⦻ Moonwatcher ⦻

So when Nagi’s birthday was coming up, Reo thought of the perfect present to give his best friend, you.

Reo is very observant and has noticed how Nagi’s dark eyes light up whenever you walk in a room. He's seen the way Nagi insists on having you around whenever he and Reo are hanging out, but he remembers Nagi’s little drunken confession. Nagi confessed his dirty little secret, the secret being that he would do anything for a night with you. That he’d love to hear the way you moan and whine, he’d love to see your naked body writhe with pleasure, and he’d love to bury his cock into your tight pussy.

So, being the great friend that Reo is, he decided to give Nagi what he’s been wanting for a long time.

“Reo, you said that we were going out. If you just wanted me to come over, you could’ve just said so.” Nagi groaned as he followed Reo through the door of his penthouse that he shared with you. Reo chuckled at the complaint, “just relax, I have your gift here and I wanted to give it to you first. Now come on, it's in the bedroom.”

As Nagi followed Reo, he started to wonder where you were. Normally you would tag along with Reo wherever you two went but you were nowhere to be found. So, when Reo opened the bedroom door, Nagi’s eyes widened at the sight. You were on the bed dressed in a beautiful lingerie set, your back was to the headboard and a silk blindfold covered your eyes. Reo leaned in close to Nagi and whispered, “happy birthday, go get your present but don’t be too loud, you don’t want to ruin the moment yet.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for your boyfriend, out of the blue he surprised you with a new lingerie set and a blindfold. All he told you was that you had to put it on and just wait for him, so you did exactly that. You finally heard footsteps approaching and you turned your head to the sound, “Reo? Baby, are you here?” Nagi stopped at the foot of the bed and Reo walked over to your side, leaning in to kiss you softly, “I’m here my love. Are you ready for your reward? You waited so patiently for me and did exactly what I asked of you, just spread your legs for me okay?”

You eagerly did as he asked, showing Nagi that the lingerie you were wearing was crotchless. His mouth watered at the sight, you just looked perfect like that. Your pussy looked so slick and so beautiful, he just had to dive in. His gray eyes looked over to meet Reo’s and once Reo gave a nod of approval, Nagi dove right in.

He hooked his arms under your soft thighs and licked at your pussy like a man starved. His tongue explored every crevice to get all of your juices on his tongue. Moans fell from your lips and your back arched off the bed, what you were feeling was slightly different from when your boyfriend normally ate you out but you pushed it to the backburner, attributing the different feeling to having the blindfold on. Instinctively you lifted your hands to tangle your fingers into his hair but Reo quickly pinned them down to the bed. “No, no, my love. I need you to keep your hands on the bed. Be good for me and just grip the sheets.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit at his words but the tongue on your pussy made you push any questions aside. Well, it made you push most of your questions aside. There was one that was still lingering in the back of your mind, how could he speak so clearly and still keep his mouth on your pussy?

Nagi dipped his tongue into your entrance and gripped your thighs tighter as he fucked you with his tongue. He groaned against your pussy and Reo couldn’t help but stroke himself over his pants. The sight in front of him was perfect, his best friend making his girlfriend feel immense pleasure. He couldn’t ask for anything better. But he couldn’t just stand on the sidelines and watch, he had to get himself involved. He leaned down licked at your nipples through the thin lacy fabric of your lingerie. You gasped at the feeling, too wrapped up in the pleasure to realize that there were two mouths on you.

Reo continued to lap at your nipple before lifting one of his hands to lift the blindfold off your eyes. You blinked a few times to adjust to the light and your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. “Reo? Seishiro? What’s going on?” Nagi only pulled off slightly so he could rest his head on your thigh, his dark eyes already looked glazed over and his lips and chin were covered in your juices.

“Well, remember when I mentioned that one of my friends wanted to fuck you and you just took it as a joke? It wasn’t a joke and I decided that it’ll be a fun birthday gift.” He smiled and leaned in close to your ear, “don’t think I forgot about your little drunken confession either, how you said that you’d want to be sandwiched between Sei and I.” He pulled back and looked down at you. “So what do you say? Wanna give him a good birthday gift?”

Heat spread across your cheeks as you looked down at Nagi, it was like it was taking everything in him to not shove his face back in your pussy. You tore your eyes from his and looked back at your boyfriend. “Yes, I want to give him a good birthday gift.” As the words left your lips, Nagi gripped your thighs tightly and shoved his face back in your pussy. Your back arched off the bed and Reo reached a hand out to caress your cheek. “Why don’t you make me feel good while he makes you feel good?”

He removed his hand from your cheek and undid his pants then took them off with his boxers to reveal his hard cock. You lifted yourself a bit and leaned in close while he cradled the back of your head with one hand and gripped his cock with the other. You opened your mouth and Reo pushed his cock inside, groaning at the feeling of your warm mouth. You bobbed your head along his length and Nagi looked up to watch you with half lidded eyes. He began to rut his hips against the bed while Reo started fucking your face.

Your moans and gags were muffled as the tip of your boyfriend’s cock hit the back of your throat and Nagi kept devouring you like a man starved. The pleasure was all too much and the knot in your stomach was threatening to snap. Reo saw all the telltale signs of your impending orgasm and pulled out of your mouth to let you cry out and announce it. Nagi helped you ride out your orgasm and pulled away only when you reached your hands down to push him away.

