We didn’t… But, I like the sound of that. Let me ask the director and Mingyu’s manager if they’re up for the idea!” She then glances at her watch, “Oh, and yes, Mingyu’s already here. He’s being fitted right now, so you’ll see him on set soon enough.”

Your breath catches just slightly, but you try to play it cool. “He’s taller in person,” the staff casually adds as she walks away, grinning. “And hella charming. You’ll need a lot of luck surviving that.”

You laugh softly to yourself, staring down at the subtle embroidery on the hem of a dress that’s been draped over the rack.

‘Lots of luck indeed…’

“Talent on set!”

You’re ushered out of wardrobe as the soft thud of the shutter click is tested in the background. Your bare feet sink into the plush carpet of the set – a cozy, soft-sunlight bedroom scene complete with cream sheets, books scattered around, and a half-drunk (or at least it looked like someone drank it) glass of water sat on the nightstand.

Everything looked lived in.

Intimate.

Like a Sunday morning you never want to end.

Then you hear a low laugh.

You turn, and sitting on the edge of the bed was Kim Mingyu. The photographer probably said something funny with how he threw his head back. One hand loosely resting on his thigh, the other pushing his hair back in a way that’s so effortlessly charming that you aren’t sure if it was muscle memory or instinct.

As if sensing you, he looks up. And when his gaze meets yours, he stands.

“Hey, took you long enough,” he teases, walking over with a slow yet confident stride that only someone like him could do. “I was starting to think they paired me with a ghost and that this was an early Halloween shoot.”

You managed a smile, extending your hand. “Would’ve made your job easier, though.”

He chuckles, taking your hand in his to give it a shake. His palm feels warm, his grip firm – but not overbearing, or as though he was trying to size you up.

“Mingyu.”

“___.”

He repeats your name, like he’s trying it on for size. But the way each syllable rolls off his tongue feels almost too intimate for a first meeting, like he wants to memorise it.

“Alright, let’s get into position!” the photographer calls.

You’re guided towards the bed, the director explaining the scene as she walks with you. “It’s a gentle start. You just woke up, morning light, lazy touches, soft smiles… Like it’s the kind of love that has you falling even more, understood?”

You and the giant settle in under the covers, shoulders brushing as the makeup artist gives Mingyu’s look some final touch ups. He leans over to you and whispers, “Is this weird? Lying in bed together before we even had coffee?”

You laugh, the sound surprising even you with how natural it felt. “Maybe a little.”

His canines show as he grins, eye crinkling, “Well, guess we’ll just have to make it look like we’ve done this a hundred times.”

“And it’s a wrap!” the director calls out, voice tinged with exhaustion but pride. “Thank you everyone!”

You let out a quiet breath, somewhere between relief and exhaustion. Your cheeks still carry traces of highlighter, your body humming from hours of adjusting, holding and smiling.

“Here.” Mingyu holds out a bottle of water, already uncapped, like he somehow knew you wouldn’t have the energy to do it yourself.

“Thanks…”

Mingyu rolls his shoulders with a sigh, “Think my back is permanently imprinted with the Dior headboard.”

“I think your collarbone probably has its own Instagram account by now,” you joke.

He snorts, “Please, I’ve seen someone use mingyusleftasscheek as their username.”

You laugh again, but softer this time. It lingers in the air – comfortable and familiar.

“Heard from your cousin, well, manager; that this is your first big gig,” he starts, “You did really well today.”

“Thanks,” you reply, voice a little softer now. “So were you.”

He leans a little closer, like he’s about to whisper a secret. “I’m not gonna lie, I thought it’d be awkward. Like forced smiles, hands in weird places…”

You hum in agreement and he continues, “But with you, it didn’t feel that way.”

Your heart stutters, but not in a bad way. You look back towards the set where hours ago, you had to pretend to wake up in bed beside him, to fall in love in the busy streets and champagne toasts.

“Same,” you admit, eyes returning to him. “Didn’t feel too fake.”

“Guys,” one of the staff calls out, “Wrap up dinner, let’s go! Director said it’s on him!”

You and Mingyu chuckle. He stands first, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stand after him seconds later, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater Dior insisted you bring back as a souvenir. Part of you already misses the quiet bubble you’d been sitting in with him. He slings his jacket over one shoulder, eyes flicking to you with casual ease but it doesn’t hide the spark beneath it, “You coming?”

You nod, walking beside him as you both walk towards the rest of the crew.

gyu 🐶: heyyyy gyu 🐶: here’s my personal number ;)) gyu 🐶: i got yours from your manager gyu 🐶: hope you’re cool with it !! gyu 🐶: this is easier for less business talk gyu 🐶: and i kinda wanna talk to you more aside from gigs whatnot gyu 🐶: as in i wanna know you more as a person gyu 🐶: like genuinely

It’s strange when you think back to that first shoot you had with Mingyu.

You still remember how he looked like he was trying to memorise everything about you in one blink. How neither of you really knew each other, yet somehow managed to make it look like you’ve shared Sunday mornings for years.

That was a year ago.

Now?

Now, it’s nothing to see his name lighting up on your phone late one night because he found a ridiculous meme. Or for you to text him if he could be a subject for your practical.

The campaign ended, but a friendship began in its place.

So now, you’re here – pressed into the corner booth of an 80s themed diner with Mingyu sitting beside you, shoulders brushing yours every time he shifts his weight. Sitting across from you were two of his closest friends – Seungcheol and Vernon.

“Seungcheol’s hyung is the oldest of us, natural leader. He’s taken so if you’re thinking of hitting him up, may as well abandon ship. He’s crazy loyal for his pup.”

You raise a brow, “Pup? You call your girl ‘pup’?”

The blonde man shrugs with a grin, “It’s a nickname I gave her since we were kids. Kinda stuck and never left.”

You nod, “With that kind of context, lowkey cute.”

“Vernon, or Hansol, is the youngest. He’s either about to say something philosophical… or the most cursed shit you’ve ever heard. There is no in-between when it comes to this man.”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his milkshake, “So this is the Dior Princess, huh? Mingyu talked about you a lot.”

After the campaign had gone viral, the internet was quick to dub the two of you Dior’s Prince and Princess. The nickname stuck and it didn’t help that the behind-the-scenes footage captured stolen glances and quiet laughter that fans clung to like gospel.

From the photos plastered on billboards, magazines; to fanedits that circled the web, it was clear that the chemistry between you two was almost impossible to ignore.

You glanced at Mingyu who takes a bite out of his fries like it’s suddenly the most fascinating he’e ever seen and tasted.

“He did, huh?”

Vernon snorts, “Not in a weird way. Mostly in an admirable way since he kept repeating how natural it felt. Which reminds me of the time he fell asleep mid-study and woke up reciting a skincare ad.”

Mingyu groans, “Please, stop reminding me of that.”

Halfway through eating your mac-n-cheese, Vernon pops another question, “Is Wonwoo not coming?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Midterms are coming up. He’s probably in the library going through his notes.”

The giant next to you snorts, “No joke. I called him earlier to ask if he’s coming. Bro picked up just to say, ‘I’m busy with midterms’ and hung up.”

“Wait,” you pause, glancing up when Seungcheol mentioned Wonwoo’s midterm prep like he’s mapping out a whole war strategy on the fire nation. “Is Wonwoo a psych major?”

A look of surprise crosses their face, “Yeah, he is. Why?”

You shrug casually, “Ah, then that means he’s prepping for the same midterm I have next week.”

Vernon leans forward, his curiosity piqued. “You’re in psych?”

You smiled, “Criminal psych to be specific.”

Mingyu’s head almost snapped with how quick he turned it, “Wait, seriously?"

“I know it’s not exactly a major people expect for someone who spends half their time in front of a camera, but–”

“Oh no, no, no,” Vernon intervenes, “It’s hella cool, actually. Fits you too.”

You blink, tilting your head to the side, “Fits me?”

“Yea. You observe, ask questions at the right time. You listen more than you talk that it makes people think you’re just nodding along.”

There’s a brief moment of silence.

“Well, Vernon, remind me to psychoanalyze you later. Strictly for academic purposes, of course.”

Vernon grins. “Can’t wait to be a case study or thesis paper.”

Seungcheol groans, “Don’t give her ideas of us being test subjects, please.”

“Too late!”

The campus library is unusually crowded for a weekday afternoon, almost every table claimed by open laptops, notes, and the quiet hum of caffeine-fueled panic. Finals week always brought the worst out of everyone.

You hold your drink in one hand, your laptop tucked under your arm as you scan the library for an empty table. A small corner table clears up for you, the students packing up their things and you quickly slip into it, relieved to finally be off your feet.

Then you see him.

Head down, headphones on, walking with that unreadable expression he always had, making it almost impossible to tell whether he’s in a good mood, a bad mood, or just deep in thought. He had a thick folder tucked under an arm, dressed plainly with his glasses perched on his nose bridge.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You don’t move – not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t.

You half expected him to recognise you or notice you – either because you shared some classes or because Mingyu had introduced you a few days ago when you were visiting their apartment.

But it never came.

He walks right past your table like you don’t exist.

No sneaking glances, no hesitation whether or not he should greet you.

Nothing.

And then you hear them.

Seated just a little further behind you was your old friend group – laughing and whispering. You can’t hear what they say, but the assumption has begun to build. Maybe Wonwoo did see you, but he’s been told to ignore you. Your fingers tighten around your cup and you glance down at your notes, trying to refocus; but your mind’s already spiraling.

They definitely said something. Maybe it wasn’t straight to the point, but it could be subtle – just enough to plant a seed of doubt.

“Don’t bother with her, she’s not who she makes herself out to be.”

“She’ll make you look bad.”

“She always plays the victim. Like she wasn’t the one who started everything.”

You exhale through your nose, trying to shake out the bad memories before then forcing yourself to flip through your midterm review.

‘If Wonwoo believed whatever he heard, that’s on him,’ you tell yourself.

But still.

Part of you was disappointed because you thought that maybe he’d known they’d be lying. He’s a psych major after all.

Then again, it was Wonwoo’s decision to believe what he wants.

You sat on the floor of Mingyu’s room, your knees pulled to your chest while he leaned against his bed, watching you with quiet concern. He passes you a bottle of water, “What’s bothering you, princess?”

You peeped at him, “Princess?”

He grins, his canines showing whenever he does. “Yeah. That’s what I’m calling you from now on, Princess.”

You give him a look, and he just chuckles, nudging the bottle closer to you. “Come one, you’ve been dubbed Dior’s Princess ever since that shoot with me.” Your lips curved slightly, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift completely and he noticed; his voice softening again, “So, what’s actually bothering you?”

“Wonwoo…” you murmured, fingers twisting the cap of the bottle. Mingyu’s expression flickered, but he didn't say anything. “He… I guess he was kinda nice when we first met..? But lately… He’s been distant… Sometimes he just walks by me like I wasn’t even there.”

You hesitated, then added quietly, “I… I think maybe he’s heard some gossip or rumours about and because of that, he’s not acknowledging me…”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches and for a brief second, he looks away. When he turns back, his eyes are a little darker – not of anger, but there’s definitely conflict in them. “Wonwoo isn’t the kind of guy to believe rumours blindly,” he finally says, voice low. “He’s careful, guarded. But not unfair. Plus, he’s a psych major; you of all people know psych majors don’t take words at face value.”

You stared at him.

He gives a small smile. “Plus, you said it yourself last time. If you want to know what’s going on, you’re gonna have to ask or talk to the person.”

You chewed your lip, still unsure. Mingyu continues, “Wonwoo is always rational. Sure, he malds over his games, but he won’t let some rumours cloud his judgment of a person.”

He leans in just slightly, a teasing grin on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Unless you’d rather stay here with me instead.”

You blinked and he laughed, “I’m kidding, Princess. Well, kind of.”

“You’re impossible, Gyu…” you mutter, half-exasperated, half-flustered.

“Hey, I’m honest.”

And that was true.

You sighed and stood, nerves coiling in your stomach. “Okay. I’ll go talk to him.”

The Dior Prince doesn’t follow you, but you could feel the way his gaze lingered until you disappeared out his door.

You paced outside Wonwoo’s room longer than you should have, your nerves going haywire.

The door was cracked open just enough for you to hear the low murmur of his voice.

“...no, chat, I’m not going to get Princess back on stream just so you can be down bad for her. One, Coups would behead me and two, he’ll either ban you or put you in time out.”

You blinked.

Chat?

You pushed the door open just a little, just to peek a bit more – and sure enough, there he was. Seated comfortably in his gaming chair, headset on, the glow of the LED strip lights casting his room in a red hue. His voice sounded deeper; he sounded more focused, sarcastic, teasing.

It takes a minute for you to register.

Wonwoo was streaming.

Live.

You carefully stepped inside just as he leaned back slightly and stretched. You then noticed how massive his audience was when you saw the chaos flooding his vertical monitor. Then, his viewers noticed you in the frame.

uriboobear: no fucking way uriboobear: THE DIOR PRINCESS???? woozi_factory: gurl wtf are you doing there woozi_factory: are you banging him and the color blind model horanghae_kwon: wts horanghae_kwon: i feel so betrayed rn iamadino: what the fuck iamadino: dior princess sighting iamadino: #holyfuckingairball iamadino: SOMEONE CLIP QUICK 📎 cheolcoups clipped your stream! — Dior Princess Sighting [View Clip] hannieangel: thanks coups cheolcoups: np

Wonwoo froze, then very slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

Sure enough, you stood next to his door looking like an absolute deer-in-headlights. Your voice was soft, but the mic picked it up, “Hi…”

His chat exploded.

junmoonhui: BROOO I THOUGHT IT WAS AI junmoonhui: UR TELLING ME SHE’S REAL junmoonhui: AND IN HIS ROOM????? the1&only8: okay damn the1&only8: do yall live together or banging hannieangel: and the way he turned lmfaoooo hannieangel: also drop the game bro hannieangel: drop dead gorgeous just walked in like a cutscene

The streamer blinked, then quickly muted his mic and lifted his headset off. “Everything okay?” he asked, voice softer than the one his chat had been watching seconds ago. You nodded, awkwardly stepping in further. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were a streamer and going live. I wanted to talk to you about something but I– I can come back another–”

Wonwoo stood up immediately. “No. It’s okay, we can talk.”

And his chat went feral.

horanghae_kwon: holy shit horanghae_kwon: bro stood up so fast iamadino: that ain’t a friend stand up yall iamadino: that’s a mfcking lover stand up the1&only8: and they way he looked at her???? the1&only8: jun hold my hair im abt to throw up junmoonhui: you have a mullet hao the1&only8: sybau n play along

Wonwoo reached over and without hesitation – ended his stream. No sign-off. No raid.

Just black screen.

Silence followed after for a few seconds.

“You didn’t need to–”

“If you came here, ___, it means you came to talk to me about something.” He turns to look at you fully, “And I’m assuming it’s something important with how much you’re shaking.”

You awkwardly sat on the edge of his bed, fingers fidgeting in your lap. Wonwoo dropped his headset on the desk and pulled his gaming chair closer – close enough to talk, but far enough for the space to feel cautious.

“Why have you been treating me like I don’t exist?”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you notice the way his fingers flexed against the arm of the chair.

You take a breath, “I mean, I know we don’t know each other that well, but since we’re friends with Mingyu, I thought we’d at least… y’know… be somewhat friends too… But, you always just… treat me like I’m air and–”

“Whoa, easy there, ___,” he cuts in, “Why don’t you breathe in for me first?”

You blink, cough off guard by the interruption. His voice isn’t cold. If anything, it was calm and steady, like he’s trying to anchor you. You do as told and he scoots a little closer, “Good girl.”

“Now out.”

He waits, eyes not leaving yours. “Again.”

You follow, heart still pounding in your chest, but the air starts to flow a little easier.

Wonwoo sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re transparent. It’s clear I’m not great at this whole… social thing.” He glances over your shoulder, then back at you. “But, I do see you, ___. It’s hard to not notice you when you’re in my class while also being plastered all over magazines and editorials.”

His voice drops just a little, almost too soft to catch. “That’s the problem.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Mingyu,” he starts, leaning back with his hands loosely capped between his knees as he exhales. “There’s no easy way to sugar coat this so I’ll just come right out with it. Gyu and I… we’ve always shared the girls we’re ‘seeing’ or at least somewhat into. It could be some model chick he’s met, some girl we met at a bar or club… It was easy because things were always just physical between us. Nothing that stuck. No jealousy or complications.”

“What does that have anything to do with me? With why you’re–”

“It has everything to do with you, ___.” Wonwoo sighs, “Gyu’s been talking about you like you’re more than just another girl. Like he’s not just wanting to get up your skirt and make it a one time thing, y’know?”

You swallowed, “And you think that means I’m off-limits? Even if it’s a simple friendship?”

Wonwoo shrugged, “Things between Gyu and I… At least in a scenario like this where he looks at you like he means it, like it’s not just fun – like he’d actually stay. If he wants to be serious with you, I figured I need to respect it. That’s all.”

