#blink primer

[blond-shell]

tomark 101: created by me & @touchd0wn-boy [slides here]

[ragnars-tooth]

"Haha just gonna make some notes for his hypothetical tlt/tldc au"

*4k of the ending that would take 80k to get to*

[lascvitae]

ON MY MIND ✵ NISHIMURA RIKI.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. YOU MAY BE ON MY MIND

EVERYDAY BABY, SAY YOU’RE MINE .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ you ask your boyfriend to narrate your makeup video and he says yes, but you don’t expect what he leaves in.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. gamer bf!niki x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. teasing, you do vlogs/make videos, established relationship, domestic fluff, niki lowkey bullies you

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 1k

(🎧) now playing — cool with you by njz.

masterlist.

NIKI SLIDES ONTO YOUR DESK chair like he lives there. (he kind of does at this point.)

you left hours ago, sending him a link to the footage and a simple message:

“do my voiceover plz haha”

he sent back a thumbs up emoji and a picture of him playing valorant at your setup with a bowl of dry cereal.

but — finally — the video’s up on your editing laptop. you’re centered in the frame, lips already glossy, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder like you didn’t plan that. he rolls his eyes and hits record.

“alright. this is my girlfriend. she’s about to spend thirty minutes proving she doesn’t need makeup by putting on a full face of makeup.” he says, voice flat.

you hold up your primer and flash a peace sign at the camera.

“step one: mystery goop. i think it makes your face sticky. which is apparently good. don’t ask me why.”

you start patting it in with your fingers, totally focused.

“she’s acting like she’s doing heart surgery right now. it’s not that deep, bro.”

a moment.

“okay, maybe it is. her skin looks good. whatever.”

next up is foundation. you dot it on with practiced precision.

“here comes the skin colored lotion. as if her face isn’t already smooth.”

you blend quickly with your sponge, mouth moving like you’re talking to yourself off camera.

“she’s definitely complaining about something right now. probably the sponge. or the time. she’s never on time.”

concealer comes next. you do a triangle under the eyes, and a tiny bit to the chin.

“she does this everytime like she doesn’t sleep whenever she can. like it doesn’t make sense.”

you lift a brow at the mirror. he mirrors the look automatically, smirking.

“she makes that face every time. like she’s surprised it’s turning out cute. babe. it always turns out cute.”

you do your brows now. you go in with small, controlled strokes and niki hums under his breath.

“this part? she zones out completely. i could be talking to her and tell her i crashed the car and she’ll make faces then respond ten seconds later.”

then eyeshadow. you hesitate. consider. then go for the neutral and pink shades.

he nods like he predicted it.

“she does this every time. pretends she’s gonna experiment with brighterer colors and then picks the same color she always uses. at this point it’s muscle memory.”

eyeliner next. you draw a clean wing with one hand, barely blinking.

“i can’t look. i always think she’ll poke her eye.”

you pick up your lash curler and glance at the camera like you already know he’s going to say something.

“yep. the torture device.”

you clamp it, curling your eyelashes upward.

“why are you not even scared? like you’re not squeezing metal near your eyeball right now. couldn’t be me. actually, literally wouldn’t be me.”

you curl the other side with the same calmness.

“she does this in the car sometimes. i don’t know how she does it while moving. and i just have to sit there and pretend i’m not witnessing some shit out of final destination.”

you reach for your mascara next, open it and apply it to your lashes.

“this is the lash grower. like it’s literally magic.”

you pause mid swipe, mouth open, brows slightly raised like you’re trying not to mess up.

“this is the mascara face. you know the one. mouth open, eyes wide, like a fish.”

you finish one eye, then the other, blinking carefully toward the ceiling.

“honestly? she ate that. i’ve never seen someone do this without stabbing their own eye. i flinch just watching it.”

then blush. you apply it to your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

“she’s obsessed with this part. but i like watching it. it makes her look pretty and soft. and the way she uses like, nothing, and it still spreads out—“ he catches himself, laughing under his breath.

“yeah. i like this part.”

you smile at something off camera now. probably at yourself. or maybe at the joke you were thinking of when you were filming. whatever it was, it makes his heart squeeze.

“she smiles like that and i forget what i was talking about.” he says quietly.

highlighter next. it’s just enough to catch the light and you tilt your face toward the window.

“there it is. that little head tilt. she does that every time too. look at her trying not to smile. she knows she looks good. i hope she trips on her way out. just kidding. i’ll catch her.”

you’re reaching for your lip liner now, dragging it gently along the edge of your lips with precision.

niki squints.

“okay, now we’re doing… outlining. this part’s lowkey a scam. she lines her lips just to fill them in again. but i’m not allowed to question it.”

you lean in a little, still focused, overlining the top lip slightly.

“look at her. just casually redrawing her face like it’s a coloring book. i said something about it once and she was like ‘it’s called enhancing.’ okay then. my bad bae.”

you cap the liner and grab your lipstick next, a nudey pink, your go to. you tap it on lightly, almost like a stain.

“this one’s always in her purse. i don’t even know what shade it is but i like it.”

finally: lip gloss. his real enemy. you swipe it on, press your lips together, and pout a little.

niki sighs dramatically. “this part ruins my life. i go in for a kiss and she’s like, ‘nooo you’ll mess it up.’ like girl. you just spent thirty minutes turning into the human version of an angel and i don’t even get one kiss?”

you pose and he continues to talk.

“then when i finally get to kiss her i become one of those sticky mouse traps. but it’s okay. i secretly like it.” he admits.

you laugh at yourself then reach to cover the camera and the screen cuts.

he leans back in your chair, hoodie sleeves half pushed up, hand hovering over the stop button.

the room’s quiet again. the file’s done. he could stop recording.

but he doesn’t.

not right away.

he exhales, taps the desk once with his knuckle, then mutters under his breath, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s still talking into the mic.

“she’s so pretty it actually pisses me off.”

he pauses.

then speaks softer. more to himself than anything.

“…i’m so down bad for her it’s insane.”

click.

taglist — @saysirhc @blissfulflw @yuyuy90

[piroulinewafers]

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: colonel not-so-boyfriend-yet gets dragged through a kbeauty store by his childhood friend and realizes that watching her swatch lip tints is way more dangerous than any sort of mission he's been on.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: caleb x fem! reader

the city was noisier than caleb remembered—streetcars rolling by with that grating mechanical whine, shop signs buzzing faintly under the midday sun, the idle chatter of shoppers drifting through open-air cafés and storefronts. he should’ve been overwhelmed. too bright, too many voices, too much movement for someone fresh off the vacuum-quiet corridors of a farspace fleet cruiser.

but he wasn’t watching the city. he was watching her.

she walked half a step ahead of him, tugging him through the crowded sidewalk with the easy confidence of someone who knew where every cute corner shop and discount sticker was hidden. her cardigan had slipped off, revealing her bare shoulder beneath the tank top she wore. she paused in front of a storefront that glowed soft pink through frosted glass and turned to him, her expression hopeful.

“can we go in, gege?” he didn’t respond.

“it’s just a quick stop,” she said, already reaching for the door. she already knew his answer.

caleb lifted the strap of her frilly pink tote a little higher on his shoulder, the my melody charm bouncing cheerfully against his brass-plated rank pin. He didn’t say a word. just nodded and followed her in.

the inside was a pastel wonderland—shelves lined with color-correcting primers and bunny-shaped hand creams, rows of lip tints in neat, candy-colored arrangements. she made a beeline for the display near the center, already reaching for a tester with the kind of care he usually reserved for handling orbital detonation triggers or his gun.

caleb leaned his weight subtly against the edge of the display as she reached for tester after tester, and he let his eyes wander—not across the room, but to the tiny tubes scattered across her palm. 

he watched her quietly, one gloved hand resting on the edge of the display as the other held the soft bag by its tiny satin handles. her fingers—smudged faintly with colour from earlier swatches—curved delicately as she unscrewed a rose-toned lip tint. it was a warm, dusky shade, with just enough red in it to remind him of how her cheeks looked when she got worked up over one of his teases.

she swatched it gently across the inside of her wrist, brows pinching in focus, then dabbed a bit with her fingertip and patted it onto her lower lip. the motion was unhurried, thoughtful—like she was trying to be precise, even though she probably didn’t realize how her bottom lip jutted out slightly in concentration. caleb couldn’t look away.

she was everything.

she always gravitated to the same shades, though she liked to pretend she was exploring something new. bare grape, custard mauve, peony ballet… he knew them all. not because she told him—though she sometimes muttered the names under her breath like they were secrets—but because he remembered. 

he noticed. and now, watching her dab a warm rosey tone onto the curve of her lip with the tip of her pinky, he added this one to the mental list, too. he’d never forget it. just like he couldn’t forget the way she glowed under the soft store lights, like her whole world had been made of pastels and perfume and she’d still managed to drag him into it, heart and all.

the plush cardigan, the soft pout, the cinnamon-sweet scent that lingered in the air around her—every part of her was stitched into his life in a way he didn’t know how to unpick. she had always been there. and now, more than ever, he wanted to stay in her orbit.

he beckoned her closer, voice low. “come here.”

she blinked up at him, hesitant, swiping at her lip like she thought she’d smudged it. “what?”

“just testing something,” caleb said, his tone deceptively serious. “i need to know the wear-power. longevity. field test, if you will.”

she narrowed her eyes, instantly suspicious. “what sort of field test?”

he tapped the side of his cheek, expression maddeningly neutral. “riiiiight here.”

her mouth parted in the tiniest gasp, colour flooding her cheeks. “y-you’re joking.”

“i’m in full uniform, baby apple,” he said, leaning in just slightly. “i never joke.”

she stood there frozen for a second, cheeks burning, then made an exasperated little noise in her throat. 

“you're the worst,” she muttered again—then very quickly, very lightly, leaned in and pressed the barest kiss to his cheek.

he didn’t move. didn’t flinch. but his entire heart stuttered in his chest like someone had cut the oxygen flow. it wasn’t even that she’d done it. it was how she’d done it. shy. soft. sweet. and still pouting, like he’d tricked her into surrendering some part of herself she wasn’t ready to admit was his.

“you’re blushing,” she whispered accusingly, looking anywhere but his face. and she was right, a faint, peachy flush had settled upon his faintly freckled cheeks. 

“so are you,” he said simply.

she whirled around and stomped toward the register, flustered, clutching the little box of lip tint like a weapon. he followed with a lazy pace, letting her get ahead. but the moment she reached into her pocket and tugged out her wallet, he acted.

a subtle flick of his fingers. a twist of the air pressure. the wallet slipped right out of her grasp and tumbled to the floor.

she blinked down at it, startled. “huh?”

“oops,” he said, already handing his credit card to the cashier.

“caleb—hey, no. please, you’re not—don’t you dare pay for—”

“it’s already done,” he said, not even turning to look at her as the scanner beeped and the receipt printed, credit card glinting mockingly between his fingers.

“besides, i’m the one doing the field test. consider it... part of my data collection, yeah? you were always so interested in this sorta stuff when you were younger.” 

she let out a strangled huff, crouching to grab her wallet with a muttered curse and refusing to look at him for the next minute straight.

he watched her pout all the way to the exit, still red in the ears, still flustered, still clinging to the tiny pink bag now tucked snugly under his arm. she was ridiculous. completely unreasonable. 

entirely his.

and caleb didn’t need a fleet of soldiers or the quiet stars of the vast space to tell him: 

this was home.

reblogs and interactions are v appreciated ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

[wlwcatalogue]

A Gay Girl's Guide to Takarazuka

L to R: Sagiri Seina, Ouki Kaname, Amami Yuuki, Asumi Rio, Wao Youka, Asaji Saki, Shiraki Ayaka

If you’re queer and into theatre or Japanese media, chances are that you will have heard of all-female theatre company Takarazuka Revue… but it’s also equally likely that you won’t have checked out anything of theirs. For those who are curious but were intimidated by its over 100 years of history, or who just want a quick primer to ease in, click below!

1. Why get into Takarazuka?

L to R: Rei Makoto in Tiara Azul (2024), Yuzuka Rei

For those into androgynous women

As you probably already know, Takarazuka's big selling point is that it's an all-female theatre company where the male characters are played by women. The actresses are expected to continue presenting that way off-stage, which in practice means a lot of handsome women with short hair in binders and men's clothing... Why that might appeal to people who are into androgynous women (or GNC/enby folks) is pretty obvious.

Reality Check:

Sadly, after "graduation" (i.e. leaving Takarazuka), nearly all such actresses will transition into feminine presentation and take on female roles. It's similar to the "lesbian glasshouse" idea in Class S yuri, but for gender non-conformity. That said, there are some notable counter-examples: Shion Yuu and Nanami Hiroki have basically refused to change their presentation after graduating (the latter still frequently plays male characters in both anime and stage productions), and things are more relaxed lower down the rungs too.

L to R: Wao Youka & Hanafusa Mari, Sagiri Seina & Sakihi Miyu

For those into butch/femme pairs

Just as roughly half of Takarazuka's actresses specialise in male roles (otokoyaku/男役), there is another half specialising in female roles (musumeyaku/娘役). On top of that, Takarazuka is split into five different troupes, and for any given production, the male lead and female lead are automatically assigned to that troupe's "top star" (leading otokoyaku) and "top musumeyaku" (leading musumeyaku) - the "top combi".

Unlike leading pairs in other theatrical traditions, the "top combi" concept extends to them being marketed as a pair in interviews, magazine features, TV programmes, etc. Just watch the mini TV special where Sagiri Seina and Sakihi Miyu visit Tokyo Skytree and Sumida Aquarium-- it's basically a date, and is described as such by the commentating TV announcer. Likewise, Wao Youka and Hanafusa Mari were interviewed about being a "golden combi" by women's magazine Fujin Kouron (though to be fair this was after they had, improbably, managed to win a Kikuta Kazuo Theatre Award - an award for individuals - jointly, for their "splendid performance as a combi" in 2004's Boxman).

Taken to its extreme, there have been cases where the Japanese public have been convinced that a top combi was dating, as with the immensely popular 1980's pair Daichi Mao and Kuroki Hitomi... It's no wonder that the actresses themselves frequently describe it as being like an arranged marriage.

Separately, due to certain reasons, it's practically part of the job description for top musumeyaku to adore their top star partners. This, in theory, inadvertently creates a safe space for any top musumeyaku who could be gay for their stage partners... Just to illustrate, during her graduation speech, Hinami Fuu repeatedly referred to her feelings for her top star partner Hokushou Kairi as koi (恋), a word specifically denoting romantic love, and nobody blinked an eye.

Reality Check:

Due to conservative attitudes in both Japan and Takarazuka itself, most actresses go on to marry men, including many of those named above. Vanishingly few are publically out, though former otokoyaku Higashi Koyuki (stage name Aura Maki) is a queer activist and was one half of the first same-sex couple to be married in Japan, and another former otokoyaku, Misuzu Aki, has been living with her female partner in Europe for years. Just, well, don't forget that being married to a man isn't necessarily evidence of heterosexuality.

L to R: Asumi Rio in The Poe Clan (2018), Sagiri Seina in Rurouni Kenshin (2016)

For lovers of anime and manga

Takarazuka is probably best-known as the inspiration behind Revolutionary Girl Utena, Revue Starlight, Kageki Shoujo, and Sailor Moon’s Haruka and Michiru, but did you know that it also inspired seminal works featuring androgynous female leads such as Princess Knight? If you enjoy “prince-type” characters in yuri, you’ve got them to thank

Apart from inspiring anime and manga, Takarazuka also does quite a few animanga adaptations itself! Most famous are their Rose of Versailles musicals, but other popular adaptations include Ace Attorney, Rurouni Kenshin, Lupin III, Boys Over Flowers, and Hagio Moto’s bishounen vampire vehicle The Poe Clan. They’re also doing a Castlevania musical this year!

Wao Youka & Hanafusa Mari in Phantom (2004)

For the theatre nerds

Female Phantom of the Opera, duh

Jokes aside, Takarazuka’s unique position in the theatre world can't be overstated. As a rule, all-female productions are either smaller-scale, one-offs dependent on the work, or part of a theatrical tradition completely separate to Western-style plays or musicals (hello, Chinese Yue opera). Takarazuka is the exception: it offers productions comparable in size and scale (and budget) to the largest West End and Broadway musicals - it just so happens that it's all-female.

If the all-female aspect doesn’t excite you then why are you here, then let me emphasise again: Takarazuka is totally worth checking out as a production company in its own right. It is very much a part of the broader Japanese musical industry, and one of its powerhouses at that. Just take a look at some of these clips from past productions (all around 5 mins or less):

(a) Maeda Keiji - a musical loosely inspired by real-life samurai Maeda Keiji; features an uncannily convincing horse performed by two people in costume which needs to be seen to be believed (b) Ephemeral Love - a period piece about the doomed love between Prince Rudolph of the Hapsburgs and his lover Marie Vetsera (c) The Man Who Never Sleeps - a biographical musical about Napoleon Bonaparte (d) Casino Royale - an adaptation of the 2006 James Bond movie of the same name (e) BADDY - an off-the-wall sci-fi comedy featuring loads of velvet suits, silly shellfish outfits, and queerness.

Wao Youka and Hanafusa Mari in Dracula (2011)

2. Random Queer-ish Trivia

It's pretty common for former otokoyaku to be cast in WLW roles: Sena Jun headlined the 2018 Japanese production of Fun Home, Otozuki Kei cameoed as a lesbian escort in 2022 LGBTQ-themed J-drama Kojinsa Arimasu, and Seto Kazuya played the owner of a lesbian bar in 2024 yuri J-drama Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko. (Incidentally, Sal Jiang, the original creator of Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko, has mentioned being a fan of Sena Jun when she was younger)

Otokoyaku are sometimes mistaken for men, with amusing results: Yuzuka Rei was thought to be a “host” by a passer-by while talking to her fans, and Houshou Dai has mentioned being hit on by a woman before. But the prize goes to Todoroki Yuu, who like many women once had to rebuff unwanted advances from a man—except in her case, he thought that she was a guy

Before entering Takarazuka, Sou Kazuho – eventual Snow Troupe top star – went to a co-ed school and had long hair. To her confusion, this didn’t stop her classmates from asking her to play a male character (possibly the male lead, IIRC) in the school play. They saw her as an otokoyaku even before she did!

Continuing with the high school theme, former Cosmos Troupe top star Wao Youka has boasted about how in her high school days, she received more Valentine’s chocolates than her brother, and in fact second-most out of her year. Important note: she went to a girls’ school

Speaking of Wao Youka, her 2011 Dracula (see photo above) - from @cryoverkiltmilk's “Cunt Dykecula” post - wasn't actually a Takarazuka production! Since Wao was acquainted with and later married its composer Frank Wildhorn, some assume he was the one to cast her, and that Hanafusa Mari was brought in due to being her old stage partner. But Wildhorn had wanted Wao to play the female lead. It was she who insisted on Dracula. And Hanafusa wasn't just a third party... she had been Wao's manager since 2007, having retired from the stage after graduating and only just returned with 2010's Dietrich. (She played Edith Piaf, legendary chanson singer and “very good friend” of bisexual icon Marlene Dietrich, played by Wao.) Dracula was the swan song for their partnership, with Hanafusa going on to conquer the Japanese musical industry as she had Takarazuka-- but it marked the first, and so far only, time a top combi performed as romantic partners after graduating.

On a separate note, renowned queer photographer Leslie Kee has been responsible for taking the cover portraits for Takarazuka's offical monthly publication Kageki (歌劇) since 2010. You should definitely check out his ongoing "Out in Asia" project – he's taken literally thousands of photos of out queer people in Japan, Singapore, and Taiwan in a bid to raise visibility

Lastly, in November 2015, Takarazuka City became the first Japanese city outside of Tokyo to announce its support for same-sex partnerships… though this may of course be a total coincidence.

Flower Troupe in Takarazuka Fantasia (2015 Taiwan tour)

3. Where to Start?

Nearly all Takarazuka shows since the 1990's are available on DVD (earlier ones are on VHS), and these recordings are very well done - they have great video and audio quality, are well-edited, and use a large number of camera angles

They do livestreams and live broadcasts of performances as well! You can watch a livestream from your mobile or PC by spoofing your location. For a more communal experience, if you're in Japan, Taiwan, or Hong Kong, you can catch live broadcasts of Grand Theatre performances at a local cinema

VODs of selected productions are available on various platforms, including Amazon Japan, though this still requires location spoofing. If you're actually living in Japan, you can also consider subscribing to Takarazuka's official TV channel (yes, that's a thing) Sky Stage - they do a lot of reruns of past performances

With that done, here are several recommendations if none of the productions mentioned throughout the post caught your eye!

(a) Elisabeth - Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay's musical about Empress Elisabeth ("Sisi") of Austria and the fall of the Hapsburg Empire, featuring an (inevitably very sexy) personification of Death and fantastic music. Takarazuka has done many, many productions of this, so just search them and pick whichever looks most appealing - but you won't go wrong with the 2014 Flower Troupe production, which has a very strong cast and a more refined version of the staging

(b) Phantom - Arthur Kopit and Maury Yeston's adaptation of Phantom of the Opera. Though obviously not the ALW version, the music is actually pretty great and Takarazuka goes all-out on the costumes and stage magic. All the productions are wonderful, but my favourite is the original 2004 version (which is also the one which went viral on Tumblr before - thanks, @wheel-of-fish!)

(c) Rose of Versailles - no list would be complete without Takarazuka's representative work, buuut I wouldn't necessarily recommend starting here if you're looking for a typical musical experience. There are loads of productions to choose from - note that these are split between a version focused on protagonist Oscar, and another focused on Marie Antoinette and her lover Fersen - but the 1991 Moon Troupe production is my personal pick

(d) Casanova - a light-hearted romp in which Casanova is reimagined as a charming playboy who falls for the feminist-minded daughter of Venice's mayor... only, she doesn't know his real identity. The very catchy music was commissioned from Dove Attia, the producer behind French musicals Mozart, l'opera Rock and 1789: Les Amants de la Bastille. Check out the performance digest here!

(e) Shinjuu: Koi no Yamatoji - Takarazuka puts Chikamatsu Monzaemon's tale of the doomed love between a commoner and a courtesan to a classic rock score (see this clip!). An Edo-era work that doesn't just focus on samurai and nobility, this romantic tragedy offers a grounded look at the social pressures of the time. (Though if you do want to watch something focusing on Japanese nobility, I highly recommend Takarazuka original and guaranteed tearjerker Hoshiai Hitoyo.) There are quite a few productions of this, but I've only watched the 2014 Snow Troupe one, which was very good.

Thanks so much for reading! Please feel free to DM me or send an ask if you have any questions~ I definitely want to do a follow-up post on musumeyaku, and maybe delve into Wao and Hanafusa's history (it's messy, but fascinating)... but we'll see!

[hyuniemyunie]

Jason todd x gn reader˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

doing his makeup!<3

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): hes sooooo wifey i love him sm

THIS IS FOR EVERYNYAN. MEN WITH MAKEUP. WOMEN WITH MAKEUP. NONBINARY PPL WITH MAKEUP.

men who do makeup..r..like. so hot. sorry..not sorry..

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

Jason Todd was many things—an ex-Robin, a vigilante, a walking, talking trauma case—but a guy who let someone put makeup on him? That was where he drew the line.

At least, he had drawn the line. But you had this look in your eyes, that mischievous little sparkle that made it real hard to say no.

“Come on,” you pleaded, holding up a fluffy makeup brush like it was a weapon of mass persuasion. “Just let me do a little bit.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I’m not gonna look like a clown, am I?”

you gasped, placing a hand over your heart in fake offense. “How dare you. I would never make you look bad.”

He squinted at you. “Uh-huh.”

You scooted closer, eyes shining. “Please?”

Jason sighed, already feeling himself caving. “Fine. But if I look ridiculous, I’m making you watch all my shitty old Westerns shows with me.”

You grinned. “Deal.”

And that was how Jason Todd, Gotham’s brooding menace, ended up sitting on the edge of the bed while you happily went to work on his face.

At first, he felt stupid. you started with some primer and foundation, muttering about “undertones” and “coverage” while he sat there like an idiot. Then came the contouring—something about sharpening his cheekbones, which he thought was unnecessary because his cheekbones were already sharp enough to cut glass.