He panted as he looked at you and your boyfriend then turned his attention back to you completely. “You can fuck me Sei, I want to make you feel good for your birthday.” Both men groaned at your words and while Nagi started to undress, Reo helped you go on all fours and kneeled in front of your face. You gripped your boyfriend’s cock in one hand and took it back into your mouth while Nagi positioned himself behind you and pushed himself inside you in a quick thrust.

He wasn’t as thick as Reo but his cock was longer and it curved perfectly to hit your sweet spot each time he bottomed out. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cock dragging through your sensitive walls and you moaned around your boyfriend’s cock. Both men started to pick up the pace of their thrusts, Nagi bottomed out at the same time as Reo with each calculated thrust. Groans and moans left the mouths of both men as they thrusted with perfect precision. It made your mind fuzzy and as you looked up at your boyfriend, the sight made your mind grow even fuzzier.

He reached a hand out to pull Nagi close and through teary eyes you watched as they kissed, they kissed with almost the same amount of passion that filled the kisses you shared with your boyfriend. You watched them closely and it felt almost natural, it was like the three of you were meant to be in a place like this. Nagi snaked a hand down to rub your clit and that quickly pulled you away from any thoughts.

You brought your hand up to grip onto your boyfriend’s thigh and gently squeezed the toned flesh to try to signal your impending orgasm. He pulled back from Nagi and looked down at you with a smile, “go on and cum for us. I’m close too and I’m sure my treasure is too.” Nagi let out a breathy “mhm” in response and started rubbing your clit faster. “Please cum, it’ll make my day even better, angel. Make a mess on my cock.” Nagi’s voice was barely above a whisper, like his words were only meant to graze you and Reo’s ears and no one else’s.

It only took a few thrusts for you to cum and that set off a chain reaction. Nagi pressed his hips against yours and held you close as he filled you with cum and Reo held your head in place as he pushed his cock in your mouth entirely and finished down your throat. Reo pulled out first then Nagi and you all landed on the bed, panting heavily.

You looked at both men and spoke up first, “I’d really like to do that again and keep doing it. It just felt right between the three of us.” Reo chuckled and nodded at your words and Nagi leaned in to press his lips against yours softly.

“Sounds perfect, thank you for the birthday present. I think this’ll be the best birthday I’ve had.” He sighed softly and Reo sat up. “The celebration isn’t over yet, we’re just getting started and the cake should be coming in about 10 minutes so catch your breath and be ready to sing happy birthday then we can just keep fucking for the rest of the day. Give the birthday boy a proper birthday celebration.”

taglist (link in Navi): @litepowee @satmitsuplanet @benkeibear

michael kaiser ᢉ𐭩

when you first started dating kaiser, you told yourself you'd learn his native language.

you started with the basics of the german language; the alphabet, basic pronunciation, formal and informal greetings. you tried to get kaiser to engage in conversation with you to practice, but he either spoke far too fast or flat out refused, a thin smirk on his stupidly handsome face, almost like he was plotting something.

and he definitely was.

it started out suuupeerr small. you'd walk by him and you'd hear him murmur something under his breath, so indiscernible that you couldn't even begin to process how to translate it. everytime you nagged at him to repeat it, he'd just eye you with that oh-so-characteristic mocking smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

you could tell from the sultry tone of his voice that there was something afoot with his subdued statements, but you just couldn't for the life of you grasp onto what they actually meant; and kaiser loved that.

he took pleasure in knowing you were oblivious, that you didn't understand what he was saying, and unbeknownst to you, those hushed, mysterious remarks were teasing compliments regarding every aspect of you he could possibly think of; your face, figure, demeanour, his flirty comments knew no bounds.

however, it didn't take long for him to get bolder, spurred on by your flustered expression when he whispered those various flirty remarks in german that you couldn't comprehend.

you were sitting at the dinner table with him and he'd leant over, with that distinctive, challenging gaze, and said silkily, "du wirkst beinahe überirdisch," his facial expression perfectly reflecting how you'd expect someone who's very proud of themselves to look.

even with your limited knowledge of the language, something inside you can tell that kaiser is flirting with you, despite you having next to no clue what he just said.

"i can't flirt back when you talk to me in german," you huff, face growing hot as you evade your boyfriends gaze. "i don't know what you're saying to me."

kaiser just clicks his tongue as he leans back in his seat, his cold blue eyes triumphant. when will you realise that's the point? he just finds it so incredibly enjoyable when you're unable to comprehend what he's saying to you; it means he can say whatever he likes. and besides, it allows him to treat this whole saga as a competition, testing how long he can flirt with you in his native tongue without you catching onto a vague translation.

"you look flustered, mein schatz," he remarks, silky, teasing voice almost resembling that of a cat purring.

you just huff in response, making a mental note to hurry up and learn more german so that you can finally understand what your asshole boyfriend has to say about you!

sae itoshi ᢉ𐭩

you knew sae had spent time in spain after being recruited by re al when he was much younger, and as a result figured that he must be at least proficient in the language, if not entirely fluent. but you never really felt any obligation to learn spanish; why would you? he never spoke it, at least not in front of you.

well, not at first.

it came on rather suddenly. you were sitting at your desk, getting ready for the day, when sae slipped by you to grab something from your side of the room. you barely even noticed him, even as he paused before leaving, lingering in the doorway and gazing at you with an almost roguish calculation in his teal eyes.

