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liuhsng · 4 days ago

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─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ in lilac and gold ( lhs ! )

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — heeseung x fem!reader ⤷ word count — 21.2k ⤷ based on this request by @heesbbygurl ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — i had so much fun writing this—truly. this honestly might be one of my favorite pieces yet. also, please don’t mind the enhypen masterlist, it’s still under editing and a little messy 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), reincarnation au, royal au, prince!heeseung, princess!reader, modern!heeseung, modern!reader, past lives, heavy emotional themes, mentions of childbirth, faint references to past death, soulmate trope, red string trope, fluff, angst, destiny/universe themes, mentions of pain (labor), crying, protective!heeseung, foul language, mentions of historical war/politics, romantic tension, fate-written love, farmer george reference, happy ending, breeding kink, marking, biting, light possessiveness, overstimulation, praise kink, slight size kink

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — as the crown prince of a powerful kingdom, lee heeseung was raised to rule—with sharp instincts, a loyal heart, and a crown that never sat too heavily on his head. he was born for diplomacy, bred for war, and destined for a throne. but the only thing he truly lived for was you. his wife, his queen, the only soul who could quiet the chaos inside him. you loved each other until your final breath. and somehow, even after that. or, where two strangers meet under the eyes of their past selves, and something the universe once forgot finally begins again.

The sun poured golden ribbons over the stone path, warm and gentle as it kissed the castle grounds. Somewhere beyond the hedges, the faint splash of the courtyard fountain echoed—a lullaby of water meeting water, rhythmic and calming.

You sat nestled within the pale embrace of a gazebo, its wooden frame delicately laced with ivy and blooming wisteria, soft petals swaying with every tender breeze.

The book in your hands was worn in the corners but loved—its parchment pages aged, the ink slightly faded yet still carrying the weight of every word.

A sigh left your lips, soft and drawn out.

“'And in silence, he longed for what he dared not touch,'” you read aloud, your voice barely rising above the wind. “What a tragic sort of devotion…”

Your fingers tightened around the spine.

The garden stretched out before you, a sea of color—roses, tulips, peonies, and little blue forget-me-nots nestled near the base of every trimmed bush. Everything was alive, and yet it all stood still, like the entire world paused to listen.

Footsteps padded softly across the gravel behind you.

“Milady,” came the quiet voice of one of the castle maids, her head bowed low as she placed a fresh tray of refreshments upon the small table beside you. Crystal glasses caught the light, and the silver tray gleamed beneath the sun.

You offered a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

She returned it, modest and fleeting, before stepping back. “Shall I leave the strawberries as well?”

“Yes, please,” you replied, adjusting the folds of your gown with one hand.

The silk skirt pooled around you in waves, layered with pale pastels, laced edges, and gold-stitched bows that shimmered every time you moved. A corset hugged your waist, cinched just enough to be proper, but not unbearable—a compromise between elegance and comfort.

She bowed again. “Call if you need anything, my lady.”

“I always do,” you murmured, your gaze falling back to the book.

You turned the page delicately, brushing your fingertips against the words as though they were fragile glass.

And then, quietly to yourself, “How strange it must be, to long for someone in secret… and be loved loudly by someone else entirely.”

You were just about to turn the page—fingertip sliding gently under the parchment—when you heard it.

Footsteps.

Your gaze lifted from the book and drifted to the right, toward one of the many winding paths that led into the garden. Sunlight spilled across the white cobblestone in slanted rays, dancing between the petals and ivy.

Prince Heeseung.

Your breath caught for only a second—but your smile came instantly, unbidden, as if your heart had recognized him long before your eyes did.

He looked like he belonged in the very pages of your book—dressed in a tailored white coat lined with gold filigree that caught the sun at every turn.

The fabric shimmered faintly with each step he took, the polished black boots beneath his dark trousers clicking softly against the stones. His hands were careful, cradling a fresh bouquet of lilacs—your favorite, which he never once forgot.

The lilacs were nearly the same shade as the ribbon in your hair.

His dark hair was brushed back in soft waves, a few strands falling loosely near his brow. And those eyes—those warm, honey-brown eyes—found yours with ease, with something gentle tucked inside their gaze.

“Princess,” he greeted with a smile that turned your knees to air. His voice, low and warm, always had a way of curling around your name like a promise.

You sat up straighter, your hands folding over your lap as you tilted your head at him, playful. “You walk like a man with secrets.”

“I walk like a man bringing flowers to the only one who makes the garden look dull,” he said, grinning as he reached the steps of the gazebo.

“Oh, how terribly dramatic of you.”

Heeseung chuckled, holding out the bouquet. “And yet it made you smile.”

You accepted the lilacs carefully, the scent washing over you like a memory. “You know, the florists will start suspecting you’re courting someone.”

“I am courting someone,” he replied easily, eyes never leaving yours.

Your cheeks warmed under the weight of his gaze.

“Lucky her,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over one of the petals.

Heeseung stepped closer, just enough to lower himself onto the bench beside you—his posture relaxed, his shoulder brushing yours faintly. His arm rested casually behind you on the seat, not quite touching, but close enough to feel.

“Lucky me,” he corrected, leaning in the slightest bit as his voice dipped lower. “For having a princess who reads poetry and meets me in gardens.”

You laughed under your breath, looking down at the bouquet once more. “You always say the right things.”

Heeseung tilted his head, expression soft. “Only when I’m around you.”

You gave him another smile, one that crinkled your eyes and pulled at the corners of your lips. Then, with a careful hand, you set the bouquet beside the refreshments—delicate lilacs now resting in the sun’s golden glow, nestled beside chilled lemonade and a dish of strawberries.

“Come closer,” you said gently, patting the spot beside you with a slight tilt of your head.

And he did.

Heeseung obeyed with that boyish grin tugging at his lips, sinking into the bench with ease until his shoulder brushed yours—warm, familiar. The closeness was effortless, the kind that came with hours and weeks and years of knowing. Of loving.

He turned slightly, eyes gleaming as if simply sitting beside you made the world right again.

“How was practice?” you asked, reaching instinctively for his hand, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

He let out a dramatic sigh, one that rattled from the very depths of his chest before he leaned in further—head finding its way to the crook of your neck, nose brushing the soft skin there as he inhaled.

“Exhausting,” he murmured, voice muffled by your skin. “Sunghoon almost ripped my sleeve off.”

Your brows raised, amused. “Did he now?”

“All because I told him he ought to start thinking about finding a lady of his own. He’s only two years younger than me, but you'd think I told him to marry a goat the way he reacted.”

You stifled a laugh.

“And Jongseong?” you asked, already guessing.

“Backed me up, of course,” Heeseung grinned into your neck. “He even dragged Jungwon into it—said the two of them were becoming old maids with swords.”

You gasped playfully. “Cruel!”

Heeseung laughed, his breath tickling your skin. “Cruel but not wrong. So naturally, the younger ones decided the only reasonable response was chasing us through the courtyard with their blades drawn like little terrors.”

You blinked. “With actual swords?”

“Oh yes,” he said, sounding far too amused. “They meant business. The knights on patrol just stood there, watching. I think one of them placed a bet.”

You giggled, running a hand through his soft hair as he leaned further into you, completely unbothered by decorum or the passing time. Your fingers threaded through the dark locks gently, combing through with care as if he were the most precious thing in the garden—and he was.

Heeseung hummed under your touch, arms moving around your waist as he drew you closer until there was no space left between you.

“You spoil me,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“And you let me,” you replied with a teasing smile, brushing your fingers along his temple.

“That’s because I’d gladly die in your hands,” he muttered sleepily. “Even if your hands are… very soft. And smell like roses.”

You laughed again, delighted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours,” he corrected, holding you tighter.

And then—without warning—he leaned in and began pressing warm, slow kisses against the slope of your neck. One. Then another. His lips trailing softly just below your jaw, then lower, brushing against the skin just above your collarbone—barely hidden by the delicate neckline of your gown.

“Your dress is unfair,” he whispered between kisses, voice low and teasing. “Makes it impossible to behave.”

You let out a breathy giggle, hand curling into the fabric of his sleeve. “You’re impossible, Heeseung.”

“Mm, say it again.”

“You’re impossible?”

“No. My name. I like it when you say it like that.”

You cooed gently, tilting your head as he angled for your lips. His gaze dipped to your mouth, and his hand moved up the side of your back, eyes half-lidded and completely enamored.

And just as your lips were about to meet—

“Heeseung hyung!”

The prince froze mid-movement, groaning against your skin like a man personally betrayed by the gods.

Another voice followed, louder and more frantic.

“Hyung? We’ve been looking for you for ages!”

From beyond the tall rose bushes near the edge of the gazebo, two familiar figures stumbled into view—Sunoo and Riki, each looking like scolded puppies who’d wandered too far from their leash.

“Unbelievable,” Heeseung muttered under his breath, finally lifting his head with the most exasperated expression. “What could possibly be so urgent?”

Sunoo offered you a sheepish smile as he waved. “Good afternoon, Princess. Sorry to interrupt.”

Riki, meanwhile, had already sauntered over and shamelessly plucked a macaron off the silver tray in front of you, examining it like he’d just discovered a new species. “Pink. My favorite.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes. “Riki.”

“I figured if I’m going to interrupt, I may as well get a snack.”

Sunoo sighed and folded his arms. “Hyung, the head of the knight guard—Hwan—has been looking for you. Something about finalizing next week’s banquet security plans?”

At that, Heeseung visibly deflated, letting out a second, louder groan before dramatically resting his chin on top of your head like a sulking child. “I’m not going.”

You stifled a laugh, reaching up to play with the ends of his hair. “You do know you’re the crown prince, yes?”

“I do,” he mumbled. “And yet I feel incredibly underappreciated.”

Riki snorted as he took another bite of the macaron, his voice muffled by sugar. “Relax, brother. Princess (Y/N)’s not going anywhere.”

Heeseung gave a noise of agreement and nuzzled further into your hair, arms still locked firmly around your waist. “Exactly. This is clearly a case of poor timing and disrespect toward royal romantic affairs.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You say that as if your ‘romantic affair’ isn’t sprawled across a public gazebo.”

“Then they should build us a private one.”

You laughed again, threading your fingers through his hair as he melted into you like a spoiled cat. Riki and Sunoo exchanged one last glance before Riki shrugged and grabbed a second dessert.

“We’ll tell Hwan you’re ‘in conference.’”

“And tell him to come back never,” Heeseung added, voice muffled into your hair.

You sighed through a soft laugh, tapping his arms gently where they were stubbornly wrapped around your waist. “My Prince,” you said with mock sternness. “If you don’t get going, Hwan will double your training hours. Maybe even triple.”

He let out a groan—not very prince-like—as he nuzzled into you one last time. “Cruel. You wound me, my love.”

“You’ll survive,” you hummed, gently nudging him away. He reluctantly loosened his grip, though he still hadn’t made any effort to actually stand.

You smiled fondly. “Come on. The earlier you finish your duties, the earlier you can be with me again.”

That made him perk up, his eyes suddenly lighting like sun-touched gold. “Now that is motivation.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek—warm, lingering, a promise tucked into it.

“Ugh,” Sunoo groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Do you have to kiss every five seconds?”

“Some of us are still single,” Riki added, arms crossed with an exaggerated pout.

You grinned. “Well, maybe if you two stopped terrorizing every debutante at every ball…”

Heeseung snorted, standing at last with a stretch before he placed one last, feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Ignore them, princess. They’re simply jealous.”

You brushed your hands gently along the front of your gown, preparing to stand as well. “I must get going back inside,” you murmured, glancing toward the palace doors. “The sun is starting to turn hotter, and I might melt before you return.”

Heeseung stepped beside you immediately, his hand finding the small of your back with natural ease. “Then I’ll escort you,” he said. “It’s on the way to the courtyard anyway.”

He looked to Sunoo expectantly. “That alright?”

Sunoo gave a small, understanding nod. “Of course. We’ll catch up with the captain while you two take your sweet time.”

As you moved forward, the heavy layers of your gown shifted around your legs, the delicate fabric and gold embroidery trailing slightly behind you. You let out a tiny sigh, brushing your skirt to the side.

“These gowns were not made for walking,” you muttered.

“They were made for floating, though,” Heeseung teased, offering his arm with a grin. “And I’m honored to be walking beside the most beautiful one to ever wear them.”

You flushed as you took his arm, allowing him to guide you gently toward the entrance of the palace. Behind you, Riki mock-gagged and grabbed another macaron while Sunoo simply shook his head, already anticipating a very dramatic retelling of this moment at dinner.

“I’m serious,” you added playfully over your shoulder, glancing at Heeseung. “Hwan is already so tired of your antics. Please, spare the poor man.”

That made the prince laugh—a sound so full and bright that it echoed against the walls of the palace garden like music. “Alright, alright,” he said, pulling you just a little closer. “For your sake, I’ll behave. But only slightly.”

The afternoon breeze was kind to your skin—neither too warm nor biting. It danced through the open corridor, carrying the scent of roses and distant sunlight as you strolled leisurely, your gown trailing behind like golden water. The lace fluttered slightly with each step, your slippers tapping gently against the polished stone floor.

Your two handmaidens flanked you, both young, bright-eyed, and as full of energy as always. The three of you had long abandoned any sense of formality as laughter echoed softly down the hall.

“White and gold,” you said confidently, letting your fingers trace the embroidered detailing of your sleeve. “No combination has ever looked better.”

They both gasped as if you had uttered gospel.

“I told her the same thing!” one of them chirped. “Gold goes with everything. It brings out the elegance in the plainest of things.”

“And it’s so regal,” the other sighed dreamily. “Like something only worn by goddesses and queens.”

You laughed, soft and genuine, as you reached the spiral stairs that led to the tower balcony. The stone was cool beneath your fingertips as you climbed, sunlight spilling in through narrow windows that cast slanted beams along the walls.

Stepping out onto the balcony, the three of you were greeted by the view of the castle’s courtyard below—alive with the clang of swords, thuds of boots, and echoes of distant chatter.

“There they go again,” your handmaiden giggled, pointing toward the princes at the far end of the yard.

You followed her gaze and stifled a laugh of your own as you caught sight of Jungwon’s sword accidentally hitting Riki with the hilt—straight to the side.

Riki let out a loud yelp, and without missing a beat, launched himself at the cat-like prince, chasing him in furious circles around the yard as their sparring partners stood stunned.

“They’re going to fall face-first into the fountain one of these days,” you muttered, watching as the younger princes dashed around wildly.

Your eyes scanned across the yard—rows of knights moving in formation, sparring amongst themselves, or preparing equipment—until they landed on a more composed sight. Prince Heeseung.

He stood slightly away from the others, deep in conversation with the ever-serious Captain Hwan. Between them lay a large scroll, its corners pinned with small weights, possibly a map of the castle grounds.

You could just barely make out their gestures—Heeseung pointing toward a marked area while Hwan nodded sharply. Likely preparations for next week’s banquet, you thought.

“The crown prince looks far too serious today,” one of the girls murmured, following your gaze.

“He always does when Hwan’s involved,” the other added, then nudged your arm with a sly smile. “Now those knights over there, though…”

You turned your head just as she gestured to the opposite end of the courtyard, where Prince Jaeyun and Prince Jongseong—both shirt-sleeved and flushed from training—were surrounded by a group of younger knights. Their laughter echoed faintly, the two clearly in the middle of friendly teasing.

“They’re the heart-stoppers of the guard,” she sighed dramatically. “Imagine catching one of those eyes from below the helmet.”

You chuckled, resting your arms on the balcony railing. “They’re charming,” you admitted. “But Prince Heeseung has my heart.”

Both girls turned to you with the same dreamy expression.

“As he should,” one said, smiling. “You’re both lucky.”

“Betrothed and still looking at you like he’s thirteen again, sneaking out of language lessons to see you in the garden,” the other added with a fond laugh.

You let out a soft breath of laughter, the memory settling sweetly in your chest. “He still acts like it,” you mused. “He gifted me lilacs this morning and almost forgot he had training until Sunoo dragged him out.”

They both laughed at that, clearly endeared.

“And every time he kisses you in public, Prince Riki looks like he’s about to hurl,” your handmaiden added through a grin.

You covered your mouth to stifle the sudden laughter, nodding in agreement.

“Honestly,” you sighed, “I should start rewarding the poor prince for tolerating all our affections.”

“You already do, Your Highness,” one handmaiden said with a wink, leaning her elbows on the stone railing.

The other smiled softly, her voice quieter now, a sincerity woven into her words. “You were the sister figure they always needed, you know.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone.

“They’re adored by everyone,” she continued, eyes trailing down to the chaos of the courtyard. “The Queen loves her sons dearly—but with the business of the court, the councils, the expectations—well… they needed someone to be there. And you were.”

“She’s right,” the first agreed. “From the moment you met them… they looked up to you. Just as much as they look up to Prince Heeseung.”

The wind blew gently again, carrying with it the laughter of the younger princes and the faint scent of lavender from the courtyard gardens.

Your gaze softened as it drifted across the yard—Riki now wrestling Jungwon to the ground playfully while Jaeyun scolded them half-heartedly in between sword swings.

They had always looked at you that way, hadn’t they? As if your presence gave them peace in ways no royal decree or bloodline ever could. They weren’t just princes to you. They were yours. In some small, cherished way—they had become the brothers you never had.

You sighed through a smile, delicately pushing your hair back over your shoulder, careful not to disturb the lilac bow resting perfectly near your crown.

“Enough with this sentimental talk,” you murmured, though your voice was thick with affection. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Both handmaidens giggled, nudging each other playfully.

“I’d offer my handkerchief, but it’s silk and I don’t want to ruin it,” one teased.

“Such loyalty,” you quipped, laughing along, your heart lighter now.

Your gaze floated back to the courtyard, naturally—always—seeking him.

Heeseung was still beside Hwan, nodding along to something the knight was pointing to on the map. His arms were folded behind his back, posture noble and every bit the Crown Prince. But then—almost as if the gods whispered your name into his ear—he looked up.

Right at you.

The seriousness faded instantly. His brows softened. His lips curved into a grin brighter than any sunbeam could ever hope to rival.

You giggled quietly, your hand raising in a gentle wave toward him. Heeseung returned the gesture with no hesitation, his smile only growing wider as he waved back, completely unbothered by Hwan’s sharp sigh beside him.

Below, the courtyard erupted.

“OI—LOOK AT THAT! THE PRINCE IS SMILING!”

“You sure that’s our Crown Prince?!”

More teasing hollers rang out as knights and princes alike noticed the sudden softness in their usually stoic eldest. And then—

“Noona! Hi!” Jungwon shouted from where he was pinned by Riki, waving his arm wildly while the younger prince sat on his back like a triumphant puppy.

You covered your mouth, trying—and failing—to hold in the laughter that spilled from your chest.

Then Jongseong’s voice echoed from below, loud and teasing. “Come down here! It’s hot up there, you know!”

He wasn’t wrong. In the few minutes you'd lingered at the stone balcony, the once-soft breeze had given way to a harsher warmth. The sun bore down with more intent now, and you found yourself squinting slightly under its golden glare.

You nodded in agreement and stepped away from the railing, your handmaidens trailing just behind, still giggling about the interaction like it had been the most charming thing they’d seen all day. You couldn’t blame them—it really was.

As you descended the winding steps and approached the edge of the courtyard, the sight that greeted you was one of casual chaos—Jungwon brushing dust from his tunic.

Riki now tugging at Sunghoon’s sleeve as the elder prince tried to ignore him with utmost patience while seated on one of the carved stone benches. Knights moved in rhythm nearby, sparring or catching their breath, the clang of steel and soft thuds of boots filling the air.

Your handmaidens, ever the schemers, gave you one last nudge forward.

“Go on,” one whispered with a grin.

“Oh, don’t give us that look, Your Highness,” the other added when you turned to glare, all faux-offended elegance. “You’re the one engaged to him.”

Before you could retort, they laughed and slipped away—heading straight toward a few young knights polishing their swords under a shaded tree, whispering and giggling like it was a market square and not royal training grounds.

You sighed with fond exasperation, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

But your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a familiar warmth at your back.

A hand gently found your lower spine, fingers curling just slightly—a touch meant only for you. You looked up to see Heeseung already beside you, as if drawn by instinct.

“Princess,” he murmured softly, before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. His voice was low, threaded with affection and familiarity.

You smiled at him, heart fluttering despite how often he did that—how natural it had become. “Your brothers are creating chaos.”

Heeseung chuckled, eyes lifting briefly toward the mess of limbs and swords still clashing nearby. “If they come back with their tunics torn again, I’m blaming Jongseong.”

“I heard that!” Jongseong called from somewhere near the fencing rack, earning another soft laugh from you.

The two of you began walking toward the area Heeseung had been previously, where a large table had been set under a temporary canopy.

Scrolls and maps lay sprawled across it, Hwan stood nearby, his posture straight and composed as always, though his expression warmed when he saw you.

“Princess (Y/N),” Hwan greeted with a small nod, voice crisp.

“Sir Hwan,” you replied, offering a gentle smile as your eyes flicked toward the detailed flood plan spread out before you.

Ink lined the parchment in precise, looping script—notes and arrows detailing various parts of the castle, side entrances, garden paths, and service tunnels. Red wax marked certain points, perhaps the ones in need of reinforcement.

The upcoming banquet was to host royals from three nearby kingdoms—it was no surprise security had become the highest concern.

Heeseung stepped beside you again, eyes flicking toward the plan. “We’re adjusting the placements for the northern watchmen,” he explained. “The last storm weakened the stone wall near the greenhouse.”

“I see…” you murmured, leaning in just a bit. “Does that mean the western rose arch will be blocked off?”

Heeseung blinked, a touch surprised. “Yes—how did you know that?”

You smiled faintly. “I remember which part of the garden floods first. We used to race through there, remember? When we were younger?”

Heeseung chuckled. “You always cheated. You’d pretend your skirt got caught, and I’d turn around to help—then you’d sprint past me.”

You tried not to laugh, but failed. “I never cheated.”

Hwan cleared his throat politely, trying not to smile too much. “Well, if we’re done reliving the princess’s war crimes…”

Heeseung chuckled, the sound low and fond as he pressed another kiss to the top of your head—like habit. His hand curled more firmly around your waist as he turned back toward the map, eyes scanning the ink-streaked parchment with renewed focus.

“Minjun,” he called, gesturing to one of the younger knights standing nearby, armor gleaming faintly under the sun.

“Take the final plan to the western and southern wings. Make sure Sir Jiwon and Sir Minho review them thoroughly. And pass it along to the patrols stationed at the back gardens.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” the young knight responded quickly, already moving with purpose.

“And Sir Hwan—” Heeseung added, catching his knight just as he began to turn away, “hold a meeting with the guards tomorrow morning. I want every possible weak point reinforced and every post briefed, understood?”

“Understood, Your Highness.” Hwan bowed at the waist, casting you a brief respectful smile before walking off. His exit left a small bubble of quiet around you and Heeseung amidst the occasional clatter of sparring swords and the buzz of wind.

With the absence of his ever-stoic personal knight, Heeseung turned fully to you.

A grin tugged at his lips, soft and lazy, like he had no interest in returning to the royal rhythm of duty just yet. He looked down at you, eyes twinkling, and then without warning, both hands found your hips—gentle but confident.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard. “Heeseung,” you hissed, eyes flickering to the side where a few knights—not so subtly—pretended to focus on tying bootlaces or checking their gear. “Are you serious? In front of all these young men?”

Heeseung only laughed, head tipping back slightly. The sound was musical and boyish and so unlike the Crown Prince everyone else bowed to.

“They’ve seen worse,” he teased, leaning in a little, nose brushing yours before pulling away just slightly. “Besides, I’m only reminding them what love looks like.”

You gawked at him, flustered and trying not to smile.

Heeseung's grin softened then, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against your hip. “Do you have plans this afternoon, my heart?” he asked, voice low and full of intention. “Because if not, I was going to steal you away.”

You laughed under your breath, warmth bubbling in your chest. “I do, actually. Tea time.”

Heeseung pouted dramatically. “Again?”

“Yes, but this time your mother invited me,” you said with a knowing look. “And apparently, your brother Sunoo begged her to include him. Said he was going insane from training every day, and sparring with Sunghoon is ‘slowly ruining his will to live.’ His words. Not mine.”

That made Heeseung snort. “Poor Sunoo. I warned him—Sunghoon takes no prisoners, not even in practice.”

“He said your brother has no mercy,” you confirmed with a giggle, “and refuses to hold back just because he’s younger.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, mock-exasperated. “Sunghoon doesn’t even hold back on me.”

You shrugged playfully, “Well, he has your mother’s approval for being ‘disciplined.’”

Heeseung groaned. “Please don’t tell me she said that again.”

“She did,” you replied, smiling wide. “Right after she compared you to a ‘cloud of mischief.’”

Heeseung dragged a hand down his face, clearly wounded. “I’m her firstborn. How is this fair?”

You only leaned in to whisper, “You’re my favorite prince. That’s all that matters.”

Heeseung looked at you like you hung the stars just to light his way.

But a smirk crept up on his face, the type of playful mischief you knew all too well. He leaned in closer, voice low and teasing against your ear, “So you’re saying… you have other favorites?”

You gasped dramatically, eyes widening with faux betrayal. “What? I would never—” you paused for effect, then added with a grin, “But if I did… Jungwon’s a very close second.”

Heeseung clicked his tongue, pretending to pull away. “Unbelievable. Betrayed in daylight. By my own betrothed.”

You laughed, unable to hide your grin as you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re still number one.”

“I better be,” he murmured, before cupping your cheek gently and stealing a real kiss this time—soft, warm, and full of all the affection he never seemed to run out of. You smiled into it, fingertips brushing the hem of his sleeve as you stayed there for a breath too long.

“I’m honored, noona!”

You both startled at the voice, pulling away just in time to see Jungwon grinning wide, his hands clasped behind his back as he strolled over with a puffed-out chest. He practically radiated smugness.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he added innocently, though his mischievous eyes said otherwise.

You giggled, arms opening instinctively. “Come here, you.”

The second youngest prince leaned in, wrapping you in a brief but warm hug. You ruffled his hair with a sisterly laugh just as Heeseung groaned beside you.

“Oh no. Now we’re hugging him too?”

Before Jungwon could respond, Heeseung reached over and roughly tousled the younger boy’s hair, effectively ruining the neat style Jungwon’s handmaid had worked on earlier that morning.

“Hyung!” Jungwon yelped, swatting at his older brother’s hand with a glare. “Do you mind?!”

Heeseung shrugged with a proud grin, not sorry in the slightest. “Affection builds character.”

“It builds trauma,” Jungwon muttered under his breath, brushing his dark bangs back into place with a scowl.

Still, he didn’t move away right away. He just sighed, casting a sideways look at his brother before straightening his shoulders like he had something important to say. “Come on, hyung. I’m not eleven anymore.”

That made you smile fondly.

“I know,” Heeseung said quietly, voice laced with something softer, something older. “But you’ll always be my annoying little brother.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing the tiniest bit before he turned on his heel with a dramatic huff. “Whatever. Just don’t embarrass me again in front of the knights!”

Heeseung smirked as he watched the younger boy storm off.

“No promises,” he said, just loud enough for Jungwon to hear.

“I heard that!”

You and Heeseung laughed, watching the youngest stalk toward the training field like a prince on a mission.

Still smiling, Heeseung turned to you again. “So… Jungwon, huh?”

You looped your arm through his. “He’s charming.”

Heeseung made a dramatic face as he led you away from the courtyard, your steps falling into rhythm with his as you both began walking through one of the many open-air corridors that stretched between the training grounds and the main castle. Sunlight filtered through the tall arches, casting golden lines across the stone floors.

“Charming,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “Unbelievable.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm lightly. “Come on, don’t pout. Doesn’t he like some princess from the neighboring kingdom or something?”

“My love,” he said with a faux-wounded pout, placing a hand over his chest. “You are from the neighboring kingdom.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “The other one, Hee. You know what I mean.”

He chuckled, his shoulder bumping yours as he nodded at a few knights that passed by and bowed to their Crown Prince. “I’m only teasing, my love. You wound me with your accusations.”

“Oh please,” you drawled, pretending to flip your hair. “You’d survive a thousand of my wounds and still crawl back with a bouquet of stolen garden roses.”

“I don’t steal them,” he said defensively, eyes wide. “I borrow them.”

You snorted. “They're still dying in a vase somewhere, my thief.”

“Ah, but they die for love,” he whispered dramatically, and you both burst into quiet laughter, the sound echoing softly against the archways.

As you entered the main castle, the air shifted cooler against your skin. The familiar stretch of marble under your shoes and the pristine white-and-gold corridors felt like coming home.

You leaned into Heeseung naturally, no longer needing to keep up appearances of royalty. Here, you were just his. And he was just yours.

“Did you know,” Heeseung started, voice low and casual, “that one of the kitchen boys swears he saw a raccoon sneak into the pantry last night?”

You blinked. “What?”

“He says it ran off with a wedge of brie. I’m inclined to believe him.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “If it’s the same raccoon that stole my slippers last month, I’m filing a formal complaint.”

Heeseung smirked. “We’ll draft a letter. ‘To His Royal Sneakiness, Lord Raccoon.’”

“‘Please return the slippers. And the cheese.’”

You both snorted again, shoulders brushing, hands nearly touching but not quite. Not until Heeseung gently reached over and linked your pinky with his.

As you approached the end of the hallway, two stationed knights nodded respectfully at Heeseung, who gave a short nod back, the air between you momentarily still.

Then, with a small tug, he guided you down a quieter wing of the castle and opened a pair of familiar ivory doors—the ones adorned with subtle silver embroidery, vines carved into the wood. Your shared bedroom.

It wasn’t common for betrotheds to share a room before marriage. But then again, nothing about you and Heeseung had ever been traditional.

You’d known each other since you were in diapers, practically raised beside him during summer visits and royal meetings. Your parents were longtime allies, your mothers best friends, and your fathers forever trying to outmatch each other in chess.

So when Heeseung looked his parents in the eye and asked, “Why wait?”—with that charming, persuasive voice and soft gaze—they had merely exchanged a look and nodded. And you had moved into the Crown Prince’s wing a week later.

Heeseung stepped aside to let you in first, hand brushing your lower back gently.

“I still can’t believe this room is technically mine too,” you murmured, looking at the familiar blend of warm candles, velvet throws, and the little reading nook by the window he’d helped you decorate himself.

“You say that every time,” he smiled, closing the door behind you.

“And I mean it every time.”

You moved to sit at the edge of the bed as Heeseung discarded his royal sash and coat onto the nearby chaise. He walked over, cupped your cheeks, and leaned down until his forehead pressed against yours.