Then you moved to his eyes.

“This is where the magic happens,” you declared, pulling out an eyeshadow palette.

Jason groaned. “I swear to God, if you give me rainbow clown eyes—”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, dusting warm brown and reddish shades onto his lids.

Jason stayed quiet after that, mostly because the feeling of the brush against his skin was oddly relaxing. You blended, added a bit of shimmer at the inner corners, then pulled out the eyeliner.

“Keep still,” you warned.

Jason tried to keep still, but the moment you got close to his eye with that little black pen, his survival instincts kicked in.

You huffed. “You stare down thugs with guns on a nightly basis, but this is where you flinch?”

“It’s a reflex,” Jason grumbled.

you rolled your eyes and cupped his jaw, gently tilting his face. “Look up.”

He did. And maybe—just maybe—he liked the way you were touching him, all soft and careful like he was something delicate.

Once you finished the eyeliner, you moved to mascara. Jason blinked too hard the first time, getting some on his eyelid. You scolded him, wiped it off, and tried again.

Then came the final touch—the lips.

Jason narrowed his eyes as you picked up a tube of lipstick. “No bright red,” he warned.

You rolled your eyes. “I know. Trust me.”

You picked a deep, natural shade and carefully applied it, your thumb tilting his chin to keep him still. When you pulled back, you studied him, eyes wide with satisfaction.

“…Holy shit,” you muttered.

Jason frowned. “What?”

“You look really good.”

Jason snorted. “You’re supposed to say that. You did the makeup.”

“No, but like—really good.” You grabbed your phone and flipped the camera so he could see.

Jason expected to look ridiculous.

Instead…

Oh.

The guy in the reflection wasn’t some overgrown crime alley stray. His skin looked flawless, his cheekbones more defined, his blue eyes sharp. The eyeliner made them pop, the mascara darkened his lashes just enough, and the lip color—damn.

He turned his head slightly, raising a brow. He looked—

“…I look hot,” Jason muttered, genuinely surprised.

You burst out laughing. “I told you!”

Jason kept staring at himself, tilting his head like he was studying a piece of art. “…I look like I could scam rich men out of their fortunes.”

You snorted. “You totally could.”

Jason leaned closer to the mirror. “This is bullshit. Why does this work?”

You smirked, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Because, babe, I’m the one who did it.”

Jason gave you a sideways glance. “…So you’re saying if I let you do this every time, I could be the prettiest crime-fighting menace in Gotham?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Jason hummed. “Huh.”

He turned back to the mirror, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

“…So how do I take selfies?”

Jason stared at his reflection, turning his face slightly to the side, then back. His sharp jawline looked even sharper under the contour, the dark eyeliner made his blue eyes pop like something out of a painting, and the lip color—deep, natural, and just glossy enough—gave him a dangerous kind of charm.

You watched him with barely contained laughter, chin resting on his shoulder. Oh, he was eating this up.

“So,” you drawled, watching his expression shift between admiration and disbelief. “What do you think?”

Jason exhaled through his nose, tilting his head again like he was analyzing a priceless artifact.

“…I look like I scam rich men for a living,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And you’d be good at it.”

Jason let out a soft, amused scoff, still not looking away from the mirror. You could see the way his brain was working—turning over the fact that he, Jason Todd, could be pretty in a way he hadn’t really considered before.

His fingers brushed over his jaw. “This is bullshit.”

You snorted. “What’s bullshit? That I made you look hot?”

“That it works,” he grumbled, squinting at himself like the makeup had personally betrayed him. “I mean, I expected to look like some try-hard clown, not—” He gestured vaguely at his face. “—whatever this is.”

“A masterpiece?” you supplied helpfully.

Jason shot you a look, but there was no real bite to it. He was too busy admiring his reflection.

You grabbed your phone and flipped the camera, holding it up. “Wanna take some selfies?”

Jason hesitated. His instinct was probably to say no, but you could see the little flicker of consideration in his eyes.

“…If you send them to Dick, I’ll throw your phone off a building.”

“Duh,” you said, like that should’ve been obvious. “These are for us. For documentation. For history. For—”

Jason rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“…Fine.”

You gasped dramatically. “Did the Jason Todd just agree to take selfies?”

“Shut up and take the damn picture.”

You beamed and held the phone up, making sure the lighting was just right before snapping a couple of shots. Jason barely even tried to pose, but he didn’t need to—his natural sharpness, the way he glanced sideways at the camera with that slight, lazy smirk, made him look effortlessly cool.

After a few shots, you checked the photos, grinning. “Okay, but you actually look so good.”

Jason leaned over, eyes scanning the images. His expression softened for just a second before he covered it up with faux nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just saying that ‘cause you did the makeup.”

“No,” you said seriously, nudging his arm. “I mean it. You’re gorgeous, Jay.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard. He cleared his throat, looking away like you hadn’t just turned him into putty with one sentence. “…You’re so full of shit.”

You just grinned.

“Alright,” Jason sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “Time to wash this off before I start getting ideas.”

You gasped. “What kind of ideas?”

Jason smirked, standing up and flexing dramatically. “I dunno. Maybe I should start conning rich old ladies.”

“Oh my god.”

“I could be Gotham’s prettiest crime lord. Make Bruce’s life a living hell.”

You laughed, standing up with him. “I knew this would go to your head.”

Jason slung an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Your fault, babe.”

And yeah—maybe it was your fault. But looking at Jason now, with his newfound appreciation for just how good he could look, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Jason wasn’t one to fuss over things like makeup. Sure, it had turned out better than expected—hell, he’d even admit (to you, and only you) that he looked good—but after a few selfies and some teasing, he was ready to wash it off and go back to his usual, rugged, Gotham-worn self.

At least, that was the plan.

You, however, had different ideas.

Jason stood in front of the bathroom mirror, rolling up his sleeves as he turned the sink on. His reflection stared back at him—still sharp-jawed, still intense-eyed, but softened just a bit by the expertly blended makeup you’d applied. He reached for a towel when, suddenly—

SMOOCH.

A pair of lips landed on his cheek, warm and deliberate.

Jason froze. “What are you—”

SMOOCH. Another one, this time dangerously close to his jaw.

“Babe—”

SMOOCH. SMOOCH. SMOOCH.

He turned just in time for you to attack with another kiss, smacking your lips dramatically against his face. Jason stumbled back against the sink, hands bracing himself as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to keep him in place.

“Alright, alright!” he laughed, hands coming up to ward you off. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

You grinned up at him, smug as hell. “Just appreciating my work before it all goes to waste.”

Jason gave you a suspicious look, but when he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand—his eyes widened.

A bright red lipstick stain smeared across his knuckles.

He turned back to the mirror.

Oh, shit.

There were marks everywhere. Little red imprints covered his cheeks, his jawline, his nose, and—he rubbed his lips together, realizing you’d definitely gotten him there too. His mouth was slightly smudged, like he’d either been thoroughly kissed or had just finished robbing a bank with Harley Quinn.

Jason looked back at you, you looked way too pleased with yourself.

“Are you serious?” Jason groaned, rubbing at his face. The lipstick refused to budge.

“Very.” You crossed your arms, proud of your masterpiece. “I think it suits you.”

Jason ran a hand down his face. “I look like I got mauled by a very aggressive valentine.”

“You look loved,” you corrected sweetly, batting your lashes.

Jason exhaled through his nose, staring at you like he was this close to enacting revenge. Then, with zero warning, he grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you up onto the bathroom counter.

“Jay—”

You barely had time to react before he pressed his face all over yours—cheeks, nose, forehead, even down to your neck—rubbing against you like a damn cat.

You squealed, trying to push him off. “Jason, no—!”

“What?” he murmured, voice smug and low against your ear. “You don’t wanna match?”

You huffed, knowing damn well he was transferring all those lipstick marks onto your face. When he finally pulled back, he took a second to admire his work.

You glared at him. “You’re an ass.”

Jason smirked, running his thumb over your now-stained cheek. “You love me.”

You tried to look annoyed, but the way he was looking at you—smug, sure, but with that soft glint in his blue eyes—made it impossible to stay mad.

You sighed dramatically. “Yeah, yeah.”

Jason chuckled, leaning down to press a much gentler, slower kiss to your lips. This time, neither of you cared about the mess.

[rafesangelita]

https://youtu.be/F6Pr0ClLOxE?si=HJkVbEGjsdKUvoUD

I saw this and immediately thought of JJ and Kook!Sweetheart!Reader💀

If u have the time can u maybe do a fic w them inspired by this? (No rush ofc!<3)

-🌸

a/n: i didn’t really follow the video but i hope the idea still came across clearly! ty for the req anon ♡

“i don’t even know what half of this shit is.” jj was currently sitting at your computer desk, his rugged appearance being a stark contrast to the luxury decor of your bedroom. “you don’t have to get the products right, just tryyy!” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin in the curve of his neck. he sighed, muttering a ‘alright, alright.’ before clicking on the microphone icon in the corner of the editing screen. “i’m gonna make us a snack, i’ll be right back.” you pecked his cheek, leaving him alone in your room while you made your way downstairs.

pressing play, jj smiled to himself as your bare face lit up the screen. “..sooo i guess i’ll be doing a voice over for her? i don’t know, but she clearly doesn’t even need to wear any of this crap.” thankfully, you had already added low music in the background so he wouldn’t hear the awkward silence as you did your makeup routine. “it looks like she’s starting with, what the hell? uhm— some kind of weird drops?” he watched as you rubbed the milky substance into your skin. “i won’t even say what that looks like but y’all get the idea.” he laughed.

you were definitely gonna scold him for his innuendo when you watched the footage over later.

“now she’s going in with lotion, that’s an easy one, and some more questionable sticky stuff.. damn what the hell is she putting on her face?” ‘moisturizer’ and ‘primer’ were the correct words, but how would he know that?

“okayyy, y’all see how her skin is glowing?!” you were moving your face in a way that the light from your vanity illuminated the high points of your features. “she’s unreal. it’s actually crazy how insanely beautiful this girl is.” he marveled, forgetting to keep the voiceover going as you continued applying the rest of your makeup. jj didn’t snap until you got to the part where you were lining your lips, his eyes widening as the microphone icon blinked green, indicating that it was indeed still on. “shit. i forgot i was supposed to talk on this thing,” he cursed, “she chose the wrong person to do this..”

just as you were rolling on your sparkly lipgloss, you walked into your room with a plate of chips and a sandwich. “did you finish it?” jj turned around, meeting your excited gaze. “i think i need to do another take..”

[liuhsng]

✩ˎˊ˗ always been yours ( nk ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 20.8k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, alpha!ni-ki, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, arranged marriage au, childhood friends to lovers trope, intense possessive alpha!ni-ki, minor physical violence, bullying and emotional manipulation (not from ni-ki !), emotionally charged confessions, ni-ki’s down bad and whipped, tooth-rotting fluff, angst with comfort

⤷ a/n — and just like that, the untouchable enhypen omegaverse series officially comes to an end 🥹💌 i’m honestly so overwhelmed with emotion even writing this—this series has been such a huge part of my heart, and finishing ni-ki’s part felt like closing the final chapter of something really personal and special. thank you to every single person who read, commented, screamed in the tags, and supported this chaotic, emotional ride from start to finish.

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — with your return, nishimura riki has never been happier—his walls lowered, his touch softer, his heart finally full. but when news of your sudden closeness spreads like wildfire, it doesn’t just confirm your bond—it invites the storm. omegas glare. alphas don’t take the hint. he tries to stay calm, but patience runs thin when the world refuses to understand that you were never up for grabs. so he makes a decision. no more whispers. no more pretending. he’s going to show everyone—loud and clear—that you’re his, and that ring on your finger? it’s not a rumor. it’s a promise.

Your laughter faded slowly, but the smile stayed. It lingered on your lips like a secret. Like something sacred.

And maybe… maybe this didn’t fix everything.

But it felt like a start.

But then Ni-ki let go of your hand.

Just for a moment.

You tried not to pout, really, but the absence of his touch made your fingers twitch. He didn’t say anything, only fished into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a folded handkerchief—clean and white, embroidered with his family’s insignia in deep gold thread.

And then, with the utmost care, he reached up and brushed a thumb under your eye.

You hadn’t even realized the corners of your mascara had smudged from earlier—too much almost-crying, too many feelings. But he had. He noticed.

“I swear I didn’t mean to get you this close to sobbing,” he murmured, tone somewhere between sheepish and sweet. “But since we’re already here…”

You laughed under your breath as he wiped away the mess gently, like you were made of something fragile. Your chest ached in the best way.

When he pulled back, you tilted your chin up, blinking at him. “Do I look okay now?”

He scoffed softly. “Since when did you not look okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Now.”

That made him huff, full of exasperated affection. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love that about me.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

You giggled, trying to compose yourself, but Ni-ki was already tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Thank god you wore waterproof makeup. Otherwise, you’d be walking back in there looking like some heartbroken Omega.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said.”

“And how do you even know what waterproof makeup is?” you asked, squinting at him. “Don’t tell me… Riki. Are you out here wooing other Omegas?”

He looked at you, deadpan. “As if.”

You raised a brow, teasing. “That’s suspicious, Riki. Very suspicious.”

He rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I live with two sisters,” he said flatly. “And I’ve grown up around personal stylists since I was like—born. I know what waterproof makeup is. I know the difference between setting spray and primer. I can braid hair in three different styles.”

Your mouth parted. “Wait, seriously?”

He shrugged, casual. “It’s not like I can woo other Omegas anyway,” he added, offhanded—like the thought had never even crossed his mind.

“You think I have the patience to deal with anyone else’s attitude? You’re already a handful.”

You smacked his arm lightly, grinning. “Rude.”

But he just smiled, not denying a thing. “True though.”

You snorted, and Ni-ki couldn’t help but smile again—wider this time, like the joy of just seeing you happy was something he wanted to hold close. Maybe forever.

He stepped closer, slipping his hand back into yours like it belonged there. “Ready?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

You glanced at the closed doors just down the hall, then back at him. His hair was still slightly tousled, his expression steady but soft.

“Ready,” you whispered.

The door clicked shut behind you louder than it should’ve. It was the same one Ni-ki had slipped into earlier with Konon—tucked near the grand entrance, away from the main crowd—but as soon as you stepped through it now, hand in hand, you might as well have walked straight onto a stage.

The venue was full. Not overwhelmingly so, but enough for the change in atmosphere to be immediate. Conversations stuttered. Footsteps paused mid-step. Heads turned slowly, like in disbelief that this was happening—that you were back. And more than that, that he was with you.

Ni-ki didn’t flinch. If anything, he pulled you a little closer. His hand slid from yours for just a second to rest on the small of your back. It wasn’t possessive in the territorial way others expected from an Alpha like him—it was protective, reassuring.

You could feel the heat of his palm even through the fabric of your dress. Feel how his fingers subtly curled into the fabric.

He leaned down slightly, his voice low, brushing the shell of your ear. “Keep your chin up. You belong here. Let them see it.”

And you did. You belonged. You both did.

It wasn’t just the way you looked together—though that was undeniable. The two of you walking side by side, calm and composed, looked like something designed.

A painting come to life. He stood tall, broad-shouldered in his black button-down and coat, dark eyes sharp, while you walked beside him with quiet grace, your steps steady, your expression unreadable.

Someone gasped from across the hall. You didn’t have to look to know who it came from. Another pair of eyes followed you from the second-floor railing. Whispers erupted—but no one dared to be loud enough to draw Ni-ki’s attention.

The look on his face alone was enough to put people back in line.

A subtle shift in his jaw. The faint crease between his brows. He wasn’t glaring—but there was something lethal simmering under his calmness.

Your heart beat a little faster.

“We’re… definitely causing a scene,” you muttered under your breath, a weak attempt to joke, though your voice barely rose above the hum of tension in the room.

Ni-ki didn’t miss a beat. “Good,” he said, his tone low, laced with something smug and proud. “Let them see. Let them know.”

The corners of your lips twitched.

He didn’t let go—not once. Not even as the stares kept coming, some bold, some subtle. But you were both walking with purpose now, step in sync, hearts stubbornly steady as you made your way across the room toward a familiar table near the far end. It was tucked by the wide windows overlooking the garden—Ni-ki’s designated spot, always reserved for the higher people in society.

You spotted them even before they noticed you—Jake’s distinct laugh, Sunghoon’s ever-smooth posture, Heeseung gesturing wildly about something while Jay rolled his eyes.

Their mates were there too, leaning in to whisper with each other, their backs turned. All of them too engrossed in whatever story Jake was trying to act out with his hands to notice the youngest Alpha in their group quietly approaching—with you in tow.

Not until Ni-ki cleared his throat. A sharp sound. Low, but commanding.

The effect was immediate. The table went silent, heads snapping toward the sound.

“OH MY GOD.”

You barely had a second to breathe before you were tackled—Sunoo’s mate was already on her feet, arms flung around your neck in a suffocating hug. “You’re here?! You’re—you’re back?!” she squealed, her voice shrill and bright with disbelief.

You laughed, completely winded but grinning ear to ear. “Hi—! Oh my god, I missed you!”

“Missed me?” she said dramatically, pulling back just to grab your face. “Girl, I thought you died.”

“(Y/N), oh my god,” Jake’s Omega gasped, standing up beside her. “She’s—wait. Wait.” Her eyes flicked between you and Ni-ki, still very much glued to your side. “Is this—?”

“No way,” Sunghoon said under his breath, leaning forward with wide eyes.

Heeseung blinked. “Did hell freeze over?”

“Shut up,” Ni-ki muttered flatly, but there was no bite to it. He still had his hand on your back, thumb brushing small circles near your spine.

Before you could respond, Sunghoon’s mate was suddenly in front of you with a gasp, her eyes wide as she took you in.

“Okay—hold on,” she said, practically breathless. “Can we talk about this gown? Babe, you look like you just stepped off a Vogue cover.”

You laughed, cheeks warm. “It’s just a dress.”

“No,” she shook her head quickly, fingers brushing along the silk fabric at your side with gentle admiration. “This is not just a dress. Look at how it’s catching the light—oh my god, it’s giving celestial. Who styled you?”

“I did,” you joked, and she gasped again, scandalized in the most loving way.

“You did not! Are you kidding me?!”

“She’s always been like this,” Heeseung’s mate chimed in sweetly as she pulled you into a warm hug, swaying a little as if to really feel that you were here. “Putting us all to shame like it’s nothing.”

You giggled, a sound that felt so much younger than the evening around you. “I missed you guys so much.”

“Here,” Jungwon’s mate said, walking up with a glass of wine already in hand, grin playful. “This reunion deserves a drink.”

“Oh god,” you laughed, accepting it. “You’re enabling me already?”

“Obviously,” she said, raising her own glass and clinking it gently against yours. “It’s what we do.”

For a moment, you were fully wrapped in them—their familiar scents, their voices, the way they talked over each other, poked fun, caught you up in the whirlwind of their comfort. It felt like breathing after weeks of holding your breath.

Ni-ki, still silent, stepped to the side of the table, letting you reunite with them properly. He took a spot just beside Jay, arms loosely crossed now, eyes never straying far from you.

Jay nudged his elbow with a glance, tone low but sharp with curiosity. “Since when was (Y/N) here?”

Ni-ki didn’t bother to look at him. “Literally just a few hours ago.”

Jay blinked. “You’re kidding.”

Ni-ki shook his head once, eyes still trained on you, watching as you laughed at something Sunghoon’s mate whispered dramatically in your ear.

From the other side, Sunoo looked over, lips quirking as he took a casual sip from his drink. “Well,” he said smoothly, “looks like you don’t need our help anymore figuring out what’s wrong with you tonight, huh?”

Ni-ki snorted under his breath, barely able to fight back the smile that tugged at his lips. “Not tonight.”

Just then, the girls—still buzzing with excitement—started nudging you not-so-subtly toward the empty seat next to Ni-ki. One even gave your back a gentle shove.

“Go on, go sit beside your man,” Jungwon’s mate teased, wiggling her brows.

You were still laughing, breathless and flushed from the whirlwind of affection, when you finally took a step toward the seat, only for Ni-ki to immediately act.

Without even blinking, he stood from his chair and shifted it slightly away from the table, careful not to step on the trailing edge of your gown. His movements were precise, instinctive. Like he'd done it a hundred times before.

The second you were seated, Ni-ki reached for the back of your chair and pulled it gently—yet undeniably—closer to his. You gave him a look, eyes narrowing just a little.

“Really?” you whispered under your breath, your tone caught somewhere between amused and incredulous.

He didn’t answer right away. Just smirked.

Without saying a word, Ni-ki draped his arm lazily across the back of your chair. His fingers settled near your shoulder, brushing against the silky fabric of your gown. The contact sent goosebumps up your spine, though his touch was anything but rough.

“You looked like you were about to be kidnapped by them,” he said lowly, nodding at the girls still watching you with matching grins. “Figured I should do my part and rescue you.”

“Oh, how chivalrous,” you murmured, lips twitching with amusement.

“You have no idea,” he muttered, leaning in just enough that his voice was for your ears only.

You let yourself smile, head tilted slightly toward him as your hand found the edge of his suit jacket. “So what now, Mr. Nishimura?”

He leaned closer, voice barely a breath above your ear.

“Now,” he said smoothly, “we let everyone know you’re mine.”

You tilted your head, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “You mean… to your friends or to our families?”

Ni-ki huffed a quiet laugh, his lips brushing your temple as he replied, “Both works.”

You laughed at that, soft and easy, the kind of laugh that warmed your chest. He grinned too—half proud, half helpless.

But before you could lean further into the comfort of his side, someone across the table called your name, loud and playful.

“(Y/N)!” Sunoo grinned, leaning forward with bright eyes and barely contained mischief. “You have no idea how embarrassing this guy’s been since you left.”

Ni-ki groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face as if that might shield him from whatever was coming. “Sunoo, don’t—”

But Sunoo was already ignoring him. “No, like—you’d think a pureblooded Alpha would keep it together, right? But this man? Sulked for weeks. Got passive-aggressive with the gym bag. Once wore your favorite perfume on accident and wouldn’t take it off for three days—”

“Sunoo, I’m warning you—”

“And,” Sunoo continued, ignoring the deepening scowl on Ni-ki’s face, “he literally almost bit Jake for suggesting he just ‘move on.’ Like. Bit. Him.”

Ni-ki groaned again, leaning back with a glare and a muttered, “Traitor.”

But before Sunoo could open his mouth again, another voice chimed in from the far end of the table.

“Oh yeah? And you think you have the right to talk?” Sunghoon said flatly, raising a brow as he looked across at Sunoo. “You couldn’t even hold down an Omega until my sister basically mixed herself into your life.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened. “Hey! That is so not how it happened—!”

Sunghoon smirked. “Isn’t it?”

Then, without looking, Sunghoon pointedly turned his gaze to his sister—sitting prettily beside Sunoo with flushed cheeks and an amused smile—and raised a brow like he dared her to disagree.

Sunoo threw up his hands. “Okay, to be fair, I liked her for like… five years before anything even happened.”

Sunghoon scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah? And you mated her while I was gone. During one party. At our house.”

He leaned forward, accusatory. “One. Party. I leave to go talk to people in the other wing of the house for like fifteen minutes and then the next morning, I find out my baby sister is scent-marked by you and you look like a smug little shit who won the lottery.”

Sunoo blinked, looking very much like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “It… was mutual?”

The table was full of laughter now—Heeseung almost choking on his wine, Jungwon burying his face in his hands, and you were giggling uncontrollably into your palm while Ni-ki leaned in with a lazy smirk, clearly entertained.

He dipped closer, his lips brushing just beside your ear, voice low and laced with something playful. “See what I had to deal with without you for five years?”

You stifled a laugh, the sound bubbling past your lips anyway as you leaned into him, shoulder pressing against his.

“Well,” you murmured, glancing up at him with a smile, “I’m here now. So I’ll deal with it with you.”

Ni-ki huffed out a soft breath—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh—as if you had no idea what those words meant to him. He gave a slow shake of his head, dark eyes still crinkled with amusement as he dipped down and pressed a small, warm kiss to your temple.

“Yeah,” he murmured against your skin, “you’re here.”

It had been a week since you returned.