"no sabes lo hermosa que eres."

his voice was quiet, smooth and exactly soft enough that your face immediately bloomed hot. you had no idea what he just said, but you could tell, both from the expression on his face and the way he was holding himself, that it was something flirty.

"what does that mean?" you eventually blurted out, flustered.

the corner's of sae's lips twitched upwards in a small -albeit annoyingly smug- smirk as his shoulders slowly rose then fell in a shrug.

"that's not fair," you had insisted, your lower lip jutted out in a pout. "you have to tell me what you said."

sae thought your failure to understand his words was so amusing. he found that he thoroughly enjoyed the rattled expression on your face when he so brazenly flirted with you in a tongue you couldn't understand.

he just sighed, as if the whole ordeal was greatly tiring for him. "tan insistente," he exhaled. you're no spanish expert, but you're pretty sure you could've guessed he meant insistent. how rude; he's the one slyly flirting with you when he knows you've not got a clue what he's saying!

"sae!" you protest, your face still burning. "translate for me, c'mon."

"you really are insistent," he remarks flatly. you feel a wave of relief wash over you at the fact he's returned to english, but the feeling of ease doesn't last long when he switches back to spanish moments later. "unfortunately, estoy loco por ti."

you feel heat spreading up your ears once again purely because of the tone of his voice. you feel so out of the loop!

"sae!" you repeat indignantly, trying to ignore the furious blush that's surely flooding your whole face. before you can even get another word in, your boyfriend just turns and walks away, hands resting languidly in his the pockets of his trousers.

"tell me what you were saying!" you shout after him, still disconcerted. in response, he just holds his arms out, palms facing the ceiling, fingers extended, and shrugs again. he doesn't look back at you, causing you to entirely miss the satisfied smirk resting on his lips.

fazed, you just stare at his back as he retreats into another room.

after you've regained your composure, you find there's only one coherent thought racing through your mind; you are definitely going to learn spanish.

bunny iglesias ᢉ𐭩

bunny has been flirting with you in spanish since the very beginning of your relationship; he finds it hilarious, because he's aware of the fact that you don't understand a single word. he can be as unfiltered and audacious as he wants, because you're clueless about the english translation. oh, the joy!

he's smart about it, though. you've noticed that he never says the same thing twice, purely because he doesn't want you to know what he's saying. not because what he says is filthy or ill-willed, in fact, it's quite the opposite. bunny's flirty comments towards you are either almost tooth rottingly sweet or the very epitome of romantic.

he isn't embarrassed of how in love with you he actually is, he just genuinely finds your inability to understand him amusing. he takes advantage of the significant language barrier between the two of you frequently, even speaking faster than is typical or pronouncing words slightly strangely. when you inevitably pout and grumble at him to flirt in english, he just smiles at you and says nothing, calm and resolute as ever.

when you emerge from your bedroom, dressed up and layered with perfume for your date with bunny, his gaze immediately softens as he says, "¿Cómo quieres que no esté pilladísimo de ti?" and wraps an arm around you, the smell of his cologne gentle below your nose.

you sigh, your cheeks warm beneath your makeup from the gentle, genuine tone of his voice. "not you acting like i know what you just said. again," you tell him pointedly. "you've gotta stop doing that, at least until i've learned a bit of spanish."

bunny just chuckles, kissing you lightly on the top of your head. "i'll stop when you stop being so irresistible, mi amor."

if there's one spanish phrase you do know that isn't hola, it's mi amor; bunny calls you it all the time. that's been consistent from the start, because you've never been anything less than his love.

vivian hugo ᢉ𐭩

the extent of your knowledge of your boyfriend's native language, french, barely stretched beyond bonjour and dubious scraps of the language you picked up from foreign films and your early years of high school.

hugo never asked you to pick up french, he didn't even mention it. he didn't expect you to learn a whole new language just for him. you two could converse without any issues at all, but he was nonetheless delighted when you bravely told him you were taking on the language.

he helped you at first, with the gendered pronouns, the use of verb conjugation and intimidating pronunciation. but when he came to the admittedly slow realisation that flirtatious comments were not even in the picture for you to learn any time soon, an idea blossomed in his head.

as soon as the mere thought entered hugo's brain, he couldn't shake it. he didn't bother starting subtle, and the next thing you knew, he was speaking in french to you constantly.

you hadn't the faintest idea what he was saying, but his short, gentle and sweet sounding comments always caused the tips of your ears to flush hot. you had tried, and failed, to find out what he could possibly be saying to you, but hugo never answered, his face as blank and his gaze as unyielding as ever whenever you protested about your lack of understanding.

because he'd already formed an annoying habit of it, you weren't exactly surprised when he returned from training and wrapped his arms around you, his chest warm against your back as he murmured cryptic french incomprehensibilities against your ear.

"i've got no idea what you're saying, viv," you complain with a pout, yet you feel yourself blushing regardless. "how am i supposed to flirt back?"

hugo pauses, as if weighing his options, perhaps considering whether he should continue teasing you or leave you alone, you think. but in reality, hugo isn't even considering backing off. he's just thinking of what to say to get another flustered reaction out of you.