“My love,” he said softly. “This room was mine. But it’s only ever felt like home when you were in it.”

“And, you’ve been sleeping in the same bed with me since we were fifteen. Why do you always act like you’ve kissed me for the first time?” he murmured, eyes gleaming.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You arrogant—”

Without hesitation, your fingers found his cheek and you pinched—hard.

He hissed. “Ow—! Okay, okay, that’s uncalled for!”

“Shut up, Lee Heeseung,” you grumbled, though the amused twitch in your lips betrayed you.

He laughed, low and full, his hands finding your cheeks once more—but this time, there was no trace of playfulness in the way he tilted your chin upward, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Come here, then,” he whispered.

And then he kissed you.

A proper one.

His mouth moved against yours with practiced ease, tilting just enough to deepen the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to keep you exactly where he wanted you. You sighed into him, hands curling around his forearms as the warmth between you bloomed fast—like fire catching silk.

He pulled back barely an inch, just enough to catch his breath and your dazed expression. Then, without a single word, he sank onto the bed, tugging you by the waist and pulling you to straddle his lap.

You gasped, landing atop him with a jolt as your palms pressed against his chest.

“Heeseung!” you hissed. “You little—”

He cut you off, arms curling around your waist and dragging you in closer—flush now, no space between your chest and his, your skirts spilling around both of your legs. His lips brushed your ear.

“Finish that sentence, and I’ll make sure you say my name louder next time,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched.

“Heeseung,” you warned, voice trembling from the heat he lit in your stomach.

“Yes, my love?” he said, all mock innocence—his hands not-so-innocently sliding over your waist, fingers curling around the fabric at the dip of your back.

“I have tea with our mothers and Sunoo,” you reminded, heart racing, mind spinning.

He clicked his tongue. “They’ll understand. They adore you. Especially Sunoo—he probably planned this delay.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, resting your forehead on his. “We can’t keep doing this in broad daylight.”

“Then let’s get married already,” he replied instantly, eyes gleaming as his grip on your hips tightened just slightly, anchoring you to him. “That way, I can kiss my wife whenever I damn please.”

You leaned in again, eyes twinkling, catching his lips in a playful kiss that had him chasing after more.

As you pulled back just enough to breathe the words into his mouth, you smiled, “We are at the end of the month, patience, my prince.”

But Heeseung only growled lowly, a sound vibrating in his chest, deep and utterly possessive.

“Not when you sit on me like this,” he muttered—voice thick, the restraint cracking.

He didn’t wait for your teasing reply.

He surged forward, claiming your lips in a kiss that had nothing soft about it this time. It was all heat and desperation—his mouth molding to yours, tongue brushing boldly against the seam of your lips until you gasped and gave in.

You couldn’t stop the small sound that escaped your throat, your fingers digging into the lapels of his shirt, clutching him like he was the only solid thing keeping you grounded.

Your breaths grew louder, shorter—shared between kisses that turned more and more feverish. Heeseung only paused to stare at you, chest rising and falling. His eyes, which held stars just seconds ago, were now blazing with something darker, needier.

And still—still so full of love.

He didn’t say anything as his hands moved behind you, already knowing what to do—his fingers skillfully unlacing the back of your corset. It wasn’t the first time. It was second nature to him by now, and the realization sent a rush of heat all over you. While you would usually fumble with the ties for minutes at a time, he did it in less than ten seconds, eyes never leaving yours.

“Show-off,” you muttered breathlessly, cheeks warm.

“You wouldn’t need help if you didn’t keep choosing the ones with so many damn laces,” he shot back with a smirk, but it faded as quickly as it appeared—his gaze trailing down.

Your hands went to the buttons of his vest with haste, lips brushing against the edge of his jaw as you worked them open. He let you, watching with a hunger that made your fingers tremble slightly.

Once the last button gave, you pushed the garment off, and Heeseung flung it somewhere across the room with zero care.

“Too slow,” he murmured.

You barely got a breath in before he was tugging at your sleeves, your dress slipping down your shoulders in one smooth motion. The soft fabric hung loosely on your arms, exposing the delicate skin of your collarbones, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath it.

“You’re killing me,” he said quietly, forehead leaning against yours again. “Do you know what you do to me?”

You couldn’t answer. Not when he was looking at you like this.

Not when his mouth kissed every bit of skin the dress dared reveal. From your shoulder to the hollow of your throat. Slow. Devout. Like worship.

“I want you,” he whispered into your skin. “Not just now. Not just like this. I want every part of you, every night, every morning. In this room. In that temple. Before the gods and after them.”

You shivered, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt. “You already have me, Heeseung. You always have.”

A guttural sound tore from his throat as his hand gripped the laces of your dress. “Say it again,” he breathed, lips brushing against your collarbone.

“You have me,” you whispered, heart pounding. “Every piece. Every breath.”

With one swift motion, he loosened the bodice, the fabric sliding off your shoulders and pooling at your waist. He drew back slightly, chest rising and falling, eyes devouring the bare skin now revealed to him. His gaze was starved—like he’d waited centuries to touch you like this.

“Mine,” he groaned, hands trembling slightly as they moved over your ribs, your waist, the dip between your hipbones. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

His mouth followed the path of his hands—slow, deliberate. He kissed down your neck, nipping at the skin just below your jaw until a breathy moan escaped you. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice strained as he left a trail of marks, warm and tinged with devotion. “The gods have nothing on you.”

When his lips reached the softest part of your chest, his hands gripped your hips tightly—almost possessively—pressing his forehead against your sternum for a second like he was trying to calm himself.

Then he looked up at you, pupils blown. “I’ll worship you like this,” he said, voice rough, “until the stars burn out.”

You didn’t get the chance to answer.

He grabbed your thighs, flipped you effortlessly onto your back, and pressed you into the mattress. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled the rest of your dress off with a low growl, letting it drop to the floor. His body hovered above yours now, heat radiating between you as your bare skin met his.

“You make me lose control,” he said, almost like a confession. “And I don’t want it back.”

His mouth was everywhere—claiming your neck, your shoulders, the curve of your stomach. His name slipped past your lips again and again, soft and helpless, like a prayer and a curse all at once.

He kissed you then—deep, head-spinning, like he wanted to taste your soul. “Let me have you,” he murmured between kisses. “Let me love you the way I was always meant to.”

And when he finally lowered himself between your legs, hands splayed across your hips, tongue tracing fire across your skin, he whispered, “I’ll leave no part untouched.”

His lips grazed the inside of your thigh, slow and reverent, like he was memorizing you inch by inch. His thumbs dragged upward, parting you gently, and when he looked up—eyes dark, hungry, reverent—you nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Stay just like this,” he murmured, voice low, almost trembling. “Let me taste what’s mine.”

And then he buried his face between your thighs.

A gasp tore from your throat as his tongue moved against your core—firm, relentless, like he had something to prove. And maybe he did.

Maybe he was proving that no one else could ever make you feel like this. That no other hands, no other mouth, no other name would ever fall from your lips in this way.

Heeseung groaned against you, the sound vibrating straight through your bones. “You’re everything,” he muttered, voice muffled by your skin. “Sweet. Divine. Addicting.”

Your hips bucked, but his grip only tightened—holding you down, keeping you open. “Don’t run from it,” he said, looking up briefly, mouth glistening. “Take it. Take all of me.”

Then he dove back in—slower this time, more intentional. He licked into you like a man starving, like he wanted to carve his name into you with every flick of his tongue.

Your fingers twisted into his hair, a moan spilling out of you so raw and desperate it made him groan again—deeper this time, as if he felt it.

He sucked gently, then harder, then just right—and your body arched, breath catching as your thighs shook around his head. “That’s it,” he whispered, not letting up. “Come undone for me. I want to feel you lose yourself.”

And when you did—back arched, fingers digging into his scalp, his name a broken chant on your lips—he didn’t stop. Not even then.

Heeseung stayed there, kissing you through it, tongue softening to gentle licks, like he couldn’t bear to let go of the taste of you.

“You taste like heaven,” he said hoarsely, crawling back up your body. “And I’m never going to stop sinning.”

His mouth captured yours in a kiss so deep and possessive, it left you dizzy. His hand cradled the back of your head, the other splayed at your waist as he kissed you like he’d never let you go.

When he finally pulled away, your lips were parted, your breaths uneven, your body still aching for more.

You blinked at him, dazed. “I should—shouldn’t I… return the favor?” you managed to breathe, fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. “It’s only fair.”

But Heeseung only chuckled, low and fond. He clicked his tongue as he cupped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, shaking his head. “Not now, my love,” he said, tone full of mock discipline. “Don’t you have tea with our mothers and poor, bored Sunoo?”

You stared at him, scandalized. “You—!”

Your mouth hung open in shock, lips still tingling from his kisses, body still humming with want, and Heeseung had the audacity to smile—smile—as he kissed you again. Tender, slow, and sweet. But the taste of you still lingered on his lips, and the moment it hit your tongue, your cheeks flushed deep crimson.

He pulled back with a grin, clearly satisfied with your flustered state. “There’s that look I love,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of your kiss-bitten mouth.

You squeaked as he got up, completely unhurried, and bent to retrieve your dress from where it lay pooled on the carpet. He handled it with surprising care, holding it up like it was made of glass, before walking over to grab your corset next—still slightly unlaced from earlier.

He turned to you, holding both items up. “Come now, princess. I may be a selfish man, but I’m not about to be blamed for you being late to tea.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You are absolutely going to be blamed. You undressed me, Heeseung.”

He only smirked as he crossed the room again, kneeling in front of you as he gently helped you slip back into the gown. “And I’ll do it again later,” he whispered, wickedly close to your ear, “but slower.”

You hissed, slapping his shoulder lightly. “You menace.”

Heeseung laughed softly, guiding your arms through the sleeves and then slipping around to lace your corset like it was second nature—deft fingers pulling the strings tight, not too firm, but enough for you to feel properly put together again. His knuckles grazed your back as he worked, and you swore he did it just to rile you up.

“You’ve done this way too many times,” you mumbled, folding your arms as he tied the last ribbon neatly.

“Practice makes perfect,” he replied cheekily, placing a final kiss on your shoulder before straightening up.

Your reflection in the gilded mirror caught your eye—cheeks rosy, lips swollen, hair slightly mussed, but glowing in a way you couldn’t quite hide.

You groaned under your breath.

With a quick sweep, you pulled your hair over one shoulder, trying in vain to cover the fresh marks Heeseung had shamelessly left trailing along your neck and collarbone.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered as you frantically smoothed your sleeves and tried to pat down the mess of curls he’d tangled earlier.

Behind you, Heeseung strolled over, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. “Here,” he said, lifting the delicate golden circlet that had been knocked off and tossed aside somewhere between his kisses and your surrender.

He gently placed it atop your head, careful not to tug or misplace a single strand. Then, with surprising finesse, he combed his fingers through your hair and pulled a few pieces loose to frame your face just right. The strands softened your features, made your flushed cheeks look like a gentle blush rather than a royal scandal.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Forgive me for the mess, my love,” he whispered against your skin, his voice laced with playful guilt.

You puffed out your cheeks, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. “Mess? Heeseung, I look like I just survived a storm.”

“You look like a woman in love,” he teased, clearly far too pleased with himself. “And slightly ravished, yes, but radiant nonetheless.”

You smacked his arm as he burst into soft laughter.

He reached for his coat from the chaise and slipped it on with practiced ease, but left his royal sash on the side—too formal for a simple walk across the castle, and besides, you both knew he wanted an excuse to not look too princely in front of Sunoo, who would definitely tease him about it.

He offered his hand, and you took it with a begrudging sigh. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you.”

“I’m aware,” he grinned.

With your hand in his, he opened the door and gently tugged you along the corridor, nodding at the knights stationed nearby, who respectfully bowed but absolutely did not miss the light flush on your face or the smug tilt of Heeseung’s smile.

As the two of you walked, fingers still entwined, you couldn’t help but glance sideways at him.

“Should I expect a scolding from your mother for being late?”

Heeseung hummed thoughtfully. “No. But from Sunoo? Absolutely.”

You groaned. “He’s going to smell the perfume and still say, ‘Why do you smell like sex?’”

Heeseung laughed out loud. “Because you do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You planned this.”

He just gave your hand a little squeeze. “I can’t help it. I like when you leave with part of me on you.”

You choked back a sound—half flustered, half delighted—and smacked his chest again. “You’re awful.”

“And you’re late for tea.”

You rolled your eyes fondly as Heeseung gently tugged you down the main marble steps and out into one of the many open-air gardens nestled in the kingdom’s sprawling palace grounds.

A breeze kissed your cheeks as the scent of lilacs and chamomile floated in the air, winding between columns and trellises of soft wisteria, the sunlight hitting just right

Then the scent grew stronger—steeped lilac tea, freshly poured.

You paused with a soft inhale. “My favorite,” you murmured with a smile.

Heeseung glanced sideways at you, eyes already on your face. “Yeah, I know,” he said simply, like it was obvious—because to him, it was.

You rounded the hedge-lined path and reached the open gazebo area in the heart of the garden. Woven vines framed the white pillars and soft silks blew gently from above, casting dappled shadows on the large round table filled with silver-tiered trays of fruit tarts, scones, sweet breads, and golden jars of jam. The sound of bickering cut through the serene setting.

“No, I’m telling you! Apricot is a universal jam—like, anyone would pick it!”

“Universal doesn’t mean it’s good, Riki! Raspberry is superior, and everyone with a tongue knows that!”

You laughed under your breath at the familiar sight of Sunoo and Riki, seated on opposite ends and leaning toward each other with exaggerated scowls.

Sunoo’s sleeves were dramatically pushed up like he was ready to duel with a spoon, and Riki’s pout was so intense it could’ve curdled milk.

Your smile grew as your eyes landed on the two women seated elegantly between them—your mother, Queen of your homeland, draped in soft burgundy with jewels that shimmered beneath the garden light, and Heeseung’s mother, the Queen of this kingdom, regal in deep navy lined with gold.

They sat side by side, teacups in hand, mid-conversation and sharing a laugh—the kind that spoke of decades of friendship, diplomacy, and sisterhood.

Heeseung slowed beside you, offering a slight bow of his head.

“My queens,” you said softly as you approached, your tone still laced with respect despite the fondness behind your eyes. You followed Heeseung’s lead, dipping your head slightly.

“Oh, please,” your mother groaned playfully. “Do we still have to do this every time?”

The Queen beside her smiled knowingly. “You’re about to be our daughter-in-law, not a courtier.”

“Sit, sit,” your mother added with a wave of her hand.

You and Heeseung chuckled, and he leaned in to kiss the top of your head once more, hands resting on your arms just a moment longer before he let go.

“I’ll leave you in good company,” he said, eyes locking with yours. “Try not to let Sunoo drag you into jam debates.”

Sunoo looked up, eyes wide. “You agree with me, right?” he demanded before Heeseung could even take a step back. “You like raspberry more, right?”

Heeseung only smirked. “I like peace and quiet. Which I clearly won’t get here.”

You snorted behind your hand as Heeseung’s mother laughed, waving her son off. “Go, Heeseung, before Sunoo recruits you into his crusade.”

Heeseung chuckled and gave you a parting wink before disappearing through the garden arch.

You turned back to the table and gracefully took the seat beside your mother, smoothing down your skirts.

Sunoo immediately leaned in and whispered, “Tell me you noticed the lip marks on your neck.”

“Sunoo!” you hissed, glancing at the queens who pretended not to overhear, amused smiles tugging at their lips.

“What?” Riki snorted, sipping his tea far too smugly. “You’re the one who came back glowing like you just won a war.”

You sighed deeply, cheeks already flushing again. “I hate both of you.”

Your mother smiled behind her cup. “Oh, sweetheart… you’re in love. We were all insufferable once too.”

The night of the banquet arrived with stars high and proud in the velvet sky, but even they would dim compared to what awaited within the castle walls.

You stood before the towering gilded mirror in your shared chambers, the scent of roses and lavender oils clinging softly to the air. Your hair was being twisted and pinned into perfection by skilled fingers, each strand smoothed and coiled as your lady-in-waiting delicately fastened glittering earrings to your ears.

Another slid your necklace into place—a heavy yet elegant piece of red garnet and obsidian, catching the flickering glow of the chandelier like drops of fire and shadow.

Your gown was made of the richest velvet in black, kissed with deep red silk layers beneath, cascading like spilled wine around your legs. Embroidered gold vines twirled across the bodice and sleeves, wrapping you in something regal, something worthy of a queen.

A knock at the heavy oak doors pulled everyone’s attention.

“May I?” Heeseung’s voice called from outside, deep and silken, already warm with a smile.

You barely had time to answer before the door cracked open, and there he was—standing in all his glory.

The red and black of his coat matched yours perfectly, the fabric gleaming with intricate golden embroidery and crystal embellishments that sparkled beneath the room’s warm lights.

His broad shoulders carried the weight of a kingdom and yet, the moment his eyes found you—his world narrowed.

He stood there, still, breath caught in his chest.

“…My gods,” he whispered. “You look like you walked out of a dream.”

You gave a soft wave of your hand, a simple motion that dismissed the flurry of handmaidens and attendants. With quiet bows and knowing smiles, they exited swiftly, leaving only the two of you in your glowing, silent world.

Heeseung didn’t wait.

He crossed the room in long, purposeful strides and spun you gently in place, eyes devouring every inch of your form. Your dress flared at your movement, brushing against the polished marble like a whisper.

“You’re unreal,” he murmured, hands settling on your waist as he stopped your twirl. “You look like a flame carved into royalty.”

“And you,” you teased, trailing your fingers down the gleaming lapel of his coat. “Look like temptation in human form.”

Heeseung grinned, gaze dropping to your lips for half a second too long. “Then what happens when royalty meets temptation?”

You raised a brow, smirking as you replied, “A scandal the bards will sing about for centuries.”

Heeseung laughed, rich and deep, before tugging you closer by the waist. “Let them sing, my love. Let them sing.”

His forehead pressed gently to yours. “Tonight, everyone will see what I’ve always known.”

“That I’m yours?” you whispered.

“No.” He shook his head slowly. “That I’m yours.”

He kissed your hand before pulling your arm through his.

“Shall we go make the entire kingdom jealous?”

You grinned, your fingers tightening around his. “Lead the way, my prince.”

With that, Heeseung offered his arm like a true royal consort and guided you out of the warm, perfumed sanctuary of your shared chambers. The heavy double doors closed behind you, and the subtle echo of your steps fell against the polished stone floors.

Two royal knights—adorned in your shared kingdom’s colors of crimson and onyx—followed at a respectful distance, silent and poised.

The corridor was dimly lit by torchlight, flickering shadows casting dancing patterns across the walls. But inside your little bubble, the world felt quieter, warmer. You and Heeseung strolled side by side, caught in easy conversation that dissolved any remaining nerves.

“Do you remember last month’s banquet?” Heeseung asked with a smirk, nudging your side.

“You mean the one where you complained about the wine?” you teased, arching a brow.

He scoffed dramatically. “It wasn’t wine. It was grape juice in disguise.”

You burst into soft laughter. “You pouted about it for a full hour. Told the steward you expected something aged, not squeezed fresh that morning.”

“I’m a prince. I expect stringency in my wine,” he said in a mock-snobby voice, chin tilted upward as you giggled.

But your smile faded slightly as you reached the archway that led to the Great Hall. You could already hear it—the hum of noble chatter, bursts of light laughter, and the elegant trill of string instruments playing from the balcony above. The scent of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the air.

Your posture straightened instinctively, hands smoothing down the front of your gown. Heeseung noticed.

He slowed his pace, his hand sliding gently around your waist to pull you closer. His lips dipped to your ear, his voice low and soothing.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, my love,” he whispered. “They should be scared of you.”

“You are the future Queen of both kingdoms,” he continued, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a quiet storm of pride behind his smile. “And you’ve already won their prince.”

Your cheeks warmed, but the nerves began to ease. You exhaled, squeezing his hand in silent gratitude. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Heeseung only grinned, squeezing back once before the chamberlain standing just outside the banquet doors struck his staff once against the marble.

“Presenting,” he boomed, his voice echoing through the high-arched ceilings, “Crown Prince Lee Heeseung of House Lee, and Crown Princess (L/N) (Y/N) of House (L/N).”

At once, the hall stilled. Music faltered. Conversations died mid-sentence. It was like the world hushed—like the wind itself bowed.

All eyes turned.

Every noble, every knight, every courtly guest from both your homeland and Heeseung’s, rose from their seats. Heads lowered in bows and curtsies, hands pressed over hearts in solemn reverence. But more than formality, there was awe—undeniable awe—at the sight of you two.

Your steps were fluid as you and your prince made your way toward the long banquet table seated at the front of the room. Your parents were already seated—your mother glowing in cream and emerald, your father in sleek royal navy. Heeseung’s parents sat beside them, regal and composed, eyes glinting with something between pride and fondness.

The long table had empty seats between the kings and queens—but your eyes caught the familiar shadows of six tall figures standing further back. The other six princes. They stood at the side of the hall, backs straight, hands clasped behind them, watching as the two of you passed.

When you drew near, they bowed in unison with the crowd—a sea of heads dipping low in reverence.

But only they rose slowly, eyes glinting with quiet respect.

Jungwon was the first to lift his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he mouthed dramatically, “About time.”

You suppressed a laugh.

Heeseung only rolled his eyes subtly and pulled your chair out for you like the proper gentleman he always was. “Your throne, my queen,” he teased softly.

The moment you were both seated, the hall gradually stirred back to life. Conversations resumed, the orchestra picked up its melody again, and the clinking of goblets filled the golden-lit room.

You greeted your parents first—your mother reached over the table to press a kiss to your cheek, her rings cool against your skin. “You both look stunning,” she said, eyes dancing. “But don’t just sit there like old monarchs.”

“Go,” Heeseung’s mother added, smiling behind her teacup. “Socialize. Be young. Dance. Be adored.”

Your father gave a playful huff. “Yes, yes, impress your subjects.”

Heeseung let out a breathy laugh and rose from his seat, pulling your chair out once again as he offered you his hand. “Shall we obey our queens and kings?”

You took it with a grin. “What choice do we have?”

He placed a gentle hand at the small of your back as he led you from the front dais and into the growing crowd. Your gown swished elegantly around your legs as you walked, and the subtle music and chatter wrapped around you like silk.

It didn’t take long to reach the cluster of princes near the long side of the room—familiar faces all dressed in variations of dark velvet, adorned with gold, sapphire, and crimson embellishments. The other royal heirs.

“Look who decided to show up,” Jongseong teased as he raised his glass at your approach, eyes glinting. “And matching too. I should’ve expected the dramatics.”

“You’re just jealous,” Heeseung quipped, “that your partner doesn’t coordinate with you.”

“You don’t have a partner,” Jaeyun pointed out.

“Exactly my point,” Heeseung smirked.

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping a little closer to the group when—

“Oh my gods!” A familiar voice squealed behind you.

You turned just in time to be pulled into a sudden, elegant hug, delicate perfume surrounding you as Wonyoung grinned from ear to ear.

“It is you,” she beamed. “I told Yujin it was you and she said, ‘No, that can’t be her, she’s probably still getting ready—’”

“That does sound like me,” Yujin said with a giggle as she joined, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace. “But seriously, look at you! This dress? That crown? Prince Heeseung’s gonna have a hard time keeping people away tonight.”

“Please, he’s already glaring at everyone who makes eye contact with her,” Wonyoung whispered playfully, tipping her head toward your prince.

You glanced back—Heeseung, very much still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon, had his arm folded as he gave the other prince a look. You couldn’t hear the words, but you definitely saw the eye roll Sunghoon gave in response.

“Still boring as ever,” Woonyoung said under her breath, giving Sunghoon a pointed look.

Heeseung caught the tail end of that and shook his head with a laugh, muttering to Sunghoon, “Don’t mind them, they’ve been like this since we were kids.”

“I do mind, actually,” Sunghoon muttered back dryly, lifting his glass. “I was having a nice quiet moment before the fanclub showed up.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Wonyoung cooed sarcastically.

You giggled as she and Yujin each hooked an arm through yours, pulling you just a little away from the boys and deeper into the social haze of the room.

“You have to tell us everything,” Yujin said, eyes wide with curiosity. “How’s your room? Did the Queen really let you redecorate the west wing? Is it true that Heeseung almost punched a steward for misplacing your earrings last week?”

“Okay, that one was not my fault—” you began.

“Defensive,” Wonyoung grinned. “That means it’s true.”

You let out a snort, eyes trailing briefly to Heeseung just a few feet away, standing tall among his brothers. He caught your gaze with that familiar amused tilt of his head, his lips twitching as if he was holding back a laugh of his own.

“I swear,” Wonyoung continued, drawing your attention back. “Sunghoon nearly pushed me into the fountain last week.”

“What?” you blinked.

“All I said was that he walks like he owns the ground he steps on,” she huffed dramatically, flipping her hair. “Which is true, by the way. And he said, ‘Perhaps you should walk on water next time so I don’t have to see your face.’ Can you believe that?”

You burst into laughter, hand covering your mouth as Yujin gasped beside you. “He did not say that.”

“Oh, he did. Ask him.” Wonyoung nodded toward Sunghoon, who—unaware he was being discussed—was now slowly sipping from his own goblet, side-eyeing the trio of you as if expecting more trouble.

You and the girls dissolved into giggles again, your shoulders bumping lightly as the night continued to swell with warmth and music. Soon enough, more familiar faces began approaching, drawn to the lively cluster you had unintentionally created.

A group of princesses from neighboring kingdoms swept in, silk gowns gliding across the marble floor, their hair braided in intricate gold-threaded patterns, each one offering hugs and kisses on the cheek in greeting.

“Princess (Y/N), it’s been too long.”

“You look divine tonight, truly.”

“We heard about your new position—Crown Princess now, huh?”

You smiled graciously, cheeks warming under the compliments as you exchanged hugs and pleasantries, your fingers brushing over glittering sleeves and layered skirts. The perfume of lilac and fresh berries mixed with the sound of laughter and violins in the air.

Then, Yujin reappeared with a golden goblet, holding it out to you with a grin.

You eyed it skeptically. “You know I have the alcohol tolerance of a dying rabbit, right?”

“It’s not wine, your highness,” she sing-songed, lifting her chin. “It’s grape juice. I promise. I even tasted it.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “Yujin, last time you said that I ended up singing to a ficus tree.”

“That ficus was deeply moved,” Wonyoung said solemnly, hand over her chest. “You had it in tears.”

You rolled your eyes but took the goblet anyway, the cool metal glinting in the light. You took a sip—sweet, chilled grape juice, just as she’d said.

“…Okay, fine,” you mumbled. “You’re forgiven.”

Yujin smiled smugly. “As I always am.”

The chatter around you buzzed softly—princesses and lords weaving in and out of conversations, the noble youth of kingdoms mingling under chandeliers and candlelight.

You glanced once more toward Heeseung, only to find he was already watching you. Elbow leaned against a polished oak table, golden goblet in hand, the lamplight tracing the sharp line of his jaw. His head tilted in quiet admiration, lips slightly curled upward like he couldn’t help himself.

You gave him a soft smile, one only he could read through the crowd, and mouthed, “I’m okay.”

His grin deepened just slightly before he dipped his head in a subtle nod, his attention returning to the conversation he was having with someone you recognized instantly—Prince Taehyun of the Southern Kingdom, poised and calm as always, expression unreadable even while sipping wine.

“Did you hear,” Yujin leaned in close to whisper behind her goblet, her voice conspiratorial, “Prince Beomgyu’s got it bad for Taehyun’s older sister?”

Your brows shot up. “Seriously?”

“Oh, deadly serious. And Taehyun doesn’t approve—” she paused, nose wrinkling, “—or disapprove. Which, honestly, makes it worse.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Of course he doesn’t. He’s too diplomatic to give a straight answer.”

Wonyoung perked up beside you, eyes wide. “Wait, wait. Isn’t she the one who wore that gold corset at the Summer Moon banquet last year?”

“The very one,” Yujin confirmed, nodding. “And Beomgyu’s been in love ever since. I’m telling you, it’s been a mess.”

You nearly choked on your sip of juice, laughing. “Oh gods—do you remember the night Beomgyu told me about it?”

Yujin blinked, then her mouth split into a knowing grin. “The drunken night in Dalanor’s banquet hall?”

You nodded, eyes sparkling at the memory. “He had one too many glasses of wine and started ranting about how Taehyun keeps throwing him into a spiral.”

Wonyoung leaned in eagerly. “What did he say?”

“He was so drunk, he grabbed Heeseung’s shoulder like he was the last sane man in the world,” you said through a giggle, “and went, ‘Your Highness, is it yes or no? Does he want me to marry her or does he want to stab me in my sleep?’”

Yujin laughed, nearly spilling her drink. “I remember Heeseung’s face! He just laughed and poured him another drink.”

You grinned. “And Beomgyu started sobbing into his goblet about how Taehyun winked at him when he mentioned the wedding idea. A wink. What does a wink even mean?”

“It means,” Wonyoung drawled dramatically, “welcome to royal romance hell.”

The three of you burst into laughter again, the sound bubbling up and mixing with the music in the air. You glanced back over toward Heeseung just in time to see him casually glance your way once more—his gaze lingering for a beat longer than it needed to, as if your laugh pulled his focus no matter where he stood.

Then he turned back to Taehyun, the two princes deep in what looked like a heated discussion about wine—or possibly the definition of flirting—while the night carried on around you.

You fidgeted with your fingers, gloved hands resting delicately over the fabric pooled at your lap. The royal carriage swayed gently with each turn, the soft creak of gilded wheels and distant sounds of celebration muffled behind velvet-lined walls.

Your white wedding gown—stitched with fine silver thread and delicate pearls—billowed across the floor like a river of moonlight. It was heavy, grand, and far too large for the carriage… but you didn’t mind.

Matching jewelry adorned your ears, neck, and wrists—heirloom pieces passed down through generations, each gemstone kissed by history and polished for this day.

Your veil shimmered like frost under the faint sunlight peeking through the curtained window, yet none of it glittered as brightly as your nerves.

Across from you, your mother and father sat side by side, their fingers loosely intertwined as they watched you with a softness that only parents could carry.

Your mother smiled first, the kind that carried decades of wisdom behind it. “Your hands always fidget when you’re nervous,” she said, gently reaching over to fix a strand of hair that had slipped from your veil.

“But you don’t need to be. You’re marrying for love—not alliance, not duty. That alone makes your union more powerful than any treaty signed before it.”

