Felix Centric One Shots

His Mate, His Home (Chanlix) 🔞

"When the moon chose his mate, it gave him a home."

"What do you mean they're hosting a dinner?" Minho leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Chan pace across the room.

"That's what the message said," Chan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Invitation from the Hollow Fang pack. They want to strengthen inter-pack ties or some crap like that."

"Right," Jisung said dryly, sitting on the back of the couch. "Because that pack's famous for peace talks and good manners."

"They're hiding something," Hyunjin murmured, curled against Changbin's side on the loveseat. "They never reach out. Not unless they want something."

"Maybe they're hoping we'll agree to a mating alliance," Seungmin said, walking in with a mug of tea. "They have lots of omegas. Although rumor is, a lot of the young ones always run off."

"That's because of how they treat them," Jeongin muttered, his tone hard. "Everyone knows what happens when an unmated omega turns eighteen in that pack."

"Don't," Chan growled. The word was sharp, raw.

Silence fell over the room.

"I'm not saying we go in all sunshine and rainbows," Jeongin continued after a beat, voice quieter. "Just... if we go, we need to keep our eyes open. That pack's rotten, all the way through."

Chan nodded, slowly. "We'll go. Stay sharp. Don't eat anything they didn't hand you directly. Keep your senses open. We'll play nice until we don't have to."

The Hollow Fang packhouse looked impressive from the outside—freshly painted walls, warm lights glowing through the windows, long tables set with gleaming cutlery and fake smiles.

Inside, the stink of dominance and fear hit them like a wave.

Chan's jaw clenched as he stepped inside, Minho flanking his right and Changbin on his left. Behind them, their mates moved with practiced grace, heads high, eyes sharp.

"Alpha Bang Chan," crooned a voice ahead. "Welcome to our humble den."

Chan barely hid the sneer curling his lip. "Alpha Rowan."

Rowan was tall, thick in the shoulders, with a grin too tight to be friendly. "Come. The table's ready."

The introductions were stiff, the conversation laced with too many layers of meaning. Chan endured it, just barely, until a sweet scent hit the air like lightning to his senses.

It was sunlight and fresh cream and something wild beneath it—pure and trembling and unmistakable.

Mate.

Chan's head snapped up, and that's when he saw him.

At the edge of the room, half-hidden by a wall, was a young man—an omega. Slender. Small. Bare feet. A simple cream shirt that hung too loose on his frame. His hair was gold, not just blonde but glowing, catching the candlelight like spun sunlight. And his freckles—stars scattered across his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose. He wasn't looking at anyone, eyes downcast, shoulders drawn tight.

Chan's wolf went completely still.

Then roared.

Mate.

The room blurred around him as his body moved before his mind could catch up, weaving through the guests with practiced ease until he stood directly in front of the boy.

The omega's eyes rose slowly. Brown and wide. Fearful.

"I'm Chan," he said, gently. "What's your name?"