“But–”

“I’m sorry if my behaviour or actions made it seem like I’m ignoring you on purpose, ___. But, I promise I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I didn’t want to be in Gyu’s way of finally having an actual connection or relationship with someone. And since he wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings with you, I shouldn’t be pretending to not notice it. So… I kept my distance.”

The quiet settled again.

You didn’t know what to say after that.

And neither did he.

The silence that settled between you wasn’t cold, but not exactly comfortable either. It was just there.

Until you asked, “Would you trust me if people told you rumours or gossip about me?”

“C’mon, ___,” he chuckles, “This is me we’re talking about. You really think I’ll believe the words of a stranger over a person’s actual personality?”

He’s got you there.

Then, he moved.

He leaned in, almost cautiously, like he didn’t know what he was doing either. And then, in a very uncharacteristic gentle manner, press a kiss to your forehead.

You both froze and the moment lingered; warm skin against skin, his breath brushing your hairline, and something unspoken seeping into the silence. When he finally pulled back, his expression was unreadable. You probably mirrored it.

“What… What was that..?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. As though he was still processing his actions.

“Just a habit of mine,” he replied.

Liar.

But you didn’t press, and neither of you said anything more about it.

When you stood to leave, your chest felt just a little tighter. Like something had settled into place, but neither of you had the words for it yet.

And when the door clicked shut behind you once you left, Wonwoo still stood there…. Thumb brushing across his lower lip.

Wondering why it felt right.

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone’s in the loop! Student-run.

📌 IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS & UPDATES

Club & Societies Fair moved to Next Weds, 3PM @ Main Quad

Prof. Hakyeon’s Thurs 9AM Lecture: Cancelled (Replacement Class to be Announced Soon)

Lost Airpods in Stitch Casing in Library! Approach Lost & Found to claim.

🧠 NEED TO KNOW

Next Sem Schedule Drop: 7th Jul 20XX

New study area opened in East Wing – fully air-conditioned too!

👀 GOSSIP BOARD

💬 anon: anybody else noticed the Dior Princess on Wonwoo’s stream? Are the banging eo or like, it’s a three-way thing between him & the roommate?

anon1: nah like i wanna know too anon1: also did yall see the way he looked at her? anon2: bffr he looked so in love anon3: frrrrr anon3: like damn, i wished someone looked at me like that too anon2: if she banging them both anon2: she hit the jackpot frfr anon4: nah anon2 anon4: if she’s dating them both anon4: that’s the jackpot

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone’s in the loop! Student-run.

📌 IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS & UPDATES

Pledis Fall Party @ NU’EST

Hey boys and girls + non-binary peeps! To celebrate the start of the new fall semester, NU’EST has announced that everyone is invited to their upcoming frat party!

📍 Venue: NU’EST Frat House (right behind North Quad)

📆 Date & Time: This Friday, 8PM till late

🪩 Theme: 70s Disco

🍻 Live DJ sets, drink specials, real food & surprise performances. Come for the drinks, stay for the vibes. You might leave with a few numbers or with someone. wink-wonk.

📮 This party is an open invite, all students are welcomed! (Queer friendly, no cover, no drama!)

Got questions? Hit up @renminki.NU or check the pinned IG post on @HouseOfNu

Let’s make it a night you won’t ever forget… or only half remember 😉

The party was loud.

Lights dim and pulsing, music vibrating through the floor and through your ribs; clusters of people scattered across the living room and onto the balcony. Voices rose and fell like waves of static in your ears, laughter echoed – and somewhere in the house, someone was already tipsy enough to dance on a coffee table (yes, it was Soonyoung).

These kinds of parties were never your cup of tea. Contrary to popular belief, you were a homebody – you preferred the comfort and quietness of your studio compared to the thrum of bass-heavy music and bodies pressed up against each other in a sweaty, alcohol-fueled haze.

But Jihoon had insisted that it would be a ‘low-pressure’ thing, that he’d stick by your side the entire night (until Joshua or Jisoo swooped in and took him off to discuss something about an upcoming Open Mic). Soonyoung had also texted you five separate times the second the announcement rolled out.

tiger couz 🐯: pleaseee tiger couz 🐯: just come hang with us tiger couz 🐯: it’ll be fun! tiger couz 🐯: just drinks n dancing tiger couz 🐯: no drama, promise

You didn’t have much of a choice since they both self-invited themselves into your place hours before the party, and your cousin practically shoved you into a pink glittery mini dress with flared sleeves and matching headband.

They meant well. They always have, even when you were kids. Which is what you love about the two dorks even though there were times you’d want to strangle them for their dumb ideas.

The hours were closing in to 10PM, and so far you were fine.

Until you saw him.

Wonwoo.

He’s leaning against the balcony railing, drink in hand, dressed in all black, expression unreadable… then his eyes found yours. And just from his gaze alone, your stomach dropped because you knew something was wrong.

He pushed off the railing and strode towards you, each step purposeful. His mouth was set in a firm line, eyes locked on yours. “Can I talk to you?”

Your heart rate picked up, but you nodded.

Wonwoo leads you to an empty guest room, door slightly ajar behind you – the room was still dim, still loud; but it was removed just enough that his words could be heard.

“I ran into someone earlier,” he starts, voice low, almost careful – but still tight. “Her name was Haemin. Said she used to be a friend of yours.”

Your breath caught and you stared at him, frozen.

“She… She said you aren’t who you make yourself out to be. That you ruined someone’s reputation, twisted the story to turn everyone against her and–”

“Do you believe them?”

“I didn’t want to,” he said. “I still don’t. But the way she said in such a confident manner, how you seemed on edge whenever someone said they’ve heard things about you… It made me wonder…”

He trailed off.

Your throat closed. “You… You think I’m playing the victim?”

His expression cracked just a fraction. “I don’t want to believe that, ___. But, I need you to help me understand all this–”

“You think I haven’t tried that, Wonwoo?” you snapped, voice rising before it cracked. “You have no idea what it felt like. To lose everyone. To have your name turned into a warning. To try and clear my name, but nobody would listen. And now, you’re asking me if I was the villain because of some hearsay?”

You hate how you’re being interrogated like you were in the wrong. You’ve tried to prove those rumours wrong, but nobody was willing to listen. Whenever you tried to explain, all you got were dismissive;

“It’s true, though… You’re a model…”

“You’re a psych major. Who’s to say you’re not psyching us?”

He blinked.

Then it hit you – the tears threatening behind your eyes, the voices blurring and the walls of the room slowly tilting.

It was all too much.

“I need to go,” you whispered, already turning.

“Wait–”

But you were already walking.

You pushed through the crowd, heart hammering and no seeing faces, just shapes and shadows. You weren’t sure if you were angry, scared or just done with the feeling of always having to defend yourself. You barely made it past the hallway when a hand caught your wrist, their grip firm but gentle.

“Hey.”

Mingyu.

You turned.

He looked worried, conflicted even. “You okay?” he asked gently, “Did Wonwoo say something to you?”

You blink fast to clear your vision, “Gyu, not now–”

You want to brush it off, to escape, but then the giant puppy steps closer. “I saw him kiss your forehead the other night.”

You froze.

Mingyu’s hand dropped slowly from your wrist, like he’d just realised how much you were shaking. He continued, his voice steady despite the conflicted undertone. “Wonwoo… Look, I’ve known him for years and he doesn’t do that. Ever. Not with anyone. Not unless it means something.”

You swallowed thickly, “Mingyu, now isn’t–”

He shakes his head, “No, please, ___, just hear me out. I’ve known him for years and I know that was far from casual. And… And I see the way he looks at you. Even if he’s too scared to admit it, I know he felt something.”

Your eyes were wide when you looked up at him.

“And I did too.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not saying this to make things harder, but I need you to know that I like you. I have for a while now. A-And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t have these feelings for you. If Wonwoo is too much of a pussy to face his feelings, I’m not.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Your thoughts start to spin like they’d all slammed into each other at once – maybe because the room felt too small. Maybe because you were already on the edge.

You blinked rapidly, the sting behind your eyes too much to swallow.

The party around you was getting too loud. Too bright.

Soonyoung and Jihoon were nowhere in sight.

Wonwoo’s confrontation.

Mingyu’s confession.

“I… I can’t,” you choked out. “I need to go…”

You stepped back and before Mingyu could say another word, you slipped past him; away from the noise, from the crowd – away from both of them.

The shared apartment was strangely silent, save for the soft hum for the air conditioners and the occasional clink of the ice melting in the glass beside him.

He’s sat at his desk, not streaming, editing, gaming and not even trying to be productive. His fingers hovered over the keyboard without purpose, his monitor dimming on its own as if recognising the stillness.

He wasn’t sure when these feelings had started.

It wasn’t at the party, that much he was sure of.

How could he when you looked like that under the strobing lights? The way your voice cracked when you asked if he thought that you were the villain. Not even when the sting of guilt clung to him as he watched you walk away.

No, it had to be way before that.

Maybe it was the first time you challenged him in class – voice soft, but your mind was most definitely sharp; sometimes making or asking statements that would make even the professor pause.

Maybe it was the time you fell asleep on the couch without realising it, laptop open, playlist still playing with one of your reports halfway done.

Or maybe it was the night you brought hot tea to Mingyu after he got sick after finals and casually handed him a cup too, telling him, “Don’t think I don’t know you were doing that sub-a-thon thing.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as he let his head fall against the headrest. He hadn’t realised he’d already started falling until it hurt to watch her walk away. This wasn’t your average crush that’s all fire and flash; it crept in quietly. Almost gentle.

This crush of his was something that’s always been there and it wasn’t until the weight of what if sat heavier than anything than they’d both said.

And maybe that’s why it sat like a stone on his chest.

Wonwoo isn’t someone who did feelings out loud. He doesn’t wear them on his sleeves, and doesn't spill them into crowded rooms.

He lets out a slow breath, finally moving his eyes away from the dark monitor, his gaze landing on his bed where he had pressed a kiss to your forehead weeks ago. You weren’t there, but the echo of your presence lingered in the air.

In the space he hadn’t realised he’s carved out.

Maybe he had been falling for you for a while – he just didn’t know how to land without breaking.

Wonwoo’s door swung open, though he didn’t turn around to look at the person who had the audacity to barge into his personal space.

He didn’t need to.

“What do you need, Mingyu?” He sighed.

Mingyu’s voice was flat, cutting – it was out of his character unless he’s pissed. “You talked to her. At the party.”

“So?”

“You asked her about her past, didn’t you?” He scoffs before continuing, “I thought you were better than this, hyung. You of all people know that you shouldn’t judge a person based on rumours or gossip. So, why the fuck were you–”

Wonwoo stood from his chair, the calm gone from his expression as he turned to look at the model. “Kim Mingyu, don’t come in here and like you’re some kind of moral compass.”

“Don’t fucking lecture me about crossing lines when you confessed to her and basically outed my feelings in the same breath.”

Mingyu frowns, “I didn’t out anything.”

“Really? You told her I kissed her like it meant something.”

“It did and you know it. You don’t just show affection or care like that to anyone, Woo.”

Silence.

“You used what I did, what I wasn’t ready to talk about; you still outed me. You don’t think that’ll push her further away?”

Mingyu blinked, the accusation finally sinking in – and it sank deeper than he expected. “I’m not trying to use it against you. I didn’t even mean to out you in a way that–”

“But you still did,” Wonwoo’s voice was quieter now. “Maybe not on purpose, but it still happened.”

The model looked away.

“You said yourself, Gyu,” the streamer muttered, “That kind of affection from me is rare.”

Mingyu’s voice softened, “Because I know how hard it is for you to show it, hyung.”

After a beat, he speaks again. “Maybe that’s why she ran… Because if it really meant something to you, to her – then you questioning her is basically saying it means nothing.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, shoulder tense. And for the first time, his voice cracked just a bit. “The look she gave me… When I asked her about her past, when I asked her if the rumours were true… She looked at me like she was bracing herself for the world to fall apart again.”

Neither of them spoke after that.

They didn’t have to. Didn’t need to.

Because for once, they both understood one thing:

They were both falling.

And so was she.

DA BOIS 🍻

cheol: so uh cheol: anybody gonna tell me wtf is going on with woo n gyu cheol: cuz why the hell do yall look like you’re one wrong breath away cheol: from tearing out each other’s throat alien-non: girl problems tallgyu: how the fuck do you know that cheol: if you’re this pissy then it’s true cheol: jihoon mentioned his friend’s been shutting herself in for days with no contact cheol: that your girl? gameboi: that should be her gameboi: and hansol’s right gameboi: it’s a girl problem cheol: so basically cheol: us joking abt you two liking the same girl has manifested into an actual thing cheol: holy fuck alien-non: have you talked to her? gameboi: she’s ghosting everyone tallgyu: i asked her cousin tallgyu: said it’s smtg normal for her n she’ll come find us if she wants to talk cheol: so you’re giving her space rn gameboi: yea alien-non: cool alien-non: good luck tho cheol: and prayers cheol: yall defo gonna need it

Time’s passed by in a haze for you.

You hadn’t answered any messages.

Not Soonyoung’s, “You doing alright?”

Not Jihoon’s, “You alive bitch?”

You didn’t eat much, either – your appetite probably on a wanted post somewhere downtown.

You wanted to cry, but the tears never came. It just stayed stuck behind your eyes, heaving and aching. You had put your phone on DND before throwing it onto the coffee table, now it’s probably buried underneath the mass amounts of junk food and books.

Your studio was silent and you were about to resume whatever pity party that was going on until the lock clicked.

You froze, a blanket draped over your legs while you sat on the couch, wearing the same hoodie you’d cry into four nights ago. Familiar footsteps fill your studio – soft and confident that it announces who your visitors were.

“Couz, you still alive in here?”

You don’t move.

Seconds later, Jihoon’s head poked into the living room, followed by Soonyoung who was carrying a large takeout bag.

You cringed at how hoarse your voice sounded when you whispered, “You used the spare key.”

Jihoon shrugs, “You gave it to us.”

“In case of emergencies.”

Soonyoung snorts, “And you ghosting everyone, probably not eating properly for days isn’t an emergency? You went off the grid, ___.”

Jihoon sat next to you, “We got worried. Last time you went off the grid, you actually went mia for like, three months?”

“I’m fine,” you tried to assure them, but your voice cracked on the last word. Soonyoung sets the takeout bag on your kitchen counter. “Yea, sure. And I’m Jihoon’s assistant producer.”

The breath you huffed out might’ve been a laugh had it not felt like someone has a tight grip on your throat.

Jihoon doesn’t say anything – if anything, he’s just like Wonwoo, but just a little more expressive than the tall streamer. He rests an arm on the back of the couch and looks at you to make sure you weren’t going to lie to him.

“We’ve known you for years, ___,” he starts quietly. “Talk to us.”

“I messed everything up,” you murmured.

“No,” the blonde next to you was quick to interject, “You’re just a human with feelings.

Soonyoung walks up with a bottle of water in hand. “You always carry shit that’s not even your fault. You think the people who care about you won’t do anything about it, but we’ve always got your back.”

You took the bottle with shaking hands, pressing it to your lips as you downed at least half of it to distract yourself from the way your throat tightened as you’re reminded about how your cousin and childhood friend always got your back.

“Even if you shut down or disappear for a bit, we’re still going to show up.”

“You don’t need to explain everything right now,” Soonyoung adds. “Just let us stay the night and keep you company. You’re not alone, yea? You have us!”

For the first time in days, you felt relieved.

You nodded.

Without uttering another word, Jihoon reached over and tucked you into his side while Soonyoung reached for your remote, selecting a random movie like tonight was any other movie night.

Soonyoung cooked you a bowl of ramen, laying out the fried chicken and kimbap he had brought over onto the coffee table; even promising he won’t judge if you cried into it again.

Jihoon sat next to the furniture, poking through your neglected phone to clear the notifications that’s been piling up from the days you hadn’t touched it.

You slurped a bite in silence before speaking.

“He confessed.”

Soonyoung blinked, pausing his movements of taking a piece of kimbap. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon smacks his shoulder, “No, you idiot.”

“Mingyu,” you clarified, staring down at the bowl of ramen soup in your hands. “He… He came up to me at the party and said he liked me.”

Soonyoung’s jaw dropped, the kimbap half-chewed in his mouth and Jihoon had to shut it for him.

“He said… He said he saw Wonwoo kiss my forehead that night. Said he knew it meant something because Wonwoo doesn’t just… do things like that. Not with anyone and… Mingyu said there has to be something going on between us.”

Jihoon’s brows lifted just a little, “What did you say?”

“I… I didn’t say anything. I just left.”

Soonyoung winced, “Yikes. Must’ve hit him hard.”

You shrugged as Jihoon took the bowl of soup away from you. “I dunno… Wonwoo… Wonwoo came to talk to me before Mingyu confessed. He…” Your voice dropped, “He asked if the rumours were true…”

“The one Haemin started?” Jihoon asked slowly.

You nodded again. “I… Someone from that group must’ve talked to him and it definitely messed with his head. He wasn’t like… I don’t know, extremely mad about it, just… He just looked like he didn’t know who he was looking at anymore. Was he looking at the real me or a front I put up?”

Soonyoung reaches out a hand to hold yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He didn’t believe them, right?”