You blinked, lips parting in a slow smile. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” she replied, squeezing your hand. “I’ve seen the way Heeseung looks at you. Like the stars themselves would bow if you asked them to. That kind of devotion cannot be taught—it’s rare, and it’s real.”

You felt your throat tighten just a little.

Then your father let out a quiet sigh, the sound a little too heavy to hide. His eyes stayed on you, warm and just slightly glassy. “I told myself I’d be ready for this,” he said. “But nothing could prepare me to see my little girl in a wedding gown.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out half choked. “You’re going to make me cry.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it between his own. “You’ll always be my little girl. Even when you're crowned queen. Even when you have children of your own. That will never change.”

You nodded slowly, breathing through the swell in your chest. “Thank you, Father. Thank you both.”

The carriage began to slow, the golden wheels rolling over polished stone as the sound of bells rang out in the distance.

Your breath hitched. You could hear the faint murmur of voices outside, the gathered crowd, the music… and just beyond it all, the sacred temple—its white marble steps lined with petals, towering pillars wrapped in garlands of lilacs and white roses, the banner of your kingdom billowing gently in the breeze beside Heeseung’s.

A high priest awaited at the top of the stairs, hands folded in reverence. The temple doors stood open, glowing with sunlight pouring through stained glass windows. It looked like a dream carved into reality.

The door to the carriage opened with a creak.

Your father stepped out first, extending his hand to help you. You took a deep breath as your gloved fingers slid into his, and your feet touched the polished stone ground. The hem of your gown brushed the flower-strewn path as you stood tall, eyes lifting toward the temple ahead.

“Ready?” your father asked, voice low beside you.

You nodded, slowly, then turned to look back one last time at the carriage—at the road that brought you here—and finally, forward again. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Your mother let out the smallest breath of a smile, a hand delicately pressing over her heart as she watched you with glassy eyes. One of the royal knights approached her with a polite bow, then gently extended his arm.

She took it with practiced grace, allowing herself to be escorted to her place at the front row of the temple—where the sacred lights from the stained-glass windows painted the marble floors in hues of gold and violet.

You stood at the start of the long aisle, the flower-strewn carpet lined with lanterns and pale petals. The air inside the temple was reverent, heavy with the scent of lilac and rosewater, lit only by candlelight and divine sunbeams that poured through the windows like blessings themselves.

And at the end of it all—standing before the altar beneath arching stone and blooming ivy—was Heeseung.

His white ceremonial suit shimmered under the temple lights, the gold embroidery gleaming with each breath he took. Crystals lined the trim of his royal jacket, catching the light like stars. His hair was perfectly styled—yet a single strand still fell naturally over his brow—and gods, he had never looked more like a king.

Heeseung swore his breath left his lungs.

The moment your figure stepped onto the aisle, framed by light and shadow, your gown flowing like starlight behind you and veil trailing with each slow, graceful step—he couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across his lips. Not the small kind. Not the gentle kind. The full kind, the one that crinkled his eyes and made his chest ache with a thousand unsaid words.

“By the gods,” he murmured under his breath. “She’s real.”

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Could only stand there in full awe as if you were the very goddess the temple was built for.

Your gaze met his—warm, filled with every memory and every dream you’d ever shared. And as you stepped closer and closer to the altar, the sounds of hushed gasps and admiration filled the pews.

Heeseung barely heard them. He only saw you.

At the end of the aisle, your father stood tall but emotional as he gently guided you the last few steps forward. Once the music slowed, he turned toward Heeseung, looking the prince in the eye with all the weight of a father handing off the most precious thing he’d ever protected.

He took Heeseung’s hand and placed yours in it.

“Take care of her,” your father said, his voice deep but warm, soft with meaning. “She’s always been our light.”

Heeseung’s expression softened instantly. He nodded—not with stiff formality, but with reverent sincerity. “Always,” he whispered. “With all I have.”

Your father gave a small, proud smile before stepping aside, finding his seat beside your mother, who wiped the corner of her eye with her silk handkerchief.

You and Heeseung now stood before the altar together.

Fingers interlocked.

He looked down at you, and the way his thumb grazed the back of your knuckles sent a wave of calm through you.

“You look like every prayer I never thought would be answered,” he murmured so only you could hear. “And I must’ve done something right in a past life… because you're walking straight to me.”

You felt your heart rise to your throat as your eyes welled up—but you smiled, wide and unstoppable.

“Then hold me like you’ll never let me go,” you whispered back, voice trembling slightly.

“I already do,” Heeseung breathed, gaze locked on yours. “I already have.”

And somewhere behind you, the temple bells began to chime.

The ceremony was about to begin.

The gods were watching.

And the entire kingdom held its breath—for this union, for this love, for the future they believed in.

Laughter spilled from your lips like music, even as your hand tightened around Heeseung’s. The sky was dusted with sunset, the air alive with the roaring cheers of thousands—your people, your kingdom, the witnesses to a union that would be written into history books and bedtime stories alike.

“Careful,” Heeseung chuckled, eyes glinting as he helped you navigate the ornate steps of the royal carriage. “The gown’s winning the battle right now.”

You gave him a playful glare but let him hoist the heavy train of your dress just enough so you could climb inside without tripping. The velvet cushions cradled you immediately, the whole space fragrant with rose petals and wild lilac—gifts from the palace staff who had prepared it in secret.

Heeseung followed in after you, and the moment he closed the door behind him—sealing out the deafening celebration, the blinding flash of royal photographers, the weight of the world—

He turned to you.

And pulled you into him.

The kiss was firm and full of everything he hadn’t said at the altar. His hands cradled your jaw with devotion, lips pressing to yours like they were finding home.

You smiled against his mouth—because how could you not?—arms wrapping around his shoulders as your laughter was swallowed into the warmth of him.

He only pulled away when your lungs begged for air.

And even then, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, fingers trembling ever so slightly as his gaze dropped to the dazzling ring glittering on your finger.

A rare golden band, wrapped in tiny vines of diamonds. At its center—a stone so clear and so rare, it was said to have been taken from the gods’ altar themselves, gifted only to royal soulmates.

Heeseung sighed softly, brushing his lips against the gem once more, before lifting his gaze back to you.

“My wife,” he whispered, as if saying it for the first time made it real. His voice cracked with the weight of it, eyes shining like the stars overhead. “My beautiful wife.”

The word settled in your chest like a prayer answered.

You reached forward, cupping his cheek, fingers threading into the strands of his dark hair that had begun to fall from their styled place. His skin was warm under your touch, his eyes—god, his eyes—were filled with nothing but wonder.

Your voice trembled as tears began to blur your vision. “And you’re my husband,” you whispered. “My beginning. My middle. And my always.”

Heeseung’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, as if the moment was too much. Then he leaned into your touch, turning just enough to kiss your palm.

“Remind me to thank the gods for making you,” he said softly, pressing your forehead against his. “Because there is no way I deserved this. Deserved you.”

“You deserve everything,” you whispered, pulling him closer. “Everything, Heeseung.”

You let out a soft breath, letting your forehead rest gently against his chest, the rise and fall of it slow and steady beneath your cheek.

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer, your white gown crinkling slightly between your bodies but neither of you cared.

“We’re headed to the island, right?” you murmured into the fabric of his coat, fingers curling around the lapel, the velvet soft under your touch.

Heeseung hummed, chin resting gently on the top of your head, his voice vibrating against your cheek. “Mhm. The very island I had that mansion built on… for us.”

He smiled as he spoke, almost shy about it. “Just for the two of us to spend our honeymoon in peace. No titles. No duties. Just you. Me. And the sea.”

You giggled, tilting your head up slightly to press a kiss to the tip of his chin. “I swear, I have the best husband ever. The perfect prince ever.”

That made his whole face light up. He beamed, heart full, like he was just realizing he could finally hold you like this without rules or eyes or limits. His hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin as he whispered, “You’re perfect. Really perfect.”

You flushed, lips curling in a soft smile. “Well… I’m just glad the island isn’t that far from the mainland. At least we can come and go whenever we want.”

Heeseung snorted, pulling back just enough to give you a playful look. “You mean you can come and go as you please,” he said, eyes teasing. “Because you have a habit of storming off on me, my love.”

You gasped with a laugh, swatting lightly at his chest. “That was one time—!”

“Three,” he corrected smoothly. “Once after I forgot your birthday flower, the other when I fell asleep halfway through your poetry reading—”

You narrowed your eyes. “And the third?”

He grinned. “I don’t even remember, I think you were just being dramatic.”

You let out a mock gasp of offense, which only made Heeseung laugh harder. He pulled you back in, kissing your temple as he whispered, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, you know. Even if you storm off again.”

“Even in this giant dress?” you teased, gesturing to the sheer volume of fabric surrounding you.

He nodded solemnly. “Even if I have to carry you and the fifteen layers of it across the entire kingdom.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing too loudly, burying your face back into his chest as the carriage bumped gently along the road—your fingers tangled in his, your heart full, your future already unfolding before you in soft gold and island winds.

You gasped as Heeseung thrust into you again, deep and unrelenting, his rhythm messy and desperate now—etiquette forgotten, restraint burned to ash.

He moaned low into your ear, voice wrecked. “Fuck—been dreaming of this,” he whispered, lips dragging along your jaw. “Years of holding back—do you even know what you’ve done to me?”

You whimpered, arching into him as your nails raked down his back, drawing soft, broken curses from his lips. “Heeseung—”

“That’s it,” he breathed, kissing you hard, possessive. “Say my name like that again, sweetheart—please—”

“Heeseung,” you gasped, body trembling under him, overwhelmed by the sheer stretch and heat of him, of this, of everything. “You’re my husband—y-you’re really mine—”

That did something to him.

He growled low in his throat, pulled out, and you whined at the loss—but then he flipped you onto your stomach, firm and commanding, and patted your ass twice, a dark gleam in his eyes as he said, “Up, love. Let me see you.”

You obeyed on instinct, body moving to all fours, ass raised, face flushed against the pillows.

“Fuck,” he muttered behind you, dragging his hands down your spine. “Look at you… gods, you’re perfect.”

He lined himself up again, the thick head of his cock brushing against you, teasing, making you whine and twitch in anticipation.

“Beg for it,” he said, voice barely steady. “Just once. Please, baby—after everything—I need to hear it.”

“Please, Heeseung,” you whimpered, backing against him. “Please… I need you.”

He slammed back into you with a groan that echoed off the high ceilings, one hand gripping your hip, the other wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. The sound of skin meeting skin was shameless, vulgar, as he lost himself in the heat of you, panting curses into your shoulder.

“You feel like fucking heaven,” he moaned, head dropping to your back. “This body—this fucking body was made for me.”

Your cries grew louder as his thrusts deepened, more erratic now—driven by years of pent-up love, desire, obsession.

When he reached forward and wrapped his fingers around your throat, pulling your back to his chest, he whispered against your ear: “Mine. My queen. My wife. I’ll spend the rest of my life ruining you like this.”

And as your walls clenched around him, body trembling from the pleasure blooming like wildfire inside you, he kissed your temple—soft, reverent, the only gentle thing in that moment—and whispered, “Give it to me, love. Let go. Let me have all of you.”

You shattered with a cry, the kind that echoed off the walls, one hand gripping the sheets as your body convulsed around him. Your release hit hard—white-hot and overwhelming—and Heeseung groaned against your skin, hips stuttering as you clenched tight around him.

“That’s it,” he rasped, pressing kisses along your shoulder, hips still lazily rocking into your overstimulated body. “Fuck—so good for me, so perfect.”

You could barely breathe, chest rising and falling as sweat clung to your skin. But Heeseung wasn’t done—not even close.

He hooked two fingers under your chin, lifting your face to meet his. Your eyes were glossy with tears, lips parted as soft whimpers spilled out of you. Heeseung’s gaze flickered between your eyes and mouth, his own expression completely undone.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, then kissed you—sloppy, desperate, like he was trying to taste the moans still lingering in your throat.

But then he pulled away—just enough to flip you back onto your back, drawing a gasp from your lips as he manhandled you closer to the edge of the bed.

“Heeseung—” you breathed, voice cracking.

He leaned down, kissed the tears slipping from the corners of your eyes with such gentleness it made your heart ache.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I know. But I need you one more time.” Then he raised your legs, resting them over his shoulders, and thrust back in.

Your cry was broken, high and breathless, your hands flying to his arms for something to hold onto as your body arched into him.

“Still so tight,” he groaned, hips rolling into you deep and slow, like he was savoring every second. “Gods, you take me so well, even after—fuck, I’ll never get over this.”

You sobbed softly, overwhelmed by the stretch, the intensity, the sheer love in the way he moved inside you.

He leaned down, folding your legs closer to your chest, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered, “Look at me. Let me see you fall apart again.”

And then he slammed into you—hard and sloppy, each thrust punching a moan out of your throat as he hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back instantly.

“Heeseung—ah—!” you cried, voice ragged, high, needy.

“That’s it,” he rasped, watching your face with a wild hunger in his eyes. “That’s the face I wanted to see—gods, look at you—so gone for me.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. The pleasure was blinding, white-hot and all-consuming as he plunged into you over and over, cock hitting so deep and so perfect, your body had no choice but to obey.

Your mouth hung open, drooling a little, moaning with every deep, brutal thrust—and Heeseung ate it up like a man possessed.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as his pace grew faster, rougher. “I’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t I?”

You whimpered, tried to answer, but only a breathless moan left your lips.

He smirked darkly. “Can’t even talk. Just taking it. Letting me ruin you.”

Your body jolted with every movement of his hips, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the chamber like a prayer.

“I’m close,” he panted, voice shaking. “You’re squeezing me so tight, gods, I’m gonna—fuck—”

You could only whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks again from the overwhelming heat building inside you.

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear, voice low and wrecked. “I’ll fill you up,” he whispered. “Make you mine. Want you so round and full of me. Barefoot in the palace with my child inside you—fuck, baby, you’d look so perfect like that.”

A strangled moan ripped out of you, nails digging into his arms as your legs trembled around his shoulders.

“Wanna get you pregnant,” he kept going, voice turning desperate as his thrusts grew rougher. “Wanna see your belly swell. Everyone’ll know you’re mine—all mine. My wife. My queen. My everything.”

You cried out, and he kissed the tears from your cheeks again, groaning as your body tightened around him.

“Gonna give it to you,” he gasped. “Take it—take all of me—”

And then he buried himself deep one final time, spilling inside you with a long, low moan, his whole body shaking as he pressed his forehead to yours, breath ragged, arms trembling.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “I love you—I love you—I love you.”

He kissed you again—deep, slow, as if trying to pour every bit of himself into your mouth, like he didn’t know where he ended and you began. His hands were still trembling, still greedy even now, cradling your face.

Then, slowly, gently, he eased your legs down from his shoulders, never once letting go. His hips shifted just enough so that he could wrap his arms around you, rolling onto his side and taking you with him—still buried inside you, warm and full and his.

You let out a soft gasp as your body adjusted, sensitive and raw, but comforted by his arms pulling you flush against his chest.

Heeseung let out a shaky exhale, pressing his nose into your hair. “Still with me?” he murmured, lips brushing your temple.

You nodded sleepily, breath shallow, heart pounding as you pressed your palm against his bare chest—feeling his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips.

He kissed your forehead, and then your cheek, then the corner of your lips, his voice low and thick. “I’m not pulling out,” he mumbled, half-drunk on love, half-drunk on you. “Not yet. Not ever.”

You laughed softly—weakly—body still pulsing from everything. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” he muttered, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wanted to fuse your bodies together. “I meant what I said, you know. About getting you pregnant. About seeing you with my child.”

“I want all of it,” he whispered. “You in this bed, in our castle. You walking through the palace holding your stomach. You with my name, my ring, my child. I want everything.”

You could barely speak. So you just whispered, “You already have everything.”

His eyes fluttered shut at that, a soft, boyish smile tugging at his lips.

The room was quiet, save for your breathing, the soft rustle of the silk sheets tangled beneath you. You were both still trembling from the aftermath—but wrapped in him, filled by him, you felt like the world had stopped moving just for the two of you.

The royal library was bathed in the soft light of the afternoon sun, golden beams streaking through the high arched windows. The gentle rustle of pages echoed quietly, along with Jaeyun’s voice reading aloud from a worn leather-bound storybook.

“…and then the young prince lifted the veil of thorns, finding the princess fast asleep, untouched by time, heart still waiting for his,” Jaeyun read, lips curling into a fond smile as he glanced down at your belly, voice softening even more. “He kissed her, and—”

You huffed, adjusting your position with an audible grunt as you shifted your weight on the deep-cushioned couch. It was custom-made, one of Heeseung’s many attempts to appease your growing complaints about how “every chair in the palace was clearly built for pain and suffering.”

Jaeyun winced. “Uh… did I do something wrong, noona?” he asked carefully, lowering the book.

You sighed heavily and gave him a sweet smile, brushing his arm. “No, sweet boy. You’re perfect. Don’t let the thundercloud above my head scare you.”

His brows furrowed in confusion before glancing up—and that’s when he saw your husband, standing near the grand shelf of magical history books, looking like a deer caught in divine, hormonal headlights.

Heeseung blinked. “What… what’d I do?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just stared. A slow, furious, finger-pointing kind of glare.

Heeseung looked behind him. Then pointed at himself. “Me?”

Jaeyun immediately started packing up the book with the speed of a trained soldier. “I’m gonna, um… give you two some privacy. Or leave the continent. Whichever’s safer.”

You gently held his wrist. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jaeyun. Don’t let the idiot standing near the bookshelf convince you otherwise.”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped. “Wait—what idiot—hey!”

That’s when you sniffled. Loudly. Tears instantly welled up in your eyes as your lip trembled, and you looked down at your round belly, hand resting protectively over it.

Jaeyun froze in horror. “Noona—wait, are you crying? Did I—?”

From across the library, Jungwon’s head snapped up, quill falling from his fingers. He was at your side in a heartbeat, eyes wide and worried.

“What happened?” Jungwon asked, voice soft but urgent, his hand gently resting on the edge of your couch as he leaned over. “Noona, what’s wrong?”

You pointed at Heeseung again, face crumpling as the tears rolled down your cheeks. “He forgot my pickles and sour cream,” you sniffled. “I woke up and it wasn’t there and I waited and waited and I was starving and craving and he just—”

“Oh.” Jungwon tried very, very hard not to laugh, biting the inside of his cheek as he nodded seriously. “Pickles and sour cream. A fatal offense.”

“I didn’t forget!” Heeseung defended, walking closer, arms flailing slightly in helplessness. “I mean—I did, but not on purpose! I had to help Jungwon with the—”

Jungwon lifted his hand, still grinning. “Forgive my brother, noona,” he said sweetly. “I think it’s partly my fault. I made him stay up last night helping me deal with some… knight stuff.”

You raised a brow, still crying, still very much hormonal. “What kind of knight stuff?”

Jungwon cleared his throat. “Uhm. A few of the southern patrol horses were unshod, and the stablemaster said the armory budget was overspent again. So we were fixing allocations and—”

“Oh, so horses are more important than your pregnant wife?” you cut in, voice trembling as you narrowed your eyes at your husband.

Heeseung panicked. “No! No, absolutely not—I would die for you. I would kill for you. I was going to go after breakfast and—”

“You said that yesterday!” you cried, covering your face.

Jaeyun stood behind Jungwon now, whispering, “We should probably leave before she gives birth out of spite.”

“Smart,” Jungwon whispered back.

Heeseung rushed to your side, dropping to his knees in front of you and placing both hands gently on your belly.

“My love, please,” he said, looking up at you with big, guilty eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you all the pickles. All the sour cream. I’ll grow a pickle tree if I have to. Just please don’t cry, it breaks my heart.”

You glared at him for one more moment before sighing, lower lip still wobbling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Heeseung beamed. “That’s a relief. Because I love you too. And you, little one,” he said, pressing a kiss to your belly. “Don’t worry, father will bring home all your weird cravings.”

You sniffed again, wiping your face as Heeseung pulled out a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed your cheeks gently.

“…You want ice cream with chili flakes too?” he asked cautiously.

“Obviously,” you muttered. “I’m not a monster.”

Jungwon and Jaeyun had already vanished by then, likely off to send a servant to retrieve a very urgent royal order of pickles and sour cream.

You sniffled once more, dabbing your own cheek as you tapped your fingers insistently on Heeseung’s arm.

He blinked. “Huh?”

You gave him a look.

“Oh! Right—right, sorry!” he scrambled, immediately hopping to his feet in a heartbeat. One arm slipped behind your back, the other lacing through your fingers with practiced ease. “Here we go—one, two—”

You groaned as he gently helped you up from the cushioned couch, belly stretching against the fabric of your soft dress. “Ugh. This is all your fault.”

Heeseung winced. “Yes, I—I know.”

“I should have your cock chopped off for this, you little—”

“Whoa—! Okay!” Heeseung laughed nervously, heart thudding against his ribs as he tucked you closer to his side. “Easy now, love. You scare me sometimes.”

You shot him a narrowed glare. “Sometimes? You should live in fear.”

“I do!” he said immediately, guiding your steps slowly and carefully as you waddled your way toward the hallway. “Every waking second, actually. Have I mentioned how stunning you look while plotting my demise?”

You clicked your tongue, though your cheeks betrayed you with the faintest tinge of blush.

Pregnancy had turned you into an emotional tempest. One second, you were smiling sweetly and asking Heeseung if he’d sing to the baby—and the next, you were threatening bodily harm over poorly cut fruit or lukewarm tea.

He loved you more for it. Terrified? A little. But madly in love? Completely.

Heeseung tried not to laugh at the memory of last week, when one of your most beloved royal cooks almost got fired.

You had wobbled your way down to the kitchen, belly-first, eyes ablaze. He had just finished making your requested plate of crackers—and forgot the sour cream.

The way you gasped, horrified, clutching your chest like your world had ended.

“I waited all day for this,” you whispered like a betrayed ghost. “And no sour cream? Off with your hat. No—your head!”

The poor man stood there, blinking in shock as you fumed.

By the time Heeseung had rushed in—dragging Sunghoon behind him for backup—he found you mid-sob and mid-threat, the cook still trying to apologize.

Sunghoon, eyes wide, bowed quickly to the cook. “We’re so sorry—she’s, uh—pregnant. Very pregnant.”

The cook only chuckled, waving it off. “It’s alright, Your Highness. This happens all the time. It’s quite normal, really.”

“Normal?!” Sunghoon whispered in horror as you let out a wail again.

Back in the present, Heeseung looked down at you now, walking slowly through the castle hallway, his hand cradling your back while you leaned your weight into him.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You sighed. “No. I’m bloated, I’m mad at you, my ankles feel like they’re being crushed by divine punishment, and I’m sweating in places no princess should sweat.”

“…So that’s a yes?”

You smacked his chest, and he only grinned, leaning down to kiss your temple again. “I love you, you know. You’re terrifying. But I’m obsessed with you.”

“I know,” you muttered, lips twitching upward despite yourself.

As you passed a stained-glass window, you paused and turned to face him—hand still on the curve of your belly.

“…You really forgot the pickles?” you asked again, narrowing your eyes.

Heeseung’s face went pale. “I swear to the gods, I’ll name our firstborn Sour Cream if that’s what it takes to make it up to you.”

You burst into laughter so hard you had to lean against him again.

The palace gardens were in full bloom.

You walked slowly beneath the soft morning sun, the wind warm and gentle as it kissed your face. Every step felt like a task and a half at nine months pregnant, your belly stretching the limits of your once-elegant maternity dress that now clung to you like it was begging for retirement.

Still, you needed the air.

The lilacs and lavenders had just been planted—your favorite colors. A gift from Heeseung after you spent an entire evening crying because you missed the way your childhood home used to smell.

“They’re blooming beautifully,” you murmured as you waddled beside your mother and mother-in-law, who were deep in discussion about installing fountains near the kingdom gates.

“A marble structure, perhaps,” your mother-in-law offered, gesturing with her fan. “Something timeless, to match the new rose archway.”

Your own mother nodded, her hand resting gently against your back. “And maybe benches shaded by wisteria vines—good for walks like these.”

You smiled faintly, hands settled protectively over your belly. You felt huge. Round and sore and terribly emotional.

Lately, all you wanted was Heeseung. You missed his hands on your belly, his kisses at the corners of your mouth, the way he’d whisper “You’re still the most beautiful woman in the world” every time you cried over not fitting into your royal robes anymore.

Poor Heeseung had endured months of emotional whiplash—you throwing pillows at him one minute, begging for cuddles the next—but he never wavered. Always patient. Always soft.

You sighed. “That man is too good for me.”

A sharp pang shot through your lower abdomen.

Your hand shot down to your belly as your breath caught, and in the next heartbeat—warm liquid trickled down your legs, soaking the hem of your dress and dripping onto the garden soil below.

Your eyes widened.

The queens turned to you instantly. “Darling?” “What is it?!”

“I think… I think my water just broke,” you whispered.

Panic, majestic and maternal, swept through both women. Your mother’s voice shot up first. “Servants! Fetch the midwife—now!”

“The healer too!” your mother-in-law added. “And blankets! Bring towels! Quickly!”

You winced again, grabbing at your lower back as another cramp rocked through you. “I can walk! I’m fine—just… need help.”

“Absolutely not,” your mother huffed, hooking her arm under yours with impressive strength for someone in full court attire. “You’re not walking anywhere without us.”

The two queens flanked you like royal guards, one on each side, carefully helping you take slow, careful steps back toward the palace. You groaned at each movement, breath labored, hands trembling.

“Where is Heeseung?” you whined, voice wobbling.

“He’s in council with the stewards—someone will fetch him,” your mother-in-law promised, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Don’t you worry, darling. He’ll be with you before the next contraction hits.”

“I swear if he misses this—” you hissed as another pain bloomed in your spine, “—I’ll induce a second pregnancy just to make him suffer through the next one!”

Both queens laughed despite themselves.

“You’re doing wonderfully, sweetheart,” your mother whispered, kissing your temple. “Heeseung will come running the second he hears. Just hold on a little longer.”

“And scream at him when he does,” your mother-in-law added with a mischievous grin. “It’s tradition.”

You let out a strangled half-laugh, half-sob as your foot crossed the marble threshold of the castle.

“Bring hot water!” a maid cried out. “Prepare the birthing chamber!”

Servants scrambled like a military drill as the two queens continued leading you toward the royal wing.

And as another wave of pain rolled through you, sharp and sudden, you gripped both women’s hands tightly and muttered—

“…Heeseung is so dead.”

The words had barely left your mouth when a young servant, barely older than a squire, nodded frantically at your mothers’s command.

He turned on his heel and sprinted down the castle corridors, nearly slipping on polished marble as he weaved past nobles and guards. His face was pale, his steps frantic—because everyone in the kingdom knew that when it came to you, Prince Heeseung did not waste time.

Especially not today.

The council room sat in a gilded hallway of the eastern wing, its doors heavy with ornate gold carvings, muffling the sound of bored sighs and shuffling chairs from within.

Inside, the seven princes were scattered across the long oak table, listening—somewhat respectfully—as an aging duke discussed property disputes near the northern border.

Heeseung sat at the center of the table, shoulders square, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His jaw tensed as he adjusted the fit of his vest, trying to mask just how miserable he looked.

Beside him, Jongseong leaned on an elbow, eyes half-lidded in sheer exhaustion. “If he says the word acreage one more time, I’m jumping out the window.”

Sunoo, who had long given up on pretending to listen, was poking Jungwon with a quill, whispering, “Bet you a week of your rations that hyung zones out and agrees to give the entire north to some greedy lord.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, muttering, “He already did last month.”

Across the table, Riki and Sunghoon were whispering animatedly—probably about girls or sword duels or which of them would win in a wrestling match if their lives depended on it.

Jaeyun had a book propped open on his lap, held just under the table’s edge, completely absorbed and occasionally mouthing the words under his breath.

Heeseung cleared his throat, trying to gather enough composure to politely end the duke’s hour-long monologue. “We’ll reconvene to review—”

The council room doors flew open so hard they rattled on their hinges.

All seven princes shot up, hands instinctively flying to their sides as if expecting danger. The guards posted at the entrance had barely enough time to react before the young servant stumbled into the room, panting so hard it sounded like he’d just outrun a horse.

Heeseung was already halfway to standing, eyes sharp and alert. “Speak.”

The servant didn’t even bow. “T-The princess! Princess (Y/N)—she’s gone into labor!”

The words hit Heeseung like lightning.

Everything else vanished. The air, the weight of duty, the politics, the room itself—it was all just static in the background.

“Council dismissed,” Heeseung ordered, voice hard and final.

He didn’t wait for a single reply. He threw his glasses on the table with a clatter, not even bothering to place them gently, and shrugged off his coat as he made for the door. His vest was still half-buttoned, his cravat slightly askew, but he didn’t stop to fix any of it. He just ran.

“Hyung!” Jongseong called after him, but he was gone.

Sunoo blinked. “He didn’t even breathe.”

“Why do I feel like we’re in labor too?” Riki muttered, already on his feet.

“Heeseung-hyung’s going to faint before (Y/N) does,” Sunghoon said, half amused and half terrified.

Back in the halls, Heeseung’s footsteps echoed like thunder. Servants scrambled out of the way, bowing quickly before darting aside. He passed the main stairs, two wings of the palace, and stormed through three doors before finally reaching the private chambers near your bedroom—where the royal birthing room had been prepared days in advance.

He saw the royal guards, saw the maids darting in and out with wet cloths and blankets.

And then he heard you.

A muffled cry of pain from within.

His heart nearly stopped.

Heeseung stood just outside the doors, hand on the carved gold handle, breaths ragged as he tried to steel himself—but just before he could push it open, a commanding voice echoed through the corridor.

“Prince Heeseung, you cannot go in.”

He turned, startled, eyes narrowing as he was met by the flowing robes of the Archbishop of Decelis, flanked by a few elder members of the High Council—those who hadn’t been in attendance during the earlier meeting. Their expressions were grave, respectful, but firm.

“What?” Heeseung snapped, his tone already laced with disbelief. “Why not?”

One of the older men stepped forward, hands folded neatly in front of him. “My prince, it is tradition. Men are not permitted inside the royal birthing chambers. It is an honored law of the land.”

Heeseung dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated and on the verge of unraveling. “Tradition?” he echoed, almost laughing bitterly.

“That’s my wife in there. My child. And you’re telling me I can’t be with them because of some old, dusty decree written before any of you were even born?”

The Archbishop stood firm. “It is to maintain the sanctity and protection of both mother and child. We must follow protocol.”