One painfully long, jetlagged, schedule-packed week that turned your body clock into a confused mess. Between re-adjusting to academy life, catching up on your duties, and trying to get used to the local time again, ‘hard to get used to’ didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were halfway through your morning routine, eyes still half-lidded as you absentmindedly swept a blush brush across your cheek in front of your vanity. You weren’t even sure what you were doing anymore—just trying to look somewhat alive for the day.

A notification lit up your phone screen beside your jewelry tray, pulling you from your thoughts. Curious, you placed the brush down and reached over for your phone.

riki 🐥🤍 [7:15 AM]: good morning. i’ll pick you up today. be ready, sleepyhead.

A laugh escaped your lips—soft and barely there—but genuine enough to fill your chest with warmth. Your thumb hovered over the screen, heart fluttering.

You felt like some lovesick Omega straight out of a drama, one who clutched her pillow at night and squealed over the smallest gestures.

But, this wasn’t just any Alpha. This was Ni-ki.

Nishimura Riki. The same cold, untouchable pureblood Alpha who’d once built walls so high around himself that not even his closest friends could reach him for a while. The same Alpha who used to speak in blunt one-word replies and walk off before people finished their sentences.

Now, he was opening car doors for you, sending early morning texts, and buying you strawberry bread and jewelry just because ‘they reminded him of you.’

It was ridiculous. It was surreal. It was kind of perfect.

You barely fought the smile tugging on your lips as you tapped out a reply with still-blush-stained fingers.

you [7:16 AM]: but i’m not done with my makeup yet :(

His reply came in literal seconds.

riki 🐥🤍 [7:16 AM]: you can finish that in my car. i’m already here.

You scoffed at your screen, rolling your eyes. “So demanding,” you muttered, but your grin said otherwise.

With your phone tucked between your shoulder and cheek, you quickly zipped your makeup pouch and tossed it into your bag. You took one last glance in the mirror and began straightening the collar of your blazer—only to notice the university pin was slightly crooked.

“Of course,” you groaned, adjusting it with both hands. It finally sat the way it was supposed to, a gold accent gleaming against the crisp fabric.

Grabbing your bag, you gave yourself a final once-over before walking out of your room.

And then you froze—eyeing the spiral staircase that curled down to the main floor like it was your sworn enemy.

You sighed, muttering under your breath. “Who thought stairs like these were a good idea before eight in the morning…”

Carefully, you descended step by step—heels clicking against polished wood—and peeked into the living room. Your mother was seated on the couch, robe still on, laptop perched on her lap as she scrolled through emails with her glasses slightly slipping down her nose.

“Morning,” you greeted softly, smoothing the back of your skirt as you approached.

Your mom looked up, smiled warmly, and closed her laptop. “You look nice today, sweetheart.” She stood to meet you halfway and pulled you into a gentle hug.

You returned it, nuzzling into the familiar warmth. “Where’s Dad?” you asked against her shoulder.

“Left early,” she replied, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “He had a meeting. Something about the logistics contracts.”

You nodded in understanding. “Of course he did.”

She pulled back slightly and held your shoulders, giving you a little once-over. “You look a bit tired. You okay?”

“I’ll live,” you answered with a laugh. “New schedule’s just a lot.”

She kissed your forehead with a proud smile. “You’ve got this. Just pace yourself.”

You hugged her one more time before pulling away. She tilted her head curiously as you turned to grab your bag.

“Wait—who’s driving you to school today?” she asked, glancing toward the front of the estate. “I didn’t hear any of the drivers leave with any of the cars.”

You paused. Blinked once. Then smiled—small and sheepish.

“Uh… Riki is.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “He’s picking me up.”

You paused. Blinked once. Then smiled—small and sheepish.

“Uh… Riki is.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “He’s picking me up.”

“Of course he is,” she said fondly, eyes twinkling. “The perfect Alpha for my perfect little girl.”

You groaned playfully, but your cheeks were already burning. “Mom…”

She leaned forward and kissed your temple again, squeezing your arms before pulling away. “Just saying the truth, sweetheart. Go. Don’t let him wait too long.”

You hugged her one last time, letting yourself relax in the warmth only a mother could give, before turning to walk toward the main door. One of the estate guards gave you a polite nod and opened it for you, and you nodded back with a quiet, “Thank you.”

And there he was.

Nishimura Riki—leaning against his sleek black sportscar, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding his phone. His tie was loose, the first two buttons of his uniform shirt undone in that typical Alpha-boy fashion that really shouldn’t look that good this early in the morning.

You smiled a little to yourself, standing still for a few moments just to enjoy the view. Because, that was your Alpha. In your driveway. Waiting for you.

He was busy typing—probably replying to some message from Jake or Jungwon, the way his brows were slightly furrowed in concentration.

But then, just like that, his head lifted.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

He stilled, the phone still in his hand, until his nose twitched just slightly—sensing your scent on the morning breeze.

The moment his eyes met yours, everything softened. His whole posture changed—phone shoved into his pocket without a second glance, his body pushing off the car almost on instinct.

He met you halfway.

“Good morning,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug that was warm, firm, and quietly sweet.

You melted into him with a soft sigh, cheek pressing against the smooth fabric of his blazer. “Morning, Riki.”

“You smell good,” he murmured against your hair, nose brushing your scalp. “I like it.”

You laughed. “It’s my new shampoo.”

He chuckled at that, hand ghosting along your back before he pulled away just enough to open the passenger door for you.

“My parents really raised me right,” he said under his breath, mostly to himself but loud enough for you to hear, “holding doors for my Omega like a proper Alpha.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t bite back the smile. “That or you’re just scared of what my mom will say if you don’t.”

He smirked, eyes gleaming as he helped you in. “That too.”

Once you were seated, he gently closed the door and rounded the car with that same easy confidence he always had—this time a little brighter, a little warmer.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and glanced at you, like he couldn’t quite help it. “Ready?”

You pulled out your compact from your bag and smiled. “Drive smoothly please, give me ten minutes. And then I’ll be perfect.”

Ni-ki shook his head, the smile never leaving his lips as he adjusted the mirror and started the engine. “Already perfect.”

You scoffed, cheeks heating up again. “You’re so—ugh.”

“Charming? Smooth?”

You groaned and covered your face with your blush brush, laughing. “Why do I even talk to you?”

Ni-ki only chuckled, the sound low and warm in his chest as he reached across to buckle his seatbelt. With one smooth motion, he grabbed your bag and gently set it in the backseat before starting the engine.

“Because,” he said easily, pulling his hand back to rest on the gear, “you have no choice.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curled up anyway, amusement tugging at the corners. “Rude.”

The tires rolled softly over the stone-paved estate drive until the gates opened and the world beyond your sheltered home welcomed you both with the hum of early morning life.

As the city skyline came into view, tall buildings stretching up into the cloudless blue, Ni-ki calmly merged into the line of cars that filled the main road.

His hand rested loosely on the wheel, his posture relaxed yet effortlessly focused. He wasn’t rushing—not like he used to when he was younger and didn’t know better. No, this time, his driving was smoother. Slower. Careful in the way that made you feel safe. Loved, even.

You leaned back in your seat with a small sigh, flipping open your compact mirror to check your lips.

“Can you drive smooth today?” you asked absentmindedly, uncapping your lip gloss.

He glanced at you, the corner of his lips tugging up. “I always do.”

You looked at him pointedly.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded with a small laugh. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

You smiled, the kind of soft, helpless grin you didn’t mean to let slip around him, and focused on applying the sheer gloss to your bottom lip. You were halfway through reapplying when—

“Speed bump.”

His voice was low, steady—more of a warning than anything else—but his arm moved on instinct anyway. Without hesitation, he gently lifted his free hand and extended it across your front, resting just above your stomach protectively as the car eased over the bump.

You paused mid-application, startled but not at all bothered.

Your eyes flicked to him. He was still focused on the road, jaw relaxed, one hand still on the wheel.

The smallest smile tugged at your lips as you lowered the gloss and capped it. “You always used to do that.”

“Old habit,” he said with a shrug, though he didn’t move his arm right away. “Can’t help it.”

You leaned just slightly into the warmth of his forearm, grateful in a way words couldn’t quite hold.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

He still didn’t look at you. But his smile grew just a little wider. “Don’t mention it.”

You glanced out the window again, watching the blur of the morning crowd and flower vendors setting up shop at the corner. Your heart felt strangely full in your chest.

The council room was warmer than usual, filled with golden afternoon light seeping through the large glass windows. Papers were everywhere—spread out across tables, color-coded folders stacked unevenly beside laptops, and printed floor plans of the campus pinned to the bulletin board.

You were perched comfortably on Ni-ki’s desk, his sleek black laptop open in front of you, as you scrolled through an email thread about booth placements for the upcoming academy festival.

On the opposite end of the room, Sunoo’s mate sat cross-legged on top of her mate’s desk, pen twirling between her fingers, her sleeves rolled up and her head tilted in amused curiosity.

“So,” she said, eyes twinkling, “how does it feel to be back in the Student Relations Committee?”

You let out a soft laugh, leaning back on your palms as you stared at the ceiling for a second. “Stressful, and weirdly nostalgic.”

She grinned. “That sounds about right.”

“But,” you added, letting your gaze fall back to her with a crooked smile, “it’s kind of nice. I missed this. The work, the people, the feeling of being part of something.”

She nodded knowingly. “Especially being under Ni-ki again.”

You groaned, tossing your head back as your cheeks warmed. “Don’t even start.”

“I didn’t say anything!” she defended, biting back a laugh. “You said it.”

You huffed playfully, then set the laptop aside for a moment, grabbing the printed checklist beside you. “He’s different, you know. Not completely, but—he’s more, I don’t know. He actually answers emails now.”

She barked a laugh. “That’s character development.”

“Right?” you agreed, both of you giggling. “But seriously, he’s been… attentive. Helpful. Sweet, even. It’s kind of disorienting.”

“Disorienting,” she repeated with a smirk. “Is that what we’re calling soft Alpha behavior now?”

You groaned again and covered your face with the checklist.

She laughed, then softened her voice, leaning her chin on her palm. “You like working with him again?”

You slowly lowered the paper and gave her a quiet, thoughtful smile. “Yeah. I do.”

“Ugh, that’s cute,” she groaned, then suddenly straightened up and hopped off Sunoo’s desk. “Okay, no more of this—I need to fix that food stall layout before Sunoo starts sending me voice memos titled ‘concern.’”

You laughed as she crouched by the drawer and yanked it open, pulling out a sleek silver laptop. “You’re telling me he labels them?”

“Yes!” she huffed dramatically, blowing her bangs from her eyes as she sat in his chair and powered the laptop on. “Like, ‘Concern 1: Why is booth 3 beside the west exit?’ ‘Concern 2: Did you check for enough outlets?’ Like I don’t have 3 hours of sleep and 8 emails from the fire safety committee already.”

You gasped mockingly. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

She pointed a finger at you without even looking up. “Totally your fault. You were chatting me up.”

“Excuse me for bonding,” you replied, giggling as you slid Ni-ki’s laptop a little to the side and started tidying the printouts beside you.

Just then, the council room door swung open—and you both turned to see Ni-ki walk in, balancing two very loaded brown paper bags in his arms. The scent of food followed him in immediately, warm and sweet and slightly savory.

You blinked. “Um…”

Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Not even a glance at either of you.

He walked straight to Sunoo’s desk and gently placed the first paper bag in front of the older Alpha’s mate.

She raised a brow. Then, slowly turned to exchange a look with you.

You tilted your head, mirroring her confusion. What is happening right now.

Still wordless, Ni-ki crossed the room and stopped in front of his desk—where you were still comfortably seated, laptop slightly to the side. Without warning, he placed the second bag down next to you with a soft thud.

And then—without so much as a ‘hi’—he stepped behind you and placed both hands gently on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

You blinked, startled by the touch, then turned your head to look up at him just as Sunoo’s mate gawked openly.

Ni-ki met your gaze with a completely casual expression.

“…What?” he asked flatly.

You raised your brows. “What’s with the food?”

He sighed like you were the one being weird. “I escaped an ongoing festival council meeting.”

Your jaw dropped. “You escaped?!”

“I had to,” he deadpanned. “Bringing Sunoo with me would’ve looked suspicious. So he texted me, listed some stuff she’d want.” He gestured lazily to Sunoo’s mate, who immediately smiled into her fist, unwrapping a rice ball.

Then Ni-ki looked back down at you, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And I already know what you like.”

Your brain blanked for a second. “…Excuse me?”

“What?” he shrugged. “You’ve ordered the same lunch three times this week.”

You squinted. “So now you’re feeding your committee?”

Ni-ki finally let out a short laugh and leaned down closer to your ear. “No,” he corrected. “I’m feeding you. Because someone skipped lunch again.”

You frowned. “You haven’t eaten either.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, angel,” he replied, that little smirk back in full force.

Your cheeks warmed. You grabbed the paper bag beside you with a dramatic sigh and pulled it into your lap, peeking inside.

Your brows rose immediately.

Inside was a still-warm bento box of rice with golden tonkatsu cutlets drizzled in thick curry sauce, two strawberry milk cartons, two pieces of your favorite egg bread wrapped in parchment, a small container of sliced mangoes and peaches, and—resting delicately on top of it all—a folded napkin.

You picked up the napkin slowly and stared.

Your name was scribbled on it in a sharp, familiar handwriting. Definitely Ni-ki’s.

He leaned back against his desk beside you and crossed his arms. “I didn’t want it to get mixed up.”

“There were two bags.”

“Exactly,” he said, completely unfazed.

Sunoo’s mate let out a loud squeal from the other side of the room. “I swear to god,” she mumbled through a bite of onigiri, “if you two don’t date already, I’m gonna fight someone.”

Ni-ki didn’t miss a beat. “We’re engaged,” he said plainly, as he leaned back onto the edge of the desk beside you.

Sunoo’s mate slowly put the rice ball down onto a napkin in front of her and just—stared.

“…I’m sorry,” she said, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “What.”

You immediately turned your head and smacked Ni-ki’s hand lightly, the one that was still resting snugly on your shoulder. “Riki!”

He just grinned, entirely too smug. “Oops.”

You let out a sheepish laugh and shrugged helplessly at Sunoo’s mate. “W-Wolf’s out of the bag…?”

She didn’t laugh.

Instead, she gave you the most betrayed expression ever, jaw dropped and blinking as if you’d just stabbed her with a spoon. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, (Y/N),” she said, tone dry as desert. “I would’ve laughed if I didn’t just get lied to.”

You groaned and hid your face behind the napkin with your name still scribbled on it. “It wasn’t supposed to be announced until next week!”

“Well, it’s already Tuesday,” she said flatly.

“I know,” you said, voice muffled. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed dramatically, flopping back in Sunoo’s chair, arms crossed. “Ugh. Yeah, I get it. Timing. Formalities. Family business and all that blah blah. I understand.” She paused.

Then added, “Still sad I didn’t get best friend privileges, though.”

You laughed again, feeling Ni-ki’s fingers gently twirling the ends of your hair behind you, absentminded and familiar.

“I wanted to tell you first,” you said honestly, peeking out from behind the napkin.

She narrowed her eyes. “But?”

“But he was being annoying.”

“Excuse you,” Ni-ki muttered behind you, flicking a strand of your hair playfully.

Sunoo’s mate stared between you two for a long second. “Oh my god. I hate how cute you guys are.”

You gave her a look. “You’re literally dating Sunoo. You can’t talk.”

She sighed dramatically, flopping into Sunoo’s chair like the weight of being called out had hit her. “Okay. Point made.”

Then she perked up, narrowed her eyes, and pointed a finger in your direction. “But! You owe us a girls’ day. No questions asked. I want cafés, nail salons, photo booths, and probably crying over nothing in a dressing room. We deserve it.”

Before Ni-ki could so much as open his mouth to object, she turned her gaze toward him and glared.

Ni-ki immediately sighed in defeat, hands up like he’d been caught mid-crime. “Noted,” he mumbled. “I’ll stand down.”

You giggled softly, glancing at her with a small smile. “Okay. Just confirm the day—we’ll plan it properly.”

She beamed and nodded, clearly satisfied, and went back to happily eating her food like she hadn’t just threatened your fiancé.

You looked back at Ni-ki then, eyes soft.

“I’ll drive you when you confirm the day, yeah?”

He leaned down a little, his hands returning to your shoulders, thumbs brushing gently along your blazer as he looked at you with warm eyes.

“Eat well,” he said, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your forehead, then one to your nose. “That means the rice, and the fruits, Omega. Don’t test me.”

You huffed a small laugh, nose scrunching. “Yes, Riki.”

He smirked at that—but just as he was about to straighten up, you reached up and gently tugged him back by the collar of his uniform blazer.

He blinked in surprise—just before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

His smile bloomed instantly, wide and boyish and everything soft, and he bent back down just to press another kiss to the top of your head. “Cheeky.”

You laughed quietly as he rubbed your shoulders again, slower this time, a little reluctant to leave.

“Enjoy, alright?” he murmured. “And don’t forget you have class after this. I know your schedule.”

You groaned, making him laugh as he finally stepped away, bag in hand and heart completely full. “Bye,” he called as he walked backwards toward the door, tossing you one last grin.

“Bye,” you said, still smiling—already grabbing your chopsticks like he asked.

It was already 3PM, and you were seconds away from fully dozing off.

The professor’s voice droned on about ‘market penetration strategies’—something you’d already studied last semester in Italy and could probably recite in your sleep. You had half a mind to drool on your notes at this point, your head tilting ever so slightly…

Until someone gently tapped your shoulder.

You blinked, sitting up straight quickly as a neatly stacked pile of papers was handed to you. “Ah—thanks.”

The one who passed it to you gave a small grin. “Professor’s giving out the activity sheet.”

You nodded, flipping the paper over lazily. Just another case analysis. You passed the rest of the stack toward the students behind you, already bored again, when the same Alpha leaned a little toward you.

“(Y/N), right?”

You glanced over, slightly surprised. “Yeah, that’s me.”

He smiled a little brighter this time, more casual and charming. “I’m Riku. Maeda Riku.”

He held his hand out in that polite, practiced way.

You took it, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you, Riku.”

But before he could say anything else, the professor’s voice cut in like a buzzer. “Alright, class dismissed. Don’t forget to read the last three chapters for discussion tomorrow!”

The room immediately exploded into motion. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, conversations bubbled up. You were already packing your things quickly, more than ready to be done.

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” Riku said with one last glance over his shoulder before heading toward his group of friends near the back door.

You paused for a brief second, looking at his retreating figure—friendly enough. But your mind didn’t linger.

Because as soon as you stepped into the hallway, heading toward the student council wing, a familiar scent curled around you before you could even register the voice.

“There you are.”

You blinked—and nearly walked into Ni-ki, who was casually leaning against one of the stone pillars lining the hallway.

Hair a little messy from the wind, tie slightly loosened, and expression so neutral anyone else would’ve missed it. But you saw it—the small, barely-there curve of his lips.

“Riki,” you greeted instinctively, the tiredness from class melting into warmth the moment you said his name.

Without a word, he stood up straight and reached for your bag, slinging it over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Then he grabbed the small bundle of books you were hugging to your chest—easily balancing them on the same arm.

His now free hand found yours without hesitation, fingers sliding perfectly between yours. You were so used to it by now, the easy way he took care of you without asking—but this time, it didn’t go unnoticed.

Not by the crowd of students still flooding the hallway.

Eyes darted between you and Ni-ki, jaws dropping. You could hear someone whisper “No fucking way” behind you, followed by someone else going “Is that—Nishimura? Carrying her bag??”

One girl dropped the chocolate box she had been holding, still debating whether to confess to him or not.

Ni-ki didn’t even flinch. He just turned his head toward you with that soft gaze reserved only for you and said, “Long day?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Tiring. Almost fell asleep.”

“Mm.” He raised your hand slightly to press a quick kiss to the back of it. “Should’ve skipped. I’d cover your attendance.”

You laughed, squeezing his fingers. “You already do that way too much for the others.”

This was not the Nishimura Riki people knew.

This was not the cold, unreadable, borderline terrifying Student Relations Director who once threw out a box of letters in front of the senders and handed the chocolates to his committee ‘because it’s free sugar, not affection.’

The same Ni-ki who once rejected someone with a single look and allegedly said, ‘I’m not taking applications.’

And now here he was—carrying your bag, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and saying things like ‘Should’ve skipped.’

The Ni-ki who was yours.

He paid no mind to the stares. No weight to the whispers. He never cared for them anyway—had never once let the opinions of others dictate what he did or who he showed up for. If anything, he only tightened his hold on your hand.

You were too busy recounting the rest of your afternoon to even notice the way the world seemed to slow down around you both.

“I mean, I get that he’s trying to explain the concept,” you were saying, frowning a little as your steps synced naturally with his, “but I swear I’ve read about product lifecycle models a dozen times already. He just kept saying ‘strategic positioning’ like it was some divine revelation.”

“Strategic positioning,” Ni-ki echoed dryly, eyes half-lidded with amusement. “He says that every semester. There’s a compilation video of him somewhere.”

That made you laugh, leaning your head briefly against his arm. “I believe it. I was this close to falling asleep if Riku didn’t poke me with that worksheet.”

“Riku?” he asked, tone even, but you caught the faint raise of his brow.

“Mhm,” you replied, brushing it off. “He was nice. Sat beside me today. Handed me the papers.”

Ni-ki didn’t comment right away. Just nodded, thumb running slowly over the back of your hand. “I see.”

You kept talking, caught up in your little recount like nothing had changed. “He introduced himself too. Kind of sudden, but I guess he’s new. Oh! And the professor—he tried to call my name, but butchered it again, I swear—”

And Ni-ki was still listening. Still eagerly listening. His head tilted slightly toward you, eyes soft and focused, nodding at every point you made, even humming now and then to show he was following.

His attention was gentle—undivided. Like there was nothing else worth watching. Like the world had narrowed to just you, and the rest could burn for all he cared.

But the rest of the world hadn’t disappeared.

Not really.

A few paces behind, stuck in the movement of the dispersing crowd, someone hadn’t looked away.

Still standing near the lecture hall doors, pretending to be mid-conversation with a friend—his eyes, however, were locked on you.

More specifically, on the back of your head… and the way Nishimura Riki's hand held yours with such instinct. Like he had done it a thousand times before. Like it was his right.

Riku’s friend nudged him. “You coming?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

But even as he moved, the name you’d said echoed in his mind.

Nishimura Riki.

The infamous pureblooded Alpha. Student council. Pureblooded. Standoffish. Untouchable.

He glanced one last time at your silhouette disappearing around the corridor, the boy beside you dressed in tailored navy, a step too graceful to be casual.

Riku’s lips curved into a subtle, almost domineering smirk.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath.

Beside him, his friend Ryo raised a brow. “What’s interesting?”

“Nothing,” Ryo replied smoothly, not even looking away at first. But just before turning the corner, he stole one final glance at you.

Nothing? Maybe.

But something about the way his gaze lingered said otherwise.

You felt it.

That unmistakable prickle at the back of your neck—the weight of a gaze. It ghosted across your spine, subtle and fleeting, but just enough to make you pause mid-step and glance over your shoulder.

But all you saw was a sea of students. Some rushing past, backpacks bouncing; others laughing by the walls, huddled in small circles or checking their phones. Nothing out of place. No one looking directly at you.

Still, the unease lingered for a moment longer.

“What's wrong?” Ni-ki’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and close. He slowed beside you, his grip on your hand never loosening.

Ni-ki raised a brow, gaze sweeping the crowd behind you like a quiet scan of the perimeter. Nothing suspicious. Nothing obvious.

“I guess not,” you added quickly, brushing it off with a shrug and a laugh you hoped sounded convincing.

But he didn’t look convinced. Instead, he pursed his lips and subtly tugged you closer, your shoulders now brushing as the two of you rounded the next corner. His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand. Typical Ni-ki.

Soon, the familiar tall double doors of the student council room came into view. The polished brass handles gleamed under the soft overhead lighting, and without hesitation, Ni-ki pushed one open with his free hand.

“Heads up, we’re back,” he called casually, his voice echoing through the large, lively room.

The scent of paper, fresh markers, and leftover milk tea lingered in the air. You followed him in, waving and smiling at your fellow council members as some of them perked up at your arrival.

But it wasn’t just your usual group inside.