“I think part of him didn’t want to believe it. Or… he was scared that it could be true. That I was a manipulator, a –”

“You aren’t.” Jihoon’s voice was stern. “That bitch twisted things. That’s a manipulator, ___. You? You’ve always been honest. Haemin is always bitter when people are doing better than her so she’ll always find ways to tear them down. That’s her game.”

“She always shuts you down whenever you mention a new gig, telling you to stop rubbing it in everyone’s faces. I didn’t want to say anything back then because she was your friend, but it always pisses me off.”

You notice the way his jaw clenched, fingers curling into a fist on his lap. “You were proud. You should’ve been – it was one hell of an achievement for you. And this bitch made you feel like you were bragging just for existing.”

“Yea, like, I know how much you value those around you, and that’s a good trait of yours. But Haemin is always putting you down because she thinks she’s better than you. You were excited about something good happening in your life, that’s human – not annoying. She just couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.”

A silence settled for a moment. It was heavy, but not hopeless.

Jihoon’s gaze softened when he looked over. “You’ve been second-guessing yourself all this while because of her. And now she’s got him second-guessing you, too.”

“It’s not your problem if she doesn't like people seeing you shine,” Soonyoung adds. “That’s hers.”

You didn’t really plan what else to do once you got here – in front of Wonwoo and Mingyu’s shared apartment.

Sure, you planned to finally talk to them, but you hadn’t planned the rest. Your heart hammered against your chest like it was trying to crawl out. Your hands were covered by your sleeves, fingers twisting the fabric in a nervous rhythm as a grounding method.

Where the hell do you even begin?

Do you apologise for dropping off the grid? Acknowledge Mingyu’s confession?

Or do you explain yourself to Wonwoo?

The silence stretched in the doorway and you swore it was somehow louder than last week’s party.

You stared at the doorbell like it might explode if you touched it.

Just press it. Say something. Breathe.

Ding-Dong.

Silence.

One second. Two. Three–

Nope nope nope.

You went into full-blown panic.

You can’t do this.

You look like you haven’t slept in a week. You hadn’t even planned what to say.

What if they hated you? What if Wonwoo regretted ever holding any affection towards you? What if Mingyu had changed his mind? What if–

Your feet moved before your brain could reason otherwise. You spun on your heel, fully intent on getting the hell out of there before the door could open. Maybe they could pretend it was a mistake. Wrong floor. Wrong unit. A ghost.

You were probably two steps away from the door when–

“Were you seriously going to ding-dong-ditch us?”

You froze.

Mingyu’s voice sounded half amused, half exasperated.

You turned around slowly, cheeks flushed when you found them both at the doorway.

Mingyu had one hand on the doorframe, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Wonwoo leaned casually against the other side, arms folded and his lips pressed in a faint line.

You gave the weakest shrug known to mankind. “I… I was testing the doorbell..?”

Mingyu blinks. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You disappeared for a week,” Wonwoo adds, his voice low but not angry. “And your comeback strategy was ding-dong-run? Really, Princess?”

The pet name caused your breath to hitch.

“I… I panicked…” you muttered.

Mingyu snorts, “Clearly.”

He steps aside, “Come on in before you sprint back to whatever blanket cave Jihoon said you’ve been rotting in the past week.”

You step closer, chewing on your bottom lip. “Are… you mad?”

“Mad?” Wonwoo responded in a way that you’ve just asked the most ridiculous question. “We were worried, ___. That’s not the same thing.”

The living room felt warmer than the last time you were here. Not in temperature, but it felt like the air carried more weight to it. You sat on the couch, legs pressed together, hands locked in your lap. The fabric of your sleeves are twisted between your fingers, Mingyu sat across you on the floor, back resting against the coffee table.

Wonwoo sat next to you on the couch. There’s some distance between you, but it was to test the waters whether you’d allow him back into your personal space; his elbows resting on his knees.

The silence was thick, but it wasn’t hostile.

Just… there.

You shifted again, pulling your sleeves over your knuckles.

“So… Where do you wanna start?”

You tried to speak. Failed. Tried Again.

“I… I…”

Wonwoo scoots closer, one hand reaching out to give your thigh a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Princess. Take your time.”

Mingyu nods, giving you a faint, reassuring smile. “We’re not gonna poof into thin air, y’know?”

You nodded.

You took a breath.

Then another.

And finally:

“Haemin tried to break up a couple back in Pre-U.”

Mingyu blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Back in Pre-U, there was this guy called Hyungwon and she kept flirting with him despite knowing that he was taken. And when I told her that was a low move, even for her, she got pissed. Said I had no right to judge her when I’d done the same, if not worse. Which I hadn’t.”

Your voice trembled as you continued, “So she twisted the story. Said I was the one trying to break them up. That I told her I could have anyone I wanted because I was a model and guys would drop their girlfriends for me.”

Mingyu’s jaw dropped slightly, stunned into silence while his brows creased like he couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or furious. You barely notice the moment when Wonwoo shifts, only realising how close he’d gotten when his fingers gently curled around your wrist and tugged you closer.

You don’t resist.

The streamer maneuvered to sit across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms steadily wrapped around your body, grounding you as your pulse pounded in your ears. You don’t know if it was the warmth of his body or the way they listened to you explain your story. Regardless, your chest felt lighter and you continued.

“She used the fact that people were starting to pay attention to me, and everyone believed her because she said it with a smile. Nobody bothered to ask for my side. They just stopped texting. Stopped talking. They whispered every time I walked into the room.”

The words linger in the air, but your chest felt… lighter. Like you’d finally let something out that’s been weighing you down for years.

Mingyu hasn’t moved, his eyes locked on your form while trying to decipher every emotion on your face; like he was trying to figure out if he could somehow carry the hurt for you. Wonwoo’s arms stayed wrapped around you, it wasn’t tight but it was steady.

Mingyu finally spoke, his voice hoarse and eyebrows pulled together. “Nobody should’ve made you feel like that. Least of all people who were supposed to be your friends.”

“I just… I thought if I just stayed quiet long enough, maybe… maybe it’d all go away.”

“You don’t need to stay quiet anymore.” Wonwoo’s voice was low as he tilted your chin so you’d look at him. “You’ve been carrying all this by yourself. I didn’t make it any better by questioning you.”

Your breath hitches when your eyes meet. “It’s okay, Wonu… You were just trying to understand…”

He raises a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck,” Mingyu muttered, catching your attention. “I-I’m sorry, Princess. I… I can’t believe I confessed to you when you clearly weren’t in the headspace. I-I just–”

Wonwoo’s arms loosened slightly, not pulling away but to make room so you could adjust yourself. You turned to Mingyu, “It’s okay, Gyu. You… You don’t have to take it back.”

He looks surprised by your words.

You swallowed, “I… I don’t know. It’s just… I’m scared… I feel something for both of you. That… That’s terrifying to me because–”

“You think it isn’t for us?” Mingyu cuts in.

Wonwoo shoots the model a look and he’s quick to shut up, muttering a quiet apology. “It’s just… This is way too fucking insane, even more me. Literally two dudes sitting in the same room with a girl they’ve both fallen in love with and figuring things out.”

Wonwoo’s voice was low and careful when he added, “We also don’t expect you to choose.”

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” you whispered, looking up at Wonwoo before your gaze drifts to Mingyu.

“Well,” Wonwoo says with a shrug that was way too casual. “Polygamy is a thing.”

You and Mingyu blink, caught completely off guard by his words. “What?”

The elder’s gaze doesn’t waver, mouth twitching at the corners like he knew exactly what he was doing. “I’m just saying. I’m into her. You’re into her. Clearly she’s overwhelmed by the idea of choosing when the idea of losing either of us will wreck her. ”

Mingyu stared at him, “Hyung, you’re not ser–”

“I am. You know I don’t joke about the things I want, Gyu.” He tilts his head, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder with you still nestled on his lap. “Like I said, polygamy exists. When done right – with proper communication, consent, and nobody being left in the dark; it’s possible.”

The room was filled with tension, but it wasn’t demanding. You looked between them both, “Is this… Is this something you two want?”

“I’d rather share than walk away, ___.” Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to the column of your throat, sucking in a sharp breath when you let out a whimper.

Mingyu lets out a breath. “Same here…”

You swallowed, “And… And if you asked me what I want..?”

The streamer hums while the model leaned forward, both asking in unison, “What do you want, Princess?”

Your answer was quiet.

“I want you both…”

tiger couz 🐯: yo tiger couz 🐯: new job offer alert tiger couz 🐯: ok technically not a job offer prettay couz 🎀: wassup tiger couz 🐯: rmb that Dior couple campaign from a year ago? tiger couz 🐯: the one you did with Gyu? prettay couz 🎀: yea prettay couz 🎀: what abt it? tiger couz 🐯: they wanna do some kind of appreciation dinner for everyone involved prettay couz 🎀: a dinner? prettay couz 🎀: why a year after it tho? prettay couz 🎀: seems kinda prettay couz 🎀: idk, off-timing? tiger couz 🐯: the success rlly impressed them tiger couz 🐯: and their investors tiger couz 🐯: hence dinner tiger couz 🐯: we’ll talk deets once jihoon gets back from that Open Mic

“Good girl,” Wonwoo praises, his voice a calm purr as he takes your phone out of your trembling hand. “Good job in replying to your cousin properly while Gyu eats your pretty pussy.”

You’re seated on his lap, back pressed tight against chest, his clothed cock hard beneath you. HIs free arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady while Mingyu keeps his tongue buried in your soaked cunt. His large hands kept your thighs spread while groaning like he’s starving and you’re the only thing he’s allowed to eat.

Your head lolls back onto Wonwoo’s shoulder, lips parted in a loud moan as Mingyu sucks your clit harshly. Your thighs twitch in response, hips bucking forward, but Wonwoo holds you still. “W-Wait..! Hngh!”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re so sensitive here, Princess. Has nobody ever eaten you out?”

You shake your head, voice barely audible over the wet sounds between your legs. “N-No.. Hngh!”

The streamer chuckles low against your ear, hands sliding underneath your sweater to teasingly pinch your nipples. “Poor thing,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Mingyu’s good at eating pussy. He’ll take care of you.”

Mingyu lets out a growl, hands digging into your thighs as he tongue fucks you deeper, nose bumping against your clit. The lewd sounds of him eating you out fill the room, wet and messy; mixed with your whimpers and the quiet rasp of Wonwoo’s breath against your ear.

You feel more arousal drip out your pussy when he tugs on your nipples. “Hear that, Princess? That’s the sound of a pretty pussy being eaten well.” Then, he gives your clit a spank, causing you to yelp and arch in surprise, the sudden sting sparking through the heat bubbling in your core.

“Better cum soon, ___. Gyu’s not stopping until he’s had enough, and I’m not letting you go until you soak his face.”

Wonwoo turns your face towards his, fingers tilting your chin up. “You’re doing so good for us,” he murmurs, eyes dark and hooded. “Let me kiss you, Princess.”

You can barely manage a nod before his lips are on yours – hot, slow… His tongue slides against yours, stealing your breath as he swallows every needy noise you make. The kiss quickly deepens, getting messier and dizzying.

Mingyu groans between your legs, the sight of you moaning into Wonwoo’s mouth has his cock throbbing in his jeans. He flattens his tongue against your clit and drags it in tight circles, causing you to break from the kiss and your hips twitching.

“G-Gyu! Hngh!”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum all over his face.”

Your body obeys, thighs closing in around Mingyu’s head as your orgasm crashes into you. A loud cry rips from your throat, swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips as he kisses you through your climax.

Mingyu continues to lap at your pussy, even when your body’s still trembling from the aftershocks. If anything, he gets hungrier – like he could die in between your thighs and still beg for more. His tongue stays locked on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes you jolt – sliding two fingers into your soaked cunt, curling right against your g-spot.

“G-Gyu,” you whimper, trying to squirm away from the relentless pressure.

But, you can’t move.

Wonwoo wraps an arm around you like a cage, while the other slides up. His fingers brush along your throat before tightening with just enough pressure that makes your breath catch.

“Stay still,” Wonwoo orders, his breath warm against your cheek. “Let him play with your pretty pussy a bit longer.”

You gasp, eyes fluttering open to meet his. That’s when you see it.

There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as his lips curled into a wicked grin at your reaction. He notices the way your thighs clamp tighter, how your head tilts back.

“Oh?” Fuck, he sounds so hot. “You like that, Princess?”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t deny it. You’ve always known Wonwoo was the dominant type – maybe it’s the way he carries himself, but what you didn’t know was that he’s kinky too.

And God help you, you’re so into it.

Mingyu groans against your pussy, clearly enjoying both your reactions. He scissors his fingers inside you, bullying your g-spot in a way that has your back arching and breath stuttering. His tongue flicks over your clit in tight, rhythmic strokes, matching the pace of his fingers thrusting into you.

“Wo-Wonu,” you gasp, voice breaking. “I… I’m gonna..!”

Wonwoo tightens the grip he has on your throat, angling your face to look up at him again. “Yea? Gonna cum over his tongue while Gyu eats your sweet cunt? Go on then. Show him just how good he’s making you feel.”

And your body obeys.

Your walls clenched violently around Mingyu’s fingers while your entire body tenses. Letting out a loud cry, liquid gushes out from your pussy, spraying over his face and chin.

That doesn’t stop him, though.

He’s absolutely pussydrunk. His tongue greedily laps through your release like it’s the only thing he’d drink up. His fingers don’t falter either, working you through every tremor and drawing out your high until your legs shake and your moans turn into helpless whimpers.

Wonwoo leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth, hand still snug around your throat. “Such a good girl… Now, the real fun begins.”

Very gently, he guides you off his lap. You’re still trying to catch your breath but you let him maneuver you onto all fours, the cold air hitting your pussy and you could feel how sticky your thighs were – soaked from squirting thanks to Mingyu’s tongue.

You don’t have enough time to balance yourself because you feel the cushions dip in front of you, Wonwoo having one hand wrapped around the base of his long cock. It was thick and the tip was flushed red, already leaking pre-cum from watching you get pleasured by Mingyu earlier.

“Open up for me,” he instructs, tapping the tip against your lips.

You do as you’re told and he slides in slowly, head thrown back as he lets out a low groan at the way your warm mouth wraps around him. “Fuck, yeah,” he breaths, tangling one hand in your hair and starts to guide you lower. “Let me see how much of this dick you can take.”

Your lips stretch around his girth, eyes fluttering shut as the weight of his dick lays on your tongue. He starts to shallowly thrust, letting you adjust before going deeper.

“Shit, Princess,” he groans, hips rolling forward as he watches your cheeks hollow around him. “Look so fucking hot with mouth full of my cock, pussy still dripping… S’like you were made for this.”

Behind you, Mingyu trails kisses along your spine, his hands roaming your body, thumbs digging into the softness of your flesh. You feel him line his cock up against your soaked folds, tip nudging at your entrance.

“Squirted all over my face and you're still this wet for me?" he teases, dragging the leaking cockhead through folds, giving your sensitive clit a few taps. “Think you can fit my whole cock in, Princess?”

You whine around Wonwoo’s cock and the elder just smirks, “Oh, don’t whine like that. We know you can take it. You’re our good girl, aren’t you?”

Mingyu slowly pushes in, grunting at how your walls clenches and unclenches rhythmically around his length. Your thighs quiver, mouth still full of Wonwoo’s cock, and your eyes tear up as you try to breathe through it.

“Fuuuuck,” the model behind you groans, bottoming out inside your heat. “So fucking tight.”

The streamer above you lets out a dark laugh, shallowly thrusting into your mouth again. “Yeah? Never had a cock as big as Gyu’s inside your little pussy, Princess?”

No, you haven’t.

The burn of the stretch has your toes curling, but it fades into pleasure once Mingyu starts thrusting. The pace he sets is deep and hard, making your hips rock back into him instinctively to feel more of the pleasure. Your mouth goes slack around Wonwoo’s cock for a moment and he notices.

He moves his free hand to cup your face, “You alright, Kitten?”

“S-Shit,” Mingyu stutters. “She just got tighter.”

You managed a muffled moan, nodding as your tongue presses against the underside of his cock.

Then, he begins to move in sync with Mingyu – thrusting forward just as the model pulls back. You can tell they’ve done this multiple times, not just from the stories they tell, but how they match each other’s pacing.

“Greedy Kitten,” Wonwoo mutters, his eyes glued to your face. “Taking two cocks at once. What would the media say when they find out, hm? That their pretty little Dior Princess is nothing but a cock hungry whore.”

You choke on a moan, the pleasure coiling in your belly hot and fast.

Mingyu tightens his grip on your hips, snapping his against yours in a rougher pace. “Shit, she’s trembling. Gonna cum again, Princess?”

You sob around Wonwoo’s cock, tears sliding down your cheeks as you try to hold yourself up between them. Every thrust rocks your body forward – Wonwoo fucking your throat slow and deep, Mingyu rutting into your soaked pussy like he never wants to pull out.

Mingyu’s calloused hand slides around your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs and finding your swollen clit. Your entire body jolts like a live wire when he starts to rub it in tight circles.