Heeseung clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring, his heart screaming inside his chest. Behind him, hurried footsteps approached—the rest of his brothers flooding into the corridor one by one, panting and wide-eyed.

“Hyung, we came as fast as—” Jungwon began before seeing the situation unfold.

But Heeseung didn’t turn to them.

Because just then, through the thick double doors, he heard you scream again.

His spine straightened. His vision tunneled.

A young maid appeared from the side chamber, looking breathless and flushed. “Prince Heeseung!” she called, bowing quickly. “Her Highness is calling for you. She keeps asking—she’s crying, asking where you are.”

Heeseung moved for the doors again, only for the Archbishop to raise a hand, stepping into his path once more.

“Your Highness, please—”

“Do you like being the Archbishop of Decelis?” Heeseung asked sharply, voice low and dangerous.

The man froze.

The council members stiffened.

“Do you?” Heeseung repeated, eyes like wildfire.

“…Yes, my prince.”

“And you all,” Heeseung turned to the councilmen. “Do you like your titles? Your seats? Your influence?”

No one answered.

He took a slow, threatening step forward, each word like a blade. “Would you like to remain the Archbishop of Decelis? And remain members of this council?”

The hallway went deadly silent. Even the guards didn’t breathe.

Because Heeseung had never raised his voice. Never threatened anyone. Never looked like this before. But now—he was livid. A man unhinged by love, fear, and a cry from someone he couldn’t bear to be separated from.

“You forget your place,” he growled. “That’s my wife. That’s my child. And I swore before gods and men to protect her, cherish her, be by her side in every joy and every pain. And if any of you think for a second that I’ll let her scream for me alone while you stand here quoting traditions—”

His voice cracked at the edge.

“Then you’re not just wrong. You’re finished.”

The Archbishop opened his mouth—then closed it again.

“I said move.”

The men parted.

Heeseung didn’t waste another second—he slammed the doors open and marched in, not as a prince, not as a future king, but as your husband.

As a man about to become a father. As someone so in love with you that the thought of you suffering made him feel physically ill.

You were there, on the padded birthing bed, your back supported by pillows, your hair sticking to your forehead with sweat, hands gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles were white.

Your mother and mother-in-law were at your side. The midwife—an older woman with gentle hands and sharp instructions—was calmly checking your status.

You looked up, eyes glassy and tired, and—

“Heeseung,” you whimpered.

He rushed to you without a word, dropping to his knees beside the bed and grabbing your hand. His fingers trembled as they laced through yours. “I’m here. I’m here, love, I’m right here.”

“I told you you were dead,” you gasped between contractions, squeezing his hand hard enough to crush bone.

Heeseung winced. “If I survive this, I’m building you another garden. Bigger. Full of lilacs. And pickles. And sour cream. Just—keep breathing, okay?”

You cried. “This is your fault!”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, kissing your hand desperately, forehead resting against your arm. “I’m a terrible husband. I’ll never touch you again—I’ll sleep in the stables if I have to.”

“You’re damn right you will,” you hissed, then screamed through the next wave of pain.

Heeseung paled, but kissed your temple anyway. “You’re doing amazing, my love. You’re almost there.”

Behind him, one of the queens whispered, “He’s more scared than she is.”

And he was.

Because he’d faced sword fights, battles, political scandals, and enemy threats. But nothing terrified him more than the idea of you in pain.

The midwife barely glanced at him, too focused on the task. She peeked between your parted legs and gave a tight, pleased smile. “She’s fully dilated. We’re ready.” Then she dropped onto the birthing stool at the end of the bed and called over her shoulder, “You, get the clean towels. And the water, now.”

“Yes, madam!” a maid stammered as they scurried to follow.

“Alright, Your Highness,” the midwife addressed you gently now, her voice calm but firm. “When I say push, I need you to push hard, understand?”

You nodded, breath hitching. “It hurts—gods, it hurts so much—”

Heeseung was already at your side, kneeling beside you despite the thick gold embroidery of his royal vest crumpling beneath him. He took your trembling hand and pressed it to his lips, his forehead leaning against yours.

“You can do this, love,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You sobbed softly, body trembling. “I’m scared…”

“I know,” he said. “But you’re strong. So strong. You’re everything. And our baby—our little prince or princess—they’re so close. Just a little more, okay?”

Another contraction hit and the midwife barked, “Push!”

You cried out, gripping Heeseung’s hand so tightly it felt like you might break it, and he welcomed every second of it—because if he could take your pain for you, he would a thousand times over.

“That’s it!” the midwife encouraged. “Good girl, Your Highness, again!”

Heeseung wiped the tears streaking down your cheeks with his other hand, pushing the damp strands of hair off your sticky forehead, his lips kissing every inch he could reach.

“I love you,” he whispered. “You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.”

But after another few rounds, you fell back against the pillows, exhausted. “I can’t… I can’t anymore, Hee…”

“Yes, you can,” he whispered, desperate now, tears pricking his eyes. “You’ve made it this far, you can. Just one more, darling. Please. Our baby’s waiting for you.”

You whimpered, chest rising and falling fast, but his hand didn’t leave yours, and his words—warm and trembling—wrapped around you like armor.

“One more push!” the midwife called again. “I see the head! One big push, my lady!”

You screamed as you gave everything, every last ounce of strength in your body—and then—

A sharp, high-pitched cry cut through the air.

The room stilled.

Heeseung gasped, tears immediately spilling down his cheeks as the sound hit him like an arrow through the heart.

“She’s here,” the midwife breathed with a smile. “A healthy baby girl!”

The moment your daughter was wrapped in warm linens and placed against your chest, your body quaked with sobs—relief, exhaustion, love, everything. She was tiny, pink, and perfect, crying softly as her fists curled against your skin.

“Oh, gods,” you wept, arms trembling as you cradled her. “She’s so… she’s so little…”

Heeseung was crying openly now, brushing soft, trembling kisses over your cheeks, your temple, your lips—everywhere.

“You did it,” he breathed, voice shaking as he stared at you like you hung the stars. “You did so good, love. She’s perfect. You’re both perfect.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand gently stroking your daughter’s soft downy head. Her cries softened, soothed by your warmth, and when her tiny hand flailed, Heeseung instinctively wrapped his finger around hers.

“She’s got your nose,” he whispered with a teary laugh.

“And your eyes,” you whispered back, voice breaking as more tears fell.

He kissed you again, lingering and reverent.

“My queen,” he murmured, voice soaked in awe, “my love, the mother of my child…”

And for the first time in forever, the kingdom outside went quiet—because in that room, on that bed, with your daughter in your arms and your husband holding you like you were made of gold.

You stood in the quiet, polished halls of the royal wing of the museum, the scent of aged books and lavender floor polish lingering in the air.

Jungwon and Sunoo had excused themselves a few minutes ago, excited to take pictures by the towering marble fountain near the entrance, leaving you to explore at your own pace, sipping on the lilac tea you bought from the museum café.

Your footsteps slowed to a stop when you turned the corner and came face to face with it.

A massive oil painting, stretching from the polished floor almost to the vaulted ceiling. Encased in a golden frame, dusted only at the corners with time. And in it, frozen in hues of soft ivory and golden light—

“Prince Lee Heeseung and Princess (L/N) (Y/N), in a timeless embrace beneath a canopy of lilacs and lavenders.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The artist had captured something so impossibly intimate it made your chest ache. Heeseung stood tall, dressed in a white military-style coat, adorned with golden embroidery that shimmered even under the museum’s soft lights. His hand gently cupped the princess’s cheek, gaze tender and unguarded, as if the entire kingdom didn’t exist when she was near.

The princess wore a flowing white gown with a lilac sash, long sleeves embroidered with delicate gold threads, mimicking vines curling around her arms. She looked up at him, her eyes almost tearful with love, one gloved hand clutching the edge of his coat as though anchoring herself to him.

But it wasn’t just the beauty of the painting that left you frozen.

It was her face.

Her face—your face.

Same eyes. Same smile. Same shape of the nose and curve of the chin. Even the way she tilted her head slightly, like she was listening to something only he could whisper.

You took a shaky breath and stepped closer, glancing at the golden standee resting just beside the red velvet rope:

“Prince Lee Heeseung and Princess (L/N) (Y/N). Captured in the royal gardens during the Spring Festival of 1782.

This portrait is one of the most beloved in the royal collection, known not just for its artistic mastery, but for the love story it represents. Theirs was not a marriage of convenience or political alliance—but one of deep, enduring love.

They were said to have loved each other until their very last breath.”

You blinked at the plaque, rereading your name etched in gold again and again, as if the letters might rearrange themselves into something more logical.

“…That’s not funny,” you whispered, barely audible.

A slow chill crawled up your spine as you looked back at the painting.

What were the odds? Your name. Your face. The same features captured in oil centuries ago. Was the tea messing with you? Were you sleep-deprived?

You turned to glance behind you, half-expecting Jungwon and Sunoo to be playing some elaborate prank, but the corridor was empty.

You let out a small exhale and turned back to the painting.

But you weren’t alone anymore.

There was someone standing beside you.

A tall figure, dressed in a sleek black blazer and slacks, his silhouette sharp against the soft golden lighting of the gallery. His hands were tucked into his pockets, posture relaxed, but his gaze… his gaze was fixed right where yours had been moments before—on the painting. Unmoving. Focused. Like it meant something.

Your eyes flicked down to the silver pin on the left lapel of his blazer: the Decelis University insignia. A student, then.

You shrugged to yourself, figuring he was probably here on the same field trip. You took another sip of your lilac tea, the floral taste now bittersweet on your tongue as your heart settled in your chest again.

“It’s uncanny,” he murmured beside you.

You blinked and tilted your head slightly. “Are you talking to me?”

His lips curved, not quite into a full smile—but into something quieter, gentler. And his voice—God, his voice was warm. Deep, but velvety.

“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t really see anyone else here besides you.”

You let out a soft laugh, caught off guard. “Wow. Is that your line, or do you just flirt in front of 18th-century paintings?”

“Only with people who look like they’ve just seen a ghost,” he teased.

You turned to him, finally taking in his features properly. And your breath caught in your throat.

His hair was dyed a soft lilac—the exact same shade as the flowers in the painting. It caught the sunlight pouring in from the museum’s high glass windows, casting a faint halo around his head. But it wasn’t just the hair. It was the eyes. The way he looked at you—not like a stranger—but like someone remembering.

“What did you mean by uncanny?” you asked softly, your grip tightening around your tea cup.

He glanced at the painting again, then back at you.

“Well,” he began, “for starters… she looks exactly like you.”

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you said, voice smaller than you meant. “I noticed that.”

The stranger beside you let out a soft laugh—not the polite kind, but the real one. Full-bodied and warm, the kind that came from the chest, from somewhere deeper. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, something boyish blooming across his face as he fully turned to face you now.

He was breathtaking up close.

Lilac hair tousled like the wind had played with it on the walk here, his blazer crisp and worn with ease, like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone—but still somehow did.

There was something timeless about him. Like his face didn’t belong to any specific era. Like it had been painted in oil and carved into memory long before today.

He glanced back at the painting again and tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Well,” he teased, “the real one looks way better.”

Your breath hitched.

Heat rushed to your cheeks before you could stop it. “Oh my gods,” you muttered under your breath, fighting a smile as you stared at the floor, willing it to open and swallow you whole.

He chuckled, clearly pleased with your reaction.

You sighed, defeated, and risked another look at him.

The way he stood there, relaxed but attentive. The way he smiled like he already knew you—like he was waiting for you to remember too. The way his eyes searched yours with a kind of gentleness, like he didn’t want to scare you off, but couldn’t help getting drawn in.

You finally found your voice again, soft but steady.

“Well,” you said, looking right at him this time, “you look exactly like him, so…”

Your hand lifted slightly, finger pointing toward the prince in the painting, but he didn’t follow it. His eyes were on you. Only you.

He took a step closer.

Not too much—but just enough that you could smell his cologne, something clean and woodsy, like cedar trees after the rain.

“You think so?” he asked, voice quiet, as if the question itself held centuries of weight.

You nodded.

And you gave him the smallest smile. The kind of smile you only give someone you feel like you’ve known your whole life—someone you’ve missed before you even met.

His eyes softened.

And then he looked up at the painting once more, but not for long. “They say those two married for love, not for politics,” he murmured. “That they stayed together until their last breath.”

You blinked. “You know the story?”

“Bits and pieces,” he said. “My professor’s a nerd about royal bloodlines. Said they were the last real fairytale before the world became… complicated.”

“…That’s kind of beautiful,” you said quietly.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking back at you. “It is.”

You stared at each other for a moment too long.

And in that silence—filled only by distant footsteps and the soft hum of the museum—you felt it.

That pull in your chest.

Like gravity—but gentler. Like you’d been waiting your whole life to stand in this exact spot, with this exact person, under the eyes of your past selves immortalized in paint and gold leaf.

You swallowed down the weight in your chest and cleared your throat, unsure how to ask the question on your tongue without sounding absolutely unhinged. But the curiosity burned hotter than your nerves.

So you looked up at him, voice hesitant but steady.

“…What’s your name?”

He turned to you, that boyish grin softening into something quieter—shyer, even. He chuckled under his breath and reached a hand toward you, the sunlight from the glass ceiling catching on the silver ring he wore.

“Lee Heeseung,” he said.

You stared.

You had to blink once, twice, to make sure you heard him right.

The same name etched into the gold plate by the painting.

The same name whispered by fate across brushstrokes and centuries.

The same name that made something in your bones stir like they remembered.

Was the universe playing a joke? A test? A cosmic prank?

Or had it been quietly arranging this moment since the day you were born?

You were certain if someone snapped a photo of this second, the stars would burn a little brighter behind the frame.

You reached for his outstretched hand, your fingers brushing against his palm. The moment your skin touched his, a jolt shot up your arm—not painful, not harsh. Just… warm. Familiar. Like home.

He didn’t let go.

And honestly? You didn’t want him to.

His fingers wrapped around yours just right, firm but careful, like he already knew you needed both comfort and gentleness.

“And you?” he asked, voice softer now. Like he was scared to breathe too hard and shatter something delicate.

You swallowed, heart loud in your ears.

“(L/N) (Y/N),” you said, breathless.

Something shifted in his eyes.

Like a sunrise cracked through storm clouds.

Heeseung smiled—slowly, knowingly. “Nice to meet you, Princess,” he murmured, still not letting go.

Your breath hitched.

The nickname shouldn’t have meant anything coming from a stranger. But from him—it felt like the world had finally remembered a story it forgot to finish.

In that fleeting space between his smile and your breathless heartbeat, you realized something:

Maybe some loves weren’t just meant to last lifetimes.

Maybe some loves were lifetimes.

Maybe you and him—Lee Heeseung, the stranger who felt like a memory—had been chasing each other through history, always finding, always losing, always waiting.

And as the sunlight spilled through the stained glass, casting lilac and gold across your skin, you smiled.

Because somehow, in a crowded museum filled with relics of the past—you had found your future.

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liuhsng · 4 days ago

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I saw that requests are open and I’ve been loving your fics! I was wondering if you could do a royal themed fic with the reader being and princess and Heeseung/Jungwon as princes? That would literally make me melt inside.

hi love !!

thank you so so much for this request 😭💗 funny thing is, i actually have something very similar sitting in my drafts all the way from 2021 omg. it’s a little different—has a few reincarnation allusions sprinkled in—but still has that whole royal vibe.

and now i finally have the chance (and motivation thanks to you !) to finish it, just give me a few hours and i’ll make sure it’s something that’s up to our taste! 💌🫶 stay tuned!

#˙⋆✮ requests #˙⋆✮ asks #enhypen x reader

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liuhsng · 5 days ago

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omg. i just finished a whole series and now my brain’s already like telling me to write a new one? can we breathe first 😭

i swear i haven’t even had time to emotionally recover from the last one and yet here i am, should i go for it?? also would you guys be interested if i opened a permanent taglist soon? 👀💌

should i start this series for real? bc if i do, there’s no going back

#˙⋆✮ liuhsng talks #enhypen x reader

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liuhsng · 5 days ago

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───〃⋆⭒˚.⋆ appreciation post — untouchable

⤷ read series here !

this was my first ever series. my first big story. and god, i went through so much to finish it. writer’s block, self-doubt, four years of silence—and yet here we are.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you. to every single person who read, reblogged, screamed in my inbox, or even silently followed “untouchable, an enhypen omegverse series” from the beginning—you’ve made this journey unforgettable.

to the readers who were there all the way back in 2021, when this series was just messy drafts and late-night ideas, thank you for believing in my characters before they even fully existed. and to those who stayed, even through my 4 years of inactivity, only to come back like nothing changed—you made it feel like home again.

a special thank you to @kissesfromdarling—your reblogs, your tags, the way you understood the hearts of my characters—it meant everything. your support genuinely made me tear up, and gave me the push i didn’t know i needed.

and to @decilis, who literally became active again just because of this series, and spent nights waiting for updates (girl i’m crying), thank you for your patience, your love, and your faith in me and this world i built.

to @skyearby, @graythecoffeebean, and @nics-fxy—my loudest readers, the ones who never held back their reactions, their excitement, their comments—you gave this story life. thank you for screaming with me every step of the way.

and of course, to @eleftheriance, the first ever reader of this series—thank you for being there at the very beginning, when this story was still just finding its voice. your support lit the spark that kept it going.

this story was for you, my dear reader.

and finishing it? that was for us. 🤍

i poured my heart into untouchable, and i’m so proud of where it ended. but this is just the beginning.

there’s so much more to come.

— xo,

liuhsng 💌

#⭑.ᐟ xo liuhsng

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liuhsng · 6 days ago

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✩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 !

taglist: @hoonbrry @hime98 @chae-darling @moonchus @peatchiedii @creamkwan @nyfwyeonjun @whoe-dis @woonie-muffin @caelumsjy @90sni-ki @leiomorea @junjungsunwoo @in-somnias-world @notcamii @yizhoutv @lovesickth @elairah @graythecoffeebean @skyearby @ikeumina @blckorchidd @littlebambi-isdee @immelissaaa @jakesfurry @dreamy-carat @cristy-101 @m1kkso @h4niyahcar @firstclassjaylee @skyearby @hello0i @koizekomi @deluluscenarios @hooniehon @heelovesmeknot @petalsofink @sjyuns @jaerisdiction @baedreamverse @notcamii @nishiinightz @kissesfromdarling

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liuhsng · 15 days ago

Text

✩ˎˊ˗ always been yours ( nk ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 18k ⤷ 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-ish, emotionally constipated alpha!ni-ki, reader is confused and overwhelmed, ni-ki is mad but also so clearly in love it hurts, angst, tooth-rotting fluff (kinda), mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

⤷ a/n — guess who’s back + you all are gonna hate me for the long ass edging and ni-ki’s monologues that are even longer, BUT I PROMISE YOU GUYS IT’S WORTH IT, I THINK. this one has a part two, don’t worry <3

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — nishimura riki has never been good at sharing. not his things, not his time—and definitely not you. his childhood best friend, his first love, the one person he thought would always be by his side, and the one person who left without warning five years ago. now, out of nowhere, you’re back. still familiar, still his, and suddenly surrounded by alphas who don’t know where they stand. ni-ki isn’t the type to say how he feels. but he’s also not the type to sit back and watch someone else try to take what’s his. especially not when everyone already knows who you belong to.

Nishimura Riki sat curled into the corner of the oversized couch, eyes fixed on the chandelier above him—some imported crystal monstrosity that probably cost more than most people’s cars. The afternoon sunlight filtered through it just right, scattering little flecks of rainbow across the pristine white ceiling. He stared until the colors blurred.

The estate was quiet. Not peaceful, not relaxing—quiet, in that eerie, suffocating kind of way that made everything feel too pristine. The high ceilings, stark white walls, and flawless marble floor all echoed with nothing.

No voices. No footsteps. Just the distant hum of the central air conditioning and the occasional clink of glassware from the kitchen staff.

He blinked once. Twice. Then let his head fall against the backrest, jaw slack with boredom.

“This house is too damn quiet,” he mumbled, the words barely above a whisper, but loud enough to bounce back at him in the emptiness. “What the hell…”

The estate was far from empty. Staff bustled in the background, dusting imported sculptures, adjusting blinds, organizing already-organized bookshelves. But they moved like ghosts, all too practiced in the art of being invisible. It only made the silence worse.

Konon and Misora were out shopping, some weekly ritual that he usually tolerated, but skipped today. Misora had whined at him through the hallway, arms full of tote bags and half-curled hair.

‘You’re gonna regret not coming when we hit Chrome Hearts!’

He didn’t budge. Just threw a hand over his face and muttered, ‘Call me if there’s a necklace I don’t already own.’

Now, of course, he was kind of regretting it.

His siblings were off having fun. His parents were halfway across the world, negotiating with business giants in Hong Kong. They were set to return Wednesday—he’d seen them off late Friday night, both dressed in clean-pressed suits, the car waiting outside.

They weren’t cold. Never had been. Just busy. Big names came with bigger expectations, and while the Nishimura empire had always demanded attention, they never let him forget he was loved—even when the world demanded more from him than it should.

Now, for a few days, he and Konon were in charge of the Korea-side operations. A temporary hand-off, something his father framed as a ‘trust exercise’ and his mother as a ‘chance to breathe before your real responsibilities start.’

Between student council duties, public appearances, and preparing to step into an upcoming board position—one that came with his name written in permanent ink—he barely had space to think. Still, he liked the pressure. It meant something. It meant he was being trusted with more.

Still… right now? He was bored out of his damn mind.

His fingers drummed against the sleek coffee table, tapping a restless rhythm before finally reaching for his laptop. If he wasn’t going to go out, he might as well catch up on council emails. Or finalize some documents. Or check how the stock pitch he greenlit was doing.

The screen lit up, blue light reflecting in his eyes. Dozens of updates stared back at him—messages, proposals, reminders he’d been ghosting on purpose. His friends were probably doing the same.

He scrolled halfheartedly, eyes skimming past council threads, finance reports, and that one email from his father’s assistant reminding him to review next quarter’s agenda. “I’ll do it later,” he muttered, even though later had already come and gone twice.

His friends were all busy, he knew that. Off playing house or pampering their Omegas like the lovesick idiots they were. Dates, getaways, brunches in private villas.

Even Jay—Jay, of all people—had gone suspiciously quiet. Which meant he was either fighting with his Omega, or spoiling her until she forgot why she was mad.

Not that he was jealous.

“Tch. Simps,” he mumbled under his breath, shifting to lay sideways on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest. “Y’all used to be fun.”

Ni-ki huffed, setting the laptop aside with a dull thud. His eyes flicked back to the chandelier.

Maybe next time, he would go shopping. At least clothes didn’t cuddle.

The low purr of the Lamborghini Revuelto finally died as Ni-ki turned the key, killing the engine with one smooth motion. The soft click of the door echoed faintly in the morning air as he stepped out, the matte black finish of the car gleaming under the early sunlight.

It was still early—maybe too early. Students milled around the front steps of the university, but he didn’t spare them a glance.

He reached over the passenger seat, grabbed his backpack, and slung one strap lazily over his shoulder, letting it hang off one side as he shut the door behind him.

His strides were unhurried, long legs carrying him through the main entrance with a kind of silent arrogance he didn’t even have to try for.

His custom-tailored uniform blazer fit like it was stitched directly onto him—dark navy with subtle embroidery along the cuffs and collar that only the observant would catch. The fabric clung just right to the broad lines of his shoulders before tapering down his waist.

His tie was a little loose, on purpose, and the crisp white shirt underneath had the top two buttons undone, revealing just enough skin to tease. A delicate silver chain glinted around his neck, resting against his collarbones, an understated but expensive piece he never left without.

Ni-ki tucked one hand into his slacks’ pocket, the other loosely holding his phone as he turned toward the open hallways instead of cutting through the inner buildings.

It was a good morning for a walk, anyway—the breeze was soft, the sky pale and washed out, and from the upper hall he had a perfect view of the school field stretching wide and green below.

His shoes clicked against the marble tile as he walked toward the council room, head slightly tilted like he was lost in thought—but that was just how he always looked. Effortless. Icy. Way too gorgeous for anyone’s good.

He could feel people staring—students whispering, trying not to be obvious. Some Omegas caught mid-swoon, quickly looking away. But again, he paid them no mind.

If they weren’t you, they never mattered anyway.

A real, audible groan that escaped his chest before he could stop it, echoing off the walls of the wide hallway and startling a pair of Betas who had been quietly chatting near one of the lockers. They jumped, blinking at him in alarm, and Ni-ki—usually too detached to care—glanced over with the faintest wince and offered an apologetic nod.

“Sorry,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

He hated this. Hated that even when you weren’t here, you still managed to occupy his head rent-free. It was annoying. Infuriating. Endless.

His mind, no matter how hard he tried, wouldn’t shut up. About you. About how you used to walk beside him in these same hallways, brushing shoulders. About the way your laughter used to echo, and how quiet it felt without it.

The doors to the council room loomed up ahead—tall, polished, regal. He reached out and pushed one of the heavy double doors open with ease, the brass handle cool under his fingers. The room was quiet—only the faint hum of the central air and distant footsteps filtering in.

Ni-ki made a beeline for his table and dropped his bag with a soft thud beside the mahogany table before settling into the leather chair like it had been waiting just for him.

His fingers ghosted over the glossy surface of the nameplate in front of him.

Nishimura Riki, Student Relations Director.

But instead of pulling out paperwork, or checking the meeting agenda, his hand moved to his phone. He turned it on without thinking—again.

He stared at it for a long second, his thumb hovering over the side like he might turn it off, shove it away, and focus on literally anything else.

“What the hell am I doing? This is pathetic.”

He was supposed to be better than this. Smarter. Stronger. He was a goddamn Alpha. He didn’t wait around like some love-struck idiot for someone who wasn’t even—

Ping.

His breath hitched.

Your name popped up on the screen, bold and glowing like some kind of divine sign from the universe. A simple message, probably something stupid or casual, but it made the corners of his lips twitch up in quiet, miserable glee.

my (y/n) [6:10 AM]: hi 🥱 good morning.

my (y/n) [6:10 AM]: well it’s morning in korea anyway 🫠 i haven’t slept yet ugh.

my (y/n) [6:10 AM]: i’m tired and cold and my brain is melting i want to go home already :(

Ni-ki’s heart squeezed.

He exhaled through his nose, letting his phone drop slightly into his palm.

Italy. Five years. You’d been gone that long, and yet not a single thing about you ever felt distant. Not really.

He could picture it now. You, curled up somewhere in your small European apartment, probably buried under your favorite duvet, only your face sticking out. Hair messy, eyes puffy from staying up too long again, your lips slightly chapped and your cheek pressed against a cold pillow you’d never remember flipping. You were exhausted and cranky and so far away.

And yet, you still looked good. You always did.

Even when you were tired. Even when you didn’t try.

His fingers hovered over the screen, then typed.

ni-ki [6:11 AM]: should’ve told me you were still up.

ni-ki [6:11 AM]: i would’ve called. even if you just wanted to hear my voice and knock out.

There. Calm. Unbothered. The lie practically rolled off his thumbs.

my (y/n) [6:12 AM]: you? offering to call? who are you and what have you done with nishimura riki?

He scoffed, the sound echoing too loudly in the silent council room. His hand reached for the chain around his neck, thumb grazing the silver habitually.

ni-ki [6:13 AM]: shut up. i’m always nice to you.

He hit send, jaw tightening.

ni-ki [6:13 AM]: go to sleep. you’ll get sick.

ni-ki [6:13 AM]: wrap yourself like a burrito or something.

He imagined you reading that—messy, puffy-eyed, probably smiling that small, sleepy smile that made something inside him ache in places he didn’t want to name.

God, you didn’t even try. And you still had him like this.

Still no reply. Still no typing bubbles. You were probably drifting off already, phone warm in your hand, heart somewhere far away from his, like always.

He sighed and gently placed the phone face-down on the desk.

Ni-ki leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on the high ceiling, as if the answer to his confusion was hidden in the shadows of the chandelier.

He hated that someone so far away still felt this close.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of Jay’s unmistakable laugh, loud and careless as it echoed down the hallway. Ni-ki groaned audibly, dragging his hand down his face before turning to the council room door, just as it swung open with force.

Heeseung entered first, holding the door casually with one hand, and immediately spotted Ni-ki already at his desk.

The eldest’s steps faltered for a beat, eyebrows lifting in obvious surprise as he muttered under his breath, “What the hell…”

But of course, Ni-ki heard it. His pureblooded alpha senses didn’t miss a thing, especially not when Heeseung was only a few feet away.

He shot the older boy a flat look from beneath his lashes, dark eyes slightly narrowed in warning. A lazy glare—but one that said don’t even start.

Heeseung blinked, then tilted his head toward the hallway, calling back with casual disbelief:

“Guys, Ni-ki’s already here.”

Jake and Sunghoon appeared next, eyes scanning the room in disbelief as they walked in. Jay peeked around from behind Jungwon and Sunoo, clearly confused.

Their mates were right behind them. Hushed whispers. Quick glances. Giggles just a little too coordinated. Like a plan was being carried out behind enemy lines. Ni-ki’s eyes narrowed slightly at the girls, suspicious, his instincts tingling.

They were definitely up to something.

But before he could dwell too much on it, Sunoo’s mate caught him staring.

“Good morning, our little baby,” she cooed, her voice teasing but warm.

Ni-ki groaned again, dragging his palm over his face.

“I’m not a baby.”

Sunoo laughed as he headed for his desk. “He’s lying. He totally is.”

Heeseung threw his bag on his desk and eyed Ni-ki with mock caution.

“You’re not dying or something, right?”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “I woke up early.”

Jake raised a brow. “So you decided to come here of all places?”

“It was quiet.”

Jay laughed. “Keyword was.”

Ni-ki ignored them, slouching lower in his chair as the others all settled into their own seats—each desk personalized to their taste, decorated in varying levels of chaos or minimalism.

Jungwon clicked open his tablet, stylus tapping against the screen.

“We’ve got that department head meeting at nine,” he said casually, eyes flicking toward Ni-ki’s general direction.

Ni-ki just nodded, almost absently. One hand resting on the edge of his desk, the other fiddling with the corner of his phone.

Sunghoon didn’t miss it.

He walked over, leaned just slightly over Ni-ki’s chair, peering down at the younger alpha like he was trying to scan him for symptoms.

“Are you sure you’re not fucking dying?”

Ni-ki finally cracked a smile—small, lazy, but unmistakably real.

“Fuck no.”

Jay looked up from his planner, brows raised in that judgmental way only he could pull off so casually. “You sure?” he asked, tone deceptively light but eyes sharp—more serious than usual. “You seem kinda out of it.”