"tu es la plus belle fille que j'aie jamais vue," he eventually murmurs, his voice soft and his breath warm against your skin. your face feels as if it's on fire as your scatterbrained mind tries to piece together a possible translation. but literally all you know about french is how to say hello and maybe how to ask someone how they are, so you're not exactly succeeding in your weak attempt to decode hugo's mysterious comment.

"do you get a kick out of leaving me in the dark or something?" you sigh, but you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a small smile tugging at your lips. it's obvious just from hugo's reverent tone of voice that what he's saying has to be something sweet.

"non," hugo replies softly, placing a gentle kiss against your cheek. "i'll stop it if you want, ma chérie."

but you both know full well that he's going to keep it up; hugo's too enamoured with the embarrassed flush that spreads across your face to drop the habit now.

psst! i know sae's native language is obviously japanese but just imagine him speaking spanish 😮‍💨 also left everything untranslated so you guys feel involved hehe

The first time you noticed him was outside the building.

He was surrounded by a crowd, laughing effortlessly while people practically leaned toward him.

You walked past with your headphones on.

Didn’t even glance twice.

…

The second time…

He was casually walking around.

Again, surrounded.

Again, smiling.

You walked past without looking.

…

The third.

The cafeteria.

Fourth.

The train station.

Fifth.

The convenience store two neighborhoods away.

Sixth.

A cafe you only visited once every few months.

“…”

That one made you pause.

Strange.

What were the chances?

You shrugged it off.

He was popular.

Maybe he just…went everywhere.

𓂃۶ৎ

Weeks passed.

Then months.

Everywhere.

Always.

Like he was a recurring background character in your life.

You’d catch a glimpse of blond hair in the distance.

Turn a corner.

There he was.

Walking across campus.

Buying coffee.

Standing on the opposite side of the road.

Waiting for a train.

Always nearby.

Never approaching.

Never speaking.

Never even acknowledging your existence.

It became almost comforting.

Until…

One rainy afternoon.

You forgot your jacket.

Great.

You sighed and tucked your bag over your head before jogging across campus.

The rain blurred your vision.

Students scattered in every direction.

Then—

You bumped into someone.

“Oh—sorry!”

You stepped back.

“…”

Blue-gray eyes met yours.

For the first time…

He looked directly at you.

His expression froze.

The smile he always wore…

Vanished.

The noisy crowd behind him seemed to disappear.

Everything became silent.

His pupils widened just slightly.

As though…

He had found something.

“…”

“…”

You awkwardly bowed.

“Sorry.”

Then hurried away.

You didn’t notice…

He never took his eyes off your back.

“…”

“So that’s what your voice sounds like.”

He whispered to himself.

The corner of his lips curled upward.

Tiny.

Almost invisible.

“I was beginning to think I’d imagined it.”

𓂃۶ৎ

The next day…

Nothing changed.

Except…

He was always looking.

You felt it before you saw it.

Across the courtyard.

From another classroom.

Second floor.

Behind the library windows.

Whenever you instinctively glanced around…

His eyes were already there.

Watching.

Not smiling.

Just…

Watching.

𓂃۶ৎ

Your friend nudged you.

“…Do you know him?”

“Hm?”

“The popular guy.”

You looked over.

He was already looking away.

“No.”

“…”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“…”

Your friend frowned.

“That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I swear he’s been staring at you all week.”

You laughed.

“Impossible.”

“He doesn’t even know my name.”

𓂃۶ৎ

Meanwhile.

On the rooftop.

He watched you through the gap in the fence.

“…”

“I know your name.”

His phone screen lit up.

Photos

4,872 images.

Folders neatly organized.

First Day.

Library.

Rain.

Favorite Hoodie.

Smiles.

Walking.

Buying milk.

Looking at cats.

Looking tired.

Looking lonely.

Another folder.

Locked.

Future.

He gently added today’s picture.

You laughing with your friend.

“So pretty.”

𓂃۶ৎ

That evening…

His bedroom looked ordinary.

Clean.

Minimalist.

Awards lined the shelves.

Perfect grades.

Perfect son.

Perfect student.

Inside the bottom drawer…

Hidden beneath folded clothes…

Was an entire notebook.

Every page.

About you.

𓂃۶ৎ

Usually leaves campus as soon as finished.

Wears headphones all the time if not with friends.

𓂃۶ৎ

Looks happier after playing with cat.

𓂃۶ৎ

Gets sick easily during winter.

Remember scarf.

𓂃۶ৎ

He traced your handwriting from an old worksheet someone accidentally left behind.

Smiling.

“You’ll catch another cold soon.”

“I should prepare medicine.”

𓂃۶ৎ

The next morning…

You opened your bag to get ready to study.

“…?”

Inside sat a neatly wrapped scarf.

No note.

No sender.

Just…

Your favorite color.

“…Weird.”

𓂃۶ৎ

You asked around.

Nobody knew.

𓂃۶ৎ

The next week…

Your favorite drink appeared on your desk.

𓂃۶ৎ

A week later…

The novel you wanted.

Sold out everywhere.

Somehow sitting inside your bag.

𓂃۶ৎ

Then…

The stray cat you’d been feeding suddenly wore a new collar.

Exactly the one you had stared at online.

Without buying.

“…”

A cold feeling crept up your spine.

𓂃۶ৎ

You started taking different routes home.

He still appeared.

Different train.

Different street.

Different café.