“Mmh!” your voice is muffled around Wonwoo’s cock, hips bucking back against Mingyu’s. “Fuck, you’re twitching,” he pants, still rutting into your soaked cunt while his fingers work your clit relentlessly.

Wonwoo grunts, fisting your hair gently so he could pull back just enough to let you breathe, eyes focused on the flushed, glassy-eyed face. “Go on, Princess,” he coaxes, voice thick with arousal. “Cum for us. Let us see just how much you love it when we wreck you.”

Your body seizes as you’re pushed to the edge, the orgasm crashing into you harder than the previous ones. Your cries are muffled by Wonwoo’s cock, spit glistening on your lips as your vision blur and your cunt clenches violently around Mingyu’s cock.

Mingyu’s hips stutter as the way you clamp down around him, more slick gushing down your thighs. “Holy fuck– Shit, you’re milking me so good, Kitten.” The lewd squelching of his dick pistoning in and out of your dripping pussy echoes through the room. His fingers never leave your clit – if anything, he presses against it harder and rubs faster.

Wonwoo’s pace quickens too, hips snapping into your mouth with more urgency. You hollow your cheeks, moaning around his thick length, the vibrations pushing him closer to his own climax. He tightens the grip he has on your hair, “Just like that. Sweet mouth of yours is gonna make me cum down this pretty throat soon.”

A few more thrusts and the streamers spills his hot cum down your throat with a strained groan. His release floods over your tongue, thick and hot; and you try your best to swallow it all. “God damn,” he pants, pulling back slowly to watch the way a string of cum and saliva cling to your lips. “That’s the best fucking head I ever got.”

Before you could respond, Mingyu slams his cock deep into your pussy with a loud roar of your name, hot spurts of cum filling your needy hole to the brim and leaking out around where he’s still buried. Your fourth orgasm tears through you without warning, cunt twitching around his cock as he starts to grind into you.

Mingyu presses his forehead against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in heavy pants. “Fuck… You’ve got the best pussy ever, Princess.”

Your body’s still trembling, barely recovering from the last orgasm when Wonwoo gently shifts your limp form. He slides his hand beneath you to lift and reposition your body with ease. “You did so well, Princess,” he coos, laying you on your back before spreading your legs. His gaze drops to your pussy – dripping with Mingyu’s cum and clenching like you want more. 

You do.

He kneels between your thighs, cock glistening with your spit as he slowly gets hard again.

“Will you let me fuck you, Princess?” he asks. Your breath hitches at his question. After wrecking you just moments ago, he’s still asking you if he has your consent to continue. The tenderness beneath his dominance catches you off guard, and God, you’d be lying if it didn’t make your heart stutter and just a tad bit hornier.

“Please, Wonu…”

He lets out a guttural moan, rubbing his cockhead against your slick folds, letting it catch on your swollen clit before nudging it down your entrance. The tease alone has you moaning, body trembling with anticipation of being stretched and filled by him.

“My Princess is so polite,” he chuckles, pressing the tip in slowly. “Asking me to fill her needy pussy so sweetly.”

He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock while he loses himself in the way your walls flutter around him. “Fuck you’re still so wet,” he chuckles. You mewl, back arching as he sinks deeper into your sensitive cunt until he fully bottoms out. Some of Mingyu’s cum drips out of your stuffed pussy, staining the couch cushions below.

“Messy little thing.”

Your legs weakly, but instinctively wrap themselves around his waist the moment he starts thrusting, mouth falling open in a breathless moan. “Wonu… Feel s’full…”

He groans, hands tightening the grip they had on your hip. “And you… Feel. So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust.

“Can’t wait to creampie this messy cunt, Princess.”

He speeds up, the sound of your sopping pussy growing louder, wetter, filthier with every thrust. You cling to him, grabbing at his shoulders as you feel your orgasm creep up on you again. Your body is overstimulated, but you can’t bring yourself to care – not when two hot men are stuffing you full.

Wonwoo doesn’t warn you that he’s cumming. Instead, he leans into your neck and buries himself to the hilt before warm, thick spurts of cum flood your pussy once again. He stays buried inside you for a few seconds, wanting to keep every drop of his release stuffed inside you. Your walls flutter weakly around his length, body trembling and brain clouded in an overstimulated heat.

But he’s not done.

He pulls away from your neck and straightens his back. You feel his hands roam your body, like he’s trying to ground you – until he presses his palm firmly on your lower belly, right where you feel the thick fullness of him pressing against your womb.

“W-Wonu–!” you gasp, body jolting as the pressure sends a sharp wave of pleasure straight to your core. Your pussy clamps down around his cock, like you were trying to milk more of his delicious cum.

The streamer grins wolfishly, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Does it feel good when I do that?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles on the soft swell of your lower belly before pushing down just enough to feel his cock pressing back up into you. “Can you feel me here, Princess?”

You nod frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body feels like you’re on cloud nine, hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

Beside you, Mingyu groans – one hand wrapped tight around his cock, fisting it hard as Wonwoo toys with your fucked-out body. His eyes are glued to the way your belly bulges from both his and the elder’s cum, how you whimper whenever he presses down.

“Shit,” he breathes, stroking himself faster. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Wonwoo looks over to the model, still stimulating you from your belly, his grin never fading. “You just gonna stand there and jerk off? Put that mouth of hers to work, Gyu.”

You’re still dazed but you listen to Wonwoo, turning your head and parting your lips, tongue flicking out as Mingyu steps closer; cock flushed and slick in his hand. He groans when you take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down further. Meanwhile, Wonwoo doesn’t stop pressing down on your belly, marvelling in the way your body twitches as you choke around the model’s dick.

The sight was sinful as hell.

Pussy stuffed and dripping, your mouth doing its best to give Mingyu a blowjob and the very act of your submission setting every one of his nerves on fire.

“Oh shit,” Wonwoo curses, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Atta girl. Our Kitten is so messy, but still so eager. ”

Your eyes are watery, cheeks flushed as your throat works around his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat with each roll of his hips. One hand is tangled in your hair, setting a rhythm while grunts of approval and pleasure fall from his lips, eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips are wrapped around him.

Wonwoo’s cock is nestled perfectly against your g-spot, your pussy full and warm with both men’s cum. His hand continues to apply a steady pressure over your womb, already growing addicted to the way his cock pushes up just slightly inside you every time he pushes down.

He can’t help but let out a low laugh as he watches your thighs tremble, your hips twitching involuntarily as he continues his ministrations. “Look at her, Gyu. Our Princess is so sensitive. Every time I press here, she squirms.”

Mingyu groans, gaze flicking down to your lower belly. “Such a perfect Princess for us,” he pants, his thrusts growing a little rougher.

Your body jolts again when Wonwoo’s fingers find your overstimulated clit with ease, rubbing it in quick, insistent circles while simultaneously pressing down on your lower belly. Your thighs kick out, hands clutching the cushion beneath you.

“Gonna squirt for us again, Kitten?”

You try to answer, but you can’t – not when your mouth is full of Mingyu’s thick dick. Not that it matters anyway because Wonwoo applies more pressure to your lower belly, rubbing your clit faster.

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. You sob around Mingyu’s cock as a fresh gush of liquid soaks Wonwoo’s thighs and the cushion beneath you. Your body convulses, mouth going slack as your cunt clenches uncontrollably around Wonwoo’s still-hard length.

“F-Fuck–” Wonwoo growls, hips jerking forward at the milking compression of your pussy. The fluttering spasms of your walls trigger his own orgasm, his cock twitching before pumping another load of hot semen into your already stuffed cunt. “Take it, Princess. Fucking taking my cum in your greedy pussy.”

The sight of you squirting and being creamed by Wonwoo was enough to tip Mingyu right over the edge, too. With a low, choked moan, he pushes his cock into your throat one last time and spills his load into your mouth, groaning as the way your throat flexes around his length with every spurt of his release.

Moments later, Mingyu carefully pulls out from your mouth, hand slipping from your hair to cradle your jaw, wiping the mess from your lips with his thumb. “Can’t believe you all of that, Princess…”

Wonwoo stays inside your pussy just a little longer, basking in the aftershocks before he too pulls out, eyes never leaving the sight of his cum leaking out from your fluttering, overstimulated hole.

The room is quiet now, save for the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as they both slowly calmed down from their highs. 

You’re still sprawled across the couch, body limp and trembling, the air of the room thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Shit, if you didn’t look sinful before this, you definitely do now – cheeks flushed, lips swollen and thighs slick with cum.

Wonwoo moves first, arms wrapping around your torso to gently pull you into his chest. His hands gliding up your sides in soothing motions, peppering kisses across your face as you melt into him. “You okay, Princess?” he murmurs against your hair, “Hope your body isn’t too sore.”

You let out a broken laugh, “Umm… I might be limping for a few days.”

Mingyu chuckles, returning from the bathroom with a damp towel and kneels between your legs. His hands are careful as he starts to wipe between your thighs, murmuring soft apologies against the skin every time you twitch and flinch.

“You made such a mess,” he says affectionately. “And you look so pretty when you cum, too.”

You hum in response, too hazy to think of a proper answer, but your fingers find his wrist and give it a gentle squeeze. Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and settles beside you and Wonwoo on the couch. The streamer adjusts your sweater to cover your upper body, gently brushing away the sweat-matted hair of your forehead.

“Do you need anything? Water? Some sweets?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself melt further into his arms. Mingyu reaches a hand out and gives your thigh a squeeze, “You were incredible, Kitten. Took everything we gave you.”

“Didn’t know you could squirt like that, too,” Wonwoo adds, smirking against your skin.

“Shut up…” you mumble, cheeks heating up.

They both laugh, low and warm.

Neither of you move for a long while, their soft touches making your heart swell despite the dull ache you feel.

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone’s in the loop! Student-run.

👀 GOSSIP BOARD

💬 anon: anyone else noticing wonwoo n mingyu following the Dior Princess lately?

anon1: omg i thought i was the only one anon1: it’s not even the creepy or friends kind yk anon2: omg is my three-ship finally sailing???? anon3: bro wtf anon3: they’re dating the same girl??? anon3: not to yack their yum but like??? anon2: @anon3 bro it’s 20XX anon2: poly relationships are a thing anon4: real anon4: and if it bothers you then idk anon4: sounds more of a you problem than their problem tbh

Wonwoo wasn’t in a rush.

His next class was across the quad, warm sunlight filtering through the trees as students filed past. He’d been in a good mood, mind trailing back to the way you smiled at him that morning – wearing Mingyu’s hoodie, half-asleep and kissing his jaw like it was second nature.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” someone said behind him.

He stopped.

Turned.

There they were – the same girls from the party weeks ago. The ones that had cornered him and smiled while spouting poison in his face. He recognised the one in the middle – Haemin, and she was smiling far too bright for his liking.

“We heard a rumour,” she said, strolling up and standing next to him like they were friends. “You and Mingyu… dating her..?”

He doesn’t answer.

Another girl giggled. “Didn’t think you’d fall into her trap. Guess she is good at what she does.”

The third girl added, “I know they say psychology students try to fix people, but didn’t think you’d double down on the whole ‘damaged girl’ fantasy.”

“You remember what we told you, right? It’s just that… Well, we thought after what we told you, you migh’ve… y’know, figured out she’s what she seems. She’s a manipulator, Wonwoo. We’d hate to see you and Mingyu get hurt over someone like her.”

Still, he doesn’t say anything, but he watches them – staring at them like he was waiting for them to finish their script.

Haemin leans in, “She always finds her way into guys’ beds. She plays innocent but she’s only ever good at spreading her legs. She’s a model, after all – kinda comes with the package.”

The silence that followed stretched like a taut wire. Wonwoo’s expression didn’t twist, his eyes remained unreadable. Hell, he didn’t even look angry. He took a step forward, the slight shift in his posture made all three girls tense.

“Y’know,” he began, voice low and calm. “I find it funny how loud people get when they think they got away with something, thinking the truth will never get out.”

Haemin’s smiles faltered.

“You may have gotten away with pinning things on ___, but did you really think the consequences of your actions in the past wouldn’t come back to bite you?”

The other girls stiffened.

Wonwoo leans down, just enough to mutter, “What would happen if word got out you were the one that was trying to break up Hyungwon and girlfriend back then?”

Her eyes widened.

“___ was nice enough to not fight back, to let you paint her as the villain. You used her face and her reputation to twist the narrative. And when people believed you, you doubled down. Why? Perhaps it’s because that was easier than admitting you were bitter, petty and jealous.”

“She told you that?” Haemin scoffs, crossing her arms as a means of defense. “God, she has you wrapped around her finger worse than I thought.”

Wonwoo shrugs, “I have no shame in admitting I’m whipped for my Princess. You, on the other hand? You’re so used to controlling the narrative that you forget some people don’t buy into this kind of gossip that should be left in high school.”

His jaw tightened. “You know what sets you and ___ apart? After all these years, not once has she tried to make anyone look bad. Not once has she spoken about you the way you speak about her, and that tells me a lot of who she is as a person.”

They instinctively took a step back as he took another step forward. Wonwoo didn’t raise his voice, didn’t cause a scene, but the air around him was terrifying in a sense that the calmness made people feel unsafe.

“I honestly don’t give a shit about what you think of her, and I sure as hell don’t give a fuck how many people you’ve fooled with the stories you’re spreading. But, I do care when someone insults her. Once again, she’s my girlfriend and you don’t get to talk about her like that.”

He looked at each of them in turn.

“And if I ever hear you speak of her name like that again, I promise you that you will regret it.”

Haemin looked like she wanted to scoff. Wanted to claim back some control. But the way Wonwoo stared down at her, like his gaze alone could tear her apart, kept her silent. He took one final glance at them and walked away without another word.

When he steps out of the hallway and onto the stone paths, the cool air greets him first – crisp and damp with the scent of earth and moss. Then, his phone buzzed with a message from you.

🎀 princess 👑: i miss you :(

The glow from the TV flickers across the living room, casting shadows over bowls of half-eaten popcorn, a forgotten beer can and the three of you tangled on the couch. You’re sat between the men, legs stretched across Mingyu’s thighs while your head rests against Wonwoo’s shoulders, his fingers idly playing with your hair.

Mingyu’s feet were propped up on the coffee table, occasionally popping popcorn into your mouth while his free hand lazily rested on your shin. A horror movie was playing on the screen, courtesy of Mingyu, who was far too invested in it for someone who claims to hate jump scares.

However, there’s been a question itching at the back of your mind all evening. Mingyu had casually mentioned seeing Wonwoo with them near the main campus earlier that day. At the time, you sort of just hummed and dismissed it, changing the subject; but now, hours later, it still bothered you.

You lifted your head slightly, voice soft. “Wonu?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the movie. “Hm?”

“Gyu said he saw you talking to Haemin earlier.”

The silence that follows cut sharper than the violins on the soundtrack.

Mingyu goes still next to you and Wonwoo shifts beneath you, pausing the movie with a quiet tap of the remote. He turns his head towards you, his expression calm and steady, but his eyes are focused on you.

“Are you mad?” he asks, voice soft.

You sat a bit straighter, “I’m… I’m not mad, promise. I just… I just…”

He hooks two fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hey, hey… Look at me, Princess. They came up to me on my way to class. Said they heard rumours that we’re in a poly relationship, tried to get underneath my skin.”

Your lips stretched into a thin line, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “And… you entertained them?”

He shrugs, “Honestly, I didn’t really care much about what they said. That is, until she said something that crossed the line.”

“What did she say?”

Wonwoo hesitated, his jaw flexing slightly. “She said you always found your way into guys’ beds. That you were only ever good at spreading your legs because you’re a model.”

Mingyu stiffened beside you, “Fuck’s sake…”

Your stomach dropped, the blood in your face drained. “She really said that?”

Wonwoo nodded, “She did. And I snapped.”

You blinked.

“Told her that I knew what she did in Pre-U. Well, at least I pretended to look like I knew what happened. Also told her that if she ever talks about my girlfriend like that again, they’ll regret it.”

The room was quiet again, but it wasn’t the heavy kind this time.

You exhaled, your breath a little shaken. Then you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You didn’t have to do that…” The streamer almost purrs at the feel of your lips against his skin, “I’m not about to let some petty bitches think they have the right to talk down on or to you. Nor am I gonna let them rewrite your worth just because they’re bitter.” 

Mingyu leans over, pecking your cheek. “You’re not alone anymore, ___. You have us, and we’ll defend you through hell and back.”

You chuckle softly, “You two wanna protect me that badly, huh?”

The model snorts, “Obviously. You’re our Princess.”

Wonwoo ruffles your hair, laughing when you swat at his hand. “So let us, yea? End of discussion.”

The three of you relax once again – Mingyu unpausing the movie and Wonwoo shifting close so you’d all be cuddled closer. Fake screams fill the room again, but Gods, your heart felt so safe.

So loved.

taglist !!

Mingyu’s hand dropped slowly from your wrist, like he’d just realised how much you were shaking. He continued, his voice steady despite the conflicted undertone. “Wonwoo… Look, I’ve known him for years and he doesn’t do that. Ever. Not with anyone. Not unless it means something.”