Ni-ki didn’t even blink. His voice came out smooth, quiet, practiced. “I’m good.”

He wasn’t lying. Not really.

But before the topic could fade, Jake suddenly pointed at him with the energy of someone who just solved a murder case. “Nishimura,” he accused, “you better not be in love.”

Ni-ki's eyes narrowed, head tipping to the side as if he couldn’t believe the words. “What the hell, Jake? As if.”

“As if?” Sunoo echoed, practically skipping into the conversation. “Please. (Y/N) wouldn’t like that.”

Ni-ki’s expression didn’t change, but his scent did. It changed—once light and crisp with notes of lime and amberwood, now sharp and bitter, the edges curling like paper touched by flame.

Jungwon’s mate leaned forward slightly, an amused lilt in her voice as she added, “Yeah, Ni-ki. What about (Y/N)?”

Heeseung chuckled under his breath, a soft, knowing sound. “Still thinking about her, huh? That’s kinda cute.”

Jay didn’t even look up from his planner. “Of course he is. Dipshit’s been into her since diapers.”

“She visits every holiday,” Jungwon pointed out, arms crossed but lips curled into a smirk. “And when she does? Ni-ki goes full golden retriever mode.”

Jake sighed, “Held the door for her. Offered her his hoodie. Helped me clean the council storage room while she was around. I’ve never seen him clean, bro.”

Jake’s mate slid into his seat, her legs draped neatly over one side as he stood behind her with one hand resting lightly on the backrest. She tilted her head and offered Ni-ki a teasing smile. “Poor (YN). She probably has no idea there’s a little Nishimura waiting for her back home.”

Ni-ki groaned, eyes slipping shut like the weight of their voices was physically exhausting. “I don’t like her.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, a soft hum.

Sunghoon.

Low, barely there—but loud enough to dig under Ni-ki’s skin.

Ni-ki’s brows furrowed as he peeked an eye open, just in time to see the older Alpha tilt his head slightly, eyes still locked on him like he was trying to see right through the denial and pull the truth out by force.

“I really don’t,” Ni-ki repeated, firmer this time, more clipped.

Sunghoon didn’t blink.

The hum stayed with them, echoing in the air long after it ended. A quiet challenge, a dare to keep lying.

“Okay,” Jay muttered, sarcasm laced through every syllable. “Sure.”

Ni-ki turned to glare at him, “I’m serious.”

“Mhm,” Jungwon said from his desk, spinning a pen between his fingers. “You totally don’t talk about her every time she messages.”

“That’s literally not true.”

Jake snorted. “You literally smiled like a dumbass last week when she texted you.”

Sunoo leaned forward, smirking. “Didn’t even open the message yet, by the way. He just saw her name.”

The tips of Ni-ki’s ears started to burn. “Shut up.”

But they weren’t listening anymore. Not really.

Even Heeseung’s mate leaned back in her seat with an amused smile, sharing another knowing glance with Jay’s, both of them clearly deciding to let him simmer in his own denial for now.

Because Ni-ki wasn’t just stubborn—he was Ni-ki stubborn.

He’d rather die than admit it.

But even as he doubled down, slouching lower in his chair and scowling like it would hide anything, they could all see it: the softness in his eyes when he looked at his phone, the way his fingers hovered before typing, the way your name still made him falter.

He was stubborn, yes.

But they all knew what he didn’t want to say.

That he liked you.

Maybe more than liked. Maybe always had.

He flipped them off again, but even that was weaker now. The fire wasn’t in it.

The cafeteria was unusually quiet for a mid-afternoon. A few students passed through for snacks or late lunches, but the long stretch of tables remained mostly untouched, sunlight bleeding in through the tall glass windows and washing everything in pale gold.

The sound of wooden chairs scraping against tiled floors echoed as Jay dropped his tray down with a groan, slumping into his seat.

“That beta’s asking for it,” he muttered darkly, stabbing at his food. “Another word out of his mouth during proposal presentations and I will punch him. I don’t care if I get benched for a week.”

Jake chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. “You’re a walking pureblooded Alpha temper tantrum with muscles. Sit your ass down and breathe.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “I am sitting. And breathing.”

“Yeah? Try not breathing for a minute. Might do us all a favor.”

Heeseung snorted from beside them, lazily flipping through the thick folder in front of him. “You two fight more than Jungwon and his mate during exams.”

“At least they apologize after,” Jake shot back.

Jay scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I apologize—sometimes.”

Jake leaned forward, elbows on the table now, eyes sparkling. “Right. Just like you almost apologized when you nearly started a fight over a statistical error.”

Jay’s scowl deepened. “It wasn’t just a statistical error. He said our estimates were flawed when it was literally his damn data set that skewed the chart—”

“Oh no,” Jake cut in, holding a hand to his chest with mock sympathy. “A chart, Jay? I’m so sorry for your loss. Want me to send flowers to your ego?”

Jay glared. “Thank you.”

“I wasn’t complimenting your ego, dumbass.”

While Jay and Jake continued to, Heeseung’s gaze drifted. Quietly. Thoughtfully. His eyes slid to Ni-ki, who hadn’t said a word since they sat down.

The youngest sat hunched forward, fingers ghosting over his untouched tray. He was spinning the bottle cap of his drink in circles, over and over again, his brows faintly furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. His phone sat face-up next to his tray, screen black, unmoving. Waiting.

Heeseung leaned back slowly, chair creaking beneath him. “Ni-ki,” he called gently.

Nothing.

Jake looked up too, the humor slipping from his face. Jay went quiet beside him.

The beef Wellington on his plate—normally devoured in a heartbeat—was cut into unnervingly perfect cubes. Equal sides. Edges lined up like they were going to be submitted for inspection. His fork moved like clockwork, slice after slice after slice.

Ni-ki blinked. Slowly. As if being pulled from underwater. “Huh?”

“You haven’t touched your food,” Heeseung said.

“I’m not that hungry,” he muttered.

Jay blinked. “You good?”

“Fine,” Ni-ki muttered, not meeting anyone’s eyes. His voice was tight. His shoulders tense.

Jake frowned, then started rummaging through his bag. Papers shuffled, folders slapped against the table. “Shit,” he muttered. “Shit, shit, shit—”

Jay raised a brow. “What, did your IQ fall out?”

Jake rolled his eyes and started flipping through another folder. “No, I just—Jungwon gave me those event documents this morning and I think I left them in my other bag. Crap.” He slung his strap over one shoulder and stood. “I’ll be right back. Try not to let Jay pick a fight with the salad bar while I’m gone.”

“Low blow,” Jay mumbled.

“Try breathing,” Jake tossed over his shoulder before walking off, bag swinging against his side, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots.

The table fell silent again.

Heeseung’s eyes didn’t leave Ni-ki. “Something’s up.”

Ni-ki shifted, jaw tense.

Jay leaned forward. “She still hasn’t called?”

Ni-ki exhaled through his nose. “Nope.”

Heeseung set down his pen and turned fully to Ni-ki. “How long has it been?”

Ni-ki’s fingers curled tighter around his knife. “A week.”

Jay let out a low whistle.

“I’m not freaking out or anything,” Ni-ki added quickly, running a hand through his hair, agitated. “I know she’s busy. I know she’s got… stuff in Italy. Just—usually, even when she’s busy, she texts. Or calls. Just for a minute.”

He paused. Stared down at his tray again.

“I’m just not used to her being this… distant.”

Heeseung sat back in his chair, watching him carefully. “You miss her.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “No, I don’t.”

“Ni-ki.”

“I don’t!” He looked up, eyes sharp. “It’s not—look, I’m not going insane.”

Heeseung raised a brow.

“I’m not,” Ni-ki repeated, voice flat.

Jay leaned in, elbows on the table. “You sure? Because you’ve been checking your phone every five minutes like a rejected Omega.”

Ni-ki glared. “Screw you.”

Heeseung held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Not insane.”

“Just perfectly composed while cutting food into geometric shapes.”

“Shut up.”

Jay bit back a grin. “We’re just saying… it’s okay to care.”

“I don’t care.”

No one said anything. But they didn’t need to.

The way Jay looked at him, the way Heeseung’s expression softened, the way Jake had noticed it even before leaving—they all knew. They saw it.

Ni-ki slumped slightly in his chair and muttered under his breath, “I’m gonna kill her when she calls.”

Jay smirked. “You mean kiss her when she calls.”

“Say that again and I’ll make you eat that damn folder in front of you.”

The long council room was dimly lit by late-afternoon light pouring through tall windows, warm but heavy—the kind that made your eyes sting if you looked too long. Papers scattered the polished mahogany table, coffee cups lay abandoned at every corner, and the air was thick with exhaustion.

Sunghoon stood at the front, sleeves rolled, a pen in one hand and stress in the other.

“If we reposition the second-year booths by the south exit, we can free up space for the open performance stage,” he said, turning slightly. “Ni-ki, student relations—your call?”

Ni-ki didn’t even need the cue. He was already standing at the front beside Sunghoon, arms crossed, eyes locked on the giant screen like he was about to burn holes into it.

“We’ve got issues,” he said plainly. “Four different booth leaders complained about miscommunication. Some were sent the wrong drafts. One got their schedule three days late. I gave my team everything they needed. They still dropped the ball.”

He didn’t look at them. Didn’t need to. The guilt alone from his tone was enough.

He didn’t spare them a look. Just pointed to the next slide—a familiar layout titled in your handwriting: ‘Memory Garden.’

“This stays,” Ni-ki said. “(Y/N) built this. You all know that. It’s tradition.”

Silence.

Then a voice from the back—casual, cocky, and very much older.

“Nishimura, with all due respect,” a fourth-year Alpha drawled, reclining just slightly in his seat, “it’s a little sentimental, don’t you think? We could go digital. More efficient, less space. Feels… outdated.”

Ni-ki didn’t even move, he didn’t have to.

He just raised an eyebrow—slowly—like a predator sizing its prey, like he couldn’t believe someone so pathetically ordinary dared to speak with that tone.

The silence was deafening as his scent turned bitter.

It laced the air like frost crawling over skin, like metal against teeth. The kind of scent that made your instincts curl inward, unsure if you should fight or flee—but knowing damn well you wouldn't survive either.

The air grew heavy—oppressive. The cocky Alpha visibly stiffened. His smirk faltered, just slightly, when Ni-ki raised a brow, eyes gleaming with quiet fury.

It wasn’t just dominance; it was a reminder. A statement.

That despite being barely nineteen, Nishimura Riki was the most dangerous Alpha in the room at the moment.

The unknown Alpha across the room visibly faltered. His voice died on his tongue. The confidence drained from his posture, spine straightening as his jaw clenched tight. He was trying to hold composure, but his throat bobbed in a swallow too forced to hide.

Because Ni-ki wasn’t just an Alpha—he was a pureblood.

His eyes carried centuries of power, his aura an inheritance sharpened by years of restraint, calculation, and silent fury.

And when pushed, he didn’t hesitate to bare his canines.

Sunghoon, still next to Ni-ki, immediately placed a firm hand on his shoulder. His grip was steady, a silent warning: breathe.

Across the room, Heeseung mouthed silently from his seat, “Don’t.”

Across the table, Jungwon sat still, eyes locked on the exchange. Sunoo glanced at him, both ready to intervene if something physical broke out.

But Ni-ki didn’t explode. He didn’t lash out.

He leaned into cruelty like it was an art.

Ni-ki tilted his head, “Say that again,” he said, voice almost amused. “Go on. I dare you.”

The older Alpha blinked, struggling to breathe properly under the pressure, but Ni-ki didn’t let up.

“Tell me, old man,” he said with a sweet venom, “do you make a habit of disrespecting things you don’t understand, or is this just a hobby?”

“Because unless you’ve stood in that Garden at 11:52PM watching someone read a letter they never got to say in person—unless you've seen people leave pieces of their hearts there, maybe keep your mouth shut about what’s outdated.”

Even Sunghoon’s hand on Ni-ki’s shoulder wasn’t enough to cut through the tension.

“Get your mutts under control, Sunghoon,” he said, voice dry as bone. “You don’t want the marketing team to get tainted.”

Sunghoon didn’t argue.

Because despite being the youngest among them, Ni-ki didn’t go unheard.

He turned on his heel, calm and precise, and sat back down, crossing his arms.

But the damage was done.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it was terrifying.

Every council member outside of his circle sat still, stiff-backed, like any movement might get them noticed. Like any breath might set him off again.

The only people unaffected were his friends.

And the empty chair beside him—still waiting for the one person who could’ve softened that storm.

The only one he might’ve listened to.

But you weren’t there.

It was already past seven.

The overhead lights had dimmed automatically to their evening setting, casting a faint golden glow across the long stretch of the council room. Most of them had already gone home.

The once-lively chatter, the shuffle of papers, and the light clinks of glass tumblers were long gone. The silence had taken over—and it was starting to settle into Ni-ki’s bones.

He moved slower than usual.

His hand skimmed over the final page of a student affairs request form that needed triple verification before he could sign off on it. The edges were slightly crumpled, not from the printer, but from how long he’d been holding it. Reading it once. Then again. Then one more time. The words were starting to blur together, but he refused to admit he needed a break.

His desk was still cluttered. A few printouts from the last meeting, two untouched energy drinks, a pen cap he hadn’t seen in half an hour. He stacked what he could, aligned the folders, straightened the corners—desperate for something to control.

Ni-ki’s scent, once sharp and bitter from the earlier altercation, had dulled down to something faint and cold. He didn’t even notice how quiet his breathing had become until a soft clack snapped him out of it.

A cold americano. Placed carefully in the only clean space on his desk.

He blinked up, dazed.

Jay stood across from him, not saying anything at first. Just watching.

“I know you’re big and all,” Jay said finally, voice steady and low, “but don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

It wasn’t condescending. It wasn’t a joke. It was genuine—but it came from a place only few got to see. Jay—not exactly warm, but never careless. When Jay looked after someone, it was without spectacle.

He adjusted his bag over one shoulder, then turned slightly toward the door.

His mate was waiting.

She stood just outside the council room, leaning lightly against the frame, a book in her hand. When she noticed Ni-ki looking, she offered him a small, knowing smile.

Jay reached her first, slipping his fingers into hers with ease like they’d been doing it for years. No words passed between them. They just turned and walked off together, steps soft against the polished floor. A quiet, normal kind of love that felt almost too far away.

Ni-ki was alone again.

His stared at the cup Jay left behind.

He didn’t drink it.

He just sat there, staring at the small patch of condensation forming beneath it. He could smell the faint caramel notes drifting upward, mixing with the sharp scent of ink, old paper, and whatever remained of his own presence in the room.

Ni-ki leaned back in his chair.

Exhaled.

But it didn’t make the silence go away.

Ni-ki stared at it again. The plastic lid was already fogging, the condensation slipping down like teardrops onto his paper-strewn desk. His fingers twitched beside it, but he didn’t move to touch it. Not yet.

His eyes dropped to the swirl of ice floating inside. The cold brew was pitch black, just the way you used to drink yours. Just the way you taught him to drink it.

He hated coffee before you.

Didn’t see the point in it. Too bitter, too acidic, too unnecessary.

But then came you, with stars in your eyes and a smile that could bend galaxies. You showed up in his kitchen at 7:14 a.m., wearing his hoodie and hopping on your toes because “Riki, I got it this time, I finally found the right beans!”

You made that stupid cup like it was magic—pouring, stirring, humming along to some playlist he never admitted to liking. You grinned when you handed it to him, fingers brushing his. “Trust me, this one’s different.”

And it was.

Not because of the flavor. But because of you.

He exhaled through his nose, fingers finally reaching for the cup. He didn’t drink it. Just held it—like the cold would bring you back.

The room was too quiet. The overhead lights buzzed low, casting long shadows over the scattered council documents he still hadn’t finished.

Just as he leaned down to grab another folder from under his desk, the door creaked open.

Ni-ki didn’t flinch, but his eyes flicked up.

Sunghoon stood in the doorway, shoulders slouched, brows furrowed in tired disbelief. He blinked once. Twice. Then sighed—long and loud.

“I knew it,” he muttered, stepping inside. “I literally came back just to grab the membership forms I left under my seat and—yep. Of course. You’re still here.”

Ni-ki didn’t look up. Just thumbed through the folder he’d picked up.

“You could’ve asked someone to send them to you,” he said, voice flat. Dull. Worn.

“I could’ve,” Sunghoon replied, making his way over to the table and picking up a stray form, “but then who would’ve found you half-dead over three different budget proposals and a black coffee you didn’t even buy yourself?”

Ni-ki paused.

Sunghoon stared at the untouched drink. “Jay?”

Ni-ki gave a slow nod.

Sunghoon gave a slower hum. “Figures. Romantic-ass bastard. Can’t go thirty minutes without checking on everyone.”

Ni-ki didn’t reply.

Sunghoon crouched slightly to look him in the eyes. “You good, kid?”

“No,” Ni-ki muttered honestly.

Sunghoon didn’t push further. He just nodded, then picked up his folder and tapped it against the table. “Go home, Ni-ki. You’re not going to win a medal for burning yourself out. This isn’t a contest.”

Ni-ki’s lips quirked just a little at that. Barely.

Then, under is breath, low and dry, “Fuck it.”

Ni-ki reached for his car keys, fingers closing around the familiar weight. He didn’t bother fixing his desk—left the half-signed documents scattered, coffee cold and untouched. Everything about him screamed done, drained, empty.

He straightened up slowly, the exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders heavier than it had all day.

“Thanks,” he said, voice quiet. Sincere in a way Sunghoon could always tell.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything back. He just gave the boy a nod—one of those rare, wordless acknowledgments between Alphas who’d already said too much with too little. Despite all the snarkiness, all the sharp-tongued remarks, Sunghoon knew Ni-ki meant it.

The council room door creaked as Ni-ki slipped through, Sunghoon turned back to the folder in his hand, but something tugged at him.

He looked over his shoulder.

Ni-ki was already halfway down the hall, swallowed by dim lights and the soft sound of his footsteps echoing against the tiles. His shoulders were tense, head low, blazer shifting ever so slightly with each step.

And for someone who had half the fourth-years shaking in their seats just hours earlier, for someone who could silence a room with nothing but his presence,

It always amazed Sunghoon how quiet Ni-ki could get.

He shook his head to himself, lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. Just a knowing expression. The kind only older brothers wore when they watched the people they cared about unravel in silence.

And then he let the younger Alpha go.

Let the hallway swallow him whole.

Because even the most dangerous ones needed time to fall apart.

The parking lot was still. A vast stretch of silence interrupted only by the low hum of distant streetlights and the lonely tap of Ni-ki’s footsteps against the pavement.

His breath misted in the cool night air as he walked—brisk, sharp, like he was trying to outrun something that kept catching up anyway. The entire campus had quieted down, lights dimmed, the night wrapping around the buildings like a blanket too thin to keep out the cold.

But he didn’t feel it.

Or maybe he did, and just didn’t care anymore.

His car chirped as he unlocked it., the soft beep of the unlock chime sounding way too cheery for the chaos inside his head. The glow of the overhead light hit the sharp lines of the car’s body, sleek and perfect—just like everything in his life was supposed to be.

He didn’t even pause before throwing the door open and getting in.

Slam.

And then another—this time, his fist meeting the steering wheel.

Once.

Twice.

A third time before he dropped his forehead against it and let out a slow, jagged breath.

“Fucking hell…” he breathed, the words bleeding into the wheel, into the silence, into himself.

It was pathetic. He knew it. But he didn’t care.

He could replace the steering wheel. The door. The whole damn car if he wanted. He had the money. The bloodline. The name. He could buy a hundred more.

But not you.

His eyes lifted lazily, tired and unfocused, to the rearview mirror—and there it was.

A pair of Chrome Hearts dice dangled from the frame. A stupid little thing. The color a little worn. But he couldn’t bring himself to take it down.

You gave it to him.

Well, Konon gave it to him, with that ridiculous dorky grin on her face. She practically skipped into his room with the box tucked under her arm like it was some national treasure.

“(Y/N) made me smuggle it from Europe,” she said, flipping her hair and rolling her eyes. “Said you wouldn’t accept it if it was from me. Dumbass. Just take it. It’s from her.”

He had. He’d taken it and tried not to smile, tried not to care—but hung it up in his old car anyway. That was four years ago. When you both were fifteen. Before everything went to shit.

Before you left.

Before your family decided to uproot everything and send you to Italy to “represent the brand” or whatever other bullshit they spewed while tearing his best friend away from him.

He hated it.

Hated how your departure was packaged like some prestigious opportunity when it felt like mourning.

Hated how no one—not even his other friends—could fill the space you left behind.

You were gone. For four whole years.

And he was still stuck here, with the memory of the way your laughter used to echo down the hallway before class, the way you always stole bites from his lunch, unapologetically.

And the way you curled up in his passenger seat like you belonged there.

Because you did.

He let his eyes fall shut, fists clenching in his lap.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

But he swore—if there was ever a way to bring you back,

He’d burn every ocean.

Tear down every empire.

Shatter every glass tower that kept you caged.

He didn’t care if it meant razing the legacy his family bled for—didn’t care if it made enemies of kings and heirs and councilmen alike. Ni-ki would take the fire in his chest and scorch the ground with it, would throw gasoline over everything that stood between him and the memory of your voice saying his name like it meant something.

Because the truth was—he never needed an empire.

He just needed you.

And he was willing to burn everything else.

Ni-ki didn’t even remember turning the key in the ignition. He just knew the engine growled beneath him like it shared his grief, his fury. The moment the wheels kissed the concrete, he was off—headlights slicing through the darkness, taillights nothing but angry red flares in the mirror he refused to look into.

The radio was on full blast.

Heavy bass thumped through the leather seats, vibrating in his bones. He wasn’t listening to the lyrics. He just needed noise. Something loud enough to shove your name out of his head for even five damn seconds.

But even with the speakers screaming, all he could hear was you.

The moonlight poured in through the windshield like silver ink, brushing over the sharp angles of his jaw, casting shadows over his eyes. He didn’t blink. He barely breathed. Hands gripped the wheel tight, knuckles white, a vein ticking in his temple as the streetlights flickered across his windshield in rhythmic flashes—light, dark, light, dark—like time was mocking him.

It was already past eight in the evening and the streets were mostly empty.

Just like him.

He hit 80. Then 90. He wasn’t racing, wasn’t aiming for some high. He just didn’t want to stop. Because if he did, if he pulled over, if he let the silence catch up—your memory would gut him all over again.

His foot pressed harder.

It wasn’t until the streets around him began to change—morph into something achingly familiar, that he finally slowed.

The neon signs faded into the distance. Storefronts disappeared. Streetlights thinned. And soon, it was just him, the low hum of the engine, and the long, winding road leading back to the one place that had always been both a cage and a sanctuary.

Home.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as the long stretch of black iron fencing came into view. It ran for what felt like forever: perfectly polished, laced with security cameras, motion sensors, and the weight of old money.

Despite the vastness of the property—despite the multiple houses, endless gardens, koi ponds, and state-of-the-art surveillance—it still felt like home.

He slowed as the sleek black gates came into view, their ornate designs curling like iron vines, expensive and ancient all at once. The embedded sensor flashed once, recognizing his car, and another small panel blinked for biometric scan.

Without thinking, Ni-ki lifted his left hand, thumb pressed lightly to the glowing panel. It scanned. Clicked. Green light. Open sesame.

The gates parted with a soft mechanical hum, sliding inward with slow, ceremonial grace. The moment he started rolling past the line, he gave a lazy two-finger wave to the guards on shift. They stood by the security booth like statues, dressed in crisp black, nodding in perfect sync at their young master’s return.

The driveway stretched endlessly ahead—paved in sleek black stone that glinted faintly under moonlight. Modern lamps lined the path, casting pools of warm golden light over the road. On either side, carefully manicured hedges gave way to pockets of traditional Japanese flora—hydrangeas, plum blossoms, and an entire slope of red camellias, all planted under his mother’s request, nurtured lovingly by his youngest sister.

The contrast of sleek minimalism and delicate, heritage blooms was jarring.

Ni-ki rolled his window down halfway, letting the wind slip through. The air smelled like summer grass, cherry wood, and something cool and clean—something he could never bottle, no matter how hard he tried. He let his fingers brush against the door as he drove, the night air catching on his skin like a balm, easing the edge off his headache.

And then—there it was.

The estate.

Bathed in the soft glow of perfectly placed exterior lights, it looked like something out of a damn magazine. Floor-to-ceiling windows, tall white columns, a flawless mix of stone and wood and marble.

The main house rose up like a monument to status—high ceilings, sharp architecture, glass balconies, and a circular driveway that looked more like a courtyard for royalty.

There were already five cars parked out front.

He recognized all of them immediately.

The sleek white 911 Porsche S Cabriolet sat crooked near the steps, roof lazily half-drawn, clearly abandoned. His.

He was too tired this morning to park it properly—just left it there after pulling in from some errand, not even bothering to toss the keys to a valet. No one touched his cars anyway. Everyone knew better.

He didn’t bother to look at the other cars parked next to his. They were probably his siblings’.

Or some of their friends.

He didn’t care.

Ni-ki coasted to a stop, tires crunching softly over the gravel arc near the front steps. For a moment, he didn’t move. Just sat there, engine still running, hands loose on the steering wheel.

He sat in the stillness for a beat longer than necessary, exhaling once before dragging himself out of the driver’s seat.

The cool night air brushed past him as he lazily lifted a hand, offering a half-wave to one of the guards stationed near the door. The man, used to this kind of greeting, didn’t even blink. Just bowed his head slightly and pushed open the massive black double doors, their weight creaking open against gold hinges.

Ni-ki didn’t wait.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t take off his shoes even though their staff would lose their minds about it later.

Straight through the entrance, past the grand staircase, down the hallway glowing with recessed lights—right to the kitchen.

The fridge clicked as it opened, bright light casting sharp shadows on his face. He grabbed the first bottle of water he saw, cracked it open with one hand, and downed nearly half of it in one go.

Only after swallowing did he finally breathe.

Then, without thinking, he shrugged off his bag and dropped it on the marble counter, the weight of it landing with a dull thud. It slid a little, but he didn’t care enough to fix it.

He blinked at the still-open fridge, the soft hum filling the silence as cool air drifted out. His hand stayed on the water bottle while his eyes scanned the shelves blankly.

Should he cook? Ask one of the chefs—probably holed up in one of the other kitchens? Maybe just order takeout and disappear upstairs again?

He didn’t even know what he was in the mood for.

But he was still staring at a half-sliced lemon cake and a bowl of leftover curry when—

“Riki?”

He tensed, barely.

And then his eyes shifted—just in time to see Misora peeking into the kitchen through the archway.

She was already out of her uniform—dressed in an oversized hoodie, her hair a little messy, socks mismatched. Her cheeks were flushed like she’d been lying face-down on the couch for too long, and there was a faint line across her cheek from her pillow. She must’ve been home for a while already.

Ni-ki blinked, caught off guard again.

Still always surprised when she looked at him like that.

Despite being an Alpha herself, loud and capable and sharp in every way, Misora adored him. Like really adored him. In the way only a younger sibling could: fiercely, unapologetically, and without question.

Before he could say anything, she was already walking over, arms outstretched, expression soft.

“You didn’t say bye this morning,” she mumbled, hugging him around the waist and pressing her face into his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You didn’t wake up,” he muttered back, voice quieter than he expected.

“Still.”

He sighed through his nose. But his hand came up anyway, resting lightly on her back.

“You’re suffocating him.”

Konon.

Still in her uniform—an altered version of his, the same dark navy-blue, but tailored just a bit differently to suit her older year. The blazer sleeves slightly long. A silver pin with their family crest glinting proudly on her chest.

She looked tired.

Like she'd been home for a while now. Maybe an hour. Long enough to drop her bag and pull her hair back, but not enough to actually relax.

Still, a small smile tugged at her lips when she saw the two of them.

“No, I’m not.”

Ni-ki let out a small huff of laughter. The smile tugging at the corner of his lips was quick, barely there, but real.

Eventually, Misora pulled away with a sigh and made her way toward one of the cabinets. She rummaged for a snack—pulling out some dried seaweed, a bag of crackers, and something sweet—and padded out toward the living room without another word.

Konon stayed.

Ni-ki looked down at the bottle in his hand. Unscrewed the cap. Took another sip. Avoided her gaze.

She didn’t move for a moment, simply watching him as he stared into the fridge like it held answers to more than just his next meal. After a few seconds, Konon let out a quiet sigh and leaned her shoulder against the archway, arms loosely crossed.

“Listen,” she began, voice calm but lined with something heavier. “Mom and Dad called.”

That made Ni-ki raise a brow, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. He reached further into the fridge, pretending to examine some leftover salad he wasn’t interested in. “Are they coming back?”

“Yeah,” Konon replied. “In a few days.”

There was a small pause before she added, more carefully, “Mom wants me to help plan this little party with some of our business associates.”

Ni-ki let out a dry, sarcastic huff. “What does that have to do with me?”

As the words left his mouth, he instantly noticed it—Konon’s scent shifted. Normally mellow with notes of cedarwood and soft citrus, it now carried a subtle sharpness. Not angry, just… disappointed.

He shut the fridge door with a quiet thud and exhaled deeply. “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.

Konon shook her head, brushing it off with a tired smile. Her voice softened, steady. “I need you to oversee the guest list. That’s all. I’ll handle the rest.”

Ni-ki finally looked at her.

There was exhaustion behind her eyes, but not resentment. Just the kind of quiet responsibility she always carried.

And she wasn’t asking because she wanted to dump something on him. Their mom, for all her grace and busy presence, meant well. They both loved her dearly.

“Alright,” he said after a second. “Just the guest list.”

Konon nodded once. “Just the guest list.”

Ni-ki nodded again, the motion slow and quiet, before brushing past his sister with a brief shoulder tap—a silent apology. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t have to. Konon didn’t stop him either.

His footsteps echoed softly against the polished flooring as he padded down the hall, the stillness of the estate wrapping around him like a second skin. The lights were dim in the corridor, casting long, gold-streaked shadows on the walls from the recessed sconces.

He reached the main staircase, the centerpiece of their home: wide, double-curved, with sleek glass rails and dark-stained steps softened by the faintest carpeting. He paused at the top for a second, resting his hand on the railing.

Ni-ki exhaled through his nose. Then, with quiet footsteps, he made his way up.

The sun hung low, golden and lazy across the wide-open school field, casting stretched shadows of bleachers across the grass. There was a steady breeze—enough to tousle hair and rustle the loose pages of someone’s notebook.

They were all scattered, each in their own pocket of comfort, but close enough that their voices overlapped.