“Oh, hey!” Jungwon spotted you immediately, waving with one hand as he held a stack of mood boards in the other. “We’re running through venue layouts. Heeseung’s idea.”

Heeseung grinned from across the room. “Tell me that stage arch idea isn’t genius.”

You let out a laugh. “You just wanted an excuse to use the stocked-up fairy lights.”

“Guilty,” he said with a wink.

Ni-ki gently nudged you toward his desk. “Sit for a bit. I’ll be back in a sec, I just need to give Jungwon the notes Sunoo sent earlier.”

You gave him a soft nod, settling into his chair. His scent lingered faintly in the fabric—subtle amberwood and something comfortably warm. Familiar.

From where you sat, you watched as Ni-ki approached Jungwon, his posture already changing into that cool-headed, smooth council member. He was efficient, already pulling up something on his tablet and pointing to a section as he spoke.

Jungwon nodded along seriously, the first years leaning in curiously.

You sat there with your chin propped on your hand, watching the boy who walked you through crowds without flinching, who noticed when your steps slowed, who carried your bag without needing to be asked.

Ni-ki stood tall in front of Jungwon, gesturing toward a tablet with his usual confidence, mouth moving with explanation, brows slightly furrowed. He was the very definition of composed. So focused. So steady. So stupidly gorgeous.

Your heart sighed in your chest. You were so gone.

Suddenly, the office chair beside you screeched lightly against the floor as someone dragged it over, snapping you out of your trance. Heeseung’s mate plopped down beside you, elbow already digging playfully into your ribs.

“Babes,” she whispered with a mischievous smile, “you’re drooling.”

You blinked. “I am so not.”

She grinned wider. “I’m kidding. But seriously—aren’t they dreamy?” She let out a wistful sigh, eyes drifting across the room toward Heeseung, who was now helping a first year tape something onto a board.

You followed her gaze, then looked back at Ni-ki.

And God, was she right.

The way his hair fell just slightly over his forehead, how he nodded as Jungwon spoke, the way he held the tablet with one hand and pocketed the other—all of it so clean, so infuriatingly attractive.

He looked like he was born to be in control of any room he stepped in, and yet still found time to hold your hand and tuck your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your voice softer than you meant it to be. “He really is.”

He turned slightly then—Ni-ki—glancing your way just for a heartbeat. His eyes found yours instantly, and though his expression didn’t change much, the faintest twitch of his lips told you he’d caught you staring.

You looked away, heat creeping up your neck.

“God,” you muttered.

Your friend giggled, nudging your arm. “I heard you owe us a full girls’ day soon? I need to hear everything.”

You groaned. “I know, I know. I’ll make time.”

You groaned dramatically, sinking into the chair. “I know, I know. I’ll make time.”

“Good,” she grinned, “Because I want nothing held back.”

Before you could respond, the soft click of shoes against the tile drew your attention—Ni-ki, walking toward the two of you with his tablet in hand and that ever-so-slight tilt of his head that somehow managed to look both intimidating and soft.

He placed the tablet down on his desk, and without a second thought, you reached out and pulled it toward yourself with a little hum.

“You’re just gonna steal my stuff like that?” Ni-ki laughed under his breath, clearly amused.

“You left it unattended,” you replied with a teasing smirk. “Finders keepers.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and—without so much as a word—gathered both your bag and his in one effortless swing onto his shoulder. The sheer ease with which he did that made your heart lurch stupidly in your chest.

“You ready?” he asked, already reaching his free hand out to you.

You nodded, springing up from the chair. Before leaving, you leaned down and quickly hugged the older Omega still seated beside you.

“I’ll text you,” you promised her, and she nodded with a soft smile, waving you off.

Ni-ki’s hand found yours as soon as you stepped away, his fingers immediately interlacing with yours like it was instinct.

“Bye, everyone,” he called over his shoulder to the rest of the council members, voice calm and cool.

A chorus of goodbyes followed you two out, but you barely heard them—too busy watching the way Ni-ki, with one arm entirely full, pushed open the heavy double doors of the student council room with his occupied hand.

You didn’t even bother to hide your awe.

‘Pureblooded Alphas and their enhanced everything’, you thought, internally swooning. ‘Strength, posture, presence… unfair.’

“Stop staring,” Ni-ki murmured, amusement curling into his voice as you stepped into the hallway together.

“I wasn’t,” you said far too quickly, looking away.

“You were.”

You pouted, bumping your shoulder lightly into his arm. “Can you blame me? That door is heavy.”

Ni-ki chuckled under his breath, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it,” you quipped, finally grinning at him.

His eyes softened as he glanced sideways at you, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I really do.”

“Come on,” Ni-ki said after a second, giving your hand a gentle tug. “Let’s go. I need to get you back home.”

You followed his lead without resistance, your steps falling into rhythm with his as the two of you strolled through the campus grounds.

The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the halls, casting warm reflections on the marble tiles and polished banisters. No matter how many times you walked these paths, it always felt unreal—like stepping through the corridors of a palace instead of a university.

The high ceilings, intricate moldings, glass-paneled walls, and art pieces lining the hallways—it all whispered of old money and quiet power. It was regal, poised, a reminder of the world you both belonged to but never quite stopped marveling at.

Your hand remained in Ni-ki’s the entire way. He kept your pace slow, unrushed, like he was soaking in the last light of the day with you in it. And when you finally exited the last hall and stepped into the quiet of the private parking lot reserved only for high-ranking council members and purebloods, you immediately spotted his sleek, obsidian-black car resting under the shade.

Ni-ki reached into his coat pocket for his keys, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. The locks clicked with a soft beep, headlights blinking awake.

You instinctively moved a step forward, already lifting your hand to open the passenger side when—

“Uh-uh.” He tsked, stepping in front of you with a disapproving shake of his head. His tall frame blocked your path as he swung the door open himself. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

You blinked. “What? I can open the door myself.”

Ni-ki scoffed, one brow raising as he leaned slightly against the frame. “You could. But why would you? I’m right here.”

You let out a soft, amused laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re spoiled,” he shot back with a smirk. “Get in.”

You climbed in, still shaking your head, but your heart was fluttering stupidly inside your chest. As he closed the door behind you with a soft thud and walked around to the driver’s side, you couldn't help but whisper under your breath:

“God, I’m in trouble.”

The drive home should’ve taken twenty minutes, thirty tops. But the universe clearly had other plans.

You were twenty minutes into sitting in the exact same spot, cars barely crawling in front of you, the setting sun starting to disappear behind the tall city skyline.

Horns honked in the far distance, but inside the car, the atmosphere remained surprisingly calm—thanks to the soft instrumental playing from the speakers, and Ni-ki's steady presence beside you. His hand remained loosely draped on the steering wheel, the other resting by the gear shift, fingers tapping along to the beat. He looked completely unbothered.

You, however, were ready to scream into a pillow.

You shifted in your seat, sighing dramatically. Your legs tucked up slightly, cheek leaning against the window for a beat before you slowly turned to him with a pout.

“Riki,” you called softly.

He hummed immediately, head turning just slightly toward you, attention drawn like a magnet. “Yes?” he asked, already half-smiling. “What do you need?”

“Your bag please.”

Ni-ki reached to the backseat with one arm, blindly finding his bag—and pulled the leather messenger forward, placing it gently on your lap.

“Thank you,” you muttered, zipping it open quickly. You rummaged through the neatly organized contents, until you found what you were looking for—his tablet. You held it up, already grinning. “What’s your password?”

He didn’t even blink. “Your birthday.”

You paused, staring at him. “…Really?”

Ni-ki shrugged, eyes still scanning the road. “Yeah. Who else am I putting there?”

You blinked, once, then twice, warmth rushing to your cheeks like a wave crashing hard against the shore. You tried to laugh it off, biting your lip to contain the squeal rising in your throat.

“Oh my god, you’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said without missing a beat.

You typed in the digits, heart thudding just a bit faster as the screen unlocked instantly. Inside were his neatly categorized folders, color-coded schedules, council documents, and photos—some of which were clearly candid shots of you he must’ve taken when you weren’t looking.

You were just about to tap on a game—something mindless to kill time—when Ni-ki cleared his throat softly. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to snap your attention away from the screen.

Your head tilted curiously, and before you could ask, his hand slid gently over your knee—warm, a little clammy. It made your stomach flip.

His eyes stayed on the road ahead for a second longer before he finally glanced at you, lashes low, expression unreadable except for the slight flush on his cheeks.

“So…” he started, his voice low. “I got you something. A few days ago.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “You… what?”

Your fingers stilled on the tablet, and you immediately powered it off, placing it gently on your lap as you turned your full attention to him.

Ni-ki shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat again as he reached to the space behind your legs, fingers curling around the strap of the bag that had been sitting there quietly this entire time.

“I mean, I know the engagement’s already official,” he continued, voice softer now, almost sheepish. “And technically our families already made this a thing… but I just—” He hesitated, pulling the bag into his lap. “I wanted to do something special. Something that’s from me, not them.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely hear anything over it.

He unzipped the top compartment slowly, fingers moving with care, before he pulled out a velvet box the color of deep plum—luxurious and heavy in his palm, the gold trim glinting faintly in the warm tones of the setting sun streaming through the windshield.

“Riki…” you whispered.

He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he stared at the box in his hand like it was the most terrifying thing he’s ever held.

“It’s not… like, this isn’t the final one or anything,” he mumbled quickly, clearly flustered. “Like—there’s going to be a formal one from both families, I know that. But I just thought… I wanted to give you something that actually felt like me.”

You watched, wide-eyed, tears already stinging at the corners of your vision.

“I designed it with one of my mom’s jewelers,” he rambled, nervously rubbing his thumb along the edge. “I remembered you said you preferred white gold over silver, and I just—I didn’t want it to be something generic. You deserve more than that. And I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Jay. I just… it’s for you.”

And then, gently, he opened the box.

Inside sat a four-carat princess-cut diamond, perched delicately in a crown of white gold that shimmered even under the dimming light. The edges were sharp and elegant, the center gem catching every last bit of sunlight that filtered through the car windows, scattering tiny rainbows across the dashboard.

It was the most stunning ring you’d ever seen in your life.

“Riki,” you whispered, hand flying to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes, “oh my god…”

He finally looked at you—really looked at you—eyes flickering with something tender and raw.

“I know it’s a lot,” he said quickly, almost breathless. “You don’t have to wear it all the time, or even now—I just… I wanted you to have something that came from me. Something that says this isn’t just a deal, or arrangement, or whatever they want to call it.”

He took a shaky breath, “This is me loving you. This is me choosing you.”

“You idiot,” you sniffled, laughing through the tears as you leaned forward to press your forehead to his. “You’re gonna kill me one day with this softness.”

He smiled then, a little crooked and a lot nervous. “Is that a yes?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you whispered, lips brushing his as your hands curled around his wrist.

Ni-ki’s breath caught for a split second. Then, slowly, he pulled back—not far, just enough to see your face clearly as his eyes softened.

He leaned in first to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, tender and grounding. Then, without a word, he reached back into the velvet box and carefully lifted the ring between his fingers. You held out your hand, heart hammering in your chest, and watched as he gently slid it onto your ring finger.

It fit perfectly.

He held your hand up, studying the way the white gold caught the last rays of sun, before turning it palm-up and pressing a kiss right to the center.

But his eyes—his eyes flickered, for a moment, from your hand to your lips. It was quick, instinctive, and he caught himself, biting down the beginning of a smile as if to stop himself from getting carried away.

Except you were already gone.

You surged forward, cupping his face with both hands as you kissed him—deep, slow, entirely without hesitation.

He gasped softly into your mouth at the suddenness of it, but his body moved without delay. One of his hands flew to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you in, closer, closer still.

The other, still warm from holding the ring, found its place on your jaw before sliding down—knuckles dragging across your neck, his wrist instinctively brushing over your scent gland.

You felt the warmth immediately—the heady pull of his Alpha instincts scenting you, marking you as his. It was possessive and sweet and made your head swim in the best way.

He deepened the kiss, lips parting against yours as he breathed you in like he was starved. You could feel the quiet groan in his chest, the way he smiled into it despite the intensity, how his nose nudged yours between breaths.

When you both finally pulled away, cheeks flushed, breaths uneven, your eyes fluttered open—and you burst out laughing.

“Riki,” you giggled, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip, “my lip gloss.”

It was smudged across his mouth—shiny and sticky, definitely not part of the plan. He blinked once, cross-eyed trying to see it, before snorting and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Worth it,” he said, laughing as well, eyes crinkling. “I’d wear the whole tube if it means I get to kiss you like that.”

You grinned, still breathless, still glowing as you looked down at your hand.

“I love you,” you murmured.

“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your cheek. “And I’ll keep making sure you do. Every single day.”

The early morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the council room, golden and soft as it kissed the scattered papers across your desk. You sat in perfect silence, tucked neatly into Ni-ki’s seat, scribbling down final revisions for the Memory Garden exhibit.

Outside, the campus was slowly stirring awake, but inside the council wing, it was quiet save for the scratch of your pen and the gentle hum of the old air conditioning unit above. A bottle of strawberry milk sat opened beside you, halfway empty, condensation dripping down the sides.

You checked the time—again.

Ni-ki had been in the second-floor meeting room for almost an hour now, probably discussing final security layouts with faculty heads. You sighed and took another small sip of your milk, lips curving slightly as your gaze wandered down to your hand.

A soft creak sounded as the double doors swung open.

Your heart skipped, already expecting the tall frame of your fiancé—but instead, in walked Jungwon’s mate, her long cardigan trailing behind her, followed closely by Heeseung’s mate, who was already sipping from a bubble tea cup and chatting animatedly.

“Oh,” Jungwon’s mate smiled when she spotted you, “good morning!”

“Hey,” you greeted, straightening in your seat as they made their way across the room. “You guys done with the booth line-ups?”

“Almost,” Heeseung’s mate chirped, settling herself onto her boyfriend’s desk like it was second nature. “We just wanted to double-check which spots were going to get extra lights.”

“I think Ni-ki has the lighting chart,” you replied. “He should be back soon.”

Jungwon’s mate had just pulled out a pastel highlighter when her eyes drifted—slow, curious, and calculating—towards your hand. She blinked once.

Then a second time.

“Wait.” She leaned forward, voice suddenly laced with amusement. “Since when did you wear rings?”

Eyes wide, you looked down almost comically slow, only to find the glimmering four-carat diamond engagement ring proudly catching the sunlight on your ring finger.

“Oh,” you stammered, a smile tugging at your lips that you didn’t even try to hide. “Right. Um.”

Heeseung’s mate gasped—loudly and dramatically. “You’re joking!”

“Nope,” you whispered, the flush crawling up your cheeks.

Jungwon’s Omega leaned across the table, eyes wide. “When did this happen?!”

“Last night,” you murmured, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “Well—we’ve been officially engaged for a while but Ni-ki… he wanted to give me something more personal, so… he gave me this.”

Heeseung’s mate squealed. “He gave you a diamond that could pay off half the dorm’s tuition, that’s what he did.”

“God,” Jungwon’s mate breathed, staring at your hand like it held the key to the universe. “He really said ‘rich Alpha fiancé’ and meant it.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. “It’s not even the size—it’s just… he remembered. About the white gold. I’ve always preferred it over silver, and he just—he remembered.”

Both girls melted instantly.

Heeseung’s mate wiggled her brows. “I wanna see how he reacts when I casually bring this up later.”

You rolled your eyes fondly just as the door creaked open again—and this time, the familiar sound of long, confident strides echoed into the room. Your eyes met Ni-ki’s the moment he walked in, his gaze instantly softening.

Ni-ki didn’t say a word as he stepped fully into the room, the heavy council door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. His lips curled up into that familiar, quiet smile—warm, content, just for you.

He didn’t even hesitate as he grabbed the extra chair from the corner, dragging it beside his desk without a word and lowering himself into it. His hand found your thigh immediately, his fingers warm as they curled there like second nature.

Heeseung’s Omega let out a loud, dramatic sniffle from where she sat cross-legged on her boyfriend’s desk.

“My babies are so big now,” she said, fanning her face like she might cry. “Engaged. Mature. In love. What is this character development?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, glancing at her with a scrunched nose, heat crawling up your neck. “Shut up. You’re literally graduating next semester.”

“Exactly!” she gasped, like you’d proved her point. “I’ll be gone! Out! No longer here to babysit you two lovebirds through your pining era!”

Jungwon’s mate laughed. “She’s acting like she’s your honorary parent.”

“She basically is,” you muttered with a snort, glancing sideways at Ni-ki.

Ni-ki didn’t say much—but the twitch of his lips and the light squeeze on your thigh said enough.

“She’s gonna cry at the wedding,” you added with a grin.

“Oh, I know.” Ni-ki smiled, soft and sincere, his gaze brushing across your face before dropping down—just for a second—to the ring still proudly sitting on your finger.

Your heart flipped again.

Jungwon’s mate groaned, clutching her chest. “God, you guys are worse than the dating sims.”

Heeseung’s mate fake-wiped a tear. “I love love.”

The festival had barely started and already the entire campus buzzed with energy—music playing from the central speakers, booths lining every garden path, and students buzzing with excitement. But inside the council room, things were calm, coordinated, and surprisingly smooth.

You adjusted the hem of the special council jersey you wore, proud to see everyone in matching ones. It was a sleek design—clean white with navy trimmings, the council seal on the chest, and your last names and jersey numbers printed on the back. It gave the high-ranking members and committee heads a fun sense of unity.

You were leaned over the long desk with Sunghoon, pointing at the final set of posters and promotional banners laid out on the screen in front of you.

“Make sure the font size on the event time is consistent across all materials,” you reminded, fingers tracing over the preview.

Sunghoon nodded, typing away at his tablet. “Got it. I’ll send it to the other committee heads to approve within the hour. The graphics team’s been working nonstop.”

“Tell them they did amazing,” you said genuinely, handing him a clipboard just as someone approached from behind.

Jake’s mate, graceful and always so polished, stepped between the two of you and handed Sunghoon a folder.

“Final checklist for the broadcast schedules—”

But she stopped mid-sentence, her sharp eyes catching something shiny as you reached over to adjust the folder in Sunghoon’s hands.

She gasped. Loudly. Audibly.

“Oh my god—” Her hands immediately flew to her mouth, her eyes locked onto your left hand like it was glowing. “Is that what I think it is?!”

Jake, who had been halfway across the room teasing Jungwon, blinked and appeared next to her in under two seconds. “What happened? What—are you okay?”

“She’s engaged,” she whispered, pointing, like she’d just uncovered national treasure. “She’s actually engaged.”

You tried, really tried, to hold it in—but a laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you bit down a grin. With the whole room turning toward you, conversations pausing mid-sentence, you slowly raised your hand and wiggled your fingers just a bit.

“Surprise,” you said sweetly, trying not to laugh at the stunned faces around the room.

Jay looked up from his notes, mouth hanging open. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’

Ni-ki’s laugh rang from the corner where he’d been joking around with Jay. “Why do you all look like I dropped a bomb?” he said, casually pushing himself off the table.

The second he reached you, his arm wrapped around your waist like it belonged there. You leaned into him instinctively, and his hand rested against your lower back with ease, protective—his.

“She’s mine now,” he added with a grin, resting his chin briefly against your temple, “legally and everything. Well… almost.”

Jake's mate blinked back into focus. “You proposed and didn’t even tell us?! That’s betrayal.”

“It just happened recently,” you said with a little shrug, your tone playful. “We weren’t keeping it a secret—we just weren���t broadcasting it.”

“Well, you’re glowing,” she said, absolutely beaming now.

“Can we expect wedding invitations by the semester’s end?” Sunghoon asked, one brow raised.

Ni-ki chuckled, gently tugging your hand into his. “Let’s get through the festival first.”

“Fair,” Jungwon said, already tapping a note into his phone, probably to remind himself to plan a small celebration party later.

And as the room slipped back into laughter and chatter—plans resuming, papers passed around again—you glanced up at Ni-ki. His smile hadn’t dimmed once since he’d walked to your side.

He was still looking at you like you hung the stars, his fingers brushing soft circles along your waist through the fabric of your jersey.

“Heads up, everybody!” Heeseung’s voice rang out, loud and commanding with a grin that always bordered on too smug. “We’re being called down. Everyone’s expected at the open field in ten!”

He stood tall at the front, already wearing his own customized jersey with ‘LEE 01’ stitched proudly on the back. His mate, now standing beside him with her hands on her hips, looked equally ready.

“You heard him!” she echoed, clapping her hands twice. “Let’s move, council!”

Groans and chatter broke out instantly.

“Already?” Sunghoon muttered, closing his tablet with a sigh.

“I just got comfortable,” Jake added with mock offense as he pulled his mate by the hand. “We better get VIP seats for this.”

“You’re literally a main host,” she said with a smirk.

Ni-ki gave you a look, and you nodded, squeezing his hand before gathering your notes and the council event checklist you had on clipboards.

“Let’s go, Mrs. Nishimura,” Ni-ki murmured just low enough for you to hear.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he replied with a wink, leaning in to whisper near your ear, “because soon it won’t just be a tease.”

You laughed under your breath, nudging him playfully as the two of you filed out of the room with the others, the energy rising with every step.

Downstairs, you could already hear the buzz of students gathering in the open field—the beat of opening music pulsing through the ground, the smell of festival food lingering in the air, and a sky turning the softest shade of peach as sunrise approached.

The open field was surrounded by colorful banners, vendor stalls, booths still covered with tarp, and string lights that would glow brighter as the sun climbed higher.

Right at the front stood the student council members, lined up neatly in front of the stage. Each of them wore their custom jersey-style shirts: bold white with navy stripes along the sleeves, a subtle emblem of the Decelis crest stitched on the chest, and their last names and numbers proudly printed across the back. The committee heads stood right next to them—ironically, or maybe by fate, every single one was a mate to a council member.

Jungwon stepped up first, grabbing the mic like he was born for this. He tapped it twice, then once more for good measure. “Testing—okay, I think we’re good—HELLO, DECELIS!”

Laughter and cheers erupted across the field. He grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair, clearly overwhelmed and giddy.

“Welcome to this year’s Spring Festival!” he called out, voice carrying across the speakers.

“You guys have no idea how hard everyone’s worked on this. From the committee heads, the student council, the design and logistics teams, our sponsors—everyone poured their hearts into this.”

“But!” he held up a finger dramatically. “Don’t forget to drink water. That sun is not playing games.”

“Real,” Sunghoon said, stepping up to his side with a smirk as he took the mic. “We don’t want anyone fainting before the fireworks, okay? The health tent’s right by the main gate. If you’re not sure what you’re eating, ask. If you need help, shout. If you see Sunoo running around—it’s probably because something exploded.”

“Hey!” Sunoo cut in, laughing as he reached out for the mic. “That happened once.”

“And we never let you live it down,” Jake chimed in, taking the mic from him smoothly. “But seriously, we’re here to have fun and keep each other safe. Be kind, don’t litter, stay hydrated, and maybe don’t eat all seven food booth specialties in one sitting.”

Heeseung shook his head, the crowd laughing as he waved. “Alright, alright. Guys—this week is ours. This festival is for us. So let’s make it count. Let’s make it loud. Let’s make it worth remembering.”

“And,” Jay added, stepping forward as he gave a short nod to the crowd, “if you happen to win any of the competitive events—you're welcome. I designed most of them.”

“Delusional,” Sunghoon muttered, and laughter followed.

Then Ni-ki stepped forward, his hand casually wrapping around your waist. He reached for the mic with an easy smile. “One last thing—on behalf of all of us here… thank you. For trusting us to do this. We’re proud to bring this to life for you.”

With that, Jungwon lifted his hand dramatically and shouted, “Hit the music!”

And just like that—the speakers boomed back to life. The first beat of the opening anthem shook the ground. Confetti cannons launched into the sky, showering the field with gold and white strips as the crowd erupted into cheers again.

The kitchen was warm with activity—ovens humming, trays clinking, the scent of freshly baked vanilla and strawberry wafting through the air. Laughter echoed between you and Sunghoon’s mate as you both leaned over a large tray of cupcakes, carefully piping soft pink frosting onto each one.

You wore a matching pastel pink apron, loosely tied around your waist over your jersey. The name printed on the back peeked out through the flour-dusted ribbon. Frosting stained your fingers, and you giggled when Sunghoon’s mate accidentally flicked a small swirl onto your cheek.