You swallowed thickly, “Mingyu, now isn’t–”

He shakes his head, “No, please, ___, just hear me out. I’ve known him for years and I know that was far from casual. And… And I see the way he looks at you. Even if he’s too scared to admit it, I know he felt something.”

Your eyes were wide when you looked up at him.

“And I did too.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not saying this to make things harder, but I need you to know that I like you. I have for a while now. A-And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t have these feelings for you. If Wonwoo is too much of a pussy to face his feelings, I’m not.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Your thoughts start to spin like they’d all slammed into each other at once – maybe because the room felt too small. Maybe because you were already on the edge.

You blinked rapidly, the sting behind your eyes too much to swallow.

The party around you was getting too loud. Too bright.

Soonyoung and Jihoon were nowhere in sight.

Wonwoo’s confrontation.

Mingyu’s confession.

“I… I can’t,” you choked out. “I need to go…”

“Before we start, we do have a new student who has joined us for the school year!” the teacher announced, gesturing towards you. You felt your heart in your throat as all eyes fell on you while you stood up, feeling the room closing in on you. “Could you introduce yourself, dear?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, “___, my name is Choi ___.”

When the lunch bell rang, you snuck out through the back door and towards the cafeteria. Sitting at an empty table near a corner, you quietly enjoyed your lunch until a trio approached you, peaking your anxiety as you looked up from your food to look at them.

Two boys - one blonde, one dark haired; and a girl with orange hair.

The girl reached out her hand, a vibrant smile on her face. “Hi, ___, right?” she reached out her hand, “I’m Yejin, Kang Yejin. The blonde haired is Junhui, while the dark haired boy is Chan.” When you turned your focus to the boys, Junhui gave you a small smile while Chan gave you a nod.

“We’re friends of Chan, but we’re a grade above.” Junhui said, “Chan mentioned you’re new to the school, he’s your deskmate.” Your eyes darted to Chan who had a small blush on his face as he sheepishly rubbed his nape, “You didn’t notice me taking a seat next to you earlier… And… before I could try and talk to you, you were already out of the classroom…”

“Chan’s a little shy, but he’s a sweetheart,” Yejin stated as she popped a grape into her mouth, “You’re in safe hands with him around.”

You spent the rest of your lunch break with the trio, quietly observing them. You’ve learnt that Junhui and Yejin are dating, Chan is a dancer and seemingly has a personality that’s similar to yours - at least that’s what you’ve gotten from the 20 minutes of interaction with them. As the bell rang and you were about to head back to class with Chan, Yejin called out to you.

“Out of curiosity, what kind of hybrid are you?”

Junhui nudged his girlfriend, shooting her a disapproving look. “What? You can’t tell me you aren’t curious!”

“Yejin, you just met her!” he hissed, “You shouldn’t be asking these questions!”

Before the bickering could continue, you rushed out your answer, “Human.” As the trio shifted their focus onto you once again, you took a steadying breath and repeated yourself.

“I’m a human.”

Three years since that day, you’ve seamlessly integrated into the trio, now a quartet.

You even find yourself attending the same university as them. When Yejin and Junhui graduated, you vaguely remember Chan mentioning Junhui had gone back to ShenZhen for a year to see his family and did his Foundation Studies there while Yejin did hers in Attacca University.

Once you and Chan had graduated high school, you both enrolled into Attacca University for your Foundation Studies of your respective courses - you pursuing Language Studies while Chan pursued Sociology. You were glad to be enrolled into a university with the trio, at least there were familiar faces - easing your anxiety.

“.....hear me? ___!”

Snapping out of your trance-like state, you looked up to see Yejin and her boyfriend, Junhui, standing in front of you with worried looks.

Letting out a confused ‘huh?’, you watch how Yejin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I've been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes, ___. Are you okay? Did something happen before we got here?”

You shook your head, giving her an assuring smile as she sat next to you. Junhui quietly took a seat across from both of you, texting away on his phone as his girl continued to question you. 

“Are you sure? You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“I promise, I’m fine, Yejin.”

While still unconvinced, she stops her questioning and redirects it towards her boyfriend. Junhui had flown back to Korea to resume his degree in Business; coincidentally ending up in the same course with Yejin. Chan had pointed out how the couple were attached to the hip and were so inseparable that even the universe decided to put them in the same university, in the same study course.

Though, you do admit – Yejin and Junhui were essentially textbook couple goals.

“Who’re you texting, Junnie?”

“Chan.” he answered, “Just asking if he’s finished with his class and if he’ll be joining us for lunch.”

“Is he coming?” you asked curiously, the couple looking at you as a knowing smile spread on their lips. A blush formed on your cheeks as you tried to avoid making eye contact, attempting to stutter out a response but failing. Within the years of friendship you had with the trio, you had somehow developed a small (read: massive) crush on Chan. Though you had managed to keep in under wraps from the majority of your peers, had they been as observant as Yejin, they would’ve noticed the subtle signs.

In fact, it had been Yejin who got you to realise your feelings for the wolf hybrid. She noticed the faint blush that would dust your cheeks when Chan would get too close or help you with a task, how only Chan was allowed to refer to you by a certain nickname (which has led to you only responding to him when he calls you said nickname), the extra decorations on his pastries when you’d bake for them - she noticed it all. When she had initially brought up the topic, you heavily denied it.

“I don’t see Chan that way, I swear!” you exclaimed, “It’s just- I just-”

Yejin placed both hands on your shoulders, attempting to calm you down. “___, dear, please take a deep breath. I’m not saying it’s a fact, okay? I’m just… suggesting that you might, based on what I’ve noticed.”

Junhui approached with a cardboard cup holder tray, passing you a drink as he sat next to you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to believe it. Maybe you haven’t fully processed everything yet, but from what Yejin’s told me, I think there may be a chance you fancy Chan.” You whined, burying your face in your hands as your face burnt bright red from embarrassment.

“At the end of the day, it’s your feelings and I’m just making a hypothesis based on my observation.”

“And if you set aside the whole… rut and aggression stigma, Chan’s a gentleman and always looks out for those he cares for. You’re no exception, too.”

Junhui gives you a teasing smile and before he could reply, Chan was standing at the end of the table with two other male students. “Hi, gang!” he greeted in an excited tone, gesturing to the two, “Meet Soonyoung and Minghao! They’re friends I made from the dance club, and we’re actually coursemates! Can you believe that?”

You watch how Yejin’s nose twitched slightly at Soonyoung and Minghao’s presence, “Are you both wolves?”

“Yejin!”

“They smell like wolves!”

The table watches as Junhui’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as he asks, “They smell like wolves?” Yejin later explained how each hybrid has a distinctive smell, making it easy to identify the different species of hybrids. “So… let’s say there are two different cat hybrids in the room,” Junhui hypothesised, “One’s a Siamese, the other is a Maine Coon, can you tell the difference?”

“Okay, I don’t know about differentiating two breeds of the same animals,” Yejin replied, “but, if you put a human and a wolf, two wolves and a cat, or even just two humans in a room, any hybrid would be able to tell.”

“Not all hybrids.” Minghao chimed in, “While any hybrids can differentiate the smell of a human and a hybrid, only some can differentiate the smell of two hybrids of the same breed.”

Chan felt the seat he was sitting on slightly shake. When he looked down, he noticed your leg bouncing – something he’s come to realise was what you’d often do when you’re feeling anxious. Placing a hand on your thigh, he watches as you tensed up, your head turned towards him with a panicked look.

“You okay, ___?” he asks, the group focusing their attention onto you. “I-I’m fine,” you forced out, “Just… Just feeling a little stuffed. I’m gonna go and get some fresh air.”

“I’ll come with you.” Yejin offered, getting up from her seat and you rushed out a quick “No!”, startling her.

“I… I just want to be on my own for now… I’ll… I’ll see you all at the end of the school day, okay?” Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you got out of the cafeteria as quickly as you could, feeling even more uneasy when you could feel eyes following you.

“Did we… did we scare her…?” Minghao asked, looking at Chan who shrugged. “I hope not,” Yejin said, “I still remember the first time the three of us met and talked to her. Poor girl looked like she was about to cry.”

“She is a human, right?” Soonyoung asked, turning to the female wolf. When Yejin nods, the blonde haired wolf asks again, “But, she has an odd scent… I don’t think I’ve met any humans that smell like that.”

“Well, ___ hangs out with the three of us a lot. And since Chan and I are wolves, alongside the other students she could have to interact with throughout the day, maybe the scent got mixed up.”

Soonyoung considers Yejin’s explanation for a moment before nodding his head, accepting it. However, there’s a voice in his head that’s nagging at him – telling him the human who had just left isn’t who she presents herself to be.

Over the next few months, the boys had gotten closer thanks to their shared passion for dancing.

Junhui’s dance style was more towards contempt, similar to Minghao but you could see some elements of b-boying, which when asked out of curiosity, he confirmed that he indeed has a background in b-boy. On the other hand, Soonyoung and Chan shared a similar dance style of hip-hop and urban.

You’ve never seen them perform, possibly because they are yet to perform as a group of four. Junhui and Minghao were the first to perform – signing up for the Attacca’s International Cultural Night, and their performance had blown everyone away. With the help of Jihoon, one of Junhui’s classmates, the trio had successfully produced a song titled ‘My I’. And after a week of brainstorming, the duo had managed to self-choreo a contemporary style dance for the song.

You remember witnessing the performance for the very first time.

A day prior to said Cultural Night, the duo had practically begged your group to attend the event and support their performance.

“So, you’ve been stealing my boyfriend for a performance and not even bothering to tell us until the very last minute?” Yejin asked, arms crossed as she’s sat on the couch of hers and Junhui’s shared apartment. To outsiders, they might think she’s mad but to the group, at least except Junhui and Minghao at the moment, she’s just teasing.

“Baby, please, I’m so sorry for hiding this from you,” Junhui pleaded, kneeling in front of his girlfriend and looking up at her with puppy eyes. “We wanted to tell you all a few days ago but Minghao had a test, I had a big presentation – and it just slipped our mind!”

You can’t help but giggle at the memory.

“Thought of something funny?” Chan asks, taking a seat next to you on the picnic mat Yejin and Soonyoung managed to secure that was provided by the event (it was also a front row seat to the stage, a better view to spectate the duo). A faint blush paints across your cheeks as you answered, “Just remembering how they told us they’d be performing.”

The wolf chuckles as he recalls the memory, “Yea, I’ve never seen Junhui and Minghao hyung look that scared.”

“Have you ever thought of performing on stage?”

Chan looked taken aback by your question, as if he wasn’t expecting you to have any interest in his hobbies since not many people have asked him anything about his own life. “Well… I had performed in the past – middle school, before you joined Pledis. Every school event, Junhui hyung and I would always perform and everyone called us ‘The Dance Bros’ back then. We kind of went on a hiatus of some sorts when Junhui hyung started high school and wanted to focus more on his studies.” “Did you continue performing?‘

“I may like the solo spotlight, but I still prefer having company if I were to go on stage. When hyung said he wanted to focus more on his studies, I decided to do the same.”

“Some people don’t take Chan seriously with his studies because of his passion for dance.” Yejin chimed in, “Sometimes, they even tell him dancing doesn’t really secure him a future. But, our little wolf boy never let that stop him from occasionally picking up dance gigs.”

“Dance gigs?” Soonyoung, who has been quiet all this while, finally speaks up upon hearing the revelation. You were equally curious, looking at Chan expectantly.

There was a sheepish smile on Chan’s face, “Well… the gigs were just me as a backup dancer, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

Soonyoung leaned in, causing Yejin to lean back a little as she’s sat in between them, his curiosity piqued. “Tell me more about these dance gigs.”

“Guys!” Chan exclaims as he runs up the stairs of Attacca’s football field. “Guys!”

Minghao wanted some peace and quiet; coincidentally, you also needed some peace after the morning you had. Your lecturer had decided to have some kind of Pre-Halloween celebration (it was the middle of September) and after an entire morning of loud noises, you’ve had enough.

So, when Minghao suggested the group just relax and eat lunch at the bleachers of the football field, you gladly took his side.

As Chan ran up the bleachers, Junhui can’t help but chuckle. “He gets any more excited and his tails and ears are gonna pop out.”

“That’s happened before?” Minghao asks.

“According to him, not as often as it did in primary school,” you replied, “He’s managed to get in under control, but tell him exciting news or something extremely good happens, out poofs his ears and tail.”

“Should’ve seen him when he found out you were accepted into Attacca,” Yejin teases, nudging your sides, “I have never seen his tail wag so… violently? Happily? Whatever the term is, his tail was wagging and he was happy.”

“Happy is an understatement,” Junhui adds, “He was over the moon.”

You blush, patting your cheeks in an effort to get rid of the redness as Chan reaches the row you were all sat in. “What’s up, Channie?”

The wolf pants, “Seungcheol wants us to join the SVT Frat and we got a busking offer!”

A moment of silence.

“I’m sorry, but could you repeat that?” Minghao asks, “You said it in one breath and so quick that I only heard Seungcheol’s name.”

You guide Chan to take a seat on the row in front of the group, letting him catch his breath. You hand him your water bottle which he happily accepts, taking a large gulp and wiping his mouth. “Seungcheol wants us to join his frat,” he says after catching his breath, his voice still slightly strained. He hands the water bottle back to you with a sheepish grin.

“Seungcheol? The president of the SVT Frat House?” Minghao recalls.

You’re not one to join a fraternity or sorority so your first question was, “What is that and what does SVT stand for?”

Junhui shrugs, “I think you know what frat houses are. Think sorority sisters but for guys where depending on the guy in charge, they’re either cool guys or… drunkards and druggies. SVT is more on the cool guys spectrum, think big seasonal parties or smaller pool parties.”

“As for what they stand for, according to what’s being said, it’s apparently Sigma Vitae Triumphalis. A Latin-inspired phrase for Sum of Life and Triumph.”

Yejin raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in her seat. “Since when do they recruit mid-semester?”

Chan shrugs, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “Beats me. But he said Jihoon recommended us and something about needing more members, how he’s been keeping tabs on us for the past… two months? Plus, you know how popular their parties are. It might not be the worst idea to check it out.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Are you considering it?”

He hesitates, keeping his gaze on you. “I mean, I don’t know… It’s not every day we get offered into a frat house like SVT. Could be a good opportunity, right? Connections, parties, networking…”

“Correction, you boys get offered into a frat house like SVT,” Yejin snorts, “I’m not into the whole sorority sisters thing and ___ there has social anxiety. We avoid that shit like the plague.”

“There… There won’t be any kind of hazing, right? I heard that frats from NeoCity University…”

“Oh yeah, I know what you’re talking about,” Soonyoung joins in, grimacing at the memory, “The 20XX NEOCITIZEN Hazing Incident.”

You wince at the mention of that incident. While you weren’t apart or knew anyone that were involved, you would consider yourself an empathetic person to some degree. The frat house that was involved weren’t disclosed, but a quick mention of the victims and what they’ve endured were quick to reveal it was the ANOM House.

Two humans suffered from alcohol poisoning, having digested a concoction that police suspected to have at least ten different types of alcohol; and a cat hybrid was forced into a ‘Mountain Dew Baptism’ as his pledge.

The worst part was when investigators announced that the frat seniors had multiple chat rooms where they would upload photos of the newcomers blindfolded and completely nude. 

A shiver goes down your spine as you recall the news, deciding to push it back down before unwanted images or your imaginations think of something similar happening to your friends.

Minghao was the one who tried to ease everyone’s minds, “They don’t do or condone hazing, at least that’s what I’ve heard from Jihoon. They’re pretty selective of who they let in, usually depending on connections and like Chan said, recommendations and some tab keeping.”

He goes on about how the boys in SVT were good people to some degree, saying how one guy named Jeonghan may look sweet and is like an Angel; but he sure as hell knew how to cheat when it comes to playing games. “Wonwoo and Mingyu look like they’re best friends, but they’re practically dating each other and a girl from Wonwoo’s class. Polygamy, if you may.”

You turn back to Chan, who’s surprisingly looking at you with puppy-like eyes, “Why are you giving me that look? You should be giving it to the boys, not me.”

“I dunno…” he mutters, “It feels right.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks flushing at the answer. “How about we hear him out first? See if it’s the real deal and make sure they aren’t secretly trying to haze you guys.”

“Deal.” Chan grins, already looking more optimistic. “Let’s just hope they’re not expecting us to pledge by chugging a gallon of milk or something.”

The group laughs, Junhui shrugging, “I dunno man… They had Jihoon drink that twenty ounce bottle of Coke Zero as his pledge.”

“I mean, the man has a strange obsession with Coke Zero so it’s no problem for him,” Minghao adds, “Remember that mini fridge he had in his room when we visited? I opened it and it was filled to the brim with Coke Zero.”

You turn your head back to Chan, “Hey, didn’t you also mention something about a busking gig?”

“Oh yeah! The gig!” Chan’s wolf ears popped right out of his head, a large grin on his face. “We got an offer for a busking gig!”

Chan was nervous.

You could practically smell it on him.