Heeseung stood near the side rail of the bleachers, gesturing with one hand as he talked to Jay. His voice was borderline exasperated.

“Coach canceled again. That’s like the third time this month. I swear, if he shows up next week without a solid game plan—”

Jay just shrugged, hands in his pockets, cool and unbothered. “Then we wing it like always. You run, I catch. That’s the only game plan we’ve ever needed.”

Just a few feet away, Jake and Jungwon were lounging in the grass, backs against their bags, tossing small blades of grass in the air.

“I hate citrus,” Jake muttered, eyes squinting up at the sky. “Especially the sharp ones. It just screams 'trying too hard’.”

Jungwon made a face. “That’s literally your scent.”

Jake paused. “…Yeah but it smells different on me.”

“That's what everyone who reeks of citrus says.”

A short distance off, Sunoo and Sunghoon had migrated closer to the center of the field, throwing a football back and forth—not seriously, but with enough force that the occasional grunt escaped them. Sunoo shouted when Sunghoon faked a fast throw.

“Dude! I swear if that hit me—”

“You’d finally wake up,” Sunghoon grinned.

And on the bleachers, laptop balanced neatly on his lap, Ni-ki sat slightly hunched forward, the only one not involved in the chaos. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the keys, checking off names from a growing spreadsheet.

The glow of the screen made his sharp features look even more focused under the soft sunlight. His lips moved as he hummed something quietly under his breath—barely audible unless you were sitting right beside him.

“Mr. Seo… plus one,” he mumbled, eyes narrowing at the screen. “No, wait, didn’t he divorce—oh, right, the new fiancée.” He adjusted the name. “Mrs. Cha… alone. Of course.” Tick. Highlight. Add.

Every now and then, his gaze would flick up—to watch the football fly past Sunoo’s head or to glance briefly at his friends wrestling over which cologne was better—but mostly, he remained quiet. Focused. Efficient.

The laptop’s brightness dimmed slightly in the sunlight, but Ni-ki didn’t seem to care. He just adjusted his posture and kept going, drawing from memory and Konon’s voice notes. He'd been helping piece together the guest list for the upcoming dinner party all morning, and now, with the field as his office and the noise of his friends as background music, he was halfway through finalizing it.

A line from one of Konon's messages played in his head again: "Just make sure to filter out the names Dad wouldn't want near a press leak, and Mom doesn’t want any ex-business partners with grudges. The rest is yours to handle."

He snorted softly at that. As if this was just a simple birthday party and not some socially-loaded minefield.

Still, he worked.

His fingers danced over the trackpad, ticking names off and re-highlighting others. His brows furrowed as he squinted at a particular name and cross-checked it against an old file folder Konon had sent him.

Jay plopped down beside him, legs spread carelessly, half a bottle of sports drink dangling from his hand.

“Still doing work?” he asked, glancing at the screen. His voice held that familiar tone of teasing, but there was a lilt of curiosity too.

Ni-ki sighed, rubbing his temple briefly before nodding.

“Yes. The list isn’t gonna curate itself, and Mom already moved up the RSVP deadline.”

Jay whistled lowly. “Sucks to be born into power.”

“You’d know,” Ni-ki muttered, lips twitching.

They sat in easy silence for a moment—Jay picking at the label on his bottle while Ni-ki scrolled through a segment marked Potential Additions.

Jay leaned over slightly. “You know Mr. Kim from KM Associates?”

Ni-ki’s eyes flicked up. “Uncle Kihyun’s old friend?”

Jay nodded. “Apparently caught in a hush-hush embezzlement scandal three years ago. Didn’t make headlines, but my dad won’t touch anything he's involved in now.”

Ni-ki made a face. “Great. He’s on the maybe list. I’ll flag him.”

“Yeah,” Jay said, almost too casually. “I also heard he tried to pitch a merger to your mom once. She declined and then suddenly his company dropped from top five to top fifteen real quick.”

Ni-ki snorted. “That sounds like Mom.”

Jay laughed, leaning back on his elbows. “Remind me never to get on her bad side.”

Just as Ni-ki was about to ask another question—maybe about the Park family’s current link to the Yamadas, or whether anyone on the board was still secretly beefing with the Sohns—his screen suddenly flickered.

The rows of the guest list glitched—just slightly—and then Konon’s business profile picture appeared in the corner of the Excel sheet, signaling an active collaboration user.

Before he could process it, his phone buzzed against the bleachers.

A call from Konon.

Ni-ki answered, holding the phone loosely to his ear. “Hello?”

Her voice was rushed. Tight. “Riki, I got it handled from here. Thank you.”

He blinked, confused. “What?”

“I said I got it,” she repeated, firmer this time. “From here. Don’t worry about the list anymore.”

Ni-ki’s brows furrowed, his eyes flicking to the screen where her cursor was already jumping through rows—highlighting, deleting, replacing. The box around ‘(L/N) Industries’ was gone.

“Wait—how did you know I was working on it just now?” he asked slowly. “You didn’t even call until a second ago.”

Konon didn’t answer at first.

“I just did. Don’t worry about it, alright?”

He stared down at the moving cursor—her cursor—as she quietly took control of everything he’d been doing for the past hour. Replacing whole columns with new names. Shifting event tags. Editing notes.

Something about it made his stomach tighten.

“You’re removing people,” he said, voice even.

“I’m curating,” she replied, clipped.

“You’re hiding something.”

“Riki—”

He raised a hand in defeat, sighing softly despite knowing she couldn’t see it. “Okay,” he muttered. “Fine. You got it.”

She paused, and for a second he thought she might say something else.

But the line went dead.

And the Excel file returned to static silence, like nothing had happened at all.

Ni-ki closed the laptop slowly, his jaw tightening. Jay was still beside him, half-watching with a furrowed brow, but Ni-ki didn’t say anything.

He just stared out at the field in front of him, where the rest of the boys were laughing over something Sunoo had shouted. But that calm, easy atmosphere didn’t settle in him.

His scent changed—sharply. From the usual cool and clean tang of lime and amberwood to something more bitter. Stiff. Like stormy air clashing with citrus. Jay’s laughter died almost instantly as he straightened up, his nose wrinkling.

“Whoa,” he muttered, looking over. “You good?”

Ni-ki didn’t respond at first. His lips moved, barely a whisper. “Something’s not right.”

Just then, Jungwon jogged up from the field, a bottle of water in his hand, brushing grass off his sweats. “What’s not right?”

Ni-ki rubbed a hand through his hair, frustration building beneath his skin. “Remember the dinner party?” he asked, voice low. “The one we’re all being forced to attend?”

Jungwon exchanged a knowing glance with Jay and nodded. “Yeah. Your mom’s event, right? Big deal, full of shareholders and foreign names.”

“Right,” Ni-ki said, jaw tightening further. “Well, Konon just called. She said she’s taking over the guest list.”

Jay frowned. “Didn’t you already finish, like, half of it?”

“I did,” Ni-ki snapped, more at himself than them. “I was still working on it. Literally in the middle of finalizing groups. Then boom—her cursor pops up on the sheet, and next thing I know, she’s editing everything.”

He blew out a sharp breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging low. “She’s never done that before. She doesn’t even touch logistics unless it’s already been approved.”

“What did she say when you asked?” Jungwon asked, slowly sitting beside them.

“That she’s got it handled. That I should drop it.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Didn’t even explain how she knew I was working on it in the first place.”

Jay leaned back, arms crossed. “You think she’s hiding something?”

“I don’t know,” Ni-ki muttered. “She sounded… rushed. Panicked. And then she just ended the call like that.”

He snapped his fingers.

“I know Konon. She’s always careful. She doesn’t slip like this. Unless something’s really, really wrong.”

Jungwon tilted his head slightly. “So what now?”

Ni-ki looked up at the horizon, the sunlight fading just enough to cast everything in a soft gold hue. But despite the warmth, the pit in his stomach only grew heavier.

“I don’t know,” he muttered again. “But I’m gonna find out.”

A week flew by like a blur of tension, whispers, and sleepless nights.

Now, just hours before the dinner party was set to begin, Ni-ki sat stiffly in front of the mirror in his luxury hotel room, jaw clenched and eyes sharp as the stylist behind him carefully fixed the last few strands of his hair. The faint scent of hairspray and expensive cologne floated through the room, but it was Ni-ki’s bitter scent that clung to the air the most.

Across the room, Sunghoon caught his glare through the mirror and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I already told you—you’re not getting through your sister.”

Ni-ki narrowed his eyes further, lips pressing into a thin line.

“She’s a vault, man,” Sunghoon continued, flopping onto the bed beside Jake who was still in his white shirt, buttoning his cuffs slowly. “You're secretive, sure, but Konon? She’s got, like, emotional security clearance level ten.”

Jake huffed a laugh. “He's not wrong. I’ve never seen someone dodge questions with such elegance.”

“She's been like that since we were kids,” Ni-ki muttered, tugging at the sleeve of his black suit jacket once the stylist stepped away. “But this is different.”

Sunoo wandered in through the open door, already dressed and styled to perfection, twirling a ring on his finger. “Honestly? It’s kind of impressive how tight-lipped she is. You could threaten her with a full media leak and she’d still blink once and walk away.”

Heeseung, who had been lounging by the loveseat with drink in hand, chimed in casually, “Yeah… she scares me sometimes.”

Sunoo turned to him with a teasing grin. “Aren’t you older than her?”

“So?” Heeseung replied with zero shame. “Age has nothing to do with fear. That girl could run an entire war campaign and I’d flee to the next country.”

Jake snorted. “Same, actually.”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes and turned back toward the mirror, adjusting his collar. “I just don’t get it. She said she’d handle the guest list and then locked me out of everything.”

“You think she’s actually hiding something?” Sunghoon asked, more serious now, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I know she is,” Ni-ki said, voice low. “I don’t know if it’s to protect me, Mom, or something else entirely—but it’s not just about business.”

A thick silence settled in the room.

The stylist—clearly sensing the shift in atmosphere—gave a polite cough, bowing slightly. “That’s all, sir. You’re all set.”

Ni-ki didn’t look up. He simply gave a short nod. “Thanks. You can go.”

The man gathered his things and slipped out quickly. The moment the door clicked shut, Ni-ki lifted a hand toward the bodyguard standing by the door, all in black with an earpiece tucked behind one ear.

“Lock it,” he said coolly, voice colder than before.

The second the lock settled, it was like the tension holding Ni-ki together cracked.

He slumped back into the chair with a heavy exhale, shoulders sinking and head tilted back to the ceiling. The Alpha mask he wore so easily, so flawlessly in front of strangers, shattered the moment he was left with people who saw through him.

He groaned suddenly—raw, irritated—dragging both hands down his face, then cursing under his breath. “Fuck this stupid hair,” he muttered bitterly.

He didn’t dare run a hand through it, not with how much gel and effort went into it—but the urge was there. His jaw clenched, and his leg bounced furiously under the table, ticking like a clock ready to explode.

“I can’t do this,” he snapped, more to himself than anyone else. “I can’t do this. I don’t even know what I’m walking into tonight. I don’t know anything—because apparently I’m not important enough to be told.”

The others stayed silent, watching him quietly. No jokes. No teasing. Just serious, soft gazes laced with concern.

“Konon’s shutting me out like I’m some intern. I’m supposed to co-host this dinner and I’ve had zero say since she took over the planning. Not even Mom’s talking about it—Dad’s gone ghost—none of them are saying a word and I’m supposed to just smile and wave?”

He looked up at the ceiling again, biting down hard on his frustration.

“But the part that kills me?” His voice dropped, sharp and shaking. “The part that keeps me up every night?”

He looked at them, and for once, his eyes weren’t hard or calculated—they were haunted.

“It’s been two weeks. Two weeks,” he said, voice cracking ever so slightly. “And I haven’t heard anything from her.”

The room stayed still. He didn’t even have to say your name—they knew who he meant.

“Not a text. Not a call. Not even a ‘saw your name in a magazine.’ Nothing.”

He swallowed hard and forced out a laugh—bitter and broken. “Do you even care about me anymore? Are you even alive? Or did I seriously mess things up so badly you don’t want anything to do with me?”

Sunghoon looked down at the floor, brows knit in quiet empathy.

Jake shifted forward slightly like he wanted to say something, but held his tongue.

Heeseung stared at him like watching someone bleed out and not knowing how to stop it. “Ni-ki…”

But Ni-ki just shook his head.

“I’m supposed to stand there tonight like everything’s fine,” he whispered. “Smile for the cameras. Shake hands with people I don’t trust. And all I keep thinking is… why hasn’t (Y/N) called?”

The silence in the room was no longer thick with tension—but with grief.

Sunoo sat on the edge of the bed, hands laced together as he stared at the carpet. “We’ll figure it out. Tonight, whatever happens, we’ve got you.”

Ni-ki didn’t respond for a second. Then, he gave the smallest nod.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

Ni-ki stepped out first, shoulders square and chin held high, his tailored black suit hugging every sharp angle like it was made to command attention. Behind him, the rest followed in step.

They hadn’t even reached the carpeted hallway before the first camera flash exploded from behind the velvet ropes.

“Shit,” Jungwon muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing at the mass of press clustered along the hallway wall. “Already?”

“Of course they are,” Sunoo replied, not breaking his stride. “Half the country’s waiting to see which family screws up first.”

“Keep walking,” Ni-ki said lowly, not even looking their way. His eyes were locked straight ahead on the grand double doors at the end of the corridor. “Let them look.”

Another wave of flashes erupted. Shouts of names followed.

“Jay! Look this way—just a second—”

“Ni-ki, who are you wearing tonight?”

“Lee Heeseung, over here!”

Jungwon lowered his head slightly, pace picking up as he brushed past the rope barrier. “Keep up,” he hissed under his breath, “we are not stopping here.”

The closer they got to the entrance, the quieter it became. The velvet-rope crowd thinned. The air grew heavier. Thicker.

Two tall men in suits stood posted on either side of the grand doors, earpieces in, eyes sharp. One of them held a clipboard. Guestlist in hand.

But as soon as he caught sight of them, he didn’t even lift the pen.

His partner followed without a word, mirroring the motion, eyes down. “Sirs,” one of them murmured, voice strained with barely concealed tension. “Welcome.”

Jay smirked sideways, not even slowing down. “Didn’t even ask for names. Damn.”

“Do they need to?” Heeseung muttered dryly, adjusting his cuffs without a glance. “We’re on a list all our own.”

Sunoo gave a tiny, knowing smile. “Front page, probably.”

The guards stepped aside in perfect sync, each pulling open one of the towering mahogany doors with reverent precision. The gold handles gleamed under the overhead lights.

Every heel in the room stilled.

Every whisper died.

The world hushed itself.

Only the soft swell of classical strings floated in the background, a lonely violin solo echoing across the hall. The chandelier light caught against the marble floors, glass walls glittering with the view of the skyline outside—but no one looked anywhere else.

All eyes were on them.

Heads turned as they passed. Older businessmen stiffened in their chairs, whispering low into their glasses. Women in designer gowns clutched their clutches tighter, posture straightening, eyes trailing their every step with silent calculation.

But no one dared to approach.

Not a single soul.

Their assigned table sat near the center, circular and elevated slightly above the rest. White silk tablecloth. Diamond centerpiece. Seven empty chairs.

Before they could even sit, a quiet shuffle of movement came from the left.

Ni-ki’s head snapped toward it—along with the others.

Konon.

Clad in black satin, with her hair twisted into a sleek bun and silver ear cuffs glinting under the chandelier—commanding as ever, eyes sharp like she'd read the entire room the moment she stepped in.

Sunoo lit up instantly. “I mean, time is relative.”

“You and your excuses,” Konon replied smoothly, smirking at him.

Sunghoon gave her a casual nod. “We blame Jungwon. He needed extra hair spray.”

“Yah!” Jungwon scoffed. “That was Jake, actually.”

Jake blinked in mock offense. “Excuse me? I look like this naturally.”

Heeseung grinned, throwing an arm around Jungwon. “He’s lying. He took forever trying to decide between cufflinks.”

Konon rolled her eyes but there was warmth in it. “You’re all a mess.”

“Well, hi guys,” she added, softer now—one hand briefly resting on Sunoo’s arm before offering a glance toward everyone. Her voice was low but steady, the kind that made people lean in even in a room this loud.

Everyone else was watching—and when Konon greeted them like they were just friends catching up, every conversation in the ballroom died down.

And the people holding their breath finally exhaled.

The tension in the room dissolved into classical music once more.

Konon tilted her head slightly. “Food’s going to be served in a few.”

“Thank God,” Jay muttered, placing a hand over his stomach. “I’m starving.”

“You can go for seconds,” Ni-ki added dryly

“Ha. Ha.” Jay shot back, flipping him off under the tablecloth.

Konon smiled again. This time, it was a little softer. “I’m sitting with your mates a few tables down. They’ve been waiting for you guys, you know.” Then, a wink. “Well… minus Ni-ki.”

“Oh we’re ditching you, sorry,” Heeseung said quickly, already pushing back his chair.

“Don’t wait up!” Jake added with a grin.

“Thanks, Konon!” Sunoo beamed as he gave her a quick side hug and darted off.

As soon as they turned toward the direction she motioned, their eyes lit up. There, at a table bathed in soft light, their mates were already waiting, happily chatting, laughing gently over the little snack dishes already placed at their spots.

Jay’s girl looked up first, her face lighting up the second she spotted him. Sunghoon’s mate waved him over. Sunoo was already jogging halfway there, calling her name softly like he hadn’t seen her in months.

It was warm. Safe. Familiar.

And Ni-ki didn’t move.

The moment the others left, the grin slipped off his face.

He didn’t even bother pretending anymore.

His eyes slowly flicked toward his sister, gaze sharpening like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

He raised a brow, cold and flat. “What do you want?”

Konon let out a soft sigh, folding her arms over her chest. “I’ll say sorry later. Properly. Not when we’re at risk of becoming a headline about dysfunctional siblings at a high-profile dinner.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “Too late for that.”

“I’m being serious,” she said, a bit firmer this time. “Come with me. Please.”

Ni-ki didn’t move.

For a second, he just stared at her like she was speaking a different language. Then, jaw ticking, he exhaled hard through his nose.

“…Fine,” he muttered.

He pushed his chair back, and followed.

They moved through the edges of the ballroom, the golden lighting slowly dimming behind them as they slipped past the heavy doors once again—this time not into flashing cameras or stares, but into a quiet hallway off to the side.

The contrast was immediate.

Soft cream walls. High, arched ceilings. Pale white curtains gently swaying from the open windows, guided by the cool evening breeze. Their shoes made little sound on the carpeted floor, but every step still felt heavy.

Ni-ki walked with his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “So… where exactly are we going? Or are you just kidnapping me now?”

Konon didn’t look at him. “Relax.”

“Are we far enough from people in case we yell at each other?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, they walked a few more paces in silence. The air between them was awkward, tense. The kind of silence you only get between siblings who haven’t talked in weeks but know exactly what’s waiting once the first real sentence drops.

Ni-ki glanced sideways at her. “You’re walking like you’re about to stage a coup.”

Konon finally let out a breath that almost—almost—sounded like a laugh. “I am the oldest. It’s in my contract.”

He rolled his eyes, but his mouth twitched. Just barely.

The hallway opened up ahead of them, and they came to a stop in front of a pair of tall double doors, dark walnut polished to a perfect gleam. Ornate gold trimming curled across the panels in luxury, and the faintest hum of chatter could be heard behind them.

Two bodyguards stood posted at either side, dressed sharply in black, expressions unreadable, each with an earpiece and that signature stillness of people trained to move only when necessary.

Ni-ki’s brows furrowed slightly. “Where are we?”

Konon didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she stepped a little closer to the guards, who immediately straightened at her approach. One of them reached out to grab the handle—but she held up a hand.

“Give us a second.”

They froze. Nodded. Stepped back.

Konon turned toward Ni-ki again, her eyes serious now. Older sister serious. The kind of serious that meant he wasn’t going to like whatever was about to happen.

“Before we go in,” she said quietly, “you need to know something.”

Ni-ki’s shoulders tensed. “Konon—”

She shook her head, cutting him off with nothing more than a look. “You’re going to get your explanations. I promise. Just… not all at once. Not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because if I told you everything, you’d do something reckless. And I need you to be steady right now.” Her voice dropped just a little. “For her. And for yourself.”

Ni-ki’s eyes narrowed. “Her?”

Konon gave him a tight, unreadable smile. “You’ll see.”

She turned slightly, about to gesture to the guards again—but then paused, her hand hovering mid-air.

“And, Riki…”

He looked at her, something in his chest pulling tighter by the second.

“When we walk through that door… don’t hate me for hiding this from you.”

Ni-ki blinked, heart stuttering.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, voice low.

Konon finally dropped her hand, giving a small nod to the bodyguards.

“You’ll understand,” she said. “In time.”

Click.

The door cracked open.

Ni-ki stood frozen for a second, brain scrambling, heart pounding, hands twitching like they didn’t know whether to fight, flee, or brace for impact.

He shot her a look—half confusion, half warning. “Konon—”

“For now,” she said gently, “just… enjoy what’s waiting.”

And with that, she stepped through.

Ni-ki stood there, stuck between twenty questions and a rising wave of something he didn’t yet have the name for.

The room was nothing like he expected. It was quiet, not the kind of silence that echoed, but the kind that was filled with warm low voices and clinking silverware. The chandelier light bathed everything in a soft golden hue, flickering against polished wood, floor-length curtains, and ivory linens.

A single, long table anchored the center of the room. Thick linen tablecloth. Gleaming utensils. Plates already set. The air filled with low murmurs and the gentle clink of silverware.

Ni-ki’s feet slowed the second he saw the people seated around it.

His parents were there. He’d expected that, of course. Their presence was a given. Their names practically built into every invitation and RSVP.

But beside them, seated just as naturally, as though they belonged there—your parents.

Your mother and father. Dressed in formal but relaxed attire, both looking years younger than he remembered. Your dad spoke with his father, voices pitched low, and your mother sat angled toward his, sipping wine with easy familiarity, like they’d done this dinner a hundred times before.

And on the far side of the table was his youngest sister. A soft smile played at her lips as she glanced up at him. She gave him a wave—then turned back down to focus on the neat slice of strawberry cake placed delicately on the small dessert plate in front of her.

Ni-ki blinked.

Something twisted in his stomach.

He flicked a quick, sharp glance toward Konon, who stepped just beside him.

She didn’t even bother looking sheepish this time. Just sighed and pressed her fingers to his back to guide him forward.

Years of training. Pure-blooded polish. His face slid back into a perfect neutral mask, just a notch below warmth, just above unreadable.

“Good evening,” he greeted, bowing his head slightly.

His mother looked up first. A graceful smile bloomed on her face, her pearl earrings catching the light as she leaned back.

“There you are. We were wondering if you’d gotten lost on your way,” she teased.

His father chuckled behind his glass. “Or caught up messing with your friends again.”

Ni-ki only smiled, smooth and thin. “Konon dragged me into something. It took longer than I thought.”

“Sounds about right,” your mother chimed in, eyes twinkling. “She’s always been a bit theatrical, hasn’t she?”

“Occupational hazard,” Konon murmured with a smile of her own as she slid into the chair beside Sora.

Your dad leaned back slightly in his seat, looking Ni-ki over. “You’ve grown,” he remarked, a spark of admiration in his tone. “It’s strange seeing you at this height. I remember when you used to fall asleep under banquet tables.”

Ni-ki let out a short, practiced laugh. “I still might. Just more discreetly now.”

The adults laughed softly—like the gentle hum of politicians mid-negotiation. Measured. Controlled.

He moved toward the empty chair directly across from them, beside Konon, and took a seat as if it didn’t feel like the room was upside down.

He still didn’t know what was happening.

He didn’t know why this was happening.

Why your family—your family—was seated so comfortably with his.

And why the only seat left open was the one directly beside his.

Ni-ki’s knuckles brushed the linen as he adjusted in his chair. The smile on his face hadn’t slipped. His heartbeat had, though—somewhere back at the doorway.

“I heard things have been… tense at the Academy,” your mom began gently, her voice motherly in that way only someone used to veiled questions could manage. “Sunoo mentioned something about new council protocols?”

Ni-ki nodded once, keeping his tone diplomatic. “We’re adjusting. The juniors are more… expressive. That’s all.”

Your dad chuckled. “Means you’ve been cleaning up after them, huh?”

Ni-ki tilted his head with a slight smirk. “Someone has to.”

Sora let out a tiny laugh behind her glass of juice.

Your dad leaned back in his chair, wine glass cradled in one hand as his eyes narrowed slightly—not in suspicion, but with the sharpness of a man who didn’t waste his attention on things that didn’t matter. And right now, Ni-ki mattered.

“How are things going on your end, Riki?” he asked, tone smooth, but firm. “I heard you’ve been sitting in on executive meetings lately. Your father's grooming you for the board, isn’t he?”

He forced a polite nod, the practiced kind that made it look like he was at ease. Like he wasn’t processing the fact that the father of the person he liked was now casually discussing board succession plans with him.

“It’s… a lot,” he said with a short exhale. “But manageable. I’ve been shadowing most of my father’s regional division calls and started reviewing the trade contracts for the Pacific wing.”

“And what about the delegation team?” your father asked. “The ones under you—handling that well?”

Ni-ki tilted his head slightly, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “They’re responsive. A little rigid, but that’s expected. I’ve been rotating project leads weekly to build adaptability.”

Next to him, Konon raised a brow with a slight smirk—someone’s rehearsed.

“Sounds like you’re doing more than just adjusting,” your dad said, clearly impressed. “You’ve always been sharp, but I didn’t expect you to take on leadership this fast. You’re what, seventeen?”

“Nineteen,” Ni-ki corrected smoothly, hiding the way the compliment made something coil tight in his chest.

Your dad chuckled, setting down his glass. “Could’ve fooled me. You handle yourself like someone already wearing the title.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ni-ki replied, offering a small, respectful smile.

Your mother leaned in with a smile. “It’s good to know the future’s in good hands. I’d trust my stocks with you, Riki.”

Ni-ki gave a gracious nod, even as his thoughts spun.

This wasn’t just dinner.

This was a test.

Ni-ki’s hand hovered over the glass of water he hadn’t touched since he sat down, the polite mask plastered on his face slowly starting to peel beneath the pressure of a question he couldn’t ignore anymore.

He turned slightly toward your father, gathering just enough courage to speak.

“Sir, I was wondering—” he began, voice even, calm, steady—

The doors opened.

It was soft. Barely a sound. But to him, it was a quiet crack of fate.

The low murmur of the room halted. Heads turned. Chairs subtly adjusted.

And then came you.

You stepped in like the room had been waiting on you all night.

Wearing a floor-length black dress that hugged your frame like it had been made from midnight itself. It clung to your waist, dipped along your back, and fell perfectly to your ankles, swaying gently like it knew it was being watched.

Your heels clicked softly against the marble floor. Not loud. Not proud. But with every step, the air felt heavier.

Nishimura Riki’s world stopped.

Your hair was styled effortlessly—every strand in place, cascading over one shoulder like a painting come to life. Your makeup was clean, polished—just enough to make your eyes glow, cheekbones soft yet sharp, lips tinted a shade he swore he had never seen before and yet somehow recognized.

You looked up.

Eyes scanning the table, drifting gently, until they met his.

Ni-ki swore the room fell into silence. Like the gods themselves had pressed a finger to the world and whispered, look.

You blinked, once. Your breath hitched. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but he saw it.

And for a second—just a second—Ni-ki wondered if this was it.

If all those quiet prayers he never spoke aloud had finally been heard.

If the nights he spent staring at his ceiling, aching with something unnamed, something shaped like you, had finally amounted to this moment.

Or if the gods were playing with him again.

Dangling you just close enough to touch, only to remind him that he shouldn’t.

That he couldn’t.

That beautiful things weren’t made for people like him—people who had too many rules stitched into their skin.

You looked at him like you knew something. That pull. That ache. That dangerous softness sitting between you.

He didn’t know whether to scream or beg or fall to his knees and thank the heavens for letting him see you like this, even if it was temporary. Even if it wasn’t real.

His thoughts were spiraling. Heart climbing out of his chest. Voice caught somewhere behind the ache in his throat.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said gently, smile still warm, still so you.

The sound of your voice snapped him back like a whipcrack to the ribs.

Before you could even reach your seat, Ni-ki stood up so quickly it startled his water glass—just barely tipping it before he steadied it with a swift hand.

He cleared his throat. “Let me.”

You paused, just for a moment, your smile faltering into something softer, something more private, before you nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

Ni-ki reached for the back of your chair, fingers steady despite how fast his pulse was hammering beneath his skin.

He pulled it out, eyes flicking to you once—just once—as you adjusted the hem of your dress and moved to sit. As you leaned slightly forward, a few strands of your perfectly styled hair slipped out of place.

Without thinking—God, he didn’t even think—his hand moved.

Fingers brushing lightly against your temple, he tucked the hair behind your ear.

You blinked up at him.

He just nodded and stepped back, sliding the chair forward gently as you settled as he returned to his seat beside you.

The conversations around the table slowly resumed—your fathers discussing quarterly reports, logistics, and partnership forecasts like this dinner wasn’t completely shifting the axis of Ni-ki’s entire world.

Like you weren’t sitting right there, your scent light and expensive and so achingly familiar it hurt to breathe.

Ni-ki didn’t look at you.

Instead, he glanced across the table and locked eyes with Konon.

And when his eyes narrowed in a glare—sharp, questioning—she only gave him a small, tight smile. One that was smug and kind all at once.

“Hi, Riki,” you said, voice low, just for him.

He closed his eyes briefly.

Just one second. One breath.

And let out a sigh—his nth one that night.

God, he was so tired of holding back. Of pretending he didn’t miss you when you were just a breath away.

But he didn’t meet your gaze, he couldn’t.

So instead, he kept his eyes trained on the table.

“You look…” He trailed off, the word caught somewhere between his lungs and ribs.

Unreal. Divine. Unreachable.

“…nice,” he finished, cursing himself.

Your lips twitched, just barely. “Only nice?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer at first. His gaze flicked down, just once—taking in the curve of your dress, the way the lights kissed your skin, how calm and devastating you looked all at once.

His jaw ticked.

“I really don’t have much to say,” he muttered finally, voice low and clipped. “I mean—” He laughed under his breath, but it was sharp and humorless. “I haven’t heard from you in what? Two weeks? And now here you are. Just…” His eyes flicked to yours, stormy and unreadable. “…sitting next to me like nothing happened.”

Your heart clenched at the sound of his voice—hoarse, rough around the edges, like it had clawed its way through his throat.