Always.

Always.

Always.

𓂃۶ৎ

One afternoon you deliberately enter inside an empty classroom which was different from your usual lecture class.

“If someone’s following me…”

You waited.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Silence.

You sighed.

“I really am imagining things.”

You stepped into the hallway.

“…”

“…”

He stood there.

As though he’d been waiting outside the entire time.

His expression remained calm.

Almost gentle.

“…Hello.”

The first word he had ever spoken to you.

Your stomach dropped.

“H-Hi…”

He smiled softly.

“I finally get to meet you.”

“…”

“What?”

He tilted his head.

“I’ve been waiting.”

“…”

“For three years.”

The hallway suddenly felt far too quiet.

You forced a laugh.

“We’ve…never talked.”

“I know.”

His smile deepened.

“But I know everything else.”

“…”

“…”

“…Everything?”

He stepped closer.

Not threatening.

Not hurried.

Simply inevitable.

“I know what makes you smile.”

Another step.

“I know what makes you cry.”

Another.

“I know when you skip breakfast.”

Your heartbeat thundered.

“When you’re lonely.”

“When you pretend you’re okay.”

“When your birthday is.”

“When your nightmares get bad.”

“…”

He reached out…

Not to grab you.

Only to gently brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His touch was unbelievably careful.

As if you were made of glass.

“You’ve looked at me hundreds of times.”

His voice was almost affectionate.

“But…”

A soft chuckle escaped him.

“You never actually saw me.”

His eyes held yours.

Warm.

Patient.

”˙ɓuıuuıɓǝq ǝɥʇ ǝɔuıs noʎ ǝpısǝq uǝǝq ǝʌ’I“

His smile returned.

The same dazzling smile everyone adored.

Only now…

You understood something no one else did.

“What?” you ask, forcing a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension crawling up your spine. “Why are you all—”

“Where were you last night?” Chan’s voice cuts through you. It’s calm—frighteningly so—and it hits you with a coldness that makes your heart stutter.

You blink confused by the sudden interrogation. “Dorm. Why?”

Then Minho scoffs under his breath, a sharp, bitter sound that makes you flinch.

“You actually expect us to believe that?” he mutters, his gaze fixed on the wall behind you as if looking at you is beneath him.

Your chest tightens. “Believe what?”

Hyunjin tosses his phone onto the table. It slides toward you, stopping just short of your hand.

You look down, and your heart doesn’t just drop—it feels like it stops entirely.

Clips. Snippets. Audio files.

Unreleased tracks.

Your tracks.

They are the unreleased tracks from the album you’ve all been pouring your souls into for months. You see the titles of songs that came from hours of sleepless nights, heated arguments, desperate rewrites, and shared tears. All of it—the culmination of your hard work—was out there.

Leaked.

“No…” your fingers trembling as you scroll through the social media threads and the links. “No, this—this isn’t—”

“You were the last one using the studio computer,” Jisung says flatly.

You freeze, the phone nearly slipping from your hand. “I—yeah, I was, but that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with this!”

“Then what does it mean?” Changbin snaps, voice sharp. “Because that’s the same computer the files were pulled from.”

You feel like the ground has suddenly disappeared beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a void where your own brothers are looking at you like a criminal.

“I didn’t do this,” you say, quieter now. “You have to believe me.”

Felix looks away, his jaw tight. Jeongin refuses to meet your eyes. Jisung is staring intently at his own shoes. Hyunjin just crosses his arms, his face a mask of hurt and anger.

And Chan… Chan just watches you like he’s trying to read something you’re not saying.

But there’s doubt there. You see it, and seeing it hurts more than any of the accusations.

“You’re the only one who had access at that time,” Seungmin adds, his tone cold, calculated. “It’s not exactly a stretch.”

“That’s insane,” you whisper. “Why would I leak our own album?”

“For attention?” Minho says with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time idols did something stupid for buzz.”

Your head snaps toward him like he slapped you.

“What?”

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t take it back. He just stares at you with a chilling indifference.

“Or money,” Changbin adds. “God knows how much those clips are worth.”

“That’s not funny,” you choke out. “That’s not even—do you hear yourselves?”

But they don’t soften. Not a single one of them offers a hand or a kind word.

“I didn’t do this,” you repeat, voice cracking now. “I swear, I didn’t.”

Chan exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“We’ll let management handle it,” he says finally. “Until then, just…stay out of the studio.”

The words hit you harder than if he had screamed at you.

Stay out.

Like you don’t belong there. Like you’re a threat to the very thing you helped build. Like you’re the problem they need to contain.

“…okay,” you whisper, the word barely audible.

No one stops you when you turn around and walk out the door.

The next few days feel like a blur of quiet cruelty.

It’s the little things that hurt the most.

No one sits next to you at the kitchen table anymore; they leave a conspicuous, empty gap as if your presence is contagious. No one calls your name when they’re ordering food or headed to the convenience store.

The group chats, once a constant stream of memes and chaotic energy, go silent the moment you reply to something.

Minho brushes past you in the hallway like you’re a piece of furniture, not even bothering to acknowledge your existence. Hyunjin doesn’t even try to hide his glares when you accidentally catch his eye.

Changbin mutters things just loud enough for you to hear—“unbelievable,” “can’t trust anyone.”