The boys took close to three weeks to practice their routine, Soonyoung wanting everything to be levelled and in sync for a more smooth or perfect performance. Chan had come to you for comfort several times, his entire body worn out whenever Soonyoung wanted to repeat a certain move or when he made them repeat the entire choreography with little to no breaks in between.

“___…” Chan mumbled, plopping into your arms the moment you were within reach. He didn’t even care that his ears and tail were out on display. “I’m so… tired…”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around him and giving him some back rubs. His tail slowly wagged behind him, “My body aches, ___…”

“Well, that’s a small price to pay for landing a big gig. You guys must’ve made quite the impression on the SVT Frat,” you responded. “Getting recommended to the frat house president and a talent manager? I’m so proud of you, Channie.”

His tail wags faster. “Thanks…” he mumbles as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent; an action that causes you to shiver. “You’ll… You’ll come watch, right..?”

You run a hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. A low, rumbling noise from his throat, concerning you just a little because you thought he’d wag his tail off with the speed it was at. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Y’know, if you don’t calm your balls down,” Yejin speaks up, holding up a fan to Junhui’s face, “You’re gonna end up drenching that outfit and it will not look good.”

“Hey, this is the first time we’re busking for a talent scout!” Chan snaps, sending Yejin a glare only to immediately shrink back when the older wolf shoots him a sharp and unimpressed look. He looked down and muttered, “Sorry.” only for you to tilt it back up so you could pat down the last bit of setting powder along the sharp line of his jaw.

You notice the way his ears tint red – whether from heat or embarrassment, you aren’t so sure. Junhui groans, tugging at the white choker around his neck. “Soonyoung, explain again why we look like emo Angels?”

“It’s for the aesthetics, Jun,” he replies, flashing peace signs at an imaginary camera that was behind the taller male. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Minghao scoffs, the fabric of his tunic swishing dramatically as he shifts his weight. “We look like we walked out of an early 2010s Tumblr moodboard titled ‘Sad Celestial Beings Who Listen to Fall Out Boy on Loop’.”

Chan snorts, clearing his throat when he realises it almost smeared the lipstick you were putting on him.

“Honestly,” Yejin says, “Hao’s not wrong. All y’all are missing is a grayscale filter and an unnecessary Latin quote about lost souls.”

Soonyoung pulls out his phone, a big smile on his lips, “Give me five minutes. I can totally make that happen.”

“But, seriously Yejin, how the hell are you not melting?” Chan asks while you carefully pat at the sweat beading along his forehead with a tissue. “You’re like… Jade from Victorious or something? Are you blessed with some kind of internal ice box?”

Yejin rolls her eyes, “It’s called antiperspirant.”

The younger wolf moves to argue back, but you’re quick to grab his jaw before he can do so. You hold up the eyeliner, narrowing your eyes at him, “Don’t move, Romeo, or I will stab you in the eye with this.”

He freezes instantly, wide-eyed, as if you’d just threatened him with a loaded gun instead of a makeup product. He blinks before giving you a sheepish grin, “Right… Statue mode… Got it.”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “You’re lucky I’m patient,” you mutter, carefully drawing on his eyeliner. “More like I’m lucky I’m cute,” he whispers, earning himself a small pinch to his sides once you were done with his eyeliner – followed by a very undignified yelp.

“Once you’re both done flirting, we got a busking performance to do,” Soonyoung calls out, his voice dripping with exaggerated impatience. You don’t glance up as you cap the eyeliner with a decisive click, “We’re multi-tasking, Soonyoung.”

Chan sticks his tongue out at the blonde before turning to you with a grin that’s half mischief, half gratitude. “Thanks, makeup fairy,” he says, voice low and teasing.

You snort, setting the eyeliner back into the makeup bag. “Call me that again I’ll make sure your eyeliner on both sides are even.”

He’s quick to shut up, hands flying to his face protectively in a dramatic manner, making you laugh harder than you mean to.

“Alright, alright,” Yejin claps her hands, gesturing to the area that’s been sectioned off just for the group’s performance. “Go impress that talent scout with your dances, and maybe not scare some kids.”

You sat right behind the speaker as the boys began to perform, the energy buzzing through the air. Beside you, Yejin carefully holds up Junhui’s phone, recording a fancam of her boyfriend with the concentration of someone defusing a bomb.

“You’re not helping Chan film his?” she questions, glancing at you briefly.

You casually point toward Seungcheol who’s standing not too far away, phone in hand and already filming Chan’s every move with the intensity of a proud father at his son’s first school recital.

“Damn,” Yejin chuckles, “Chan’s already his favourite, huh?”

“From what I heard from Channie, he gets teased a lot, but they still look out for him.”

Yejin smiles softly, returning her focus to recording Junhui. “Well, the SVT frat is like that. Bite and bark at each other one second, then defend each other like their lives depend on it the next.”

You hum in agreement, shifting slightly to make yourself more comfortable. “Guess that’s just how wolves are, huh? Family first… even if they drive you insane half the time.”

“I heard from Junhui that he’s not the only human,” she adds, her fingers still steady on the recording. “There’s these two boys, Jeonghan and Vernon, they’re humans too. And the wolves are super protective over their human frat brothers.”

Your ears perked up, “Really? I thought most humans and hybrids don’t mix well. Stigmas and whatnot.”

“Yeah, but if you give them a chance, you’ll see it’s not that bad. Take me and Junhui for example.”

You snort, “You two are like, stupidly good together. He looks at you like you’re the only person on the planet.”

Yejin rolls her eyes, her cheeks warming slightly. “Yeah, well, sometimes he looks at me like he’s plotting to steal all my fries too.”

You both laugh.

“But, yeah, you could say we’re both proof that hybrids and humans can work out. Coexist in harmony. It may not be easy, but if both parties respect each other, I’d say it’s definitely worth the ups and downs.”

“Seungcheol said their fraternity is… different. Like, once you’re in, you’re family. No questions asked.”

“Oh, speaking of Jeonghan and Vernon, I heard they’re protective over their wolf brothers too!”

Yejin raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “I heard from Chan that Vernon once decked a guy for saying his wolf friends aren’t welcome in the cafeteria during a rainy day because they ‘smelled like wet dogs’.”

“Jeonghan?”

“Apparently one of the students on our campus was involved with the NEOCITIZEN hazing incident. Jeonghan posted an exposé document of it with receipts and everything. I guess you can say he’s more of a…’I will ruin your life with a smile’ type of guy.”

Yejin lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Humans with wolf instincts. That’s terrifying."

“Yeap, but not as interesting as that.” You lift up your phone, capturing a few shots – not of the boys’ performance, but of Seungcheol mouthing every lyric, completely unaware. Yejin leans over slightly, whispering behind her hand, “At this point, we should just get him a varsity jacket that says President.”

You stifle a laugh. "He'd wear it. Proudly."

The busking performance wrapped up as the last notes of the song drifted into the warm evening air. The boys bowed dramatically, thanking the small crowd that had gathered, while you, Yejin and Seungcheol cheered from the sidelines like proud, mildly embarrassing parents.

It wasn’t long before someone suggested food and because all five men were made up of mostly bottomless pits disguised as people, everyone agreed.

“___, you wanna take the aisle seat?” Chan asks as everyone takes their seat at the corner booth of a cozy Italian restaurant. You blink, a confused look on your face. “Why?”

He shrugs with a small smile, “Figured you don’t like cramped spaces. You’re always on the outer seat of class or at the back where there’s more space.”

His voice is light, but there’s a warmth to his words that makes your heart flutter. You hadn’t expected him to notice that behaviour of yours. It may feel like a small gesture, but it was one that made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t felt nor expected.

Plates of pasta, pizza and baskets of bread covered almost every inch of space, the scent of garlic and tomato sauce filling the air.

Junhui was stealing bites from Yejin’s plate despite her swatting at him with a fork. Seungcheol was dramatically telling a story with hand gestures that nearly knocked over his glass of iced tea. Soonyoung and Minghao were locked in a serious debate over the best pasta sauce. And Chan was just happily demolishing a mountain of beef bolognese pasta as though he was trying to regain the energy he’d spent the past few weeks preparing for the performance.

You smile to yourself, twirling another spoonful of carbonara as you enjoy the warm chaos around you. The clicking of silverware, the laughter, and the occasional playful argument all blended together into a symphony of comfort.

This was like a dream come true.

For the first time, you were actually happy to be surrounded by others.

As the night winds down and everyone starts to slip into a comfortable haze only good food and company can bring, Chan leans forward. “Hey,” his voice was a little softer, like he didn’t want the others to hear. “Do you need a ride back?”

His offer catches you by surprise, “O-Oh… I was just gonna call a cab, actually…”

He’s quick to offer you a ride, “I-I can drive you back! It’s on my way home, plus it’s getting late. It’d be safer too.”

A small, shy smile tugs at your lips. “Are you sure? If it’s a hassle–”

Chan shakes his head so quickly it causes a few strands of his hair to fall into his eyes. “You’re not,” he says firmly, his voice a little softer. “Really, I want to do this. Let me drive you back, ___.”

Your heart does that little flutter again, and you find yourself nodding before your brain can overthink it. “Okay… Thanks, Chan.”

He grins, cheeks a little pink as he finally remembers the fork in his hand and dives back into his bolognese with renewed enthusiasm, like just asking you had taken more energy than he’d thought.

The drive back to your apartment was peaceful, the streets mostly empty as the city settles into a quieter rhythm. Chan kept the conversation flowing almost non-stop, talking about everything from the production of the song with Jihoon to a funny story about how Dokyeom, another wolf in the fraternity, accidentally put salt instead of sugar into a batch of cookies.

You listened, amused at how the considerably shy wolf is yapping. You can’t help but notice how… he was more animated than usual. His grip on the steering wheel was a little tighter than necessary, and he was tapping his fingers along the leather in a restless rhythm. Finally, as he launches into a ramble about how he should probably start learning how to cook properly, “I can’t just live on instant noodles forever, right? Even wolves need proper nutrition or whatever it is that–”

“Chan.” You interrupted him gently, “Are you okay? You’re… yapping a lot tonight.”

“Am not!” he blurts out immediately, voice cracking just a little.

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow, and he let out a helpless laugh, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Okay. Maybe I am,” he admits, eyes still fixed on the road. His voice drops to something softer, returning to that shy Chan you know, “It’s just… I kinda over-talk when I’m nervous. I can’t really help it.”

You turned fully towards him, curiosity piqued. “Nervous?” you repeated, “Why are you nervous, Channie?”

He almost chokes at the nickname, feeling the blood rush lower and he hoped to every god out there that you hadn’t noticed the way his thighs tensed, how he was about to have a half hard-on.

The car slowed as he pulled up to a red light, the glow casting a soft, almost intimate light over Chan’s face. He finally turns to look at you fully, his eyes struggling to make eye contact with you. With a deep breath, he answers, “Because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that I like you. Like, I like like you.”

The light turns green, but neither of you move, suspended in that breathless second (thank God there were no cars behind, else you’d be faced with multiple angry drivers). Chan scrambled to keep talking, panicked by the silence. “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same! I just– I didn’t want to keep pretending that it’s just… platonic for me. Because I really do see you more than a friend. You’re an amazing person. Sweet. And you make the worst day feel like nothing, and I just–”

You interrupt him by laughing quietly, “Chan.” You reach out to place a hand over his on the console, and he shuts up, eyes wide like you’d just physically stunned him. You smiled, heart thudding in your chest as you confessed your little crush on him, “I like you too.”

The only sound in the car was Chan’s stunned inhale, then he blinked. Finally, the biggest, most radiant grin spreads across his face, pure joy lighting him up brother than the sun in the day.

“Really?” he breathed.

“Really,” you reassured, laughing a little and motioned to the green light. “Now maybe drive before any cars show up behind us and try not to crash from excitement.”

Chan lets out a shaky laugh, nodding frantically as he drives the car forward again. Throughout the remainder of the drive, he can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at you, like he couldn’t believe that you reciprocate his feelings.

Pulling up in front of your apartment building, he shifts the gears into park but makes no move to unlock the doors just yet. Instead, he sits there for a second, drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

“What’s up, wolfie?” you teased, an amused look on your face.

He hesitates for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip like he was holding back the words. Then, he finally blurts it out, “Would you, um– would you wanna go on a real date with me tomorrow?”

The way he rushed it out all at once had you giggling. “You… You deserve to be asked out properly and well, if I were to ask you to let me be your boyfriend, I would want it done right. I could come pick you and we could… Get coffee? Brunch? DInner? All of the above. Whatever it is that you want.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest at the sheer nervous hope in his voice. “I’d love that, Channie.”

Chan’s body relaxes, but only slightly. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Totally chill about this. Not freaking out or anything.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “Text me when you’re here, okay? I’ll be ready by then.”

Before you left the car, you leaned over the console and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek. The wolf froze, eyes wide and stunned – but the slow, bright smile that followed was enough to make your cheeks burn too.

“Nighty night, Chan,” you said, slipping out of the car with a giggle and a wave.

He stays frozen for a second longer, fingers lightly brushing against the spot where you kissed him. He calls out to you after with a huge, beaming grin, “Night, ___! Sleep well and dream about me!”

Attacca announced that for the week of Halloween, all classes would be suspended after 5pm, citing “seasonal engagement and student well-being” as the official reason on the letters and emails they sent out. But everyone knew what it really meant.

Halloween at Attacca wasn't just a holiday – it was a tradition. A week-long carnival of curated (but mindful) chaos, underground dares, and elaborate, unsanctioned events that blurred the lines between myth and reality. The staff pretend to discourage it, the administration feigned ignorance. But every year, as the leaves of October fell, the campus came alive in a way no syllabus could prepare the freshmen or you for.

On Monday night, the lampposts flickered with orange lights that weren’t there before. The usual LEDs were replaced with vintage bulbs that cast long, warped shadows across the quad. At exactly 11:11pm, the fountain in the center of campus would dispense black water and dry ice smoke. Scattered across campus were boxes labeled, ‘OPEN ME IF YOU DARE’.

Masks appeared in each on-campus dorm room on Wednesday. They were hand-carved, and the students suspected it to be the work of the uni’s drama teacher – Baek Jongho. He always did have a flare for the dramatics.

The masks were antique-looking, each one came with different designs. Some had feathers, others had horns. A few were grotesquely beautiful, almost… sentient. Whether or not they were meant to be worn, the masks certainly had students locking their doors afterwards. Even the usual campus troublemakers kept their heads down.

Then came Thursday, where the air shifted.

Literally.

Attacca’s main hall smelled of old wood and spices – you figured it’s a mix of clove and cinnamon. Students began preparing for the climax of the week: the Halloween Parties organised by each frat house. They all had different themes, it’s what made Attacca Halloween Parties so special.

BANGTAN was known for masquerade balls.

XLOV was known for their drag shows.

And, SVT? The wildest costume party you’ll ever attend.

The scent of takeout lingers in the air – fried chicken, tteokbokki, and kimchi fried rice. You’re curled up on the couch, Chan’s hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, idly scrolling your phone while Chan argues with Junhui about whether vampires or werewolves would win in a dance battle. You cuddle closer to your wolf, already feeling the cold autumn air – that or because they had the air conditioner turned on.

Soonyoung lounges across the arm of the opposite sofa, legs dangling as he sips on his coca-cola. “By the way, what are y’all wearing to the party tomorrow night?”

You blink. “What party?”

Yejin gasps like you’ve just taken the last piece of fries from her. “The Halloween party SVT is throwing! Y’know, the one that got shut down by campus security because Mingyu set off the smoke machine too close to the fire alarm.”

Minghao snorts, scooping up a spoonful of kimchi fried rice. “Yeah, and that was before they could unveil the haunted basement.”

“Aren’t SVT parties invite only?” you ask, setting your phone down. “I didn’t get an invitation so–”

“___, you’re Chan’s girlfriend,” Junhui points out. “You’re practically invited by just being his girl.”

You glance at your boyfriend, who only shrugs with a sheepish smile. “I just assumed you’d come with me.”

“Romantic,” you deadpan.

Chan is quick to scoot closer, wrapping both arms around your waist while giving you those puppy eyes; hoping that it’ll keep you from escaping the conversation. “Come on, baby~” his voice low and coaxing, “Just this once? Please? I’ll make it worth it.”

You raise a brow, “That sounds vaguely threatening.”

“I mean it,” he insists. “Tell you what, baby? You can pick any couple’s costume. Literally anything. I’ll wear ears, if they aren’t wolf ears – crown, body paint, a crop top – name it; I’m in.”

You shift to get a better look at him, “So if I asked you to wear a full-body suit?”

“If it gets you to come to the party, I’ll be a banana. I’ll be the peel if you want. I’ll even let Minghao film it!”

“Wow, you are whipped.”

“Hello?” Chan leans his cheek against yours, “Have you seen my girl? She’s gorgeous and a fucking baddie! I’d be damned if I weren’t whipped for her!”

Soonyung narrows his eyes, “Not bad for a human. Usually it’s foxes that have these kinds of effects – no matter on hybrids or humans.”

His words caused you to shift, like it made you uncomfortable.