He wasn’t yelling. But that made it worse. He was controlling his emotions and that was far more dangerous than him being angry. Controlled Ni-ki meant he’d thought about this. Felt it. Over and over.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” you said quietly, the words tumbling out. “I wasn’t even supposed to leave Italy, Riki. Everything happened so suddenly. I didn’t get a chance to—”

“To what?” he cut in, still soft, still composed, but with the kind of tension that made every syllable burn. “Say hello? Say anything?”

You sucked in a breath. Your hands had gone cold. “I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Oh, worse?” he echoed with a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. No, don’t worry. Two weeks of silence and wondering where the hell I stood with you wasn’t worse at all.”

You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t done.

“Do you care about me or not?” he asked, finally looking at you. His voice wasn’t raised—but the weight behind the question was shattering. “Just… answer me. Please.”

The words caught in your throat. You felt his eyes—dark, pained, beautiful—locking you in place like gravity itself was made of him. The room around you blurred, a soft hum of chatter and glasses clinking in the background, but it was like the two of you were sealed in your own bubble of aching silence.

“I do,” you breathed. “I do care.”

He looked away immediately. Like hearing it hurt more than not knowing.

You hated how good he looked tonight—how the curve of his jaw tensed with every emotion he tried to bury, how his broad shoulders shifted beneath that sleek, tailored suit like even his clothes couldn’t cage the storm inside him.

And his scent—warm, smoky, something distinctly Ni-ki—had been wrapping around you slowly, inch by inch, clouding your focus, weakening your walls.

“Riki, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always do,” he muttered. “You just never choose me.”

You swallowed hard, your throat thick with guilt and longing and all the feelings you’d spent weeks trying to forget. Your hands were trembling under the table.

“Riki, I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “Everything just got… so busy. So fast. I didn’t mean to disappear like that—”

Ni-ki let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. It was sharp, bitter, quiet enough that no one else at the table noticed. His eyes didn’t meet yours.

“Right,” he said. “Too busy.”

You winced. “I wasn’t trying to avoid you.”

“You didn’t try at all.”

The words landed with a weight you weren’t ready for. Your chest tightened. “It wasn’t easy for me either.”

Ni-ki finally turned to you, his gaze steady, unreadable. “Then why didn’t you say something? Anything?”

You hesitated, lips parting, but no words came. Because how were you supposed to say it? That seeing him—being around him—hurt? That every glance, every almost-touch, every night you spent pretending you didn’t wish things were different only made you fall harder for someone you couldn’t have?

“I thought… if I distanced myself,” you whispered, “it would hurt less.”

His eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed low. “For who?”

Your mouth opened, but again—silence.

Ni-ki sat back slightly, still watching you. “You think I haven’t been busy?” he asked. “I’ve had meetings, training, pressure from every side—and I still looked for you. I still waited. I still cared.”

You swallowed hard, throat closing around the emotion building like a wave.

“I care too,” you said, barely audible. “I just—Riki, it was too much. I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you did nothing,” he muttered.

A breath passed between you. His scent was stronger now—wrapping around your lungs until you could barely breathe. Your fingers dug into the linen napkin on your lap, white-knuckled.

Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “You didn’t even owe me anything. Just honesty. Just… don’t act like it wasn’t a choice. Because it was.”

“I know,” you said. “I just didn’t think you’d understand—”

“I would’ve tried,” he cut in, and this time his voice cracked just a little.

You hated it. Hated how even now, a part of you just wanted to hold his hand under the table. Say I’m sorry and I miss you. But you also knew that would be cruel—because wanting someone doesn’t erase the damage of walking away.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you said softly.

“You still did.”

And you both went quiet again. Not because the conversation was over—but because there were too many words now, all crowded between you, fighting to be said at the same time.

Mercifully, your mother spoke.

“So,” she started, tilting her head toward you. “How was Italy, sweetheart? Oh, and are you done planning your transfer back to the academy?”

Your spine straightened instantly. Every eye shifted to you—but one pair, one familiar, dark, piercing pair locked.

Ni-ki didn’t speak. He didn’t interrupt. He just looked at you.

His brows pulled in slightly—not in anger, but in something that made your stomach twist. Quiet confusion. A thousand unspoken questions pressed into a single expression. You could practically hear it:

‘You’re transferring back?’

You hadn’t told him. Of course, you hadn’t. You barely spoke at all.

“I—yeah,” you said, forcing a tight smile toward your mother as you tucked your hair behind your ear, your fingers trembling slightly. “I’m just waiting on one final document from the dean. Everything else is ready.”

“That’s wonderful,” your mom said, pleased. “You’ll be back in time for the new term then. And in the same class and Riki too, I think. I checked the registry.”

You gave a small nod, eyes flickering sideways. Ni-ki still hadn’t said a word—but his gaze hadn’t left your face.

You tried to keep talking, keep it together, like the words might smooth the tension building in your chest. “The paperwork just… took a little longer than I thought. There was a mix-up with the local office in Florence and—well, the emails kept bouncing back and—”

You glanced at Ni-ki. Just for a second.

Apology. That was the only thing in your expression.

Apology in the curve of your brows, in the way your lips parted—like there was more you wanted to say. More you should’ve said long before this moment.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t nod. Just watched you quietly, jaw tight, like he didn’t trust himself to speak without everything else spilling out.

You turned back to your plate. “It all just happened so fast.”

Then, almost too cheerfully, Ni-ki’s mother leaned in slightly from her seat, a sheepish smile curling her lips as she glanced between the two of you.

“Well, honey,” she said with a light laugh, “if you don’t like how fast things are moving, you definitely won’t like what we’re about to say next.”

You blinked—confused, still a little breathless from everything that hadn’t been said just seconds ago.

Ni-ki looked up sharply at his mother, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could respond, your eyes met his. For the first time since you sat down, the two of you really held the gaze—no dodging, no guilt-clouded flickers. Just that full-on stare filled with wariness and questions and something dangerously close to hope.

And fear.

That was the thing you both felt most.

Slowly, you and Ni-ki turned toward the adults. Four faces—your parents and his—already waiting, as if they’d been anticipating this moment far longer than the two of you.

Ni-ki’s father sighed, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair. The sound alone made Ni-ki stiffen beside you. His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing slightly, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“What’s going on?” Ni-ki asked slowly, voice low. Controlled. “Why do I feel like there’s a second dinner I didn’t know I RSVP’d to?”

Your father set down his fork with a soft clink. He leaned forward, fingers laced together, elbows resting on the table like this was just another business meeting.

“Your return wasn’t abrupt,” he said calmly. “It may have seemed that way to you both, but we’ve been planning this for months now.”

Ni-ki’s gaze sharpened. “Planning what, exactly?”

His mother smiled—tightly, like someone trying to keep the peace while walking over glass. “Riki, sweetheart. You and (Y/N)… you’ve known each other since you were in diapers. Our families have always been close. This isn’t out of the blue.”

You stared at your mother, mouth parting just slightly. Somewhere deep down, you knew she was about to say something that would change the shape of the night forever.

She picked up where the others left off. Her tone was soft, motherly, coaxing.

“You two are at the age now,” she said. “The age where marriage isn’t just about love anymore. It’s about legacy. About trust.”

Your breath hitched.

Ni-ki blinked, shoulders tense, not a single inch of him moving.

“And instead of marrying you off into unfamiliar families,” your mother continued, “we thought… why not join two that already love and trust each other?”

It hit you all at once.

You didn’t need her to say the last words, but she did anyway—gently, but firmly.

“We’d like to arrange for the two of you to be married. Eventually.”

Ni-ki let out a sharp breath, something between a scoff and a stunned exhale.

Your lips parted. But no words came.

His mother tried to smooth the atmosphere. She laughed gently, waving her hand as if the tension hadn’t solidified the air.

“It wouldn’t be right away, of course,” she said lightly. “You’re both still young. It’s just… a future arrangement. A promise. Between families. You understand, don’t you?”

“Understand?” Ni-ki’s voice was low. “You’ve been planning this behind our backs and you want us to understand?”

“Riki—” his father warned, but he wasn’t listening.

“No,” he said sharply, still looking at you. “Did you know about this?”

Eyes wide, your gaze dropped, darting toward your lap like it might shield you from the storm brewing across from you. Your pupils blew wide—fear, confusion, guilt—every emotion unraveling all at once, so fast it made your chest tighten.

“I—” You looked back up, desperate. “No. I didn’t. I swear, Riki, I had no idea.”

Something about the way you said it. Shaky. Honest. The panic in your voice—not fear of him, but fear for him. For what he might think, what this would do to him. It made him falter.

His scent spiked suddenly, bitter and sharp, thick with betrayal—and immediately, instinct kicked in.

Your shoulders stiffened, your breathing hitched.

Ni-ki cursed silently, jaw clenching harder as the realization struck him.

You could feel it. His anger. His pain. His pheromones were pushing at your senses, clouding your thoughts, and it wasn't fair—not to you, not when he knew exactly how sensitive you were to his scent.

He exhaled hard through his nose. Lowered his gaze. Swallowed the next thing he wanted to say.

Because as much as he hated this—all of this—he knew you. And no matter how much his heart was a battlefield right now, he also knew one thing: you never lied. Not to him. Not like that.

So he nodded once, slowly. Controlled. Teeth still gritted.

He turned back toward the adults, shoulders squared, face like stone.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, voice tight with restraint. “You didn’t think it was important to tell either of us that our entire lives were being planned?”

“Riki,” your mother began, her voice soft, trying for calm, “we weren’t planning your life. We were securing it.”

“With what? A contract and a shared bloodline?” he snapped. “You really think this is how relationships work?”

“This isn’t just about relationships,” his father cut in. “You two have known each other since you were children. We thought—”

“That that made it yours to decide?” Ni-ki bit, canines flashing slightly as his temper flared again.

His mother placed a calming hand on her husband’s arm. “Riki,” she said, gently now, “no one’s forcing you. But if it’s going to happen one day anyway, wouldn’t you rather it be with someone you trust?”

You blinked at that—and your chest squeezed. Because as terrifying and overwhelming as this all was, the thought of marrying someone else… someone who wasn’t him…

You weren’t sure you could stomach it.

Next to you, Ni-ki exhaled sharply. His hand shot up to rake through his already-messy hair, fingers curling at the roots like he needed to physically stop his thoughts from spinning.

Just sat there, jaw working, eyes on the far end of the table, every breath he took more uneven than the last. Like if he opened his mouth, he might explode.

Then—suddenly—he stood.

Not harshly, not slamming his chair back or anything. But there was urgency in the movement. Unspoken panic beneath his calm exterior. And then—

He reached for you.

Fingers curling softly around your wrist, warm and careful, and when your eyes darted up to his, your breath caught.

“Excuse us,” he said curtly—voice tight, but polite, somehow still managing that final thread of formality, though everyone in the room could hear it fraying.

And no one stopped him.

His grip was still gentle, guiding you just past the doors, down the corridor and away from the sentries posted nearby—until there was finally a stretch of hallway where it was just the two of you.

He let go of your wrist then. Just barely stepped back.

But his hand hovered for a second, like he wasn’t ready to let go of you entirely. Like some part of him wanted to hold onto something—anything—because everything else was crashing down.

Then he breathed. Long and deep.

He stepped forward again, and gently—almost cautiously—pressed you back until your spine met the cold stone wall behind you. You didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Because your heart was in your throat and your legs felt like paper.

Then his arms were around you.

And then—he lowered his chin.

Right onto the crown of your head.

Your breath stuttered. Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to hold him or hold yourself together.

Because what happened to the sharp, bitter alpha from just seconds ago? What happened to the fire, the barbed words, the anger?

Ni-ki was quiet now, almost heartbreakingly so.

His hands moved slowly up your arms, fingertips gliding over your sleeves, rubbing gently—comforting, clinging. His eyes were shut, lashes brushing the top of your hair as he tilted his head forward, resting fully against you.

He inhaled again, slower this time.

That familiar, dizzying blend of strawberries and fresh roses—innocent, soft, utterly you. It clouded his thoughts like a fog he couldn’t fight. It dulled his anger, numbed the sting in his chest, but also made everything hurt more.

Because he wanted this.

God, he wanted this.

“I missed this,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “You mean the fights?” you tried to joke—but your voice cracked too much for it to land.

He tightened his hold just a little, like he could mold your body to his, like he could brand you with how much he was feeling without saying it.

“I’m sorry,” you said suddenly. The words spilled before you could stop them. “Riki, I—I swear I didn’t know. I didn’t know they were planning this, and I never meant for you to find out like that—at a dinner table of all places—like it was some kind of business merger or a stock deal or—”

Your voice cracked again, and your breathing started to stutter.

“I don’t want to force this on you either, okay? Hell, I don’t even know if you like me that way, and I would never let them do that to you if I had a choice, I wouldn’t—I mean—”

You were rambling now. Your words tripping over themselves, rushing to explain everything your heart had carried for months.

“I’m sorry I left the way I did. I’m sorry I never wrote. I was so afraid that you’d moved on, or that I was just… something temporary to you when we were kids and—”

“Don’t,” he said, voice sharp—but not unkind. His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw tense, and his forehead dropped back against yours with a low, desperate breath.

You froze.

You hadn’t meant to say that part out loud.

“You keep saying my name like that,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “Riki.”

You blinked, surprised by the change in his voice—how suddenly it sounded so tired, but soft, too. Almost reverent.

“It sounds different coming from you,” he whispered. “It means something. You don’t even know what you do to me when you say it like that.”

Your heart thrashed.

And suddenly, his hands were moving again—back up your arms, over your shoulders, holding you like you were slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t let that happen again.

“Riki,” you whispered again, helplessly. “Please…”

He pulled back just a little, just enough to see your face.

And his eyes—God, his eyes—they flicked over every part of you. Your trembling lip, your glassy eyes, the way your fingers clenched at his shirt like you were seconds from breaking apart.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I just—”

His voice cracked, and his next breath came out like a gasp.

“I was scared,” he admitted. “I thought you knew. That you let them plan this and didn’t tell me. That you were coming back because of it—not because you wanted to.”

You shook your head quickly. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Not like that.”

He nodded once, slow and shaky.

And then he brought a hand to your cheek, brushing a tear that had escaped—tenderly, carefully, like if he touched too hard you’d vanish.

“You don’t need to force anything,” he said, voice low, trembling, “but if there’s even a part of you that wants this… if you feel even half of what I do when I look at you…”

His eyes locked with yours again.

“I’ll fight for it.”

“I’ll fight them,” he said. “The rules, the arrangement, all of it. I’ll fight to make this ours.”

Your chest caved in on itself. And the weight of it—of everything—suddenly felt unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, voice barely there. “I’m so, so sorry, Riki—”

But he cut you off, gently—pressing a finger to your lips.

“Don’t.” His voice cracked on the word. “Don’t say that.”

You blinked, tears threatening again.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Lashing out at you like that. Accusing you. Like you were the one who put us in this mess.”

“Riki—”

“No, don’t—don’t say sorry again,” he said, laughing under his breath, dry and bitter. “God, why do you keep apologizing? I was the one who lost it. I was the one who looked at you and doubted you when I know you wouldn’t lie to me. You’ve never lied to me.”

You reached up, fingers brushing through his hair—he leaned into it without hesitation, eyes still closed.

“I got scared,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Everything just… it’s like it was already decided. And I hated it. I hated feeling like I had no control.”

“You’re not the only one,” you whispered back.

His arms wrapped fully around your waist then, pulling you in so close you could feel his heart thudding through his chest.

And you didn’t hesitate—you pressed your face into his chest.

You could hear the slow, uneven rise of his breath. Feel the tension in his shoulders slowly start to unravel. And when his nose dipped into your hair, you realized—he was breathing you in.

You pulled back just a little, tilting your head up to look at him.

His lashes were lowered, lips parted slightly, breath still shallow from all the adrenaline earlier. But his scent had mellowed now—calm, the barest trace of warmth coating the air between you. Gone was the bitter spike from earlier. This was him again.

“Riki,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Where do we stand?”

His eyes opened slowly at the question.

And for the first time that night—really for the first time—he smiled.

It wasn’t a smirk, not something half-forced to cover up emotion. It was soft. Real.

“Wherever and whatever you want us to be,” he said quietly, like it was the easiest truth he’d ever spoken. “You name it, I’ll meet you there.”

You blinked up at him, heart catching in your throat.

“I don’t want to force you into something you’re not—”

“You’re not forcing me,” he cut in gently. “You couldn’t. Not with this. Not with you.”

Your hand slid up his chest to rest over his heart. “But everything’s changing.”

“I know,” he nodded, still holding you. “But if I get to change with you? I’ll take it.”

A small laugh broke from your lips—half in relief, half from the swirl of feelings clawing at your ribs.

And Ni-ki leaned down, forehead brushing yours.

“Just stay close, okay?” he whispered. “That’s all I want. Everything else, we’ll figure out together.”

You nodded slowly, your breath catching as you looked up into his eyes.

The storm was gone now. That sharp, ice-edged tension in his gaze had melted into something softer, quieter. His brows relaxed, the harsh lines around his mouth smoothed, and for the first time that night, he looked at you like he wasn’t holding back.

He didn’t say anything for a second.

Because when your eyes met his, wide and unsure, all you could see staring back at you was warmth. Steadiness. Want. The kind of want that didn’t need to be rushed or claimed—just quietly held.

He tilted his head, just a little, brushing his nose against yours. A soft nudge. Barely there. But it made your heart stutter anyway.

His voice was barely audible. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

Ni-ki pulled back slowly, but not far—just enough to reach down and find your hand. His fingers slipped between yours, and he gave your hand the faintest squeeze.

You felt your inner Omega react immediately—an involuntary hitch in your breath, a soft, near-silent whine curling low in your chest at the sudden loss of contact. But you bit it down. Fought it back.

But when you glanced up at him, his lips curved—he’d heard it.

He just smiled, a little shy, a little crooked. Like he was feeling it too, just under his skin.

“To face the others,” he said gently.

You blinked. “You mean… our friends?”

Ni-ki gave you a tiny nod, lips tugging up the tiniest bit more. “Unfortunately.”

You groaned, dramatic and drawn out, tugging at his hand. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” he said flatly. “Not really.”

You both laughed—quiet, shared, like it was only yours to keep. And for a second, it felt like the storm from earlier had never touched you.

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.

⤷ read part 2 here !

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liuhsng · 29 days ago

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oh my goodness I just spent the last hour re-reading all of the untouchable fics and I can’t wait for the last instalment 😭😭 your writing is chefs kiss my lawddd can I pls be added to the tag list!! literalky IN LOVE RN ur doing the lords work I swear 😩😩

hi love! and to all my loves

first of all, AHHH THANK YOU, i’m literally blushing and giggling rn i swear. knowing you reread untouchable makes my heart do little backflips—i’m so glad you’re enjoying it 🫶

second, i’m so so so sorry for being MIA this past week ! it was my finals and as a woman in stem, i had to lock in to study, BUT rest assured, the last part of the series is on the way !! i’m pouring everything into it and i can’t wait for you all to read it 💌

#˙⋆✮ asks

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liuhsng · 1 month ago

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───〃⋆⭒˚.⋆ UNTOUCHABLE MASTERLIST

⤷ nsfw content ahead, minors do not interact.

seven pureblooded alphas. bound by legacy and power. in a world where instincts rule and bonds can break you, each one has a story—of control, resistance, obsession.

⤷ taglist — closed ⤷ appreciation post ⤷ warnings — omegaverse au, this series contains mature themes, smut (some), toxic dynamics, and angst | to be read in order : jungwon, heeseung, sunoo, sunghoon, jake, jay, and ni-ki ⤷ a/n — some parts of this series are still under editing and proofreading, please be patient with updates and revisions. i want to give you the best version of every story <3

✩ˎˊ˗ how to claim an omega ( yjw ! )

⤷ read here

⤷ pairing — jungwon x fem!reader

⤷ summary — yang jungwon has always been the definition of the word “perfect,” almost around him almost praise and kiss the ground he walks on. even when it came to girls, various omegas practically throw themselves at the pureblooded alpha, but the oh-so perfect yang jungwon never pays them any mind because he already has his eyes set on a certain timid omega who has been trying her best to avoid him at all costs. and he won't stop until he gets what wants, in that case? you. or where it only took jungwon three years and three chances to finally get you.

✩ˎˊ˗ bottom of the chain ( lhs ! )

⤷ read here

⤷ pairing — heeseung x fem!reader

⤷ summary — he was unapproachable, everyone knew that he was one of the people on top of the throne and a person to be looked up upon because of the various talents that he possessed, and it was practically a hidden rule that lee heeseung's omega shouldn't be messed with as much as him. but some others still forget their lowly positions and cross the line. his only instinct? remind those bastards of their lowly statuses in the food chain.

✩ˎˊ˗ breaking point ( ksn ! )

⤷ read here

⤷ pairing — sunoo x fem!reader

⤷ summary — being sunghoon’s younger sister by a year, it was clear to everyone that you were off-limits. sunghoon’s overprotectiveness made it impossible for anyone to forget that, especially sunoo, his best friend. the pink haired alpha, who always saw you as nothing more than his best friend’s little sister. he wasn’t looking for an omega or a mate, and that was that. but when things get heated between the both of you, he had no choice but to confront the feelings he always had for his best friend's younger sister that he couldn't deny anymore.

✩ˎˊ˗ when fate calls ( psh ! )

⤷ read here

⤷ pairing — sunghoon x fem!reader

⤷ summary — as the eldest son of a powerful family, park sunghoon has always followed tradition, dedicating himself to his responsibilities. relationships never crossed his mind, his focus was on the life carefully planned for him. but then there was you, someone he had seen countless times yet never truly noticed until now. when realization dawned on him that you were his mate, it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. the unexpeced idea of love terrified him, so he rejected the traditional courting that came with claiming an omega. but as his avoidance hurts you, the high and mighty alpha is forced to confront the truth he’s been running from: some things aren’t meant to be planned.

✩ˎˊ˗ between the shelves ( sjy ! )

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader

⤷ summary — as the only son of a prestigious family and the student council secretary, sim jaeyun—or as his friends like to call him: jake has always been at the top. admired, respected, and burdened by responsibility. he’s used to handling everything himself, ensuring perfection in all that he does. and then there was you, someone he had always seen but never had the chance to approach, until fate handed him the opportunity. hiding from relentless admirers, he found himself in the library, where, to his surprise, you weren’t just another passing face. jake has always adored the idea of having a mate, but he never rushed fate, until you. before he knows it, meetings no longer hold his full attention, tasks he once insisted on doing himself are left to others, all so he can be near you.

✩ˎˊ˗ no-fly zone ( pjs ! )

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ summary — park jongseong—better known as jay, had everything: wealth, power, and a name that carried undeniable influence. a pureblooded alpha and the only son of a family that dominated the aviation industry, he was sharp enough to take over the business and reckless enough to make the upper-ups lose patience. despite his position as student council treasurer, his reputation preceded him: missed deadlines, flawless grades, and a habit of picking the wrong fights. their solution? a tutor. a glorified babysitter. and, of course, it had to be you. an omega with a spotless record, a name as weighty as his own, and an infuriating presence that had always stood in his way. your families worked together, but you and jay never had. now, forced into each other’s space, the line between rivalry and something far more dangerous begins to blur.

✩ˎˊ˗ always been yours ( nk ! )

⤷ part 1 | part 2

⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader

⤷ summary — nishimura riki has never been good at sharing. not his things, not his time—and definitely not you. his childhood best friend, his first love, the one person he thought would always be by his side, and the one person who left without warning five years ago. now, out of nowhere, you’re back. still familiar, still his, and suddenly surrounded by alphas who don’t know where they stand. ni-ki isn’t the type to say how he feels. but he’s also not the type to sit back and watch someone else try to take what’s his. especially not when everyone already knows who you belong to.

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liuhsng · 1 month ago

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✩ˎˊ˗ no-fly zone ( pjs ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 19.1k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warning/s — smut (minors dni), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, a/b/o au, alpha!jay, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, enemies to lovers trope, forced proximity, mentions of drinking and alcohol, lots of sexual tension, possessive!alpha jay, desperate!jay, dirty talk, overstimulation-ish, post-sex vulnerability, aftercare, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — the line between rivalry and desire was already thin. it only took one night to shatter it completely. what started as another tense argument—sharp words, stormy eyes, too much tension—ended in something neither of you were ready for: hands on skin, lips on lips, and all the anger melting into something far more dangerous. park jongseong was supposed to hate you. you were supposed to keep your distance. but now you’re in his bed, your scent on his skin, and the worst part? he doesn’t want to leave. and neither do you.

The night air wrapped around you like silk, cool and crisp, carrying the soft scent of the manicured gardens surrounding your family's sprawling estate.

You stood there at the top of the marble steps, the soft click of your heels echoing faintly as you shifted your weight, arms crossed loosely over your chest, the impatient glint in your eyes betraying your excitement.

Then the deep purr of a luxury engine broke the night’s calm, headlights slicing through the darkness like knives.

You straightened, heart skipping a beat when a stretch Rolls-Royce limo pulled smoothly into the circular driveway, tires crunching softly against the gravel.

A small, amused laugh bubbled out of you, completely unfiltered, as the sheer absurdity of it hit you.

The driver, wearing a crisp black suit and cap, stepped out swiftly and bowed a little as he opened the door.

The second the heavy door swung outward, a wave of noise, laughter, and expensive perfume spilled out, and you didn’t even have a chance to react before Heeseung’s mate shrieked—

“There she is! Get in, get in!”

You were yanked into the limo with a strength that made you stumble forward, your laughter filling the plush interior.

Arms wrapped around you, kisses were pressed to your cheeks, and a dozen perfectly manicured hands flitted over your shoulders, your hair, your waist—admiring, fixing, fawning.

The girls looked at you like you hung the stars.

“She’s illegal!” Jungwon’s mate wailed dramatically, clutching her heart.

Jake’s mate reached for your waist, turning you around slightly to get the full view. “I hate you. You’re disgusting. How are you real?”

"You’re basically Chanel’s wet dream," Sunghoon’s mate added, fanning herself dramatically with a hand.

You couldn’t help it, your smile stretched wide and mischievous as you smoothed your hands down the sleek, impossibly expensive fabric of your fitted black dress.

It clung to you like a second skin, the slit on the side teasing glimpses of your legs with every slight movement, while the pearlescent choker around your throat gleamed.

"Is it too much?" you asked, tilting your head, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

“Too much?!” Sunoo’s mate let out a noise of pure disbelief, practically throwing her clutch down on the seat. "Girl, you’re going to cause deaths."

The limo began to glide forward, the city lights outside a smear of golds and blues against the windows.

Jake’s mate leaned forward, the grin on her face wicked. “I cannot wait to see Jay's face when you walk in looking like this."

Instantly, you let out a loud groan, flopping back against the leather seat, the expensive material cool against your bare skin.

"Ugh. I hate him," you deadpanned, venom thick in your voice.

The girls burst into a chorus of soft laughter and very obvious glances between each other.

“Sure you do,” Jungwon’s mate said under her breath, smirking like she knew something you didn’t.

Sunghoon’s mate leaned closer, her eyes glinting with teasing. “Totally believable, babe.”

You lifted your chin with a little sniff, grabbing Heeseung’s mate’s champagne flute and taking a sip without asking, smoothing your perfectly manicured nails down your dress with slow, deliberate motions.

“He’s an arrogant, infuriating, self-absorbed bastard. Nothing to like.” Your words were sharp, meant to cut, but your heart betrayed you, thudding a little too fast in your chest.

The girls just laughed again, louder this time, the noise bouncing off the sleek interior of the limo.

The second Heeseung’s mate dragged you through the massive front doors, the girls giggling and squealing behind you, the party slammed into your senses all at once.

The mansion was alive.

Music thundered from unseen speakers, bass pounding against the floors, lights flashing in dizzy, chaotic bursts. The thick, humid air reeked of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and dozens of clashing scents—alphas, betas, omegas, all packed into one heaving mass of bodies, grinding against each other on the dance floor or yelling over the noise.

You clung tighter to Heeseung’s mate’s arm, feeling your heart hammering against your ribs. “Remind me why I agreed to this?” you half-shouted over the music.

She just laughed, tossing you a wicked grin. “Because you love the drama!”

You barely had time to answer before you spotted them.

There, in the farthest corner of the living room, seven pureblooded Alphas stood.

A sight so commanding that even the wildest partygoers kept their distance. They didn’t have to move, didn’t have to speak—their presence alone was a warning. Even through the haze of bodies and lights, they stood untouched, untouchable.

Jungwon stood tall and sharp-eyed, scanning the room like he owned it, while Heeseung looked effortless, sipping casually from a drink, his smirk lazy but unreadable. Jake leaned against the wall, charming and easygoing on the surface but calculated underneath, while Ni-ki whispered something to Sunghoon, both of them laughing low and dangerous. Sunoo, perched slightly away from the rest, looked deceptively angelic, his sharp eyes catching every movement without even trying.

And Jay.

Jay, who had an arm draped over the back of the leather couch, the amber of his bourbon catching the light, looking every bit like he was born to rule. He didn’t laugh like the others; he barely spoke. He simply watched—until you walked in.

The moment you stepped inside, his entire focus zeroed in on you like a predator. His posture stiffened, drink forgotten in his hand, lips pressed into a hard, thin line. You could feel the weight of his stare dragging over your body.

While the boys immediately softened at the sight of their mates—smirks turning into real smiles, arms opening to pull them close—you clung to Heeseung’s mate, half-hiding behind her. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you forced yourself to look anywhere but at him.

You could feel it, the burn of Jay’s eyes following every movement, every breath, every fake laugh you let out.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,"” Sunghoon’s mate sing-songed in your ear, catching the way Jay's hand twitched again as you laughed with her.

“I'm not playing anything,” you said smoothly, reaching up to fix your earring with a practiced air of nonchalance, even though your heart was pounding so hard you were worried it might crack your ribs.

You were about to deny everything, pretend you didn’t care—

Except you could feel him moving closer. Every cell in your body screamed at his approach, and when you glanced up, there he was, cutting through the crowd like it didn’t exist.

Jay didn’t say a word. He simply shrugged off his black Prada blazer—sleek, tailored, screaming Park Jongseong—and dropped it over your shoulders with a scowl. The rich scent of his cologne laced with his scent of sandalwood and tequila wrapped around you.

Before you could even form a reaction, he turned on his heel and stormed off toward the kitchen, his drink dangerously low.

The group noticed. Conversations faltered mid-sentence, greetings paused, and suddenly every single pair of eyes was on you.