“Oops! You moved!”

“You liar, you aimed for me!” you laughed, swiping a dollop of icing from your finger and smearing it lightly on her nose. She gasped.

The two of you dissolved into another fit of laughter, the kind of warmth that made the kitchen feel like a home rather than part of the school.

But then it happened—suddenly and purely by accident.

One of the younger Beta students came rushing in with a bowl of scrambled eggs, probably meant for one of the breakfast-themed booths. She turned too quickly, slipped slightly on a patch of flour on the floor, and collided right into you.

The bowl tilted, warm scrambled eggs spilling out—half of it splattered across the front of your apron and jersey.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” the Beta girl gasped, panicked. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—are you okay?!”

You blinked, frozen for half a second. You looked down at the now egg-stained pink apron and the yellow smudge across your shirt.

Sunghoon’s mate clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

You looked at the girl and gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.”

“I—I swear I didn’t mean to, I was trying to get to the front—”

“I know,” you said again, gently patting her shoulder. “Breathe. I promise it’s fine.”

But of course, Sunghoon’s mate wasn’t about to let it go that easily.

“Oh no, no no no, you are not walking out there looking like someone’s breakfast!” she fussed, already trying to untie your apron strings. “We are fixing this right now—hold still—do you feel warm? Is that egg hot?!”

“It’s warm but not tragic,” you replied with a sigh, still amused. “I’m more worried about smelling like a hotel buffet for the rest of the day.”

That’s when a head peeked through the kitchen door.

You blinked, surprised. “Riku?”

Riku—the tall, well-mannered Alpha from your business class—stepped into view, brow furrowed as his eyes immediately scanned your form. His gaze dropped to the egg-stained jersey, apron dangling off one arm now, and his eyes widened.

“Wait, what happened? Are you alright?” he asked, already making his way across the kitchen.

You opened your mouth to explain, but Riku beat you to it, tone shifting to something more worried. “Did you get hurt? Was something hot? That looks—wait—here, hold on.” He shrugged off the light tote bag on his shoulder, digging inside.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, cheeks pink from the sudden attention from everyone. “It was just scrambled eggs.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Still. You shouldn’t walk around like that.” He pulled out a black shirt, folded and clean. “I brought a couple extras just in case anyone needed one at the stalls. Here.”

He held it out to you, gaze steady.

You hesitated before gently taking it. “Thank you, Riku. You really didn’t have to.”

He just smiled—polite, almost a little proud. “Can’t have one of our business partners presenting a marketing pitch smelling like breakfast.”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That pitch was last week.”

“And yet you’re still doing all the work,” he chuckled. “Come on—there should be a few changing rooms scattered around the building. I’ll help you find one.”

You looked at him, a little reluctant. “Riku, really—”

“I insist,” he said kindly. “You shouldn’t have to walk around covered in eggs.”

You sighed, but gave in. “Alright.”

The two of you walked down the hallway, your shoes softly tapping against the tiled floors. Light conversation drifted between you—mostly about the festival booths, how crowded the quad was getting, and whether or not the matcha latte stand was open yet.

You turned the corner together, barely a few hallways away from the baking booth, when a familiar voice cut through the hallway.

“(Y/N)?!”

You both stopped in your tracks.

Ni-ki.

He was jogging toward you, urgency in every step, worry painted all over his face. Sunoo’s mate trailed closely behind him, eyes equally wide, the hem of her skirt slightly lifted from the run.

You didn’t even get a chance to call out his name before he reached you.

“Are you okay?” Ni-ki asked quickly, hands immediately reaching out to brush your hair behind your shoulder and scan your expression. His hand hovered over your side, thumb brushing against the egg-stained jersey. “Someone said you got splattered—was it hot? Did it burn you? Where are you hurt?”

His voice was low but fast, almost breathless. That Alpha panic—protective—was setting in fast.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, blinking up at him. “It was just scrambled eggs. No burns.”

You couldn’t help it—your eyes drifted down to take him in. His usual council jersey was unbuttoned now, hanging loose like a flannel over a fitted black shirt. The thin fabric clung perfectly to his torso, the edge of his silver chains dangling near the embroidery on the jersey—his last name glinting with every move he made. He looked undone, slightly winded, flushed from the quick run, but still every bit of Alpha—sharp and soft in the same breath.

Your breath caught. “You—um.”

Riku scoffed lightly beside you, like Ni-ki’s presence was hardly worth the effort of acknowledgment.

“She’s okay, Nishimura,” he said smoothly, voice laced with something that made your pulse jump. “I was just helping her find a place to change. That’s all.”

Ni-ki’s gaze slid to the Alpha beside you, his body going still in that way only a pureblood could manage. His jaw ticked once, tight. Controlled. But his eyes were sharp.

Riku’s tone wasn’t defensive. No. It was confident—possessive, even. Like he was deliberately poking the bear.

“I see,” he muttered, voice low and flat.

You stepped in quickly, hoping to smooth the crackling air. “Thank you, Riku,” you said, offering a small, polite smile—your version of a peace offering.

But Riku didn’t take it.

“Of course,” he said, but there was no warmth in it. His eyes dragged back to Ni-ki, not even pretending anymore. “Wouldn’t want you partner walking around smelling like breakfast.”

The emphasis wasn’t lost on anyone.

Ni-ki took a step closer—not to Riku, but to you. His arm slid around your waist, tugging you gently, yet firmly, into his side despite the mess on your jersey. It wasn’t just about comfort.

It was a claim.

He raised a single brow, eyes flicking to where Ni-ki’s hand now rested on your waist. “Relax,” Riku said, voice smooth, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “She’s not property, Nishimura.”

Ni-ki’s gaze darkened instantly, pupils sharpening. His hand on you tightened—not to hurt, but enough that you could feel the heat behind his restraint. A growl threatened at the edge of his throat, barely muffled as he exhaled hard through his nose.

You looked between them, confused, lips parting slightly. The tension was suffocating. You couldn’t figure out if this was some long-standing grudge or if something had just snapped into place between them—but neither Alpha was backing down.

Then Ni-ki’s attention dropped. To the black shirt in your hands.

His nose twitched once. The change in his expression was instant—something in him turning cold and bitter. His fingers uncurled from your waist just long enough to yank the shirt from your grasp with a sharp pull.

Without a word, he shoved it against Riku’s chest. Not enough to knock him off balance, but enough to send a message.

“Keep your shirt, yeah?” Ni-ki said lowly, tone flat—but the words hit hard. The double meaning echoed, more territorial than anything you’d ever heard from him.

Riku caught the shirt with ease, but the cocky smile never left his face. He let out a short, almost mocking chuckle, like the whole thing had gone exactly how he wanted.

“No worries,” he said, turning on his heel without so much as a glance back. “Let me know if she changes her mind.”

You watched him disappear toward the booth, slow and confident, his hand swinging the shirt casually at his side like it meant nothing.

You turned to say something, but the moment was cut short by the sound of hurried footsteps and a familiar voice weaving through the crowd.

“There you are!” Sunoo’s mate huffed, coming into view between clusters of students. “Ni-ki, I’m so sorry—I lost you in the crowd.”

Her tone was breathless and apologetic, eyes flicking quickly from him to you, landing immediately on the mess staining your jersey.

“Oh no—(Y/N)!” she gasped, hands flying up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I panicked earlier. I didn’t even think to grab you an extra shirt—I just ran off to try and find Ni-ki.”

You blinked at her, heart still half-tangled in the moment that just passed, but you shook it off quickly, offering her a gentle smile.

“It’s okay, really,” you said, voice soft. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I still feel awful,” she said with a sheepish wince, cheeks tinged pink. “But I’m here now! I’ll cover your shift for a bit. You look like you need a second.”

She gave your shoulder a warm squeeze, eyes full of guilt and kindness all at once. You opened your mouth to say thank you, but she was already taking a step back, waving quickly with both hands.

“I’ll be in the booth! Go breathe for a bit!”

And just like that, she disappeared into the same direction Riku had gone.

Ni-ki let out a slow breath beside you, the weight of it settling on his shoulders. He didn’t say anything—just gently tugged on your hand, his fingers curling tighter around yours like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

You followed him wordlessly, walking through the sea of students that still buzzed and laughed, unaware of the whirlwind in your chest. The crowd thinned the farther you walked, voices fading into background hums. Your steps fell into rhythm with his, the hallways quieter now, lined with paper signs and festival flyers starting to peel off the walls.

Eventually, the two of you turned a corner into the academy’s left wing—quieter, shaded, the buzz of activity distant now. Only a few students lingered around, mostly lounging near the walls with drinks in hand, too caught up in their own chatter to notice the tension wrapped around your frame.

You blinked up at Ni-ki, about to ask what you were even supposed to change into, when—

He pulled his hand from yours.

And then, without a word, he peeled his jersey off in one smooth motion. The fabric slipped from his frame effortlessly, revealing the black shirt underneath—thin and slightly loose, the edge of one silver chain glinting against his collarbone. You barely registered the way your throat dried.

He held the jersey out to you, arm outstretched. “Here,” he said simply.

You froze. “Wait… Riki—”

“It’s clean,” he said, gaze soft but unreadable. “And it’s mine.”

The fabric in his hands—the same one that had clung to his skin all day, soaked in his scent, threaded with something warmer now that it was being offered so suddenly. Not just for comfort. Not just out of convenience.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure of what to do. Panic sparked up your spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something warmer, messier.

“Are you sure?” you managed, voice small. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or—”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure,” he replied, quiet but firm.

You slowly reached out, brushing your fingers against the edge of the jersey. The moment it touched your skin, you felt the difference—the heat still trapped in the fabric, the unmistakable pull of Alpha scent that made your heart do something wild and unsteady.

He watched you for a moment—like he could see all the thoughts tumbling in your head and didn’t mind waiting for you to sort through them.

“Change inside,” he said finally, his voice dipping a little, eyes flicking to the booth behind you. “I’ll wait right here.”

You nodded slowly—wordlessly—the jersey pressed tightly to your chest like it might slip away if you didn’t hold it hard enough. You stepped into the small booth, the curtain falling shut behind you with a soft swoosh.

The space was dimly lit, just a single overhead bulb flickering above, casting shaky shadows along the metal frame. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, heart thundering in your ears.

Carefully, you reached for the hem of your stained jersey, fingers brushing over the ring on your finger—Ni-ki’s ring—worn on a chain for safekeeping. You adjusted it gently, making sure it didn’t tug or catch.

Your hands trembled just a little as you peeled your own jersey off, careful with the fabric even though it was ruined. And then you held up his—still warm from his skin, still heavy with the scent of him.

The moment you pulled it over your head, your Omega curled warmly inside you like a contented sigh. It was too big—his scent immediately wrapping around your frame like a second skin, sinking deep into the crook of your neck, down your spine, and blooming in your chest.

You were wearing something that was his, and your body knew it.

When you stepped out again, Ni-ki was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed loosely. His gaze had been fixed somewhere else, distant—jaw still tense from earlier—but the second he looked up and saw you, something shifted.

The irritation melted right out of his eyes, his arms dropped to his sides slowly, uncrossing as he straightened up.

You looked shyly at him from under your lashes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the oversized jersey that nearly swallowed your hands.

“I… I’m done,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek.

Ni-ki didn’t answer, he just stared.

Like he’d never seen you before. Like he’d forgotten what he was angry about—what he was supposed to care about at all—because there you were, standing in his jersey like it was always meant for you. The sight hit him with a force stronger than any punch. Stronger than the stupid bitterness he’d been trying to swallow since earlier.

You looked like his—and he couldn’t pretend that didn’t matter.

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze trailing down the fit of the jersey on your frame. It clung to the edges of your shoulders, hit mid-thigh, sleeves way too long—but that was the best part. It looked right on you. Too right.

His voice, when it came, was quiet—almost a whisper.

“Come here.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide, but your feet moved before you could think. And the second you were close enough, Ni-ki reached out and wrapped his arms around you—pulling you in like he didn’t plan to let go for a while.

You melted instantly.

The jersey was warm between you, the weight of him familiar as you pressed your cheek to his chest. He was solid, heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing calming you more than you wanted to admit.

Your arms snuck around his waist without hesitation, fingers knotting into the back of his shirt as if they belonged there.

Ni-ki sighed—deep, relieved—and tilted his head just slightly so his lips brushed the top of your head. He lingered there for a second before placing the softest, gentlest kiss into your hairline.

“You look good, angel,” he murmured, the word curling into you like a brand.

You beamed before you could stop it. The kind of smile that bloomed without warning, the kind that pulled your whole face with it.

You shifted a little on your feet, raising up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek—barely even reaching it, just the edge of it—but it was enough to make him laugh, full and boyish.

He let go, but only enough to reach for your hand, fingers locking through yours like instinct.

“C’mon,” he said, eyes still crinkled from the laugh. “Let’s go—”

“Wait,” you blurted, tugging him gently by the hand.

He paused, brows lifting. “What’s wrong?”

Your scent spiked sweet in the air—like raspberries melting under the harsh sunlight—and Ni-ki immediately stiffened a little, taken off guard. It was your nervous-sweet, your shy scent, and he knew it too well by now.

Your fingers fumbled into your pocket, cheeks pink, voice small. “I just—before we go…”

From your pocket, you pulled out a neatly folded pink and white handkerchief—soft cotton, dainty edges embroidered in pale thread. Your initials sat stitched into the corner, barely the size of your thumb.

Ni-ki’s gaze followed it, curious.

You looked away bashfully, rubbing the fabric gently along the inside of your wrist—just enough for your scent to soak in, for it to cling and linger. You folded it once more, carefully, and stepped closer to him. With shy, delicate fingers, you reached for one of the front belt loops on his pants and looped the cloth through it—tying it into a small bow that rested lightly against his hip.

“There,” you whispered, barely above the wind.

Ni-ki stared down at it, then at you.

His eyes softened completely, the edges of his lips curling up into something open and unguarded. “Is that for me?”

You nodded, trying not to combust on the spot. “Mhm. It’s… so you can have something scented, too.”

He smiled so widely it made your chest hurt. “You really just did that.”

You laughed softly, heart thudding way too fast as you reached out and laced your fingers through his—warm palm against yours, fingers naturally curling between your own like they were always meant to fit there.

You tugged him forward with a grin, gently pulling him back into the sunlight pooling between the banisters and the soft chatter of students echoing nearby.

“It was only fair, you know?” you said teasingly, giving his hand a playful swing as you walked. “You gave me something of yours.”

He let out a quiet hum, the corner of his mouth still quirked up. “Still,” he muttered. His free hand brushed against the little pink and white bow now fluttering slightly from his belt loop. “I’m never taking this off.”

You laughed again, cheeks blooming with warmth. “But Riki—” you tilted your head up at him, teasing, “—you have to wash it eventually.”

His face twisted in mock offense. “What? No.”

You giggled. “It’s going to get dirty.”

“But your scent will come off,” he protested, brows furrowing like a pouty kid. “I want to keep it like this.”

You laughed again, breathy and warm, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “You’re so dramatic,” you teased softly, and he gave you a mock offended look—though his fingers didn’t let go of yours for even a second.

“Come on, Mr. Scent-Obsessed,” you mumbled fondly, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Let’s go back.”

He let out a hum, allowing you to tug him gently down the corridor, the two of you walking in no particular rush. Your pace was slow—like your own private bubble had formed, untouched by the noise of the festival still bustling around you.

You walked hand in hand, fingertips interlaced and swinging lightly between you, your head occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He let you pull him toward the direction of the booth, but neither of you were in a hurry to leave the little moment behind.

There were stares—people passing by, whispering, watching. After all, Ni-ki wasn’t the type to walk around publicly this soft, this clingy, this visibly whipped.

But he didn’t care, and neither did you.

You gave his hand a few light squeezes as you passed a group of stunned-looking underclassmen, giggling under your breath. “I think you just ruined someone’s perception of you.”

He glanced sideways at you, smirking. “Good.”

You laughed again, heart so full you couldn’t help it—you stood on your toes, leaned over, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

It barely landed—your height not quite enough and him not expecting it—but it still made his entire body still for a second.

“…You just—” he blinked, that soft pink blush spreading across his ears.

You smiled, eyes glowing. “Mhm. I did.”

He bit back a grin, exhaling hard through his nose like he couldn’t quite handle it. “You’re killing me.”

You giggled as you turned the final corner and spotted your booth coming into view.

Sunghoon’s mate perked up instantly from her place by the counter, her face lighting up in relief as she spotted you. She stepped toward you immediately.

“There you are! I was starting to think you got kidnapped or something—” her eyes raked over you once, gaze lingering on the jersey you now wore. “Wait. That’s not—oh.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I’m okay, promise. Just needed a minute.”

She glanced at Ni-ki beside you, who gave her a small wave with his free hand, the other still firmly locked around yours. The sight made her blink, lips twitching into a slow smile.

“Well,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I’ll leave you two then. You got your scent reset and everything,” she teased, stepping back toward the booth with a tiny smirk.

You gave her a grateful look before turning to Ni-ki again.

“I’ll see you later?” you asked, giving his hand one last gentle squeeze.

He smiled—soft and full of something deeper than words. “Text me if anything happens.”

You nodded, and he lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before slowly letting go.

You turned back toward the booth, heart still fluttering, and just as you stepped behind the counter, you glanced back—Ni-ki was still watching you, hands tucked into his pockets, smile still etched across his lips.

The third day of the festival was in full swing, and the west wing buzzed with life. Colorful banners fluttered above head, laughter echoing through the open walkways.

Students weaved through stalls with food in hand, music playing faintly from a nearby booth, and somewhere in the distance, a karaoke machine wailed a familiar pop ballad.

You walked with Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate at your sides, the three of you armed with clipboards and pens, diligently checking off updates from the clubs stationed in the area. Despite the paperwork, your pace was casual and your conversations light.

“Okay, the Robotics Club extended their booth for another day,” Jungwon’s mate said, tapping her pen to the checklist.

Jake’s mate grinned. “As long as they don’t start flying drones over the food stalls again, I’m good.”

That sent you all into a quick burst of laughter.

You paused near the newly built Wedding Booth—complete with plastic flower arches, a rented velvet aisle runner, and a cardboard sign that read: "Find your potential mate, or at least look good trying!"

“I can’t believe they actually pulled this off,” you muttered, eyeing the velvet guestbook and fake rings lined neatly on the side.

“Honestly,” Jake’s mate giggled, elbowing you gently, “with how you look in that jersey, someone might just propose to you here and now.”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”

Jungwon’s mate was already spinning you around dramatically, cackling. “You seriously didn’t think we’d notice? Navy blue Decelis jersey. Number ten. Nishimura stretched loud and proud on the back?”

You swatted at them playfully, heat creeping up your neck. “It was an instruction for today!”

“We were told to wear our own jerseys,” Jake’s mate pointed out, arching a brow.

You sighed, exasperated but fond. “Riki refused to wear his. Gave it to me this morning, said he’d rather see me in it than wear it himself.

Jungwon’s mate clutched her chest. “That’s so disgustingly cute I want to throw something.”

You laughed, heart fluttering. “And then he pestered Jay for a new one, with my last name on the back.”

Jake’s mate snorted. “So that’s why he was flaunting his jersey earlier—before we were called down for the parade lineup. He kept tugging at the sleeves like he was showing something off.”

“Jay refused at first but… let’s be real. He can never say no to Riki.”

“He’s basically his son,” Jungwon’s mate chuckled.

You three stopped near one of the more crowded food booths. The smoky scent of grilled chicken and barbecue skewers filled the air, and rows of sizzling meat on sticks lined the stall counters. Students gathered around, picking at fried rice, fish balls, and spicy wings stacked in paper boats.

“This smells amazing,” Jake’s mate said, leaning forward to peek at the handwritten menu.

“Remind me to get a stick before we go,” Jungwon’s mate mumbled.

You handed off your clipboard briefly. “I’ll catch up—I need to find a restroom.”

“Go ahead,” Jake’s mate waved you off. “We’ll be right here. Don’t get kidnapped by a wedding booth Alpha.”

Jungwon’s mate snorted, nudging Jake’s. “As if Ni-ki would ever let that happen.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you waved them off. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Your feet carried you in a light jog across the tiled walkway, sneakers thudding gently against the floor as you made your way to the nearest restroom nestled between the photography club’s booth and a snack corner.

The door creaked as you pushed it open, a burst of cool air greeting your warm skin. You placed your clipboard gently down on the sink counter, the paper checklist still clipped tightly in place, and turned the faucet on.

Cool water splashed against your fingers as you lathered up, the sweet scent of Ni-ki’s detergent lingering faintly on your borrowed jersey sleeves as they rolled back slightly past your elbows.

Your gaze flicked to the mirror as you leaned closer, pulling out a familiar, slightly worn tube of lip gloss from your pocket. The light pink tint shimmered faintly under the restroom lights as you applied it carefully, dabbing your lips and smacking them together once before tucking the gloss away again.

The star-shaped clips framing your face had slipped slightly with the wind, so you gently adjusted them—each little motion calming.

The door creaked open again.

Loud voices immediately followed—three, maybe four girls giggling as they poured into the restroom behind you. You didn’t think much of it at first, focused on your reflection as you fixed the hem of your jersey and reached for the clipboard again.

“You’re (Y/N), right?”

You glanced at the mirror, catching their reflection as you raised a brow at the tone—too casual, laced with just the right amount of disrespect to catch your attention. You didn’t recognize her, but her badge said she was from your year.

Still, you kept your cool.

“Yes,” you said simply, fingers curling around the clipboard. “Excuse me.” You took one step forward before another girl—shorter—sidestepped directly in front of you, blocking the door.

You sighed under your breath and forced a tight smile to your lips, straightening your shoulders. The air suddenly felt heavier. Your eyes flicked to her badge, then to the other girls now huddled behind her like shadows.

Same year. Figures.

One of them let out a stifled laugh, whispering something into the ear of the taller girl beside her. You didn’t catch it, but it didn’t matter. The smug look on their faces said it all.

“So…” the girl in front said, head tilting like she was trying to look curious and not catty. “Are you really wearing Ni-ki’s jersey right now?”

You blinked once, tone steady. “What’s it to you if I am?”

That made them laugh—too loud, too rehearsed.

The girl blocking your way scoffed, arms crossing in front of her chest. “Who even are you to do that? Like, seriously? You think wearing his jersey makes you someone special?”

There it was. The bite behind the fake curiosity. You stared at her for a moment, expression unreadable.

“No,” you said. “But being his fiancée does.”

Like a glass shattering on tile, the laughter abruptly died. One of the girls behind her coughed, eyes widening slightly as the smirk slid off her lips.

The girl in front furrowed her brows. “Wait—what?”

You didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “I’m his fiancée.”

And the moment the words settled in the air—unshaking, confident—they scoffed again, this time with disbelief.

“You’re kidding.” The shorter girl laughed again, looking you up and down as if expecting a punchline.

But you didn’t give one. You just looked at her. Expression steady. Shoulders relaxed. Chin tilted just slightly higher than it had been a minute ago.

You were the (L/N) heir.

A pureblooded Omega born into the higher ranks of the food chain. Groomed with etiquette sharper than knives, raised with poise sewn into your spine, and molded under pressure that would’ve crumbled people like the ones standing in front of you. You were never taught to flinch. Not even in the face of fire.

Your smile only tightened as you stared the four of them down. Being scared of jealous people? That was beneath you. You’d been envied all your life—admired, whispered about, hated from across gilded rooms. What were four girls in a bathroom compared to the world you were built to rule?

You were treated like a goddess among men. And they? They were just mortals—wielding bitterness like it made them powerful.

One of them—standing near the girl who first spoke—let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “You’re lying,” she sneered, eyes rolling like your words were dirt under her shoes. “Ni-ki would never go for someone as low as you.”

“Yeah,” the fourth girl chimed in, stepping closer to your right. “He’s way too serious for romance. Everyone knows he doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

Your head tilted ever so slightly. “Mm,” you hummed. “Too busy for omegas like you?”

Suddenly, the girl blocking your path lashed out.

Her fingers curled around your clipboard and yanked it from your grasp with a forceful tug, the wood smacking the tiles as she slammed it to the floor. The pages scattered, fluttering like leaves around your feet.