Even Felix… sweet, kind-hearted Felix, who usually hugs everyone until they can’t breathe… avoids you like you’re made of glass that’s already shattered.

And Chan? Chan doesn’t look at you at all. He stays buried in his work, eyes fixed on his screens or his feet, treating you like a ghost haunting the dorm.

That hurts the most of all.

Eventually, you stop trying. You stop going to practice because the atmosphere is too toxic to breathe. You stop hanging around the common areas of the dorm because the silence is too loud.

Because every time you do, it feels like you’re begging for scraps of trust they’ve already decided you don’t deserve.

One night, you hear them all laughing in the living room—a genuine, loud sound that used to include you. For a split second, habit almost pulls you out of your room to join them.

Almost.

Then you remember the way they looked at you.

Like you betrayed them.

Like you ruined everything.

You turn back to your bed instead, burying your face in your pillow to cry where no one can hear you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

It’s a week later when everything breaks.

Management calls a mandatory meeting for everyone. All nine of you are ushered into a sterile conference room. You sit at the very end of the long table.

The room is thick with an uncomfortable energy until one of the head managers clears their throat and opens a laptop.

“We’ve concluded the investigation.”

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure everyone can hear it.

Chan straightens up in his chair, his hands clenched into fists on the table.

“So?” he asks.

The manager slides a thick folder onto the table, the sound of paper hitting wood echoing in the quiet room.

“Evidence shows that the leak did not come from any of you.”

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

You don’t move. You don't even think you’re breathing.

“It was one of the new interns,” they continue. “They accessed the files after hours. We have CCTV footage and email records—communication with external media outlets. They were paid to leak the tracks.”

A sharp intake of breath echoes somewhere down the table.

You continue to stare at your hands. They’re shaking, but it’s not from fear anymore. It’s from a hollow, crushing realization.

“What?” Changbin whispers.

Seungmin leans back slowly, looking like he’s just been punched in the gut. Hyunjin’s face goes deathly pale, his gaze dropping to the floor. Felix looks like he’s on the verge of a breakdown, his eyes welling with tears.

And Chan finally looks at you. He really looks at you for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.

“…you didn’t…” he starts, voice unsteady.

You let out a short, hollow laugh that has no humor in it. Of course you didn’t. You had told them that. You had told them until your voice was hoarse and your heart was broken.

“I said I didn’t,” you murmur, still refusing to look up from the table.

No one speaks. There’s nothing left to say that can undo the last seven days. No apology can take back the cold shoulders, the venomous whispers, or the way they looked at you like you were a stranger. They didn't just doubt you; they abandoned you when you needed them to be your family the most.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor breaks the silence.

Footsteps approach you, hesitant and slow.

“Hey,” Chan says softly, standing right in front of you. He reaches out a hand as if to touch your shoulder. “I—we—I’m so sorry, I—”

You stand up before he can finish. You don’t do it violently, and you don’t make a scene. You just move enough to make him retract his hand, creating a physical boundary between you and the leader you used to trust implicitly.

“I need some air. Excuse me.” you say.

Your voice is calm. The kind of calm that comes after the storm has already leveled the house.

It makes Chan’s expression twist with a fresh wave of pain.

“Can we please talk about this?” he pleads, his voice cracking.

“Later,” you cut in, though you aren't sure if 'later' will ever actually come.

You don’t wait for permission or for them to explain themselves. You just turn and walk out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

They don’t go after you right away when the door clicks shut.

It isn't because they don’t want to—it’s because none of them actually know how.

The room feels different now. Heavy in a way that makes breathing feel like work. The truth sits on the table between them like something alive, something ugly.

They were wrong.

Not just factually incorrect, but fundamentally cruel.

Chan drags both hands down his face, the skin stretching under the pressure. He paces the length of the room once, then twice, before stopping abruptly.

“We fucked up,” he says, his voice sounding hollow, like it's echoing from the bottom of a well.

No one argues with him. Because there is absolutely nothing left to argue.

“I told you,” Felix whispers, voice trembling. “She kept saying she didn’t do it…”

“And we didn’t listen,” Hyunjin finishes quietly, his usual composure completely gone.

Jisung leans forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “We accused her like it was already proven.”

That breaks something.

Because they all remember it now—the details they chose to ignore in their anger. They remember the way your voice shook when you pleaded with them. They remember the way your hands trembled when you held Hyunjin’s phone.

The way you kept saying I didn’t do this—over and over, like if you said it enough times, they’d finally believe you.

But they didn’t.

Chan exhales sharply. “We fix this.”

Jeongin shakes his head slowly. “You can’t just ‘fix’ something like that, Hyung. You don't just glue that kind of trust back together.”

“I know,” Chan says, quieter now. “But we have to try.”

Because now, they finally understand. It was never about whether you were innocent or guilty. It was about the fact that when things got hard, they didn't believe you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

You don’t come back that night.

Or the next night.

Or the one after that.

Every single day that passes without your presence in the dorm feels like a punishment. Your bedroom door stays closed, a silent barrier that none of them dare to cross. Your things remain untouched on the shelves—your favorite mug in the cupboard, your shoes by the door—and your absence becomes a physical thing, louder and more intrusive than any noise you ever made.

It’s four days later when the front door finally clicks open.

You step inside cautiously, moving like a stranger in a house you've lived in for years. You’re careful, quiet, keeping your shoulders hunched as if you’re trying to take up as little space as possible.