Chan waves it off dismissively, “Hyung, enough of that. We don’t need to hear about you and your ex for the nth time.” Returning his attention to you, he pleads once again. “Baby, please~ I really wanna go with you. It’s more fun when you’re there and well, I wanna show off my girl.”

Your stomach does that annoying little flutter thing it always does whenever your boyfriend goes from clown to Prince Charming in a matter of seconds. Yejin makes a gagging noise, acting as though she hadn’t planned a matching costume with Junhui too. “Disgustingly sweet. I love it. Say yes.”

You sigh, giving Chan a dramatic side-eye. “Fine. But if I go, we’re doing my costume idea and you cannot leave me to fend for myself. You know how I am with crowds…”

“Deal,” he nuzzles his face into your neck almost immediately. “Thank you, and I love you. I’ll be the hottest… Mario or the shiniest disco ball you’ve ever seen!”

The bass from the frat house speakers is already making the floorboards vibrate, but none of that matters at the moment. Chan has you pressed up against the walls of his room, your hands flat against the wood as your boyfriend looms behind you, his warm breath brushing against the curve of your neck. His arms cages you in, one hand resting just above your head, the other firm on your him, thumb brushing the edge of the red satin.

“Chan,” you whisper, half-giggling, half-breathless, “We’re gonna be late–”

“Don’t care,” he mutters, nose trailing along your jaw. “They can start the party without us.”

His tail sways behind him, ears twitching every time you shift to press yourself back against him. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, his scent thick and lazy in the air – musky, familiar, and distinctively him. It curls around your senses until you’re practically drowning in it.

“Pretty baby smells so fucking good,” he murmurs, nuzzling behind your ear, his voice low and raspy. “You wore this just to drive me insane, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes, though the way your heart hammers against your chest betrays you. “It’s just Red Riding Hood, Channie… It’s not lingerie…”

The laugh he lets out were equal parts soft and dark. “Could’ve fooled me. Look at you…”

His nose brushes the base of your neck, then his tongue darts out to slowly lick up, stopping right where scent gland pulses. You shudder. He doesn’t bite, it’s not like he’s marking you but it’s close enough. He switches between nipping at the skin of your neck and his licking it, letting his scent seep into your skin, into your clothes – deep enough that every single hybrid in that will be in the frat house knows who you belong to.

“Need to make sure everybody knows you’re mine,” he says, lips ghosting your neck. “No one touches, and no one looks too long. Got it?”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Is that jealousy talking?”

Chan grins, eyes glowing just a little with the thrill of it. “Maybe. Add a bit of possessiveness into the mix.”

You turn around to face him, adjusting your red cape and smoothing down your skirt. “You’re lucky I like it when wolves get territorial with their partners.”

“You’re lucky that you being in that costume is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You’d consider yourself… somewhat put together. After two years of therapy, you’d gotten better at managing your anxiety. You knew how to recognise the signs, how to slow your breathing, how to ground yourself before it spiraled.

However, nothing could prepare you for this.

Chan had only stepped away for a moment – to get drinks, he said; kissing your cheek and telling you to stay put. You do as you’re told, staying close to the wall – trying to stay away from the worst of the flashing lights and sticky drinks, fingers toying with the hem of your cloak. You scan the room, trying to soothe the buzzing in your chest. Maybe it’s the heat, or the lack of Chan’s presence, or–

“...___?”

You know that voice. You remember that voice.

There, just a few feet away in a glittered vampire cape and hesitant expression, stood the one person you hadn’t seen since middle school – the one person you prayed you’d never see again. Suddenly, you feel as though you’re thrusted back into your middle school years – how that venomous voice of hers echoed in the back of your skull after countless nights of crying into your pillow, how you begged the universe to let you be anything else but your current self.

Lee Minjae.

She has the same face, just… older. Softer, as though any cruelty she had back then had melted away. But the moment your eyes met hers, the room tipped sideways.

“Hey,” she said, her voice less venomous. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you here. I… I know this is weird, but can… Can I just talk to you for a second?”

She sounded so much calmer now. Gentler. But your body didn’t believe it.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

The music fades out as the room dimmed, faces blurring at the edge of your vision as adrenaline takes over every nerve in your body. You feel a tingle go up your spine and panic curled in your lungs like smoke.

“___?”

As she approached you, you backed away instinctively – flashbacks of that day playing right before your eyes.

Her laughing at you. The cruel words. The humiliation. The isolation.

“Whoa, careful there, baby.”

Chan. His voice was sharp and anchoring as his hands closed over your shoulders firmly.

You flinched like you’d been burned. Your wide, glasses eyes turned up to meet his and you watched his expression drop instantly into full concern. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

You wanted to respond, but you couldn’t.

It was like a hand was wrapped around your throat, stopping you from speaking. Stopping you from breathing properly.

The room was getting too loud. There were too many people. Too many eyes.

You couldn’t ground yourself.

Chan’s scent was there, but it wasn’t enough.

Your breath came in short, shallow bursts.

Then, you feel the slip.

Your hood fell back.

And your fox ears – golden-beige, velvet-soft, twitching anxiously; sprang up for all to see. A beat later, your tails unfurled from under your skirt, bristling like a storm.

There was a gasp from someone nearby. And then another.

“Oh my God–”

“What the fuck– She’s a hybrid?”

“Not just a hybrid, a fox.”

Dozens of eyes were on you.

Chan’s hold on you tightened, his body moving immediately to step in front of you so he could shield you.

But you were already running.

You stumbled out the back door, into the cold October night, lungs stinging and vision swimming. Your legs carried you blindly across the lawn, away from the music, away from the party – away from everything.

You didn’t even feel the tears until the wind kissed your cheeks. It was all too much.

The flashbacks. The exposure. The eyes.

Everything you’d spent years learning to manage, to keep hidden – gone in one night.

The autumn chill had transitioned into the beginning of winter, and most students had begun retreating indoors. The group lounges across the benches and stone planters, passing around warm drinks and lazily throwing acorns at each other while waiting for Chan to finish his lecture.

“She hasn’t texted back today either?” Junhui asks, voice lower than usual.

“She left me on read…” Yejin sighs, “At least that means she’s still using her phone…”

“Could be worse, y’know..?” Minghao adds quietly, “At least we know she’s not ghost ghosting us.”

Chan hadn’t said much the past few weeks either. The grief in his silence was loud enough. As much as he wants to help you, as much as the group wants to help, they knew they had to give you the space you needed.

However, Soonyoung seemed to have a different view. He leaned back with scoff, barely hiding the disdain in his voice. “You’re all acting like she didn’t lie to us for months. Hell, like she hadn’t lied to you three for years.”

Yejin blinked, clearly taken back by the wolf’s tone. “Excuse me?”

“She hid what she was. What she is,” Soonyoung said bluntly, voice harder than usual. “You don’t think that’s messed up? She calls you her friends, yet she hid the fact that she’s a fox from you for years.”

Minghao’s brows furrowed. “She didn’t owe anyone that information. Especially when she didn’t feel safe because of the discri–”

“This isn’t about what she owed, Hao,” the older wolf snapped. “It’s about trust. And don’t act like I’m the only one who felt something was off with her from the beginning.”

Junhui frowned, “Soonyoung, come on–”

“You’re a human, hyung,” he interrupts, arms crossed and jaw tensed. “You wouldn’t know the difference between the scent of a human and a hybrid. I fucking knew it. Not only did she smell not-human, she’s always deflecting questions. Jumpy. Always looking like someone’s about to bite her head off.”

Yejin stood abruptly, “So now she’s the villain because she didn’t fit your vibe?”

“No, she’s the bad guy because she played us. Played Chan. Foxes will always be foxes, right? They’re tricky little things. They get close just enough to sink their teeth in.”

Junhui attempts to calm his girlfriend down, urging her to sit down. “Soonyoung, you don’t believe that.”

The blonde wolf shrugged like it was obvious. “She got what she wanted. Attention. Someone to fawn over her, and now that everyone knows what she is, she runs? Doesn’t even bother to explain herself to Chan? Tell me that’s not manipulative.”

“You’re projecting your own bias onto her,” Minghao says sharply. “That’s not fair.”

Soonyoung laughs bitterly. “Am I? Or am I just saying what everyone’s thinking and too polite to say out loud?”

Silence fell over the group.

No one argued.

“Excuse me?”

The group turned in unison at the unfamiliar voice.

Minjae stood a few feet away in a fitted coat and soft scarf, hands buried in her pockets. Her expression was uneasy, like she knew what kind of welcome she might get, but came anyway. “I… I was wondering if any of you have seen ___?” she said carefully. “I-I was told she’s always seen with you and I haven’t been able to find her since the party.”

Yejin stood back up. “What the hell do you want from her?”

“I just… I want, need, to apologise to her,” Minjae replies. “It’s… It’s long overdue, but I really feel awful about it and I–”

Minghao cuts her off, “Apologise for what?”

She swallowed, “I was awful to her back in middle school.”

“So… You bullied her?”

Minjae’s silence confirmed it. There was a heavy pause, like the air itself had frozen.

“I know it sounds cliche, but I didn’t know any better back then. I just… She didn’t deserve what I did to her, and looking back, I realise that I shouldn’t have let discrimination or stigmas cloud my judgement of a person’s character or who they really are. ___ was really a sweet girl and I–”

“She looked like she saw a monster,” Yejin cuts in. “Even I couldn’t recognise her with how terrified she looked.”

Minjae tried to speak again, this time more subdued. “Look, I’m not here to make excuses for my actions. I really do want to make things right. If she wants me to leave her alone forever, I will. I just… I want to at least tell her I’m sorry for the hurt I’ve caused her.”

Yejin chews on the inside of her cheek before exhaling sharply. “We’ll pass on the message and she’ll reach out if she does feel like talking. Until then? Stay away.”

Minjae gives a small nod, slowly backing away.

As she walks off, Chan appears from the other end of the courtyard, catching only her retreating form. “...Who was that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“No one important,” Yejin answered, turning to the younger wolf. “Let’s head inside. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

You can hear your phone vibrating non-stop on the coffee table of your apartment. You didn’t need to check who it was – you knew it was your friends (and boyfriend) texting and calling to check up on you.

They’ve been trying to reach you for weeks.

Ever since the Halloween party.

Ever since your panic attack.

Ever since your secret was placed under the spotlight for everyone to gawk at.

You’d made it home that night on autopilot, barely remembering the run, only the sting in your lungs and the cold on your cheeks. Then came the sickening ache in your chest when you realised what had happened.

What everyone had seen.

People started to whisper about you whenever you walked by, the looks they gave you were enough to have you quickening your pace and averting your gaze. Hell, you even pretended the world was something you could mute.

But your phone didn’t stop.

Chan calls the most. You hear it in the way the vibrations stretched longer because he’s always letting it ring until it goes to voicemail. Sometimes you pick up your phone just to watch his name light up on the screen.

Channie ❤️ is calling…

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Because deep down, no matter how many times Yejin tested “we miss you” and now matter how soft Minghao’s voice had been the last time you answered a call, only to hang up halfway through–

You saw the look in Soonyoung’s eyes.

You’d heard what he said. Not directly, but word travels fast when the gossip involves a fox hybrid who “tricked” her way into a circle of wolves.

“Foxes will always be foxes.”

You’re not even sure who repeated it to you. Maybe it was overheard, or whispered. Either way, it echoed, over and over, even now.

That’s why you’ve stayed away from them.

Because maybe Soonyoung wasn’t the only one who thought that way. Maybe the others were just better at hiding it.

And maybe… maybe even Chan was, too.

You curl tighter into the blanket wrapped around you, as if it could shield you from the thoughts clawing at your chest.

It’s not that you don’t miss them. You do.

You miss him.

But your silence has become a wall now – cold, thick, and possibly safe. If you break it, you’re not sure what you’ll find on the other side.

A few days later, you find yourself standing in front of the SVT frat house, your heart lodged somewhere in your throat. The winter air bit at your skin, and your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. It was the same house – loud, warm, alive. But to you, it felt like standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure if you were still welcomed.

It took you 15 minutes of mental debate to finally raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound was softer than you thought – hesitant, almost guilty. A few seconds passed, then the door swung open, revealing a very surprised Junhui. He blinked at you like he wasn’t sure you were real, mouth parting slightly in disbelief.

“___?”

You give him a small, anxious wave. He takes a step aside, giving you an assuring smile to welcome you in. “Come on in, Bambi.”

You scrunch your nose, “Bambi..?”

He chuckles softly, “Your eyes are wide like his with how nervous you are, ___. Can I get you anything? A snack? Maybe a glass of water?”

His hospitality is gentle, the kind that makes your heart ache a little because you didn’t realise how much you missed being treated like you mattered. He doesn’t ask why you ghosted them, doesn’t mention the night of the Halloween party. Instead, he just offers warmth, like a heater in the middle of winter.

“No, thanks,” you give him a small smile. “I… I came to talk to Chan.”

Junhui gestures towards the stairs, “He’s upstairs with Soonyoung and Yeijn.” You nod, taking a hesitant step forward as the heavy weight on your chest threatens to drag you back down.

Just as your foot hits the bottom step, he calls out softly behind you. “I know you’re a good person. It’s unfortunate that stigmatisation is something we have to deal with in this society, but I want you to know that hybrid or not, I believe you aren’t what they’ve labelled you as.”

You freeze mid-step, fingers curling slightly against the railing. His words settled over you like a second layer of comfort, barely enough to silence the storm inside you; but enough to keep you moving.

“Thanks, Jun,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you realised you had forgotten to ask Junhui which room the wolves were in. As you’re about to try your luck by knocking on the rooms one by one, you hear muted voices coming from one of them.

Approaching one of the doors that was slightly open ajar, the voices became clearer and you wished you hadn’t come by in the first place.

“So what if she’s a fox?” Yejin’s voice was sharp, laced with the kind of anger that came from defending someone she cares about. “That doesn’t suddenly erase everything she’s done or the kind of person she is!”

“She lied, Yejin!” Soonyoung shot back. “She lied to all of us! You think that doesn’t matter? She’s exactly like how foxes are!”

“She didn’t lie, hyung,” Chan’s voice came then, low and controlled, each word carrying weight. “She’s protecting herself. It’s not the same thing.”

You stood frozen just outside the door, heart hammering against your ribs. It was… surreal, to say the least. Your name – your identity, being dissected out in the open. As though you were no longer a person, just a debate.

“Foxes are deceitful! She literally lied to us, to you! Need I mention their unfaithfulness? Their tendencies to jump partners?” Soonyoung’s voice was raw with something between bitterness and conviction.

“Stop.”

Chan’s voice was so cold it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Hyung, as much as I love you, you’ve gone too far. ___ may be a fox, but she is not someone for you to project your biased views onto. You don’t get to talk about her like she’s some kind of warning label.”

“Lee Chan, are you fucking serious right now?” the elder barked, anger bubbling over. “Foxes aren’t like us wolves! We’re bound to one partner for all eternity while foxes can barely–”

“You don’t know her! I do, and she’s not like that!”

“Lee Chan!” Soonyoung warned, voice rising in pitch.

“Just because you were cheated on by Jihye means ___ would do it to me!” Chan’s voice cracked like a whip.

Yejin rises from the bed, “Okay, both of you, that’s enough–”

But it was too late.

Soonyoung’s eyes blew wide with rage as he marched forward, grabbing Chan by the collar of his shirt with both hands. “Don’t you fucking bring that name up,” he growls out, breath hot and trembling with fury.

“Soonyoung, let him go–”

“Then stop questioning my girl’s loyalty,” Chan bit back, unflinching despite the tension snapping between them like a live wire.

“Boys-” Yejin’s voice came again, edged with panic.

But it was Minghao’s voice that cut through everything.

“___? What are you doing here?”

All heads turned in an instant, towards the doorway where you stood frozen – fox ears flicked upwards but flattened just as quick, wide-eyed and trembling, like a prey caught in the glow of a spotlight. The weight of every stare crushed your chest.

You didn’t wait to see Chan’s face.

Didn’t stay to hear the silence shift into something else.

Because you turned.

And you ran.

Down the stairs, past Junhui’s startled call, out the door. The cold winter hit you once again, but it couldn’t numb the way your heart was racing nor the tears that blurred your vision. Your breath came in shallow bursts, the frantic sound of your footsteps drowned by the thunder in your ears.

You weren’t sure which hurt more.

The fear that Soonyoung could possibly be right…

Or the fact that Chan had to defend you like you were something shameful.

The cold didn’t leave your skin even after you slammed the apartment door shut behind you.

You leaned back against it, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Your hands were trembling – whether from the sprint across campus, the leftover sting of Soonyoung’s words, or the echo of Chan’s voice calling you his girl, you weren’t sure.

You slipped off your shoes, barely kicking them aside before trudging towards the couch. The silence was a cruel contrast to the chaos still ringing in your head. Collapsing onto the couch without turning on the lights, you wrapped your arms around your knees. You hadn’t realised how tightly you’d been gripping your phone until it buzzed.

Flipping it over, the bright screen illuminates your tear-stained cheeks.

Three (3) missed calls from Yejin🐺

Five (5) missed calls from Channie❤️

Then came the messages. So many messages.