But you simply pushed your hair behind your ear, tilting your head in polite disinterest.

“Are you done?” you asked softly.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse of a bitch,” The girl in front growled. “You’re gonna stay away from Ni-ki. Got it? You don’t belong anywhere near him. So take that jersey off, wipe that smug little smile off your face, and disappear.”

You laughed. Not the nervous kind. Not even a gentle one. It was mocking. Low, amused, cruel in the way it curled from your lips with zero fear. The sound echoed off the tiled walls, drawing tension from the others like a struck match.

“You’re adorable,” you said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Thinking you can threaten me like I haven’t heard worse at family dinners.”

The girl in front raised her hand.

You didn’t block it. Didn’t lean away. You simply stood there, posture poised, shoulders relaxed—untouched by the rage blazing in her eyes. And when the slap landed—sharp against your cheek, the sting echoing with a faint crack—you barely blinked.

You sighed. “Hmm,” you murmured. “That’ll bruise.”

Your cheek burned. It would definitely swell later. But you still looked at her like she was a mild inconvenience at most.

“You done embarrassing yourselves?” you said, voice low but firm now. No more fake sweetness. “Because I really have better things to do than stand here while a bunch of desperate little nobodies throw tantrums over my Alpha who doesn’t even know your names.”

And then, with nothing but the click of your tongue and the rustle of your jersey as you turned, you walked out.

Your shoulder brushed—shoved—into the two standing in front of you, not enough to throw them off, but enough to send a message. You didn’t shrink. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run.

Your footsteps were steady. Your head held high.

You spotted them easily—Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate, standing exactly where you left them by the food booth. Their laughter had stopped. The light conversation had vanished the second they caught sight of you.

Jake’s mate blinked, her eyes widening as she took in the redness blooming on your cheek. Jungwon’s mate stiffened, clipboard nearly dropping from her hand.

They were by your side in an instant.

“Hey—hey, what happened?” Jake’s mate asked, voice gentle but frantic as her hands flew to your arms, eyes scanning your face. “Why do you look like that? What the hell happened to your—?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off, trying to smile even as your cheek pulsed.

“You’re not,” Jungwon’s mate said, her voice deadly calm. Her scent, normally floral and light, began to sharpen—tinged with smoke and stormclouds. “Your scent’s all over the place.”

“I just—look, it’s not that big of a deal—”

Jake’s mate rubbed your arm softly, like you were breakable, like one wrong word would crack your composure. “It is a big deal. Your cheek is turning red.”

“I said I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not.” Jungwon’s mate stepped back, fingers already digging into her pocket for her phone. “Who was it?”

“Don’t,” you said quickly, reaching for her wrist. “Seriously, it’s—”

She dodged you, stepping out of reach like a flash. Her eyes met yours, narrowed and blazing, and for a second she looked so much like your mother—stern, impossible to argue with—you froze.

“I’m not letting anyone touch our girls and walk away from it,” she muttered under her breath as she typed furiously on her screen. “Ni-ki’s gonna find out in the next five minutes whether you like it or not.”

Jake’s mate let out a low whistle. “You know,” she said, trying to ease the fire in the air with a soft laugh, “you used to be so timid before you met Jungwon. And now look at you—like a mother wolf ready to bite someone's head off.”

Jungwon’s mate didn’t even pause. “That’s because people keep testing me.”

You sighed again, torn between affection and mild dread. “Please don’t cause a scene.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake’s mate smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “that ship sailed the second someone laid a hand on you.”

The next thing you knew, you were walking beside Jay’s mate and Heeseung’s mate, both having joined the fussing. Their Omega instincts were in full swing as they cursed under their breaths, furious.

"They dared touch you?" Heeseung’s mate snapped. “Where are they? I’ll break their teeth.”

“Jay’s going to lose it when he hears, you’re practically his sister,” his mate muttered, shaking her head.

Behind you, Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate were whispering sharply, their conversation too low to catch—but you knew it was about you.

You all reached the student council meeting room. The door swung open.

Inside, Sunoo’s mate and Sunghoon’s mate immediately rushed forward.

“Sit down—come on, sit,” Sunghoon’s mate urged, guiding you gently to the head of the long table.

Sunoo’s mate placed a cold strawberry milk in your hands without a word.

They exchanged worried glances. “What happened?”

Before you could even open your mouth, the doors slammed open.

The air turned suffocating.

Every Omega in the room flinched.

And there he was—Ni-ki. A storm in human form, standing at the entrance with his eyes blown wide in rage and his scent turned foul, bitter and sour. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, and his jaw was locked so tight it looked like it might snap.

The other six Alphas followed behind him. Jay and Heeseung were at his heels, trying to talk him down.

“Ni-ki, you need to calm down,” Heeseung urged, voice low.

“You’re going to scare (Y/N),” Jay added, stepping closer. “Come on, kid.”

But Ni-ki wasn’t listening. He barely heard them.

Sunghoon stepped in before Heeseung could lunge after him again. “Let him be,” Sunghoon said, calm but firm. “He’s not going to hurt anyone. He needs to see her.”

Jungwon lingered behind them, visibly torn. His eyes flicked from Sunghoon to Jay, to Ni-ki, unsure of who to follow. His Alpha instincts were clashing—protect Ni-ki? Protect you? Pick a side?

Meanwhile, Sunoo’s eyes had narrowed dangerously, his posture stiff as he walked beside Jay. “You’re seriously going to let this slide?” he asked under his breath, furious. “Someone laid a hand on (Y/N) and no one’s doing anything?”

Ni-ki’s scent spiked again.

Ni-ki stormed across the room, the sound of his shoes echoing as he came to a full stop in front of you. His hands landed harshly on the arms of your chair—gripping tight, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking something.

You didn’t meet his eyes, you couldn’t. Not when your cheek still ached and your pride was hanging on by a thread.

“Fuck,” Ni-ki hissed, voice low and raw. His head lowered, nose brushing the air just above your shoulder. “Who?”

You stayed silent, still refusing to look up.

“I need names, Omega,” he bit out, jaw clenching. “Right now.”

The room was silent, thick with tension and bitter Alpha scent. Even the other couldn’t speak—caught between instinct and logic.

“There are pros and cons to being a pureblooded Alpha,” Ni-ki ground out, every word dripping with restrained fury. “You know what the downside is?”

He pulled back just enough to let you see his face—eyes burning, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Stronger blood. Stronger instincts. Harder to fucking control.”

“Ni-ki,” Jay warned softly from behind, trying to reel him back. “You need to think rationally. You can't—”

But Ni-ki turned sharply, sending Jay a glare that made even the older Alpha tense.

Jay held his hands up, trying to stay neutral, but the twitch in his jaw gave him away. He was close to growling. Sunghoon placed a firm hand on Jay’s chest, stopping him.

Ni-ki turned back to you, breath shallow. “I said I need names. Who did this to you? Who fucking touched you?”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t shrink away. But you didn’t answer either.

Ni-ki’s eyes shuttered, frustration curling in his throat. He looked at Jungwon—just one glance, and Jungwon understood.

Jungwon gave a single, sharp nod before clapping his hands once. “Everyone. Out.”

The room exploded into soft gasps and protests.

“Jungwon—” Jake’s mate started.

“Out,” Jungwon repeated, firm. “She needs space. He needs space.”

Sunoo’s mate grabbed Sunghoon’s mate by the wrist, muttering something about giving them a few minutes. Jay pulled his mate close and backed toward the door. Jake lingered, gaze flicking between you and Ni-ki before Jungwon tugged his arm.

And just like that, one by one, they all filed out. Until it was just you and Ni-ki.

He stood in front of you, still tense, chest rising and falling with each breath like he was forcing himself to stay grounded. He dropped to one knee, finally, carefully—slow enough that you realized this was him trying.

His hands reached for yours, hesitant, but he didn’t grab.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, finally—like your name was the only word that could calm him. “Please. Tell me.”

You inhaled shakily.

And then—slowly, finally—you lifted your gaze and met his eyes.

Your own were glossy, clouded with the emotion you’d been biting down for too long. But you swallowed hard, forcing it down, blinking quickly as if you could will the tears not to fall.

“I… I don’t know their names,” you admitted, shaking your head once. “But Jay’s mate does.”

Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt.

You glanced down at his hands—still kneeling, still holding yours with a gentleness that didn’t match the rage boiling in his scent. His thumbs moved over your knuckles, calming himself.

“I know they’re from the Han, Choi, Yoon, and Nam families,” you added carefully, your words deliberate, quiet. “All Omegas. All from our year.”

His expression didn’t change much—but his entire body seemed to lock into place, like every nerve had gone tight at once. He pressed his forehead against your intertwined hands. His breathing was ragged now.

You felt the tremble in his fingers before you heard the soft, barely-contained growl curling in his throat. “Why,” he whispered, voice cracking under the strain, “didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I had to find out through Jay’s mate,” he said, a low rasp. “I was halfway to the north wing when I got the text and—I should’ve been there.”

“Riki—”

“No,” he said sharply, pulling back just enough to look at you again.

His eyes were bloodshot. Unblinking. “You’re mine, Omega. Do you understand that? Mine to protect. Mine to stand in front of when people look at you wrong, let alone touch you.”

“And they dared lay hands on you?” he continued, voice hollow. “While I wasn’t there? While I was wasting time checking fucking booths and pretending I could focus on anything when I should’ve known something was wrong?”

He brought your hands up and pressed a kiss to your fingers—tender, but desperate.

“I would burn the entire world for you,” he whispered, his lips trembling against your knuckles. “And you think I wouldn’t rip through a few desperate, entitled Omegas?”

“Riki, it’s not about—”

“It is,” he said, a growl finally bleeding into the syllables. “This isn’t just some worthless drama, (Y/N). They crossed a line. They laid a hand on what’s mine.”

“All I’ve done is hold back.”

His voice was low now, sharp and fast like venom slipping through his fangs. “I’ve played nice. I’ve waited. I’ve controlled myself around people who didn’t deserve my restraint. And for what? So some egotistic Alpha prick could think he has the right to look at you like he has a chance?”

“So Riku thinks he’s some sort of god now?” he scoffed bitterly. “Thinks that just because he’s from the Maeda family and walks around like he owns the academy, he can steal you away from me?”

Ni-ki’s lip curled into something between a snarl and a heartbreak. “And those Omegas? Those girls who think they can corner you, question your worth, my feelings, my claim—”

He stood up, towering over you like a wall between you and the world. His chest was heaving, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The scent of burnt lime was still there—but calmer now.

“I have been patient,” he seethed, “when all I wanted was to scream to the world that you belong to me. That I would tear down anyone who so much as thought of touching you.”

He leaned forward slowly, one hand braced on the chair behind your head, the other gripping your jaw just gently enough to tilt your face to him. “So let me say it now, and let everyone hear me: You are mine.”

His forehead met yours again—harder this time, but not to hurt. To anchor. To swear a vow. You leaned forward, pressing back as much as you could in your seat, meeting him halfway even if it meant losing your breath.

How could you not match the fire in his gaze when every word he said was drenched in love—twisted and feral, but love nonetheless?

“I’m calling our families,” he muttered against your skin, voice so low you almost thought you imagined it. “After this. No more waiting.”

“We’re moving up the engagement announcement,” Ni-ki continued, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Tomorrow. No more long talks. No more letting people assume they have time to get between us.”

“I will not give them a single second longer to doubt you. Or me.” He straightened, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped past your control. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You sat with your back straight, hands folded neatly on your lap, but it was obvious—your nerves were everywhere.

The large venue hall buzzed with low murmurs and flashing lights, cameras capturing every polished angle of the Nishimura Enterprises press conference. You sat beside Ni-ki in the front row, the only Omega seated beside the board’s Alpha heir—and everyone noticed.

On stage, Konon—Ni-ki’s older sister—cleared her throat and continued confidently, gesturing toward a digital chart on the screen behind her as she finished it up.

Applause echoed in the hall, polite and expected.

You were supposed to be in the academy right now. Checking booths. Chatting with Jungwon’s mate. Laughing with your friends and not… sitting in front of every broadcast journalist in the country.

You swallowed thickly, your hands curling just a little too tightly into the fabric of your dress pants.

All around you, cameras clicked—some subtle, some not. Every movement was being analyzed, every whisper caught by directional mics. News anchors from national stations muttered softly under their breath, piecing together a live feed, and you could already feel the headlines forming.

A gentle squeeze to your hand beneath the table, calloused fingers sliding against your palm like a lifeline. Ni-ki’s hand wrapped around yours with a quiet kind of fierceness.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch him leaning in.

He dipped his head low until his breath brushed your ear, voice soft—only for you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Your throat bobbed. “I—just… overwhelmed”

Ni-ki hummed in understanding, his thumb brushing small circles over the back of your hand. “I know. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I wanted to. I need this to be over.”

“You’ve got nothing to prove to them,” he said, voice low and firm. “You just sit here, hold my hand, and look pretty like always.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Riki—”

“I mean it,” he said, smiling softly now. “Let them all talk. Let them watch. You’re mine. And this?”

He tilted his head toward the stage where his sister’s voice echoed through the room, still talking about market shares and quarterly projections.

“This is just noise. We’re the headline.”

You let out a breath, one that almost turned into a laugh. “You’re such a show-off.”

He grinned. “Only for you.”

You glanced around. The cameras had definitely caught that moment. But you didn’t care—not when Ni-ki was looking at you like that, like you were the center of his entire universe.

He leaned in once more, pressing a fleeting kiss to your temple, so quick you almost missed it. “Ten more minutes,” he promised, “and then I’m dragging you out of here. I heard there’s strawberry milk waiting for us in the car.”

You were just about to turn to him, the corners of your lips lifting, when—

“May I now call on Nishimura Riki and (L/N (Y/N) to come on the stage?” Konon’s voice boomed through the venue, calm and commanding through the microphone. The murmuring in the room rose in volume, camera flashes flickering like fireflies.

Ni-ki sighed softly, squeezing your hand one last time before standing. “Well, there goes our exit plan.”

He straightened his posture and extended his arm toward you with a slight smirk. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his without hesitation, letting him pull you gently to your feet. Despite the swell of eyes and lights on you, his presence kept you steady. His other hand hovered protectively at your back as he guided you through the aisle, careful to keep pace with your steps.

“I told you not to wear those heels,” he whispered lowly, glancing down with a frown at the strappy, elegant but clearly uncomfortable shoes. “You’re barely walking, angel.”

“They matched the dress,” you whispered back.

“They match nothing if you trip on the stairs.”

You bit back a laugh as you both climbed onto the stage, the applause swelling around you. Konon greeted the two of you with a polite nod and a knowing smile. Her poised, professional demeanor didn’t hide the subtle glance she gave your intertwined hands.

Without waiting, Ni-ki took the mic from his sister with a nod of thanks, standing tall in front of the crowd of stakeholders, executives, journalists, and live-stream viewers.

“Good afternoon,” he began, voice smooth, practiced—but still very him. “I’m Nishimura Riki, and on behalf of my family, I’d like to extend our deepest gratitude for your support of Nishimura Enterprises and its many developments these past months.”

A pause.

“And while today is a celebration of progress and success, I’d like to take this moment to share something… more personal.”

He turned to look at you. The lights made his eyes shine.

“With the blessing and push from both of our families,” he continued, voice firmer now, “I would like to announce my engagement to (L/N) (Y/N).”

The entire venue erupted in noise. Flashes exploded from every direction. Voices overlapped—cheers, gasps, even a few stunned laughs. The applause felt deafening, but you didn’t flinch. You were used to it.

What you weren’t used to was the way Ni-ki looked at you in that moment—not just as the Nishimura heir, not just as your Alpha—but as your best friend since you were both kids building castles out of pillows in your living rooms, hiding away from the pressure of your last names.

You turned slightly to face the crowd, and when you spoke, your voice came out warm and composed.

“We’ve known each other since we were too short to reach the kitchen counter,” you said with a soft smile. “And even back then, Riki always looked out for me. From scraped knees to late-night calls to strawberry milk after long days… he’s always been there.”

You felt him smile beside you.

“And now,” you continued, “I’m honored to be by his side—not just as his partner, but as someone who believes in the future we’ll build together.”

Ni-ki nodded once, like you’d just said the exact thing his heart was holding. He leaned toward you subtly, just enough that your shoulders brushed, and whispered, “You were perfect.”

“You’re biased,” you whispered back.

“I’m yours,” he replied, and even with all the noise, all the lights, and all the eyes watching—you swore it was just the two of you on that stage.

Another wave of applause erupted like thunder, sweeping through the grand venue. From the reserved family section near the front, your parents stood—smiles stretched wide across their faces—clapping with such pride and joy it made your chest ache. Beside them, the Nishimuras, regal and composed, mirrored the same warmth, their approval unmistakable.

Ni-ki’s eyes didn’t leave yours.

His hand gently tugged you closer, your sides brushing as the lights above cast a golden hue around your figures. He smiled down at you—real, soft, the kind that only you got to see when no one else was looking.

And you, unable to help the emotion building in your chest, looked up at him with eyes full of everything you’d never been able to say out loud before.

Your lips parted, voice quiet but certain as it reached him despite the noise.

“Always been.”

⤷ read part 1 here !

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© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝕊𝕜𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Mutual Friendship, Hinted Mutual Crush, College Au

⚠️Warnings⚠️: None

Word count: 769

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 [10:45 PM] - "Should I be worried that you know how to replicate fake blood this well? I probably should be, right?" Jinwoo jokes as he enters your dorm room.

You decided to be a killer playboy bunny for the Halloween party tonight. The five-kitchen ingredient mixture drips from your neck as only moments ago you finished your makeup.

"If you want to get bloody tonight, I've got enough to share." You chuckle, placing the bowl of red liquid on your desk. "Where's your costume?"

Originally, it was supposed to be you and your best friend. She got hit with a bad stomach virus the night before and was still in recovery.

He offered to be your plus one once you gave him the news. It's somewhat of a favor he owed you from before. He's dressed in a black cotton button-down, partially unbuttoned, with matching black jeans. Black high-top Chuck Taylor's on his feet.

"My package got delayed, so no Ghostface mask. You're my plan B."

"Plan B?"

He takes a seat at your desk, crossing his arms as he leans back into your chair. "You've got any ideas?"

You squint, trying to picture a look on him. Something that would take no time at all.

"A Skeleton." You snap your fingers, having an 'aha' moment.

His mouth curled into a smile as he nodded, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug. Digging through your makeup bag, whatever wasn't in there was strewn about.

Your posters, tapestries, and post-it notes with reminders and daily affirmations on them catch his attention. Everything had a similar color palette, from your sheets to your laundry basket to your rug beside your bed. It made him wish he'd stop by more often.

"Do you want me to paint your neck and chest too?" You asked, sizing him up as you organized your brushes and body paints.

Your question hangs in the air. He hasn't had his face painted since he was a child. Tonight was the one night he could be truly himself. Carefree and stupid like every other twentysomething. Based on your makeup alone, he knows he's in good, capable hands.

Jinwoo scoots forward in your chair.

"Yeah, go all out. Make me a skeleton."

You smirk, standing between his legs. Raking your fingers through his hair, you attach two larger hair clips. His exposed forhead meets a cooling sensation from your primer. Its slushy to then tacky consistency threw him off.

You trace a black outline around his eye sockets, whispering for him to close his eyes. He does so, allowing you to deepen the shadows. Drawing on his nasal cavities and each tooth across his upper and lower lip, you're deathly close. Your thumb smudges away any mistakes, much to his confusion. He almost thought you were doing it on purpose. Almost.

Down his neck, your thin brush goes as he twitches a tad. "Are you ticklish?" You take a go at him. There was no reply. He merely blinks and scoffs.

You keep going, carving out each spinel vertebrae. From the cervical to the thoracic vertebra, brushstrokes flowed into his ribcage. His toned chest surprises but doesn’t shock you. Guess all that excessive training paid off.

"Tell me, what made you take this route this year?" A cheeky grin plastered across his face. "Never would've thought you were one for the classics."

"Classic easy access, you mean?" You joke, applying the white body paint next. It fills in the shaped skull of his face like an X-ray. Your brush strokes earn another twitch out of him.

"Jin, quit moving, or you're gonna look like shit." You huff, sucking your teeth.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I can't help it. It feels weird."

His mischievous glint in his eyes trails up and down your neck and exposed chest.

"I guess I'm playing guard dog tonight, too? All things considered?"

"If you're looking for an excuse to kick some guy's ass for looking at me too hard, be my guest. You don't need my permission."

You straightened your stance, making sure every marking was symmetrical. Up went your thumb. It splits his face into two halves. Closing your right eye, your tongue sticks out from between your lips.

He leans his head to the left, taking your thumb in his larger hand and pulling you forward.

"Whaddaya doing?"

"Admiring my work, you're one hell of a canvas." You thread a hand through his hair, removing the hair clips. His bangs flow back where they were.

Jinwoo rises from your chair. His hand never lets go of yours, nor does he break his gaze.

"Paint me again sometime, yeah?"

If you enjoyed it, please comment, like, and reblog!

Divider created by @cafekitsune

A/N - HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

[xuchiya]

the beauty of us || jung wooyoung || one-shot

|genre: boyfriend! wooyoung. girlfriend! reader. just pure fluff and wooyoung being a real man out here |mentions: nothing really.

summary: As you test shades and colors, he offers himself—literally—as the canvas for your art. In the middle of the bustling mall, his playful curiosity and quiet devotion create a masterpiece of their own.

word count: 1.1k

As I descended the stairs of my apartment, the faint jingle of my car and apartment keys filled the otherwise quiet air. The cool morning breeze slipped through the slightly open window in the stairwell, carrying with it a sense of unhurried peace. I approached the shoe rack near the door, carefully slipping into my sandals, the soft scrape of their straps fitting into place.

Behind me, the sound of socked feet padding softly on the wooden floor made me pause.

“Oh? Are you going somewhere?” came a familiar voice, light and inquisitive.

I turned my head to find Wooyoung standing there, leaning casually against the wall with a curious tilt to his head. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d just woken up, and his eyes sparkled with interest.

“Yeah,” I replied with a small nod, holding up my keys. “I’m heading to the mall to pick up some make-up. I’ve run out of a few things.”

For a split second, his expression lit up, a glimmer of excitement crossing his face. Before I could say another word, he suddenly bounced on his toes, his energy spilling over.

“Oh~ I’ll pay!” he announced, his tone playful but sincere, his hand already reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

I blinked, caught off guard by his enthusiasm. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, though a smile tugged at my lips.

“But I want to!” he insisted, his grin widening. “Think of it as my way of making sure you get only the best.” He winked, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or just being his usual cheeky self.

“Well, if you’re coming, don’t complain about how long I’ll take,” I warned, narrowing my eyes at him playfully.

“Long?” he repeated, pretending to be offended. “With me around, shopping will be fun and efficient. You’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes, slipping my phone into my bag. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Deal!” he chirped, already slipping on his sneakers.

As I watched him tie his laces with unbridled excitement, I couldn’t help but feel a warmth in my chest. Wooyoung always had a way of turning the simplest things into something memorable, and I had a feeling today would be no exception.

“You know, you can still back out right,” I told Wooyoung for the third time as we stepped into the mall. “It’s just make-up shopping. It could take ages.”

“I’ve got time,” he said with a grin, hands shoved into his pockets. “Besides, I want to see what this whole make-up business is about.”

I gave him a skeptical look, but he just winked at me, completely unbothered. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves in the brightly lit cosmetics section of a department store. A sales associate handed me a small shopping basket, and I immediately began scanning the shelves, looking for the essentials I needed.

Wooyoung, true to his word, wasn’t just there to follow silently behind me. Instead, he picked up random products, holding them up like they were foreign artifacts. “What’s this for?” he asked, squinting at a bottle of primer.

“It’s primer. It creates a smooth base for make-up.”

“And this?” He held up a brow gel.

“Keeps your eyebrows in place.”

His curiosity was endless, and honestly, it was kind of adorable. He’d inspect each product, occasionally putting it back or pretending to test it on himself just to make me laugh. But then, his questions turned into quiet observation.

As I moved down the aisles, I swatched foundation shades on the back of my hand, testing each one under the harsh store lights to see which matched my skin tone. Wooyoung watched intently, his head tilting slightly as if trying to figure out my process.