It’s the movement of someone who doesn't quite feel like they belong anymore.

Eight heads turn immediately.

The tension is instant.

“Hey,” Chan says, standing up too quickly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t move fast enough.

You give a small nod. “Hi.”

That’s it. No smile. No warmth. Just a polite, distant greeting that hurts more than if you had walked in screaming at them.

Felix is the first one to bridge the gap. He walks toward you slowly, his hands held out slightly as if he’s approaching something fragile that might shatter at the slightest vibration.

“You’re back…”

“Just to grab some things,” you reply softly.

The words land like a physical punch to the gut of everyone in the room.

“Things?” Changbin repeats, panic flickering in his voice. “You’re… leaving?”

You hesitate for a second, and that hesitation says more than a thousand words ever could.

“No,” Chan says quickly, stepping closer. “No, you’re not—we’re not letting it end like that. Please… just talk to us.”

Your grip tightens on your bag.

“I don’t really know what there is to talk about.”

Minho flinches at the coldness in your tone. Seungmin looks down at his hands, unable to face you. Hyunjin finally finds his feet and steps forward, his voice quieter and more broken than they’ve ever heard it.

“We’re sorry.”

You don’t respond, so he keeps going, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked at you like that. We shouldn’t have assumed the worst. You didn’t deserve that.”

Jisung runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated—with himself. “I said things I didn’t mean. I was angry and I took it out on you, and that’s not—there’s no excuse for that.”

“I avoided you,” Felix adds, his voice breaking. “Even when I knew something felt off. I’m so sorry…”

Jeongin steps closer, eyes glossy. “I didn’t defend you. I just stayed quiet. That’s on me too.”

Seungmin exhales shakily. “I pride myself on being rational, but I wasn’t. I hurt you.”

Minho finally looks at you—really looks at you. There’s something raw and bleeding in his expression now.

“I said you just wanted attention,” he mutters, the words tasting like ash. “That was… messed up. You’ve never been that person. I knew that in my heart, and I just… I chose to ignore it.”

All of them owning every look, every word, and every silence.

No excuses about the stress of the comeback. No deflecting onto the intern.

Just pure, unadulterated guilt.

And Chan steps in front of you last. His voice is the quietest of all. “I should’ve believed you. More than anyone else in this world, I should have been the one standing in front of you.”

That’s the one that cracks something in your chest.

Because he’s right.

Out of all of them—the leader, the one who calls you family more than anyone—he should have known.

“I trusted evidence more than I trusted you,” he continues, eyes shining. “And that’s not what a leader does. That’s not what someone who cares about you does.”

A heavy silence settles over the dorm. All eyes are on you, waiting. You swallow hard, feeling the lump in your throat.

“…I get why you were upset,” you say slowly. “The situation was bad. I understand that.”

Relief flickers across a few faces but it fades just as quickly when you continue.

“But you didn’t just get upset,” you add, voice tightening. “You decided it was me. Immediately.”

No one interrupts. Because they can’t.

“You didn’t even hesitate.”

Your hands tremble slightly, but you keep going.

“I kept telling you I didn’t do it. I was right there, and none of you believed me.”

You don’t stop.

“I felt like I was begging just to be trusted. And that’s…” you shake your head. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

Chan looks like he’s about to reach out, to say something, but you take a small step back. Just a few inches. That tiny movement says everything.

“I forgive you,” you say.

They all freeze.

“But I don’t feel okay yet.”

The words are soft and painfully honest. They’re somehow heavier than anger.

“I don’t think I can just… go back to normal like nothing happened.”

Minho clenches his jaw, his eyes dropping to the floor. Hyunjin looks away, his shoulders shaking. Changbin nods slowly, accepting the weight of your words even though it clearly hurts him to hear them.

“That’s fair,” Chan says. “You don’t have to.”

You shift your bag on your shoulder.

“I’m not leaving the group,” you add quietly. “But… I need time.”

No one argues. They don’t have the right to demand anything from you anymore.

“Take all the time you need,” Seungmin says gently.

Felix wipes his tears. “We’ll wait.”

Changbin nods. “We’ll do better.”

Jeongin gives you a small, shaky smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Minho just mutters, “We’ll prove we’re worth trusting again.”

Chan steps back, giving you space this time.

“We’re not giving up on you,” he says softly. “Even if you need distance… we’ll be here.”

You nod, but you don’t move closer to them. Not yet.

And they notice that too.

The way you linger near the edges.

The way your voice stays careful and guarded.

The way you look at them like you’re measuring every word, every action like you’re walking on eggshells around people who were once your safest place.

It hurts.

But they don’t rush you.

They don’t demand hugs or smiles or forgiveness.

They just—try.

Small things at first.

Gentler voices when they speak to you. Softer approaches when they enter a room you're in. They check in without pushing for an answer. They give you all the space in the world, while making sure you never actually feel alone.

Because they know now that trust isn’t something you say sorry for.

It’s something you rebuild, brick by brick, day by day.

And this time, they’re not letting it break again.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

⤷ ゛ TAGLIST ˎˊ˗

It also didn't help that he only followed 10 so It was extremely obvious when he followed or unfollowed someone, not to mention the only people who he followed was his brother, his teams, Shidou, Adidas and a very popular soccer updates page that players and fans alike followed, and now you.