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your sweater, but the tears kept coming. You weren’t even sure what they were for anymore.

Maybe it’s the shame of being seen.

Or the guilt of running.

Or the fear that maybe Soonyoung was right.

Worst of all, the ache in your chest that came with the sound of Chan’s voice defending you. Because part of you… Part of you didn’t think you deserved it.

hao🐺: hey hao🐺: jun caught me up with what happened earlier hao🐺: i can’t justify soonyoung’s actions or words hao🐺: but i just want to say that he’s only looking out for chan hao🐺: and he’s been hurt by a fox hybrid in the past hao🐺: i’ll only say that much bcs it’s not my story to tell hao🐺: but pls take care ok? hao🐺: if you could, at least text or call back Chan

Then, Chan’s name lights up your screen once again. His contact photo, the one Yejin took during the last summer festival, smiling at you like nothing’s changed.

But it has.

channie❤️: baby channie❤️: please pickup the phone channie❤️: or at least answer me channie❤️: idk how much of the convo you heard channie❤️: but pls talk to me

The cursor blinks in the message box.

You could, want to answer. But your fingers don’t move.

Because you’re still trying to figure out if hearing him defend you made things better or so much worse.

You were in the middle of stuffing your face with ice cream, ears flattened against your head and tail thumping sadly. The sound of your doorbell ringing jolts you out of your fog. Pausing the sitcom playing on your TV, you wiped your mouth with a tissue and cautiously padded over to the door. Peeking through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat because on the other side of your door stood Chan – dishevelled, worry etched deep in his eyes.

You don’t answer. Maybe you weren’t ready.

Moments later, the doorbell rings again.

“Baby?” His voice was soft, but urgent through the door. “Baby, I came to talk to you… You weren’t answering my calls or texts, and I’m just… I… I just want us to talk, ___.”

Still silence.

He sighs, words slipping under the door like a warm breeze.

“___, I know you’re home and behind the door. I can smell you, y’know.”

A small squeak escapes you before the door creaks open slowly. Relief floods Chan’s face as he sees you standing there, timid and vulnerable. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, removing his shoes, and pulled you into a tight embrace. His hands settled on your waist as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “My sweet baby fox, why’d you hide from me?”

That term had you freezing up momentarily, breath hitching as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “I… I lied to you…” you confessed, voice shaky. “I… I deceived you… Soonyoung was–”

“Fuck Soonyoung and his words,” Chan’s tone was firm as his hands slid up from your waist to cup your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, “___, I know you have your own reasons for hiding the fact that you’re a fox. But that won’t change the face that I love you. I know you love me too, baby.”

“Chan–”

He presses a finger to your lips, “I think you know wolves only have one partner, don’t you? A partner they’ll spend the rest of their lives with – their one true mate.” Leaning in, his lips brushed against yours as he whispered, “And I’ve made up my mind on who my mate will be.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. “But, Chan–”

Chan captured your lips with his, as though he’s closing the gap between your doubts and his devotion. The kiss was slow, deep and claiming; each movement tender but charged with a quiet promise.

His hands tightened its grip on your waist, fingers digging into the fabric as he pressed closer – his body heat grounding you in the moment. Your tail gave a hesitant twitch at first, flicking once in uncertainty before curling around his left thigh. It trembled just a little, but the way it clung almost possessively revealed betrayed the little faux shyness you had.

You didn’t mean for it to move, at least not consciously, but your body was responding to him – craving his closeness.

You melt into him, heart pounding fiercely, breath hitching as his hands slid lower to pull you flush against him. There was a hunger beneath his touch, patient but it was unmistakably there while he eases you back gently toward the couch.

His strong hands caught you fully before you could fully settle onto the couch, his fingers tracing the curve of your body as he pressed you gently back against the soft cushions. You shivered slightly under his touch, but it wasn’t from the cold – it was the anticipation.

“Look at me, ___,” Chan whispered, his voice low and rough with need. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, admiring the way your ears twitched as his thumb lingers on your cheek. “You don’t have to be scared, yea? I’m here, foxy. I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

You meet his gaze, the honesty in his eyes making your chest ache. “I’m scared,” you admitted softly. “After… After everything… What about Soonyoung and the others..?”

He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Forget about them and their opinions. They don’t get to decide who or what you are. You’re you. You’re my girl – clever, strong, the only one I want.”

His fingers trailed lower, sliding beneath the fabric of the oversized sweater you wore with a tenderness that was a complete opposite to the intensity burning behind his eyes. Your gasped softly as his touch found your bare skin, tracing slow and deliberate patterns along your thigh before finally easing inside your panties.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay? As much as I want to feel you, I also want you to feel safe.”

You nodded, breathless. “I do. Always. With you.”

He presses a kiss to your temple before sliding his hand down fully, two of his thick fingers sinking into your pussy with a groan he tries to bite back. “Fuck, foxy,” he whispers, dragging his fingers through your slick folds. “You’re already so wet and I barely even touched you. Do you get turned on whenever I tell you you’re mine?”

You whimpered – quiet, needy – and arched subtly into his hand. He curls his digits and your tail curls around his wrist like it was trying to hold him there.

His thumb brushes up to your clit, gentle at first – drawing small, slow circles; all while his fingers start to move at a maddening rhythm – curling deep and stroking your gummy walls just right. A startled moan leaves your lips at how quick he found your g-spot.

“There she is,” he purrs, voice dipping into a low tone. “There’s my pretty little fox.”

You shivered. Not from the cold, but from the way he said my. You take notice of the way his eyes darkened whenever he looks at you underneath him, like you were the only thing in the world that could calm the storm inside him – even if you were the cause of said storm.

You clenched around his fingers involuntarily, your face flushed with heat.

“I’ll never take you for granted, baby.” His voice was soft, but his movements weren’t. His pace gradually picked up, still careful and loving, but they were no longer shy. “You’re mine. No matter what they say.”

You gasped as he shifted closer, his hand never stopping their ministration. His thumb rubbed your clit in tight circles now, each rub expertly timed with the thrust of his finger. Your hips bucked, breath stuttering with every pulse of pleasure.

“C-Channie!” you cried out, “You’re making me feel so good!”

“Shit, love the way you sound when I pleasure you, foxy…” He sounds a bit more breathless now. It was a known fact that you both shared a praise kink – you get off when he praises you and vice versa.

“Those sweet little noises you make… Only I get to hear them. You know that, right?

You nodded frantically, eyes already glossy.

“Say it,” he urged, fingers pushing deeper into your squelching pussy. “Say that you’re mine.”

“Yours!” you moaned, hips bucking up only for Chan to press it back down. “I’m yours! Chan, I’m… Oh-Oh God..!”

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice a little rougher. “That’s my girl.”

You cum at the praise, crying out as your body shakes underneath him. Your tail gave a sharp twitch before tightening again around his wrist, clinging as the waves of your orgasms crashed over you. Chan’s hand doesn’t stop, fingers slowing but not stopping, his thumb rolling your clit gentler as he murmurs praises against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful… So good for me… My pretty fox…”

Your tail quivered and wrapped tighter around his arm. Even when the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, he didn't pull away. He just holds you, his fingers still resting inside you, his other hand now moving to stroke the base of your tail, coaxing tiny shivers from your spent body.

“You’re not alone, baby,” he whispers into your hair. “You never will be. I love you. Just as you are.”

You meet his gaze, feeling your heart swell at his affection, and for the first time that day, or even in weeks – you smiled.

Chan’s fingers never leave your tail as you lay there, still catching your breath. He slowly traces the soft fur, his touch featherlight but purposeful, pulling out every tiny twitch and flick from you.

“Can’t get enough of you, foxy.” His hand curls around the plush tail, tugging just enough to make you whine. “Such a pretty tail… So soft… So beautiful…”

You felt your cheeks flush, hips shifting instinctively toward his hand. The tail was yours, but at that moment, it felt like Chan owned it instead. His hands move to your waist, “C’mon, baby, turn over f’me.”

You hesitated for a moment, heart hammering against your rib cage before obeying; rolling over onto your stomach before pushing yourself up onto your hands and knees. Chan’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight, exposed and vulnerable, your tail flicking nervously as he settled behind you. You hear the sounds of his pants being undone before he presses himself forward, warm and hard against your slick folds.

“Ready, foxy?”

You nodded and with a slow, steady motion, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. Your tail flicked wildly against his stomach as he started to thrust – slow and deep, matching the pounding rhythm of your heart.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of skin meeting skin and breathless moans as Chan moved behind you at a steady pace. The soft glow of the lamp casts shadows on the wall, dancing across the bare curves of your back, and illuminating the possessive gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes.

Chan had a firm grip on your hips, guiding you back onto his cock with each slow, deep thrust that leaves you gasping and trembling. The stretch was overwhelming but in the best ways possible – filling, grounding, possessive; and you couldn’t get enough – neither can he.

His low groan rumbles from his chest, his head dipping to brush his lips down the nape of your neck as he presses a kiss to your damp skin. “You’re doing so well for me, foxy,” he praises, his voice rough and edged with pride. “Pretty little pussy taking my dick so perfectly.”

His fingers trail down your spine until they find the base of your tail and your breath hitches. He raises an eyebrow, gauging your reaction before dipping his head to kiss the back of your neck again, slower this time – sending another shiver down your spine.

“Your tail is sensitive, isn’t it?” he teases against your skin, voice full of dark amusement.

You squirmed weakly beneath him, cheeks burning. “C-Channie~”

Suddenly, in a deliberate motion, Chan wraps his fingers around the base of your tail and gives it a firm tug. Your response was immediate – a strangled cry rips from your throat as your body arched back into him instinctively, your walls fluttering violently around him.

The jolt of pleasure surging through your body was white-hot, sharp. You cum around his thick cock and you barely had time to recover when he gave you a particularly deep thrust, leaking cockhead hitting your g-spot continuously with perfect, practiced precision.

“C-Channie!” you cried out, voice cracking as your vision blurred from the intensity.

Behind you, Chan lets out a dark chuckle, clearly pleased with your reaction. He leans forward, pressing his chest against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You liked that, huh?” he growled softly, a wicked grin on his lips as he gave another tug on your tail, eliciting another high-pitched moan from your throat. “You’re so sensitive here, foxy… So responsive.”

Your fox ears flicked up in excitement before flattening shyly against your head, a clear sign of how overwhelmed and sensitive you were from the pleasure. His teeth grazed your clothed shoulder as he bit down lightly, anchoring you as he thrust into you harder this time, rougher – making your arms tremble beneath you as you struggled to hold yourself up.

“Say it,” he commanded. “Say you’re mine.”

“I– I’m yours,” you gasped, dizzy with need. “Only yours, Channie–”

“Louder.”

His pace grew erratic and you knew Chan was close too. The thought of him filling you up with his cum has you tightening around him, and he keeps slamming his cock into your sopping cunt with the goal of making you gush all over him.

“I’m yours!” You sobbed out, feeling another orgasm approaching. “Please! Please, Channie, I–”

His hand leaves your tail to find your clit, two fingers rubbing it in tight little circles as he continues to drive his aching cock into your sensitive pussy. “Cum for me, my pretty fox. Cream all over my cock with this sweet pussy of yours.”

The way he praises you and how his tip grinds against the spongy spot inside you was all it takes to have your orgasm crash over you. With your tail still tingling from the earlier tugs and his name on your lips like a prayer, you came hard – body trembling beneath him. Your moans echoed through the room as Chan fucks you through it, riding out your orgasm with a groan as he chases his own.

Your pussy clenches and unclenches rhythmically as Chan buries himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he shoots his hot load inside your cunt. You mewl softly when you feel hot ropes of cum filling you up to the brim, some of it already dripping out your stuffed hole.

Chan stays close behind you, his hands gently sliding up your sides, wanting to ground your trembling frame. His touch was no longer urgent – just warm and tender.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, voice full of concern. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod faintly, still catching your breath as you rested on your forearms, muscles loose and spent. “Y-yeah… I’m okay, Channie…”

He shifts carefully, his dick still lodged inside you, keeping you plugged up. He slides an arm underneath your body to pull you up and cradle your body against his stomach. His hand comes to gently stroke the skin of your stomach.

“I… I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your hair. “I just… I love you, ___. All of you.”

Your fingers found his, lacing them together.

“I know, Channie,” you whispered back, exhausted but safe. “I love you too.”

Chan smiles against your shoulder, holding you just a little tighter as the room settles into a peaceful hush – nothing but your soft breaths and the quiet hum of affection.

The gossip of your revelation as a fox hybrid finally died down. But of course, there are still those that would test your loyalty.

The campus open study area buzzed with low chatter, and your focus was on the assignment that was handed out yesterday.

“Well, well, looks like I found the famous fox hybrid. I hear you’re not as fierce as they say.” The words slid from Jaemin’s lips, coated with false charm as he stepped close, trying to read your reaction. Several students nearby paused, a few leaned in closer to whisper amongst themselves.

You felt the familiar prickle crawl up the back of your neck – the attention alway came with a sharp edge, like waiting for someone to prod just hard enough to see if you’d fight back.

“Maybe you just need a friend… or something more.”

The words hung in the air like a trap disguised as flirtation.

Your eyes narrowed, seeing right through his attempt. A low, guttural growl escaped from deep in your throat, wild and warning. The room froze and Jaemin’s smirk vanished, replaced by a startled flush of unease. His brows shot up in genuine surprise, “Whoa, okay. Didn’t expect that.”

You bared your teeth just enough and fixed him with a cold glare, “I’m not who they made me out to be.”

The space quiets down as the male takes a hurried step back, swallowing hard. “Right. Noted.”

You straightened, calming your breathing as the adrenaline faded. Everyone got the message – you weren’t some heat-crazed fox for them to mock or flirt with just to see if you’d fold. It was clear that your loyalty wasn’t something anyone would ever question again.

The familiar buzz of SVT’s frat house buzzed through the air as you stepped inside, Chan’s hand firmly holding yours. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, every step feeling heavier than the last. You stayed close to him, hiding just a little behind his broad frame, the comfort of his presence keeping you together from falling apart at the anxiety clawing at your insides.

Chan’s eyes met yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can do this, okay? I gotchu.”

The room fell momentarily silent when the group noticed your arrival. Junhui’s eyes grew wide, Minghao’s lips parted in shock, Yejin’s expression softened; but Soonyoung’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. You take a shaky breath, summoning every ounce of courage.

“I… I’m sorry,” you start, voice small and hesitant. “I… I didn’t mean to ghost you all. I… I’m sorry for not answering your calls or texts. I wasn’t ready.” Your eyes darted nervously between their faces, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and regret. “I didn’t mean to worry or hurt any of you.”

Junhui steps forward, his tone gentle but firm. “There’s no need to apologise, ___, really. We get it, things have been complicated. But you don’t have to face it alone anymore.”

Yejin nodded, a warm smile breaking through. “We missed you.”

The attention shifts to Soonyoung as he steps forward, his usual confident stance replaced by something more vulnerable. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding direct eye contact at first. “___,” he greets.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Soonyoung…”

“I… I want to apologise, ___. For what I said and how I acted.”

He finally meets your gaze, the emotions in his eyes sincere. “I let my past and my pain get the better of me. I know that’s no excuse, but… I understand now that it wasn’t fair to take it out on you. You didn’t deserve that, and you don’t deserve to be treated like an outsider.”

He takes a deep breath, the tension in the room slowly melting away.

“Chan’s really important to me, and when my suspicions were confirmed… I thought… I thought that maybe you’d hurt him the way I was hurt before. But you’re not that person, I see that now. I’m sorry for doubting you, for being harsh.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his apology and earnestness. The air between you shifted, heavy with relief. Taking a steadying breath, you managed a small smile. “Thank you, Soonyoung. That… That really means a lot.”

The mood in the room shifted as the group rallied around you, eager to shake off the silence from the past few weeks. Junhui clapped his hands together with a bright grin. “Alright, enough heavy talk. Let’s celebrate having Bambi back!”

Yejin turns to her boyfriend, “Since when have you started calling her Bambi?”

He shrugs, “With those wide eyes, the answer is pretty obvious.”

Minghao pulls out a small box of cupcakes he’d bought, handing them around with a smile. “Welcome back party! Let’s go!”

Laughter fills the room as snacks are passed and music starts to hum softly from the speakers. You feel a comforting warmth surge through you, not just from the food, but from the genuine smiles and open arms around you.

As the night deepens, the noise and chatter starts to overwhelm your senses again. Quietly, you slipped away, making your way to the safety of Chan’s room. You sink into his bed, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the woodiness of the room.

Your tail flicked lazily beneath the covers as your ears twitched at the muffled sounds from the party outside.

A few minutes passed before the door creaked open.

“Baby?” Chan’s voice called out gently, and when he saw you all curled up on his bed, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole night. “There’s my pretty fox.”

He closed the door behind him, crossing the room in a few long strides. The bed dipped as he took a seat beside you, reaching out to brush a few strands of stray hair away from your face.

“You okay?”

You hum, “Just… Just needed to take a breather…”

He smiles softly, slipping under the covers next to you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“I missed this,” you whispered.

“Me too, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll hold you for as long as you need.”