“You’re really thorough about this,” he remarked after a while.

“I have to be. My skin’s super sensitive,” I explained, showing him my hand now streaked with various shades of foundation. “If I pick the wrong one, I’ll break out, or worse, get a rash.”

He nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say much. Moments later, I noticed him picking up a palette of blushes and trying to mimic what I was doing—pressing a small amount on his wrist and holding it up to the light.

“What do you think of this one?” he asked, holding out his arm.

I stifled a laugh, impressed by his effort. “Not bad. You’re getting the hang of it.”

By the time we made it to the eyeshadow section, my arm was a rainbow of shades, from blushes to highlighters and eyeshadows. It was getting harder to find space to test new colors. Wooyoung noticed and, without a word, rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm toward me.

“Here, use mine,” he said casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

I blinked at him, surprised by the gesture. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Why not?”

He held his arm steady as I gently swiped on a few shades, blending them with my fingers to see how they’d look. His skin tone was slightly different from mine, but it worked well enough for testing. The onlookers around us couldn’t help but giggle and whisper. A couple of them even squealed quietly, clearly charmed by the scene.

Wooyoung, unfazed by the attention, just smiled at me. “Told you it will be fun and efficient,” he admitted, glancing at the colors now adorning his forearm.

“Yeah yeah whatever” I teased, dabbing a shimmering gold eyeshadow onto his wrist.

“But mostly, I like seeing how happy it makes you.” His tone was light, but the sincerity in his eyes made my cheeks warm, a soft smile was on my lips as I placed back the palette on the shelf. By the end of our trip, we both had arms covered in a patchwork of colors, but my basket was filled with carefully chosen products. As we headed to the checkout, I couldn’t help but glance at Wooyoung, who was grinning like he’d just discovered a new hobby.

“Thanks for tagging along,” I said softly. He shrugged, pulling out his wallet and handing over his card, “Thanks for letting me be your test subject. Anytime you need another arm, I’m your guy.”

The sales associate at the counter smiled knowingly as she handed me my bag. “You’re lucky to have him,” she said with a wink.

I couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, I am.”

As we walked out of the store, Wooyoung leaned in and said, “Next time, you’ll have to teach me how to actually use this stuff.”

“Deal,” I replied with a laugh, grabbing his hand, intertwining them as I lead us to the food court.

[blond-shell]

can you explain what happened in blink?

streetlamp shattered ankles skateboarding bad handjobs gay chicken mediocre guitar playing betrayal heartbreak near death experiences groping soulmates

[foone]

The rules are simple: Two wizards. Two pistols. No magic.

Now, don't misunderstand: "No magic" of course means "no magic now". The pistols are constructed using magic, of course. Wizards don't carry unenchanted firearms, that'd be silly. You don't spend years learning to bend all the rules of spacetime just to make a gun that shoots lead bullets using exploding powder. No magic just means you don't cast a shield spell while you're taking aim. But if you want to bring a gun you've designed to cast a shield itself when drawn? Go nuts.

So most wizards will have a dedicated dueling gun for these reasons. You want something that helps against the other wizard's enchantments, something that protects you from the effects of their bullets, and casts some protective magic on you. Shields, invisibility, illusions, healing... Your dueling pistol is usually a tricked out masterpiece of everything you know about magic and firearms.

Which is why this pistol in front of you is so worrying.

It's basically virgin. This is the product of a skilled gunsmith, not a wizard. There's no shields, no infinite ammunition, no enchantments on the bullets, which are mere lead and brass. There's some low level enchantments to strengthen the barrel from misfires, and the powder is enhanced to ensure it's always enough. That's the kind of magic you'd find on a pistol you buy from an average gun store, and it'd cost you only a few coins. This is the weapon of an unmagical security guard or a robber, not the dueling weapon of a world-class magician.

Veynor turned up his magic sense as far as he could without melting his eyes out of his head. Could it have an enchantment to hide other enchantments? No, unless they're being powered by half a city's worth of power. And even if they were, that much anti-magic would hide the low level enhancements on the barrel and the powder.

He asks if he can examine the bullets. "Bullet", says the nameless wizard, pulling out the empty magazine and showing it to Veynor. They pull back the slide and eject a single bullet, grabbing it in their other hand with practiced ease. They hand it over, and Veynor stares at it with the kind of intensity you only see when someone is looking not with their eyes. It's... Lead. Lead and powder and brass and a primer and the only magic here just makes sure the powder is sufficient to fire it. That's the kind of enchantment that you cast on a whole batch of bullets to ensure none will misfire, not the kind a wizard intricately carves into each bullet individually to give them a fighting chance in a magic battle.

Veynor hands back the bullet, and the nameless wizard loads it back in their pistol. It's a bluff, it has to be. They're trying to scare me, he thinks. Wizards know the inverse rule of subtlety and power. Your average wizard throwing fireballs and lightning is a student still in their first few years, while an old master will not need to do anything as flashy. They'll just wave a hand dismissively and your entire family line going back seven generations will retroactively be erased... So this has to be a trick. They know they're outclassed (Veynor has been at this for decades, after all), and are trying to psych him out. With a gun this cheap and unpowerful, they're betting that the more powerful wizard will call off the duel out of imagined danger.

Too bad. Veynor is not blinking at the bluff... "Let's do this".

They face away from each other, as if they could only see from their eyes. Veynor holds his pistol high, and the nameless wizard holsters it, their arrogance apparently extending to not needing to have it ready to fire. Another attempt at bluffing, as if Veynor could even call it off now. The rules are clear, and wizard rules aren't the kind you break without consequences.

They take their requisite ten paces, and Veynor flips around and takes aim, his pistol setting up shields and blurring his image as he takes aim at... Nothing? Where's the nameless wizard?! Did he flee? Veynor didn't feel any ripples from a teleport, he must have gone invisible. His gun continues casting spells on him, and he feels the enhanced vision kick in. The morning mist fades and the clouds in the distance come into view, but still no nameless wizard.

Veynor swears. The nameless wizard must have cheated. There's no way that gun could have done this. If it could, he would have seen the enchantment. Well, if they're cheating... He casts a review spell, rewinding time in his mind and watching the duel again. They face away, the take the steps. 1,2,3...

The cloud parts in the distance. There's a rumbling in the ground. Even with enhanced vision it's not obvious what happens. Veynor tries to dismiss the review magic but their magical control is going haywire. Something is very, very wrong. They start to feel like they're being pulled out to sea by an undertow, as the ambient mana field is suddenly becoming a raging river pulling past them.

In their vision, they see the nameless wizard stop at the end of their paces, and turn as they reach for their pistol. As the review ends, they see the holster glow with the colorless light of magic, as an enchantment activates. That's their trick, they placed magic on the holster! But what kind? And what's happening in the sky?

The clouds part to a black circle with a silver rim. The circle grows in size, seemingly, an Veynor casts a farsight spell now to see this from another angle. Casting his vision miles to the side, he sees the circle is a tube descending from the clouds at a shallow angle, pointed right at him... Oh sweet silent mother, that's the barrel of the pistol. It's now big enough to cross the inland sea, with a caliber better described in miles.

The sky goes dark as the barrel blots out the sun, the shadow stretching halfway to the way station at the edge of the wizarding wastes. With his senses stretched by the enchantments on his gun, he sees the events happening in slow motion. There's a click, and a hammer starts moving towards the back of the bullet.

Veynor tries to set up a teleport, an emergency one to anywhere, anyplace, any time but here. The flowing mana is making it difficult but he sees a destination: the abandoned fortress at the other end of the wastes. It'll be easier to get to than outside the wastes, and it'll give him time to set up another jump. The sky shatters as a sound starts coming his way.

With his slowed time sense, it'll be minutes before he can hear the gunshot, but already the shockwave is visible, even to the unaided eye. The bullet is supersonic, however, so no matter what happens he'll never hear that gunshot: either he teleports out of here or the bullet turns him and half the landscape into a fine paste.

He focuses his vision on the fortress, concentrating on finishing the teleport. The soundwave of the gunshot hits the fortress in his sight beyond sight, and it doesn't collapse, exactly, so much as cease being a structure and reverts back to a thousand small stones no longer sharing any association with each other.

With his destination destroyed, his teleport fizzles. The sky is still dark, but the mana flowing towards him has sped up to the point where he's having trouble staying upright, as his footing gets shakier and shakier. He looks up and sees the slug moving towards him at a bit more than the speed of sound, and he closes his eyes.

It doesn't help, his magical senses continue to show him the movement of objects around him, right up until the moment of impact.

The barrier around the wizard wastes goes white, and slowly fades back down through the colors until it returns to its normal semi-transparency.

The nameless wizard catches the hot brass in their right hand, before it hits the rapidly solidifying bedrock under their feet. The wizard wastes are self-healing (you'd be surprised how much even the average wizard duel destroys the landscape), but that's no reason to litter. They look at the deep crater they find themselves in, and start planning a route up the side. Most of it is still flowing, with the sand and rock intermixing in their white hot state, but there's spots here and there that are cooling quicker.

They could try a teleport, but it's a nice day for a bit of rock climbing. Besides, like they always say: half the trick of being a wizard is knowing when not to use magic. And right now the local mana field is a bit chaotic, having just gone through the equivalent of the Chicxulub impact.

They hike up their robes and begin to climb. Their feet may be heat proof, but they don't want to singe their robe again. It's a lot harder to enchant wool with heat protection spells, something to do with how the will of the former owner interferes. They make a note to do more research into the inherent magical abilities of sheep, once they climb out of this crater. Behind them, rocky ejecta finally crashes back into the crater. They wonder if the barrier has a roof, or if they just flung rocks onto the moons. They'll have to ask one of the lunar residents later, and make amends for any property damage.

They'll have to get lunch after this, all this climbing is working up an appetite. Maybe some mutton chops, since they were thinking about sheep? There's a good place on the bigger moon, they haven't been there in a while.

On the moon, there's a small impact, a puff of dust thrown up into the (lack of) air and slowly drifting back down. In the puddle-sized crater, a heavily enchanted pistol lies, still in perfect shape. The engraving on the side, readable in all languages, says "if found, return to Veynor". The dust lands on it, slowly burying it.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your Area 9

masterpost

“Good morning!”

Jason winced and moved the phone a little further from his face. “Is this Doctor Fenton?” 

“It's one of them! What can I do ya for?” Jack Fenton boomed, just as bombastic as his newsletter made him seem. Jason knew, deep in his heart, that Jack Fenton was indeed the one who had selected green neon bold for his headings and borders. 

Angels wept. Jason scrubbed his palm over his eye. This man had no poetry in his soul. “I, uh, had some questions about a ghost. I've read some of your articles and your most recent published paper on the topic.”

“We love ghosts!” Fenton bellowed. “Ask away!”

“Do you know a ghost called Phantom?” Jason tried.

“...Sure do,” Jack Fenton said. “Whatcha need?” 

Jason cleared his throat. “It's somewhat complicated,” he said evasively, because he didn't need these people to know he was the Red Hood. Fuck. He should have either gotten his helmet stored away or not given his real name. Phantom knew his face and that his name was Jason. Any information that got around via Phantom might tie his face to his alter ego. If Phantom said he got married to Jason, the Red Hood, that could lead to the end of the Bat family vigilantism.

“...He cause you trouble, sport?”

Jason let out a slight laugh. “You could say that, though it wasn't really his fault,” he admitted. He cast a paranoid eye out the window to be sure no siblings were creeping on him. “No, it's really more that…” Fuck, he should have planned this better. “Is there any information you can give me about how a human could contact him?” 

Not that Jason didn't have a phone number for the guy. But it made him very uncomfortable to have any basic knowledge or way to track Phantom down if he decided to leave Jason to whatever was going on. 

“I could probably do that,” Jack Fenton said slowly, now sounding like an entirely different human being. “Say, you wouldn't be Jeremy, would you?”

Jason blinked. “...How did you know?” He went with. Phantom had contact with a human guy named Jeremy? That might be his in.

“Oh, well then, you've definitely got to come over,” Dr. Fenton wheedled. It somehow came across as shifty. “You'll be wanting a whole primer on how the Ghost Zone works, won't ya?” 

“That would be immensely helpful,” Jason agreed. “But I'd hate to take up your valuable time.”

“Nonsense!” Fenton bellowed. Jason nearly lost his grip on his phone in surprise. “Come over Jeremy, I'm dying to meetcha!” 

So, there was a plan. Jason packed for a day trip and dialed up his travel agent. 

“Fuck off,” said Tim. “I'm busy. Christ.” 

“I need an airplane ticket and a rental bike to Illinois,” Jason continued. He tossed his mostly full bag on the sofa and went digging for the socks he knew he had washed the other night. “I'm going to go see some nerds about my impromptu adventure the other day.”

Tim groaned. That was the first Jason had given any hint at all about what had happened to him when he'd been ‘sacrificed.’ “What nerds?” He asked wearily. 

Jason grinned into his sock drawer. Gottem. “Why, do you all know each other?” He asked blithely. 

“Do you always antagonize people you want favors from?” Tim whined. A keyboard clacked rapidly in the background. “Jason, I swear to God, you massive bitch. Cut the crap and communicate, or I'm hanging up.” 

Jason frowned at his socks and grabbed a random pair. “You don't gotta be like that,” he said sulkily. He slammed the socks into his bag with a very unsatisfying silence. “So, the ritual doohickey sent me to the infinite underworld, I met a guy there actually and we are magically connected because he's who that dumb ritual matched me up to. He doesn't want to be stuck with a human so we are on the same page about breaking this. We started looking for answers and he took me back to Earth since it's not good for humans to be in the green dimension for too long.” 

There was silence from the other end of the line for a few seconds. “You're fucking lying,” Tim said. 

“Only by leaving things out.” A bit stung, Jason pulled a hand through his hair and accidentally ruined his good hair day. 

“What are you leaving out?” Tim rejoined swiftly.

Jason laughed at him. “You think you're getting that kinda information in exchange for plane tickets?” He asked incredulously. 

“You are the most annoying person who has ever tried to kill me.”

Ouch. That genuinely stung.

“Fuck off.” Jason slammed the drawers shut. 

“I could guess aliens or supernatural off of what you just said.” Tim ignored Jason’s very good point. “Based off of your trip to the Gotham U campus and-”

“Are you still stalking me?” Jason cut him off, incredulous. He scoffed. “Little buddy, you already got my pixie boots, Red Robin costume, and my Dad. What else do you wanna take from me?”

“I think that you were there to assess Daniel Fenton,” Tim ignored him.

Jason was silent for a moment. There was probably no point in pretending that Tim was wrong. “You already knew about the Fenton’s connection to the supernatural.” He was suddenly tired.

“His older sister is an intern at Arkham, she stepped out of line to get a chance to talk to Jeremy Waters.” Tim didn’t seem to notice that the mood had changed. He was caught up on whatever twenty level plan was whirring away internally.

Jason looked at the wall for a moment, not bothering to think about why that name was familiar. “...and that is…?”

“The guy who kidnapped you, keep up,” Tim snarked. “Her supervisor guessed what she was hinting at, shut her down, put a note about it in the private server so there was a paper trail if she turns out to be a collaborator.”

““Private” is a strong word to describe that server.” Jason rubbed at his jawline and hefted his bag out to the bathroom to gather his shaving kit. 

“Mmhm,” Tim said blandly. “I bugged her phone. The signal is absurdly bad, unexplainably bad. She doesn’t send a lot of messages, but she had a very suspicious call with Daniel Fenton where, among other things, she hinted she had inside knowledge regarding some kind of local mystery, possibly criminal activity. Her brother accused her of supporting crime.”

Jason groaned. “I’m going to interview their parents.” He checked that the razor blades were stowed away correctly before snapping shut the travel case. Then he noticed that his bathroom mirror could use a wipedown. He left his bag for a moment to dig for the cleaner.

“Probably for the best,” Tim said, definitely misunderstanding his purpose. “They seem…” He trailed off when he couldn’t find an appropriate adjective.

“You should read a book,” Jason said, because he saw an opportunity to be an asshole. “Anyway, I wanna get out to the area tonight and see them in the morning. What’s my flight?” He spritzed the glass and watched his reflection blur. It was oddly comforting to not have to stare at his green eyes.

‘That ghost zone was the same green as the Lazarus Pits,’ Jason thought dully. He didn’t really want to think about it. But he had a pretty good idea why he hadn’t had the reaction to the place that Danny expected a human to have.

“Kon could take you,” Tim said sweetly, which was basically a death threat. It was enough to jar him back to the real world. Kon was still not feeling chill about the Titans Tower scuffle. It probably wasn’t good for him to be so petty, but Jason was not going to be the one to tell baby Superdork that.

Jason winced. “I was thinking more like United.”

Tim snickered. 

[hearts4golbach]

Hi! can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff to smut? 🙏🏼

Blushed.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Authors note: I have seen this idea used a few times on tumblr from a few different people, so this is unoriginal, but I've really wanted to write this.

warning: smut.

"What's up guys, welcome back to my channel!" I hollered, imitating certain YouTubers. I had always found intros to be hilarious. "Today, I'm with my boyfriend, Johnnie Guilbert." I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "I'm going to be making him normal."

Johnnie rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yippee. I'm being tortured." he made jazz hands.

I covered his mouth quickly, attempting to act suspiciously. "This was his idea.. anyway!" I pushed him so he was sitting on my bed. I pulled the first product out of my makeup bag. "This is primer, which you know about, obviously. so there's nothing new there."

I stood in between his legs and began to apply the primer, smearing it all over his face. he gripped my waist softly, looking up at me with a sweet smile. I glanced away, trying not to get too worked up over a simple gesture. I smiled to myself and finished rubbing it all in.

"Great!" I said sarcastically, moving so the camera could see. "shit, I have to pin up your bangs." I grabbed two clips from my dresser. I parted his hair in the middle, clipping his midnight black hair on either side of his face.

he slapped his hand over his forehead, "Not the six head." he snorted before removing his hand.

"You do not have a six head," I rolled my eyes, placing a kiss on his forehead before moving on. I pulled the next product out of the bag. "Funny story, I had to go out and buy Johnnie a whole different foundation because he's too pale for mine."

Johnnie made a finger gun, pointing it at the camera and sticking his tongue out with a laugh. "it's because all I do is play fortnite." he smirked.

"I know." I retorted as I wet my beauty blender. I placed dots of foundation around his face, fighting the urge to kiss him as I did so. "Okay, cute! perfect shade match." I moved put of the cameras view.

Johnnie checked himself out in the mirror, raising and dropping his eyebrows. "Uncanny Valley."

"Okay, well, I've barely done anything yet, so.." I trailed off, digging through the bag. "Next, concealer. Which, you also know of because I'm sure you go through a lot of it." I teased, tapping his nose before standing in front of him again.

his hands made their way to my waist as I focused on putting the liquid in the right place to highlight his face. he slowly moved his hands down, so they were on my ass.

"johnnie!" I scolded, "im going to have to edit that out."

he smirked, laughing at my comment. "I'd leave it in."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would." I retorted, going back to blending the concealer.

he had moved his hands back up, and now they were on my hips. his thumbs rubbed circles into my skin, making me shiver under his touch. I cleared my throat awkwardly as he laughed under his breath at my reaction.

I pulled away, revealing his face to the camera. I tapped his cheeks before moving on. "Next, we have blush, contour, and bronzer." I picked up the 3 products, showing the camera.

I began working on his face once more as he hummed, I wasn't sure what song. I stuck my finger under his chin, "Look up at me." he did as told, gazing into my eyes. "Thank you, baby." I smiled before getting to work on his contour. his cheekbones contoured nicely, making me grow more eager for him by the second.

I turned around, clearly distracted. "uh, next step." I stuttered, reaching into the bag. "highlighter."

my brush grazed over his cheeks and nose before gently tapping the inner corner of his eyes. "ah! my eye clit!" johnnie blinked rapidly.

"oh my god." I rolled my eyes, "okay, the last couple steps are mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow."

using a light pink eyeshadow, I colored in Johnnie's eyelids. I did a small wing before curling his lashed and putting mascara on them.

"what if I put lashes on you?" I pondered, putting up the mascara.

"oh, god." he replied dreadfully. "can I see myself now?"

I sighed before grinning at him. "I guess." I handed him a mirror and impatiently waited for his reaction.

"damn, would I fuck myself?" he pondered, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, its how I do my makeup every day so..." I joked. "wait! I forgot your lipstick, how could I be so stupid?" I pulled out a musty pink lipstick and quickly applied it. "okay, now youre done."

I recorded my outro, desperate to shut the damn camera off. after turning it off, I grabbed the makeup wipes.

"you ready to take it off?" I asked him.

he eagerly nodded. "yes, please."

I climbed into his lap, "you did so good, thank you for recording that with me."

he hummed at the praise, I felt his member grow slightly under me. "anytime." his hands moved down to my ass once more, gently squeezing.

I bucked into him, trying not to make any noises as I wiped off the rest of the makeup. "shit, johnnie."

he smirked and kissed me softly, his hands moving down my thighs. I leaned into the kiss. Johnnie's hand made its way up my shirt, gently massaging my boob while the other kneaded my inner thigh. "you're such a tease." he whispered onto my lips.

I hummed in response. he quietly groaned into the kiss, his body pressed against mine. my hands flew up to his head, getting tangled in his hair. I began to deepen the kiss, wanting more. I moaned quietly, making his hips roll up against me. "God, you're so hot." I say breathlessly before smashing my lips onto his.

his tongue danced with mine as his hands explored my body. "you're killing me, I need you. now." he said desperately.

I nodded eagerly, "please, johnnie." I pleaded, moaning as he began kissing down my neck.

he trailed kisses along my collar bone, nipping and sucking at the tender skin. he left light hickeys all over, groaning into my skin. "I'm so crazy for you."

"johnnie, i-" I was cut off by a moan as he went back to attacking my neck.

I felt him smirk against my skin. "I love it when you say my name like that." I felt his erection pressed against my clothed pussy. "lay down for me, babe."

I did as told, crawling off his lap and laying back on the bed. he slipped off my shirt, leaving me in my bra as he kissed down my stomach. I wiggled under his touch, wanting more. he undid my jeans and pulled them off, tossing them somewhere in the room. he kicked off his own pants and shirt aswell, leaving both of us in our underwear. I bit my lip, moaning softly at the sight of his erection.

"you're so beautiful," he whispered, tucking my hair out of my face before kissing me again. "you ready?"

I nodded eagerly. "please, johnnie. I need you so bad." I whimpered as he positioned himself between my legs.

"tell me what you need, baby." he whispered, lust burning in his eyes. I tried to pull him closer, but he pulled away. "use your words."

"fuck, I want your cock, johnnie." I whimpered.

"atta girl." he smirked, pulling my panties off and tossing them along with my jeans. "Jesus, you're so beautiful."

I moaned quietly as he nibbled at my neck. I clawed at his back, pulling him closer. "stop teasing." I pleaded.

he nodded, listening to my request. I felt his hard tip press against my entrance. he slowly pushed inside of me, groaning at the feeling of filling me up. "so fucking tight." he muttered.

"oh my god, yes." I moan quietly.

johnnie groaned, pushing the rest of the way inside of me. I gasped as he began to thrust slowly, making my walls grip tightly around him. "God, I love the pretty sounds you make."

his words made my jaw fall, letting a low moan escape. he picked up his speed, his hips slapping against my wetness as he thrusted deeper. "jesus- oh, shit." I stuttered.

johnnie groaned, rolling his eyes back as he lost himself in pleasure. "oh, fuck- thats it. give it to me."

"keep going, oh shit!" I moaned into his neck. he moved sweaty hair out of my face before kissing me roughly.

his thrusts became harder and faster, his hips slammed against mine as he took me roughly. "fuck, you're amazing." he whimpered onto my lips.

"fuck, give it to me, baby." I moaned, digging my hands into his back. he growled softly as he pushed deeper inside of me, pausing for a moment before pulling out and slamming back into me.

his thrusts became ever more forceful, his cock hitting my cervix with each powerful thrust. "does this feel good, baby? fuck, you're so good." he kissed my neck.

"yes, o-oh my god, yes. don't stop. i-im close!" I panted.

his thrusts became more erratic, his hips slapping into me one last time before he released inside of me. I came along with him, my orgasm rushing through my whole body. I went limp, watching as he collapsed next to me.