"The Sae Itoshi, Genius midfielder followed me? Hm..." You laughed after sending it, not expecting anything to come from it, but surprisingly he responded almost instantly.

"What can I say, I find you intriguing."

"Intriguing enough to give me another interview?"

And that's how you ended up in Sae's house, which was decorated quite beautifully and way nicer than you expected.

"Did you hire a designer?" You asked as you followed him into the living room, taking note of lack of typical bachelor pad features.

"What surprised I don't have a condom vending machine in my kitchen?" He smirked as he sat down next to you.

You wanted to pinch yourself. It was a stroke of luck that Nakamura, your boss, let you represent your company for the post match interview.

Even more so that you said something that caught Sae's attention and led you all the way here.

"Okay, since you're honestly doing me a favor I'll let you pick, would you like to do a recorded one, or one where I transcribe everything." He pretended to think then leaned back on the couch.

"You can record it, I know It'll boost your popularity some more."

You nodded, gaining traction was good, but it also came with a flood of Sae fangirls and boys who seemed personally offended by the fact that he acknowledged your existence.

The funny thing was that none of them actually knew him.

And right now, none of them were sitting in his living room.

You adjusted yourself on the couch and started the recording on your phone, placing it carefully on the coffee table between the two of you.

"Ready?" You asked.

Sae glanced at the device before looking back at you, "whenever you are."

The interview started the way they always did. Questions about the season, his performances, his goals moving forward. The standard topics every journalist covered.

What surprised you wasn't the content of his answers, but how willing he was to give them.

Most reporters were lucky to get a sentence out of him. You'd watched enough press conferences to know that. Sae usually looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

But here, in the quiet of his house, he seemed relaxed.

He answered thoughtfully, occasionally leaning back against the couch as he spoke. Sometimes he'd challenge the wording of your questions, eliciting some playful banter. Other times he'd ask what I thought before giving his own answer.

At some point, the interview stopped feeling like work.

The recording was still running, but neither of us seemed particularly focused on it anymore.

"Do you ever get tired of all the attention?" You asked eventually.

His eyes lifted from where he'd been absentmindedly turning a water bottle in his hands.

"The media attention?"

"Any attention."

He considered it for a moment.

"I like yours."

There was something unexpectedly honest about the way he said it.

The Sae everyone knew was composed, intimidating, impossible to read. The player who dominated headlines and made impossible passes look effortless.

The person sitting across from you felt different. Still confident. Still frustratingly self-assured, but human.

"You mean there's more to Sae Itoshi than being annoyingly talented?" You giggled.

His mouth twitched, "Hard to believe, I know."

"Very."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

The sound surprised you enough that you almost forgot your next question.

𝜗𝒞

The interview eventually drifted to a natural end nearly an hour later.

You reached forward and stopped the recording.

"Well," You said, stretching slightly. "That'll definitely make my editor happy."

"Only your editor?"

You looked up.

His gaze was already on you.

"Maybe me too."

Something softened in his expression.

The room settled into a comfortable silence.

It should've felt awkward.

Instead, it felt strangely familiar.

Like sitting across from each other and talking for hours was becoming normal. The realization made your stomach do something embarrassing.

Because when had that happened?

When had Sae stopped being just another athlete you interviewed?

And when had you stopped looking forward to your conversations purely for professional reasons?

"Can I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow.

"Depends."

"Give me your number," He unlocked his phone and held it out toward me. "I don't check Instagram that often."

When you handed it back, Sae immediately saved it and sent a text.

A second later your phone buzzed.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

You looked down, then back up at him.

"I like efficiency."

"Of course you do."

The smile on his face lingered for a second longer than usual.

He walked you toward the door, and for some reason neither of you seemed in a hurry.

The conversation continued in fragments as you crossed the place.

Small comments.

Easy observations.

The kind of things people talked about when they weren't ready for the interaction to end.

When you reached the door you figured that was it.

Interview over.

Another successful evening.

Except it didn't feel like the end of an interview anymore, it felt like leaving a friend.

The thought startled you.

Then Sae spoke.

"You have anything planned for the rest of the day?" Did he not want you to leave?

"No, I was just going to edit this a bit."

"Then stay here with me... just for a little bit."

𝜗𝒞

A little bit, right?

Well who knew a little bit would turn into him thrusting into you.

"Fuck, if I knew you were this tight I would've invited you over sooner." He grunted as he pushed your hair out of your face, "you're so beautiful, y'know that right?"

You scoffed, "you already got me in bed, there's no need to flatter me." This made him stop and lift up your chin so that you were holding eye contact with you.

"I never lie, and I don't sleep around."

That was true. In every interview Sae had he was blunt. He didn't make little white lies or decline to answer to keep a positive feeling in the room.

"Yeah... I know," you agree as he moves down to kiss you.

This was crazy. You were having sex with a star athlete who everyone else saw as cold and rude with an iron wall up.

Guess it went down for you.

Now, after a nice warm shower together you both were laying in his bed with sheets you knew costed more than your monthly rent.

"You did such a good job," he kissed your forehead. He was being uncharacteristically soft, or maybe he was always like this and the media just didn't know.

You leaned into his touch, "so is this how all of our interviews will end?"

Sae rolled his eyes and kissed you again, "well, I have to score on and off the field."