"Oh my god." he whispered, kissing me softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you more."

[valleyofheartz]

Suna Rintarou X Reader

synopsis: You decide to do Rintarou’s makeup. (spoiler alert, he doesn’t enjoy getting his eyebrows done)

fluff that's it

WC: 1.5k

“Rinta!” you whine, shaking his shoulders as you try to get his attention. he sighs, tossing his phone aside as he realizes you need him and will not leave him alone until he gives you what you want.

“Yes, baby?” he looks up at you, feline eyes drinking in the wide eyes and soft blush on your face.

you frown at him, “Shut up. Stop looking at me like that you… you poop.”

a laugh bubbles out of his chest. “poop? and here I thought I was your one and only charming boyfriend.” you roll your eyes at his words. “Boyfriend sure, charming on the other hand…”

he scoffs, “Well, what do you want from me, you brat?”

you grin, suddenly remembering what you wanted to do. “I want to do your makeup!”

he pauses, blinking slowly, before exhaling and making himself comfortable on the bed.

“Okay, but you have to do it here, I’m too tired to get up.”

you squeal, “REALLY? Okay Rinta you won’t regret it!”

you hadn’t expected him to agree so quick, but here he was allowing you to do a full glam look on him. you were also so excited to have a reason to touch his pretty face and see him up close.

you scramble around the room, grabbing your clean makeup brushes and eye shadow pallets. you moved onto eyeliner next and grabbed a soft blush to pair. with all of your items you tossed them onto the bed, startling Rintarou who’s eyes open as he glances at the makeup before settling his gaze on your excited face. he shakes his head, wondering what he got himself into.

“Okay, can you sit up?” you ask, moving all the makeup to one side of the bed so it’s easier to use. Rintarou moves from his laying position, blinking at you sleepily as he stretches his arms.

you give him a mischievous smile before plopping on his lap, legs straddling him so you’re face to face. his hands immediately find purchase on your waist, causing you to giggle. you grab his face with your hands, leaning in and drinking in the pink flush on his cheeks. you kiss his nose softly before moving back.

“Okay! Let’s begin.”

you grab your phone and set your favorite playlist on before tossing it aside. you grab your headband that you use for your own self before placing it on his head and pushing his hair back.

he blinks up at you, “What, do I look funny?” he smirks, but you find him horrifically adorable. you kiss his bare forehead, and he goes silent.

you grab your moisturizer and gently apply it on your hands before smoothing it over on his face.

“Babe, I already have moisturizer on.” Rintarou grumbles beneath your hands. you huff at him in response, “It doesn’t hurt to add more. Plus it’s my moisturizer so it’s different.”

he chuckles, “Sure, totally different.”

you grab skin primer after that, before adding a bit to his already dewy skin. “Rinta, how is your skin so smooth? You use less skincare than I do!”

he shrugs, “Genetics? I got lucky with my skin. Got lucky with you too.”

you pinch his cheek and coo, causing him to grumble, annoyed. he truly was your baby.

getting back to the makeup, you apply concealer under his eyes and on a few other points on his face, noting that he doesn’t need much. you grab your beauty blender and gently press it into his skin a few times until it has blended.

you apply a bit of contour to accentuate his already defined cheekbones and jawline, before blending it out with the same beauty blender. he opens his eyes, blinking at you so softly and prettily, you immediately tip his chin up with your finger and kiss him on the lips. you pull back too fast for him to register, causing him to chase your lips as you smile fondly. “Makeup now, kissing after.” you command, causing him to pout. you peck his lips to kiss the pout away, before huffing, “Okay stop distracting me Rinta!”

he scoffs, “Distracting you with what? My face?”

your brows furrow, “….Exactly!”

you apply primer onto his eyelids before putting more concealer on it. you blend it with a brush this time, grabbing a soft peach colour and gently applying it with the brush. you repeat the action to the other eye, before layering it with a darker nude colour. satisfied, you move onto eyeliner.

“Okay, I’m gonna do your eyeliner now so you can’t move.”

Rintarou nods, “I promise I won’t move.”

you smile. “Okay, keep your eyes open.”

you move closer, focusing on the task at hand as his gaze sweeps over you face. he notices the way your lips are pursed, and they still look glossy. he wants to taste your lip balm again. then his eyes are drawn to the cute scrunch in your nose, a habit you had when focusing really hard. his chest warms at the adorable face you are making, and he really wants to grab you and kiss you senseless. he knows you want to finish the makeup though, so he lets you.

“Okay, close your eyes now so I can finish drawing it onto your eyelids.”

he closes his eyes, you finishing rather quickly as you were used to doing your own eyeliner everyday.

“Done?” he asks softly, almost as if moving his lips will disturb you and ruin the makeup.

you nod, “yeah, I’m done. you can open your eyes now.”

“Alright, I’m almost finished with the whole look. Now is the hard part.”

he squints his eyes at you suspiciously, “What are you going to do…?”

you smile innocently, “Your eyebrows!”

“No.” he states while crossing his arms.

you whine, “Oh come on, Rinta! You said you’d let me!”

“I said I would let you do my makeup, not take away my eyebrows.”

you scoff, “I won’t take them away, just clean them up a little, please?” you give him your best sad look, and when he glances your way and his shoulders sag, you know you’ve won him over.

he sighs, “Fine, but you better not shave them off.”

you put up your pinky, “I pinky-promise I won’t fuck them up!”

without further ado, you grab your razor. you apply aloe vera on his eyebrows, causing him to frown, “Rinta stop frowning please.”

he smooths out his face, allowing you to gently glide the razor in the middle of his eyebrows before wiping it off. you clean up the rest of his brows quickly, only leaving you to tweeze a few hairs.

“Okay, I need to use the tweezer now, this might hurt.” you warn, causing Rintarou to look up at the ceiling as he questions his entire life.

“I can handle it, I’m strong.” he bluffs as you snort.

you gently grab the the tweezer and get a grip on a particularly long piece of hair before pulling it out. Rintarou immediately jerks back, “Babe what the fuck was that?” he asks in astonishment. you press your lips together to stop yourself from laughing.

“Just let me finish, there’s only a few left.” you encourage as little giggles escape your lips.

he looks at you as though you have lost your mind, “Is it going to be like that every time?”

you nod silently, “I do this all the time, how come you can’t handle it?”

“You’re just a beast that’s why.” he snarks, causing you to laugh as you cover your mouth with your hand.

you try again, but each time you pull out a hair he flinches like you’ve stung him. you try to hold in your giggles the whole time.

by the time you are done, Rintarou’s forehead is red, and his frown is the complete opposite to your face filled with glee. you gently apply a light layer of aloe vera to his forehead to soothe the sting, before grabbing the last piece of his look.

“Okay, Rinta. Just lip tint and you’re done!”

he sighs, “Thank fuck.” and you giggle once more while looking through your lip products.

you find the perfect cherry shade to match his pretty lips. “Okay, look at me?”

he looks up at you as you apply the tint and spread it on his lips. you use your finger to blend the outline as you instruct him to press his lips together.

by the time he is done, he looks beautiful. he was always beautiful to you, but with the sparkly makeup he looked especially angelic. “Alright, take your headband off and look.”

he rips the headband off and throws it aside before running a hand through his hair. he grabs the mirror in your hand and the first thing he does is look at his eyebrows.

You squawk, “Rinta! I didn’t do anything bad to your eyebrows, can’t you just appreciate the rest of my artwork?”

he places the mirror down, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “It looks good. But baby, that shit was painful.”

you smile sweetly, “Beauty is pain, my love.”

he rolls his eyes as he glances at the mirror again, tilting his face to the side and observing your work.

he looks back to you, “It looks nice. I like the eyeliner so let’s skip the rest next time.”

you jump onto his lap, elated.

“Next time?!”

a/n: 🕺Suna fic again whoops

[rollingsins]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p4

p1 | p2 | p3 | p4

summary: Tara puts her plan into action. YN loses a bet. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 2.9k

a/n: ass agenda rise.

Tara’s plan comes to fruition over cups of black coffee, your scrambled eggs and a half-eaten set of Mickey Mouse waffles. 

Mindy’s brow is pinched as she drafts up the first message. 

You’re a little restless, Tara’s hand on your back doing nothing to soothe you. 

“There,” Says Mindy, after a moment, “How’s that?” 

Tara takes back her phone. 

“Hey,” She reads out, “What u up 2?” 

Tara blinks. 

“This is what took you five minutes to draft?” She asks, voice scathing. 

Mindy huffs. 

“No,” She says, “That’s just a primer. You can’t go in all guns blazing, Tara, she’ll get suspicious.” 

Tara rolls her eyes.

“Been thinking about u lately,” Tara continues, “Feels weird how we left things.” 

You clench your jaw. 

Tara rubs your back, absent-mindedly. 

“How r u doing? Sorry when my gf gets crazy like that there’s nothing I can do.” 

You scowl. 

Mindy ducks behind her coffee cup. 

“Mindy, I don’t type like this,” Says Tara, hotly, “Where’s the grammar? This sounds like it was written by a fourteen year old boy.” 

“Fourteen year old boy is Mindy’s spirit animal,” Says Chad with a grin, throwing a blueberry between his lips. 

“Shut up, Chad,” Groans Mindy, “Tara, fine, you can change the grammar. But the rest of it? Does it work?” 

Tara purses her lips. 

“I suppose it’s not terrible.” She offers. 

Mindy smiles. 

“Skip a bit,” She suggests, “Get to the good stuff.” 

Tara scrolls, and reads out the rest of Mindy’s text. 

“I always thought u were sexy,” Tara reads, “You know Ginger Spice was always my favorite spice girl.” 

Tara raises an eyebrow. 

You snort. 

“This is the good stuff?” Chad asks, “Mindy, you could have a billionaire dollars and you still wouldn’t be able to talk a thirty dollar hooker into bed with you. No wonder you can’t get a girlfriend.” 

Tara sniggers. 

Mindy shoots a glare his way. 

“I can too get a girlfriend,” Says Mindy, voice hot, “I just don’t want one right now. Girls are high maintenance, I don’t have time for that.” 

“Amen.” Mumbles Tara. 

You nudge an elbow into her side.

“Ow.” 

“You can not have a girlfriend too, if I’m too high maintenance.” You say, and Tara shakes her head. 

“You’re worth the maintenance baby,” Says Tara, as you dodge her kiss, “You’re like a really nice lawn. No house is complete without it.”

“Romantic.” You deadpan, “How come you’re a house and I’m just a lawn?” 

“You’re a mansion, baby,” Tara assures, “A ten million dollar mansion with an infinity pool.”

Mindy huffs. 

“Can we get back to the mission?” She asks, sounding annoyed, “If you don’t like my pickup lines, you’re welcome to try out your own, Casanova.” 

“I don’t need pickup lines,” Assures Tara, “Isn’t that right, baby? One look and you were smitten.” 

“And one sentence and I have the ick.” You say, crinkling your nose. 

Tara’s smile drops. 

“Babe.” She whines as Mindy snorts. 

“Give it to me,” Chad says, with a sigh, “Apparently I’m the only one around here who can talk to a girl.” 

“‘Wanna come watch me lift weights?’ is not the pick up line you think it is, Chad,” Says Mindy, voice wry, “Besides, it won’t work coming from Tara.” 

“I lift weights,” Tara says, with a frown, “I’m getting super strong, see?” 

She flexes her bicep. 

You roll your eyes. 

Mindy raises an eyebrow.

“You’re like 4’11, Tara,” She says, “I could snap you in half without flinching.” 

“I’m 5’1 and I’ll snap you in half if you don’t stop talking.” Growls Tara. 

“Guys,” Says Liv, flailing her hands, “Stop. Chad’s got it. Show them, babe.” 

Tara takes back her phone, still scowling.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” She reads, “Should have kissed you. Sorry I didn’t.” 

Mindy tilts her head.

“It works,” She admits. 

“And if she just shows Sam the message?” You ask, “Then what?” 

“She won’t, babe,” Says Tara, squeezing your arm, “Do you even remember how hard she worked for me?” 

You do remember. 

You wish you didn’t. 

Tara presses a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“And besides, if she shows Sam the messages, Sam will know how serious I am about this.” She kisses you, “It’s going to work, babe, I know it.” 

“When are you going to send them?” Asks Liv. 

Tara thinks. 

“When she’s away from Sam,” Says Tara, “Maybe tonight. We’ll rope her into a movie night, right babe? That way we’ll know Quinn’s nowhere near Sam.”

You sigh. 

“Come on,” You say, voice a little glum, “We better head back. With any luck, they’ll be done and she’ll be gone.” 

-

“What’s your favorite breakfast food?” Asks Quinn, head pressed against Sam’s pillow. 

“Eggs,” She answers, “With Arugula, preferably. Maybe a little balsamic vinegar. 

Quinn wrinkles her nose. 

“Most people say pancakes,” She teases, lightly, “Or bacon.” 

Sam frowns. 

“I believe you should only put good things into your body.” She says. 

Quinn smirks.

“Nice to know I’m a good thing, then.” Smiles Quinn. 

Sam’s cheeks turn red. 

“You know what I meant.” She says. 

Quinn leans over and kisses her. 

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Asks Quinn. 

Sam shrugs. 

“It’s Sunday,” She says, “I was just going to relax.” 

Quinn bites her lip. 

“How about we go and get some Eggs with arugula? My treat.” 

Sam bites her lip. The thought of spending more time with Quinn is surprisingly, not that unpleasant. 

“Alright,” She says, with a smile. Butterflies flutter in her belly, “If it’s your treat.” 

-

“Sam?” Tara calls, as she cracks open the door, as if she’s scared of what’s behind it. 

You press against her back, impatient. 

“Baby, hold up,” She says, gently, “I don’t want you seeing something.” 

“They’re not going to be fucking on the dining table, babe.” You say with a roll of her eyes as you push past her. 

“Someone should.” Says Tara, voice pointed. 

You look around. 

The apartment is quiet. 

Not a peep from Sam’s room. The door is open, the bed messy and unmade. But it's empty. 

Tara drops her bag over the counter. 

She picks up a small, handwritten note. 

“Out for the day, back later.” She reads. 

“With Quinn?” You dare ask. 

But Tara only smiles back at you. 

“Not for much longer,” She says, sounding pleased with herself, “As soon as Sam’s back and out of Quinn’s clutches, I’ll send the texts.” 

She moves forward and loops an arm around your waist. Presses a hot kiss to your next. 

“Now, about that thing you wanted to do this morning,” She says, voice low. 

You cock an eyebrow. 

“I think it’s safe to say the moment has passed.” You say. 

You squeeze her hips.

“But, babe-“ Tara says, with a whine, “You said-“ 

“Another time,” You promise, “Besides, don’t you have a test to study for?”

Tara sighs. 

“I’m majoring in film, babe, I don’t need to study.” 

She looks up, bottom lip in a pout. 

“Why don’t I quiz you?” You suggest, “It’ll be fun.” 

Tara thinks.

“And if I get all the answers right then I get to rail your ass?” 

It earns her a smack. 

“You’re not going anywhere near my ass if that’s what your intention is.” You tell her. 

“I’ll go slow, babe, I promise,” Tara assures, taking your earlobe between her teeth, “I’ll go so slowly you’ll be begging for it by the time I’m done with you.” 

Your stomach flutters.  

“Maybe later tonight,” You think after a moment, “If you nail it.” 

Tara brightens. 

“Not the only thing I’ll be nailing tonight.” She grins. 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You warn. 

-

Sam comes back mid-quiz. 

Tara hasn’t gotten a single question wrong, and you’re starting to sweat. There’s a hungry look in her eyes, as if she’s hunting down her prey. 

You welcome the distraction. 

“Hi girls,” Sam says, as if nothing in the past twenty-four hours has changed, “Do you want lunch?” 

“We just ate Sam, thanks,” You say, and she hums. 

You catch Tara’s eye. 

“Sounds like you had a good night.” Says Tara, a little snarky. 

Sam sighs. 

“Don’t start, Tara.” She warns. 

Tara folds her arms. 

“Just don’t come crying to us when she breaks your heart.” She says, a little pointed. 

“Tara-” You say, but Sam just rolls her eyes. 

“Noted. What do you want for dinner tonight? Cauliflower tacos or lentil spaghetti?”

Tara wrinkles her nose. 

“Why don’t we make dinner for you, Sam?” You interject, hurriedly, before Tara can speak, “It’s the least we can do. You cook for us every night.” 

Sam blinks, a little surprised. 

And then she smiles. 

“Alright,” She says, sounding happy, “That sounds nice.”

Sam disappears into her room. 

Tara pulls out her phone, giving you a pointed look. 

She taps a few buttons and then smiles, pleased with herself. 

“Operation you-know-who-must-die is in action,” She mumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, “Now finish the quiz. I’m ready to take my prize.” 

-

Tara aces the quiz.

Not a single question wrong. 

In truth, there’s a part of you who had hoped she’d fail. But there’s another part of you positively gleeful she hadn’t. 

Tara kisses you with a victorious grin, and then smacks your ass with her hand. 

“Go get ready for me,” She says, voice low, “I’m all ready for you, baby.” 

“It’s 4PM,” You say, biting you lip, “Maybe we should wait until tonight-” 

Tara groans. 

Your skin feels sensitive, tingly. The anticipation over the last few questions has you in a hot flush. 

It feels exciting. New.

The fact that your girlfriend is preening only adds to the excitement. 

“You promised,” She whines, “Stop moving the goalposts. You want me to beg? I’ll beg. Please, baby, let me fuck your ass-”

“Tara.” Sam groans as she emerges from her room, gym bag in hand, “Boundaries, we talked about this-”

Your face flushes red. 

You’d die on the spot, if the option were possible. But Tara doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I don’t think you can lecture me on boundaries considering the noises that were coming from your room this morning.” Tara says, curling an arm around your waist. 

Sam huffs. 

“I’m going to the gym,” She mumbles, “YN - something healthy for dinner tonight? Please?”

“You got it, Sam,” You mumble, face bright red. 

But Sam is unperturbed. Nothing phases her, at this point. She leaves the apartment with a click of the front door. 

“All alone,” Tara murmurs, looping her arms around your waist and squeezing your ass, hard, “So you can be as loud as you want, baby.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Let me get ready,” You mumble, “Meet you in the bedroom in a bit.” 

-

When you’re showered and ready, you make your way into the bedroom. 

Tara’s already laid out her arsenal. 

Her strap-on, a bottle of lube longer than your forearm and a grin that tells you this almost certainly won’t be the first time she takes you like this. 

You drop your towel. 

And watch Tara’s gaze sink down. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Tara murmurs, as she reaches you out to take her in your arms, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” 

She pulls you down for a searing kiss. 

You’re nervous, but she always finds a way to soothe you. Firm hands on your hips, her mouth working wonders against your lips. 

She pulls you on top of her, and then pulls back, nudging her nose against yours. 

“We can stop anytime you want,” She promises, “If it’s too much, just say.” 

She brushes a strand of rogue hair out of your eyes, “I love you, baby,” She whispers against your lips, “I want you like this, but if it hurts too much, just tell me. I won’t be annoyed. Promise.” 

She seals her promise with a kiss. 

You don’t doubt her for a second. 

You capture her lips once more, arousal pooling in your stomach as you feel her against you. 

You’ve denied her before, like this. 

You wanted her to work for this. 

 But in the process, you’ve been denying yourself your own desires. 

You slip your tongue into her mouth, grind down against her, ready to give her everything. 

And then the front door slams open.  

“Tara!” Sam calls, sounding anything but mellowed after her gym session, “Get your ass out here, now.” 

The mood shatters. You pull away from Tara, head turning. 

Sam sounds pissed. 

Tara groans.

“Fuck off, Sam, I’m busy,” She says. She flips you onto your back, nudges herself between your legs.

Sam bangs on the door. 

You almost jump out of your skin. 

“Quinn told me everything,” She says, voice dangerous, “Get out here now or I’m coming in.” 

Tara freezes. 

Your heart jumps. 

Hastily, Tara slides off you. 

She fumbles around for a spare t-shirt and tosses it your way, running a hand through her hair. As if her worst nightmare has just come to realization. 

“Tara!” Sam bangs once more. 

“I’m coming, Jesus, Sam.” Tara says. 

You pull the shirt over your head, fumble around for a pair of sleep shorts. 

By the time Tara opens the door, Sam is standing behind it, red-faced, fury in her eyes. 

She holds up her phone.

Although you’re squinting, you can still make out Tara’s text messages to Quinn. 

“This is next level pathetic, Tara,” Sam says, voice hot, “Even for you.” 

“Sam, I can explain-“ Says Tara. . 

“You don’t need to explain,” Says Sam, “I know exactly what this is. You trying to prove Quinn is using me. But it didn’t work. She showed me the texts. So now what, Tara?” 

“I was just trying to help,” Tara says, voice even. 

Sam scoffs. 

“You were trying to help?” Sam asks, “You can help me by minding your own business and staying out of it.” 

“She’s using you, Sam,” Tara explodes, “It’s obvious to everyone except you. Why can’t you see it?” 

“I don’t care if Quinn’s using me,” Says Sam, “I’m using her too, in my own way. That’s what we all do as people, isn’t it? Use each other? For love, for comfort, for sex? Why do you care so much that it’s her?” 

“Why does it have to be her?” Growls Tara, “We hate her, Sam. We kicked her out of our apartment, for crying out loud. She tried to ruin our relationship-”

“But she didn’t,” Says Sam, eyes wild, “I have nothing, Tara, don’t you understand? Why couldn’t you let me have this?” 

Tara blinks. 

You swing your legs over the bed, move to Tara’s side. 

“We were just trying to protect you, Sam-” You say, voice a little shaky. 

Sam looks over at you. 

“You don’t need to protect me,” She says, “Quinn’s fun. Quinn’s easy. I need a little bit of that in my life.” 

“She’s certainly easy,” Says Tara, folding her arms. 

Sam’s face flashes.

For a moment, you think she might actually hit Tara. 

But then she clenches her jaw, and her shoulders draw. 

“I’m going away for a while,” Says Sam, after a long moment, “I’m going to stay with Quinn. I can’t even - look at you right now, Tara.” 

Tara blinks. 

“I was trying to save you.” Says Tara, “You’re going to punish me for that?” 

“It’s hardly a punishment,” Retorts Sam, “You don’t want me here anyway, you’ve made that much clear. Now you can do whatever you want.” 

“And what about rent?” Asks Tara, voice hot. 

Hurt flashes through Sam’s features. Your breath catches in your throat knowing Tara’s said the wrong thing. Again. 

“Rent?” Sam asks, voice incredulous. 

She scoffs. 

And then turns. 

You and Tara follow her out, a little hasty. Sam returns to her room and pries her suitcase from under her bedframe.

She starts tossing items in as Tara scrambles. 

“No, wait, Sam- that isn’t what I meant,” Says Tara as Sam throws her suitcase onto her bed, “That’s not the most important part of this. YN and I want you to stay. Not just because of rent.” 

Sam offers her a weak smile. 

“You don’t need your big sister cramping your style,” She says, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I should have just got a second job in California and venmoed you the rent.” 

“We’re glad you came, Sam,” You say, a little urgent, “We like living with you. It’s a small apartment, of course we all annoy each other. Tara annoys me everyday. And I annoy her too. That’s just how it is.” 

Sam sighs. 

“That isn’t how it should be,” She says, “I shouldn't be here, God. I shouldn’t be in your space. I should have left you both alone.” 

Tara has a weird look on her face. 

“Sam, don’t leave,” She asks, sounding crestfallen, “Please.” 

“It’s for the best, Tara.” Answers Sam. 

She zips her suitcase closed. 

“If you leave me again, I can’t promise I’ll let you back in.” Tara says. Her eyes are hard, but her voice shakes. 

Sam sighs.

She touches Tara’s shoulders, and then pulls her in for a long hug. 

“I’ll be gone a week or two,” She says, “I’m not abandoning you, Tara. We just need some space from each other right now.” 

“If you leave,” Tara repeats, “You’re not coming back.” 

Sam smiles, a little sad. 

“I won’t be gone long.” She says, “God, Tara, I'm just so mad."

She pauses, a moment.

"But I love you. Always."

Tara's face hardens.

And she doesn’t say it back. 

Sam leaves. 

And you deal with the fallout.