Heeseung’s mate was the first to catch herself, hiding a smug grin behind her hand, while Jungwon’s mate outright smirked, nudging you in the side with her elbow.

You stayed frozen for a second longer, clutching Jay’s expensive Prada blazer tighter around your shoulders. Your heart slammed against your ribs, the weight of their knowing stares only making it worse.

Jungwon’s mate leaned in, voice low and teasing near your ear. “Well? Go after him, stupid,” she whispered, giving you a not-so-subtle push toward the kitchen.

And without even thinking, you followed.

It didn’t surprise you to find a not-so-mini bar tucked into the far corner of the house—of course Jay would have something like this. He was already behind it, refilling his bourbon, moving with an easy, practiced grace. The dim light hit his profile perfectly, jaw sharp, brow furrowed, mouth pulled into a grim line.

You slid into one of the high stools, arms crossing over your chest beneath his jacket. The fabric was too big for you, swallowing you whole, but you didn’t shrug it off.

You didn’t even know why you were here. Anger didn’t pulse through you like before, only confusion. Confusion and the dull ache of something you couldn’t name sitting heavy on your chest.

Jay didn’t say anything at first. He grabbed a glass, poured something pink and fizzy into it, added ice with an efficient clink, then slid it toward you across the bar top without looking up.

You stared at it. Pink lemonade cocktail.

You cocked an eyebrow, arms still folded tightly. “Seriously?”

Finally, he lifted his eyes, pinning you with that same, familiar look that always made your mouth dry up. “Isn’t this your favorite?” he asked, voice low, almost like he hated admitting he knew that.

You blinked. Your mouth opened and closed, no words forming as a small, confused pout curled your lips. Hesitantly, you reached for the drink, your fingers brushing the cool glass. You nodded slowly, the tiniest, barely-there movement.

Wordlessly, you took a sip. The sweetness burst across your tongue, familiar and jarring all at once.

Jay watched you like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t even want to admit he cared about. His hands flexed against the bar top, the veins in his arms standing out with the effort it took to stay casual.

You didn’t understand it. Any of it. Not the blazer. Not the drink. Not the way his stormy eyes lingered on your face like he was memorizing you.

But somehow, you didn’t pull away.

Jay set his glass down with a sharp clink, pulling his gaze away first, like it physically pained him to do it.

“I need another refill,” he muttered, voice rough, already stepping around the counter without waiting for you to say anything.

You blinked, staring after him like he had just grown two heads.

The leather of the stool creaked under you when you shifted, trying to wrap your head around the past five minutes. You slowly dragged your eyes to the wall of alcohol behind the counter—bottles of whiskey, gin, rare aged bourbons lined up like some kind of shrine, and for a moment, you just… sat there.

Thinking.

Where the hell did the Jay who used to hate you with a burning passion go?

Where was the Jay who would snap at you during business dinners, whose eyes would ice over whenever you so much as breathed in his direction?

Your lips pressed into a tight line. You were so deep in your spiraling thoughts that you didn't even notice the figure who approached until a shadow loomed over you.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” a voice crooned, low and dripping with confidence.

You blinked up, startled, into the face of Minjun—an Alpha from a prominent family. Older, ridiculously handsome, and apparently, very unaware of the dangerous ground he was treading.

“Didn’t think someone like you would be sitting here all alone,” he grinned, sliding into the stool next to you, his scent immediately clouding the air, rich and heady and far too much.

You smiled politely, schooling your face into something neutral because the last thing you needed was to cause a scene at Jay’s party.

“I’m just waiting for someone,” you said lightly, your fingers fiddling with the straw of your pink cocktail.

“Oh?” Minjun leaned in closer, clearly misinterpreting your politeness for an invitation. “Well, whoever it is, he’s an idiot for leaving someone like you sitting here. You deserve better, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but you didn’t get the chance.

A loud thud crashed onto the counter beside you, making you jump in your seat.

Jay stood there, a handful of new bottles clutched in one arm, the other hand braced hard on the marble, muscles straining under his sleeves. His stormy gaze burned into Minjun with a fury that could’ve leveled buildings.

“Move,” Jay snapped, voice low, dangerous.

Minjun blinked, confused, trying to play it off with a chuckle. “Relax, man. We’re just talking—”

“She’s not available.” Jay’s voice cracked like a whip across the air, sharp and venomous. His eyes never once left Minjun’s face, full of a warning so clear even the drunkest alpha would have sobered up instantly.

You froze, heart hammering against your ribs.

Minjun raised his hands in mock surrender, throwing you a half-smirk before sliding off the stool and retreating into the crowd without another word.

The second he was gone, Jay rounded on you—storming so close that you had to tilt your head up just to meet his glare.

Before you could process it, his hand clamped around your wrist, not painfully, but firm enough to leave no room for argument.

“Come with me,” he gritted out, already pulling you off the stool.

“Jay—what the hell—” you hissed, stumbling after him as he cut through the crowd, dragging you behind him like you weighed nothing.

Heads turned. You could feel the stares. The music pounded in your skull, but none of it registered—not the flashing lights, not the sea of bodies; only Jay, only his bruising grip and the boiling fury rolling off him in waves.

He didn’t stop until he shoved open a door down the hall, revealing a sleek, dimly lit guest bedroom, and practically tossed you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

Jay stalked toward you like he wanted to tear you apart, his chest heaving, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. You barely had time to turn around before he cornered you, his hand slamming into the wall beside your head with a loud thud, making you flinch.

“What the fuck were you doing, smiling at him like that?” he seethed, his voice rough, raw, almost shaking with the force of how hard he was holding himself back.

You glared up at him, your own anger finally snapping free.

“He was just being nice!” you snapped, shoving at his chest uselessly. He didn’t move an inch. He just pressed closer, his body heat swallowing you whole.

Jay let out a bitter, humorless laugh, his head tilting as he stared down at you like he hated the sight of you. “Nice? You think that’s what he wanted? You’re fucking clueless.”

“Why do you even care, Jay?!” Your voice cracked as it rose, sharp and broken, and you hated it—hated how much he could pull emotion out of you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know,” he spat, his other hand curling into a fist at his side.

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision but you refused to let them fall yet.

“Stop acting like you care!” you fired back, your chest heaving.

He slammed his other hand into the wall on the other side of your head, the sound loud and violent, and you flinched, heart rattling against your ribs.

“You think I don’t care?” he hissed. “You think it’s easy for me?”

You swallowed hard, glaring up at him through your tears. “You hate me.”

“I fucking hate you,” Jay snarled back instantly, the words punching the air between you.

Your throat tightened painfully, but you forced the words out. “Good. Because I hate you too.”

The tension cracked—raw, ugly, alive.

Jay’s chest brushed yours with every shallow, angry breath he took. His hands were trembling where they caged you in, like it was taking everything he had not to tear the world apart.

He ducked his head lower, forehead almost brushing yours, his voice rough and raw.

“I hate the way you make me feel,” he said, almost like a confession, his teeth gritted. “I hate that you fucking get to me. That you make me feel like some—some fucking lowlife who can’t even think straight when you’re around.”

You blinked at him, breath catching, chest aching with how messy this was.

Jay laughed again, broken, “I hate that you make me want things I’m not supposed to want.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper.

“Where do we even stand, Jay?”

He stared at you—through you—like he was trying to find the answer too. His hands finally dropped from the wall, only to grab your wrists, tight enough to make you gasp, but not enough to hurt.

“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t fucking know.”

The tears finally slipped free. You hated yourself for it. Hated that he was the only one who could break you like this.

Jay’s face twisted, something almost like regret flashing in his eyes, but it was gone too fast, swallowed by the anger again.

“You drive me insane,” he bit out, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was even standing here, having this conversation. “You ruin me.”

“You ruin me too,” you whispered back, voice breaking completely.

He stared at you like you’d ripped the ground out from under him. Neither of you moved. Neither of you could.

It was war. It was heartbreak. It was home.

And neither of you knew how to fix it.

Not when your hands were still shaking, when your breaths were still shallow, when your hearts were still trying to tear themselves free from your ribs just from being this close.

Not when the hate had always been a mask for something neither of you were brave enough to admit.

Jay's eyes dropped to your lips, so fast, so instinctive, like he didn’t even mean to—and you felt your breath hitch, a violent, helpless thing.

Your hands flexed against his hold, not to pull away—no—but to feel. To ground yourself in the heat of his skin.

He let out a low, almost broken curse, and the next thing you knew, Jay surged forward, crashing his mouth against yours.

It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t soft, it was messy. Brutal. Desperate.

You gasped against him, your back slamming into the wall as his body pressed into yours, holding you there like he needed to anchor himself or else he’d fly apart. His hands let go of your wrists only to grab your face, rough and trembling, thumbs digging into your jaw as he tilted your head back to kiss you harder.

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve fought. But all you could do was clutch at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the expensive fabric like it was the only thing keeping you standing.

Jay kissed like he hated you. Like he needed to conquer you. Like he needed to brand you with his mouth and teeth and everything he’d been trying so hard to bury.

Your teeth clashed. Your noses bumped. It was messy and imperfect and real in a way that made your chest ache.

You whimpered against him, your knees buckling slightly, and Jay groaned low in his throat—a sound so guttural and desperate it made your head spin—before one of his arms dropped to wrap around your waist, hauling you even closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space between you.

He tasted like bourbon and rage and something heartbreakingly familiar.

He pulled back just barely, breathing hard against your lips, his forehead dropping against yours as you both struggled for air.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked, almost like he was mad at himself. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?”

You shook your head, tears still clinging to your lashes, your heart slamming so hard against your ribs it hurt.

“You started this,” you breathed, voice small and shaky.

Jay let out a strangled sound, his hands fisting the back of your dress like he could physically keep you from slipping away.

“I’m so fucking tired of pretending,” he rasped, his words ghosting over your skin, raw and broken and bare.

You stared up at him, your throat tight, your body aching with confusion and want and a thousand other things you didn’t even have names for.

“I hate you,” you whispered again, but this time… it sounded like a plea. Like a lie. Like the saddest truth.

Jay laughed, short and sharp and bitter, and then he kissed you again, harder, rougher, angrier—like he was trying to burn the hatred out of both of you. Like he needed to punish you for existing and save you at the same time.

You clutched at him, nails scraping his chest through his shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. He growled against your mouth, and the sound lit a fire low in your stomach that scared you with how much you craved it.

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him even closer, practically clawing at him, needing more, needing everything.

His knee shoved between your legs, pressing against you, and you whimpered against his mouth, the sound broken and raw.

Jay ripped his mouth away, both of you panting like you were drowning.

“You think you can just look at me like that?” he rasped, his forehead knocking into yours, noses brushing, breaths mixing in harsh, heated gasps. “Smile at everyone like you’re not already fucking mine?”

Your heart slammed painfully against your ribs.

“You think I don’t, do you?” Jay growled. His hands tightened, grounding you in place. His eyes were wild, furious, pained. “You think I don’t fucking care?”

You blinked up at him, tears burning at the edges of your vision.

“I hate you,” you whispered, voice shaking. “And you hate me.”

But he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe you were still clinging to that lie.

“I don’t,” he said, voice raw, guttural, wrecked. “I don’t hate you.”

The words hit you harder than a slap.

“I wish I did,” he gritted out, jaw locking, eyes furious. “God, I wish I fucking hated you.”

Your breath hitched.

“But I can’t.” A shuddering breath. “I can’t hate you. I can’t even fucking breathe without thinking about you.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying again until his thumb brushed against your cheek, rough, almost angry, wiping the tears away like he hated seeing them, hated causing them, hated himself.

And then he kissed you again.

You gasped into his mouth as he pushed you harder against the wall, his hands roaming, feverish and trembling, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he didn’t even know what he was doing, only that he needed more.

His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling just enough to make you whimper—a sound that made him groan low and broken in the back of his throat.

When he finally ripped away, both of you gasping, he didn’t move far. He stayed pressed against you, forehead pressed to yours, hands still framing your face like he was scared you'd slip through his fingers.

“I don’t know what this is,” he rasped, his voice wrecked, barely holding it together. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to me.”

Your hands slid up to clutch his arms, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing left in a world that was crumbling.

“Jay…” you whispered, voice shaking.

His hands dropped to your hips, yanking you closer until not even air fit between you.

But then, without warning, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him.

“Jay—” you started, but he didn’t even glance back.

The hallway blurred as he stormed through it, weaving past confused alphas and omegas still lingering from the party. Some of them gawked, some whispered, but Jay didn’t slow down. He didn’t even flinch.

It was like there was a fire under his skin and you were the only thing he could think about.

Your heart was racing, tripping over itself with every heavy step he took, the way his grip didn’t falter even once—like he needed you anchored to him.

Jay shoved his room open, yanked you inside, and slammed it shut behind you with a loud, final thud.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were on you again, not rough to hurt, but rough in the way someone touches something they've been aching for too long.

He walked you backward without even thinking, his steps fast, heavy, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his stupidly expensive bed.

And then he shoved you onto it.

You landed with a small gasp, staring up at him, heart hammering so violently it felt like it would burst straight out of your chest.

Jay just stood there for a second, looming over you, his chest rising and falling like he was at war with himself. Hair messy from running his fingers through it, lips swollen from kissing you, pupils blown wide with something between rage and want.

His hands fisted at his sides like he was holding himself back, like if he touched you again, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop.

Jay stepped closer, until he was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you like you were both his salvation and his curse.

“You make me feel things I can't afford to feel, omega.” He said, voice shaking.

You reached up before you could stop yourself, your fingers tangling into his shirt, yanking him down.

He crashed into you like he’d been starving for this.

Jay hovered over you, breathing hard, his body practically trembling with restraint.

Your dress, soft, delicate, dangerous—had ridden up your thighs when he pushed you down, leaving you laid out beneath him like a goddamn fever dream.

And he looked ruined by it.

His hands slid up from your bare thighs, slow and shaky, fingertips brushing along your skin like he didn’t know whether to worship you or devour you.

You whimpered when his calloused palms grazed higher, just under the hem of your dress, and that sound—soft, desperate, for him—made him groan low and wrecked in his chest.

“Jay, please…” you breathed, voice trembling.

That was all it took.

One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head up for a rough, searing kiss that left you gasping. His other hand slid up your dress, urgent and feverish, gripping your hip so hard you knew you’d feel it tomorrow.

“You drive me insane,” he growled into your mouth, voice wrecked and shaking. His lips trailed across your jaw, your throat, sucking harsh bruises into your skin like he wanted to mark you, like he wanted the world to know who you belonged to.

You clutched at his shirt, pulling him down, your body arching up into his without a second thought.

Jay muttered your name like a prayer, like a curse, and shoved the hem of your dress higher, revealing more skin, more of you, too much and never enough all at once.

His mouth trailed down, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, your collarbone, like he couldn’t decide where to start or stop. His hands shook where they gripped you, like he was barely holding himself together.

Panting hard against your skin, Jay’s hand slid over your shoulder, fingers finding the edge of the small scent-blocker patch clinging to your skin.

And before you could even process it, he peeled it off.

The moment the patch dropped onto the mattress with a soft, forgotten thud, your scent hit him full force—roses and apples, warm and sweet and so overwhelmingly you that Jay actually staggered, gripping you tighter like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse, his forehead dropping against your bare shoulder.

You barely had a second to react before he was back on you, rougher, hungrier, like the leash he kept on himself had snapped the second your scent filled the room.

His mouth crashed back to your skin, leaving darker, messier marks along your neck and collarbone, branding you with bruising kisses. His hands fisted your dress, dragging the fabric higher, desperate to feel more, touch more, claim more.

“You smell…” Jay broke off with a low, guttural groan, his nose burying into the crook of your neck, inhaling deep like he could never get enough. “You smell like fucking heaven.”

You whimpered, your body arching into his without even thinking, fingers scrambling at his shoulders for any kind of hold.

Your scent clung to him now—threaded into his clothes, his skin, his lungs—until Jay felt like he was burning alive from the inside out.

Without even realizing it, his mouth traced lower, nuzzling into the exposed skin of your chest, teeth nipping lightly, scenting you instinctively with every rough kiss and broken inhale.

“Fuck…” he rasped, like he wasn’t even aware he said it, voice breaking apart at the edges. His hands slid down, framing your waist, fingers pressing bruises into your skin like he couldn’t bear the idea of not touching you.

He leaned back for a breath—just a second—and you watched, dazed and wide-eyed, as he yanked the rest of his shirt off with one furious motion, tossing it across the room.

The sight of him, bare and golden in the dim light, muscles carved from every bottled-up emotion he never let himself feel, stole the air straight from your lungs.

And then his hands were on you again. He caught the hem of your dress and dragged it up slowly, unbearably slow, baring inch after inch of your flushed skin. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second, dark and hungry, like he was memorizing every piece of you he uncovered.

You gasped when the dress finally bunched at your arms, and he helped pull it up, over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought.

You sat there, barely covered now, clad only in a delicate black lingerie set, sheer, soft lace hugging your curves, a thin barrier between you and him.

His hand reached out and ghosted over your bare waist, your stomach, your ribs. His fingers skimmed up to the soft swell of your breasts, reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You're…” He swallowed hard, blinking like he was dizzy. “You're gonna kill me.”

You whimpered when he leaned in again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your bare shoulder, down your collarbone, nosing against the lace of your bra. His teeth scraped lightly against the sensitive skin above the cup, just enough to make you gasp, arching into him without thinking.

Jay groaned deep in his throat, hands sliding down to your thighs, pushing them open so he could fit between them, caging you against the bed like you were something he needed to survive.

His hands roamed—rough palms skating up your sides, thumbs brushing over the thin fabric of your bra until you shuddered, clutching at his bare shoulders like you were drowning.

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sound when his lips found the soft skin of your stomach, trailing down, lower, slow and torturous.

And when he mouthed at the inside of your thigh; teeth grazing, tongue flicking—you sobbed his name, fingers burying in his hair, yanking hard enough to make him groan against your skin.

Jay pulled back, chest heaving, hair messy from your grip.

“Do you want this?” he panted, voice a hoarse command. “Tell me you want this.”

“Jay—Alpha—,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “I want— please—”

That was all he needed.

His hand fumbled slightly, almost trembling, as he found the tiny hook at the back of your bra.

The clasp gave way with a soft snap. And Jay exhaled a sharp, broken sound when the lace slipped free, baring you completely to him.

His hands slid the straps down your arms, tossing the bra aside, but his eyes never left you—dark, glassy, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin like he was starving.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t even mean to say it aloud.

You squirmed under his gaze, heat rising to your cheeks, but Jay wasn’t having it.

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to meet his burning stare.

“No,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Don’t look away. Don’t you dare.”

And then he was leaning in, pressing tender, desperate kisses over your bare chest—first to your collarbone, then lower, then lower, his mouth tracing invisible paths down the curve of your breast.

When he finally closed his mouth around your nipple, you gasped, head tipping back helplessly.

Jay groaned, sucking gently at first, then flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak, his hand sliding up to cup the other breast, thumb stroking slow circles around it.

You clutched at his shoulders, nails scraping lightly over the tense muscles there, earning a soft, needy grunt from deep in his chest.

“You feel so good,” he muttered against your skin, the vibrations making you whimper.

“So fucking good. I could spend hours just…” he kissed you again, open-mouthed and messy, “just worshipping you like this.”

Your thighs tightened around his hips instinctively, needing him closer, needing more. Jay lifted his head slightly, lips glossy, cheeks flushed, looking utterly undone.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, forehead pressing to the center of your chest, right over your hammering heart.

You shivered under him, overwhelmed by the weight of his touch, his words, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted and never thought he could have.

His teeth grazed lightly over the swell of your breast before pulling your nipple into his mouth again, rougher this time, making you gasp and arch into him.

Jay growled low in his throat, like he couldn’t get enough, couldn't get closer.

His free hand slid down your side, gliding over your waist, your hip, gripping your thigh and hauling it higher over his hip, locking you closer, tighter against him.

You could feel him now—hard, throbbing, desperate through the rough fabric of his pants, and the sound that broke from his throat when you shifted against him was downright sinful.

Jay’s mouth slanted hungrily over yours, swallowing your shaky little gasps as he dragged his hand lower, past your ribs, your waist, the curve of your hips, until his fingers brushed the edge of your panties.

You whimpered against his lips, hips jerking up slightly in silent plea, and Jay groaned low in his throat, deep and guttural.

“So eager for me,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look at you: flushed, trembling, already falling apart beneath him.

His hand dipped lower, fingers teasing along the damp fabric stretched over your core, and the sound you made, a broken little whine—nearly undid him.

“Fuck, baby…” he breathed out harshly, pressing his forehead to yours. His fingers stroked a slow, torturous path over your panties, feeling how wet you were for him, how ready.

“You’re soaked,” he said hoarsely, almost like he was in pain. "All for me."

You nodded, desperate, not trusting yourself to speak.

With trembling fingers, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and agonizingly dragged them down your thighs, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin as he went.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispered, voice almost breaking.

His fingers brushed against your slick heat, feather-light at first, like he was still trying to be gentle, still trying to hold himself back.

But the second you whimpered his name—that sweet, broken little “Jay…” he snapped.

He groaned, low and filthy, and slid a finger through your folds, gathering your wetness and circling your clit with maddening, teasing strokes.

Your hips bucked up helplessly, chasing his touch, and Jay shuddered against you.

“Good girl,” he muttered, kissing you again, “Such a good girl for me. Let me make you feel good, yeah? Let me have you.”

You barely managed a breathless nod before he slipped a finger inside you, slow but deep, dragging a moan from your throat it made him groan into your mouth.

“God, you're tight,” he muttered, sliding deeper, curling his finger just right, making your back arch off the bed. “Fucking made for me.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging—needing more, and Jay rewarded you by adding another finger, stretching you open, thrusting slow and deep while his thumb rubbed slow, torturous circles over your clit.

Jay kissed your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, leaving desperate, claiming marks, never stopping his movements, never letting you catch your breath.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with heat and awe. “So fucking beautiful like this, falling apart for me.”

“Come for me,” he rasped, speeding up just slightly, just enough. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

One more brush against your clit, one more deep curl of his fingers inside you and you shattered, crying out his name, legs shaking, nails digging into his back as you came undone.

He stayed pressed against you, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I'm not done with you yet, baby. Not even close.”

Jay shoved his pants down with frantic, clumsy movements, not even bothering to fully kick them off, just enough to free himself.

His cock slapped up against his stomach, flushed and leaking, thick and heavy, and the way he hissed through his teeth when your eyes dropped to it, wide and starry and a little scared almost undid him.

He stroked himself once, twice, jaw clenching hard, like he was trying to calm down but was way, way past that point.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice wrecked.

He grabbed your hips roughly and yanked you down the bed towards him, until your legs dangled over the edge and your body arched perfectly against him.

You barely had time to gasp before he hooked your thighs over his forearms, spreading you open for him, caging you in like you were his whole world—and you were.

“God, you're so fucking pretty like this,” he rasped, eyes locked on where you were dripping for him, his cock throbbing in his fist. “So fucking perfect.”

He lined himself up, the thick head nudging against your slick entrance, and he nearly collapsed with the need to just slam into you.

But he didn’t. He pushed in, just the tip and paused, forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice so broken it barely sounded like him.

You nodded, desperate tears brimming again, and that was all he needed.

With a low, shattered groan, he sank into you fully, stretching you inch by inch until you felt impossibly full, impossibly complete.

You both cried out high, ragged sounds, clutching onto each other like the world would fall apart if you let go.

“God, you're tight,” Jay gasped into your neck, his voice almost pleading. “So fucking tight around me, baby."

He bottomed out, hips pressed flush against yours and just stayed there for a moment, trembling, trying not to lose his mind from how good you felt.

You whimpered his name, begging, rocking your hips the tiniest bit.

Jay pulled out, and slammed back in, deep and hard, dragging a broken moan from both of you.

And then he did it again. And again.

Setting a rough, desperate rhythm that had the headboard slamming against the wall, your cries echoing in the small, dim room.

“Fuck— you feel— so good,” Jay choked out between thrusts, punctuating each word with a deep, body-shaking snap of his hips.

He kissed you everywhere he could reach, your mouth, your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, leaving open-mouthed, messy, desperate kisses that tasted like sweat and tears and forever.

Your nails clawed at his back, leaving angry red lines in their wake, and Jay just groaned, thrusting harder, chasing that high he’d been starving for since the moment he realized he couldn’t hate you, no matter how much he tried.

“Come for me again,” he growled against your ear, voice dark and commanding. “Come all over my cock, baby. Show me who you fucking belong to.”

The coil in your belly snapped, pleasure ripping through you like wildfire, and you screamed his name as you came, clenching hard around him.

Jay followed with a desperate moan. One last deep, shaking thrust as he spilled inside you, shuddering, pressing his forehead to yours.

Jay didn't move at first, he didn't even think about pulling out.

He stayed buried inside you, breathing you in, cradling your body like something sacred.

And then, slowly, he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

Then another.

Then your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose, your forehead, your lips—over and over, soft, reverent kisses that made you shiver and melt all at once.

You whimpered, still riding the tail-end of your high, your body sensitive and trembling.

Jay whispered against your skin, his voice so gentle it broke your heart.

“That’s it, omega,” he murmured. “Ride it out for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

He kissed the corners of your mouth, your tear-streaked cheeks, your swollen lips, whispering sweet nothings between every kiss.

“So good for me,” he breathed. “So fucking perfect. My girl.”

You laughed, a breathless, teary sound, pulling him closer by the nape of his neck. He let you tug him down, let you steal his mouth in another messy, lazy kiss, your lips barely brushing as you smiled against him.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and soft and burning, he asked—voice low, teasing, but almost pleading underneath: “Do you still hate me, omega?”

You gave a watery giggle, shaking your head, your fingers threading into his sweat-damp hair.

“No,” you whispered, smiling against his lips, “Not even close.”

Jay’s whole body shuddered, like your words broke something loose inside him, and he kissed you again, deeper, slower, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

And when he finally pulled back, when he looked at you, flushed and wrecked and still trembling beneath him, something primal snapped in his gaze.

His hands framed your face again, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and he leaned so close that his next words ghosted against your mouth:

“Can I mark you?”

You gasped softly, not from fear, but from the sheer gravity of it. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, like the moment itself was alive, thrumming between you.

Jay grinned, a little dark, a little cocky, but there was so much love in his eyes it made your chest ache.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, voice cracking, “You’re already mine… but I want everyone to know it.”

Your heart twisted violently in your chest. You nodded, body trembling, and tilted your head back instinctively, baring your throat to him, offering yourself completely.

Trusting him.

Jay groaned—a raw, needy sound and buried his face in your neck, inhaling deep, almost drunk off your scent.

“God, you smell so good,” he rasped against your skin, “Sweet little thing. All mine.”

Tears stung your eyes, blurring the ceiling above, but you didn’t try to blink them away.

He kissed your throat, soft, open-mouthed kisses, dragging his teeth lightly over your pulse, making you shiver.

And then, without another word, he sank his teeth into the tender spot between your neck and shoulder—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a claim.

You cried out, clinging to him desperately as the world tilted around you. Your nails dug into his back, feeling him everywhere, your own tears slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

Jay shook against you, his own tears soaking into your skin as he licked over the mark, soothing it with slow, tender kisses.

“You’re so good,” he whispered, voice thick and wet with emotion, “So perfect for me. Always have been.”

He finally pulled back to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy with unshed tears, his hair a mess, his lips swollen, and yet he looked at you like you were his entire world.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, a shaky smile tugging at his lips, “And I’m yours. Always.”

Morning came slow and golden.

The first rays of sunlight seeped through the sheer curtains of Jay’s room, spilling across the dark wooden floors, brushing the edge of the bed, kissing the tangle of limbs and flushed skin on top of it.

The party downstairs had long since ended.

The house was silent.

The world was silent, as if it was holding its breath for the two of you.

Jay stirred first, a sleepy, contented grumble rumbling low in his chest as he tucked you closer, nuzzling into the crook of your neck where your scent was the strongest.

You whimpered a little at the friction, your body still achy and oversensitive from the night before, but Jay just hummed, satisfied, clearly not planning on letting you go anytime soon.

His arms were like steel bands around you, one slung low around your waist, the other curled up over your shoulder, fingers twisted into your hair to keep you tucked against him.

You felt his nose nudge along your skin, his lips brushing the fresh mark he’d left on your neck, and it sent a soft, electric shiver through you.

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, hoarse and gravelly with sleep.

You smiled, eyes still shut, heart aching so sweetly you thought it might split open.

You shifted just slightly, enough to look up at him through heavy lashes. But he was already looking at you.

His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his eyes—usually so sharp, so burning—were soft, sleepy, a little puffy at the edges.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice still rough.

Jay just tightened his hold, sliding his leg between yours like he needed more contact, needed you pressed as close as humanly possible.

“Don’t move,” he mumbled, voice wrecked and stubborn, “Stay.”

You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling him melt into your touch like a sleepy cat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jay.”

He sighed, like he’d been holding onto that fear even in his sleep, and buried his face in your neck again, breathing you in deep.

Jay kissed the mark again, like an apology and a promise all at once, and you felt yourself tear up a little, overwhelmed by the sheer tenderness of it all.

You tightened your arms around him, fingertips tracing slow, lazy patterns across his bare back, and for a moment—just a moment— it was like nothing else in the world existed.

Just the steady beat of his heart against yours. Just the soft warmth of the morning light seeping through the curtains. Just you and him, tangled up in something too big for words.

And then—

You both flinched as your phones, discarded somewhere across the room last night, suddenly lit up like Christmas trees, buzzing so aggressively it made the nightstand rattle.

Jay groaned loudly into your neck, his arms tightening around you stubbornly as if he could somehow will the rest of the world away.

You laughed breathlessly, the sound shaky with leftover tears, and tilted your head to glance at the source of the noise—the bright, blinking screens lighting up with a flood of notifications.

“Well,” you teased, voice still rough from sleep and emotion, “I guess we’re not dead… but they definitely think we killed each other.”

Jay growled low in his throat, refusing to lift his head from your skin.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he muttered. “They can wait. You come first.”

You smiled so wide it hurt and tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently. “Come on, Mr. Park. We should probably let them know you didn’t actually throw me off the balcony.”

He finally huffed a reluctant laugh against your throat, but didn’t move an inch.

Instead, he moved just enough to blindly fumble around the nightstand, still pressed firmly against you.

You felt him stretch an arm out, muscles flexing as he grabbed his phone without looking, before he wrapped both arms right back around you, the device now hovering just above your line of sight.

You giggled softly against his chest as you tilted your head, watching as Jay unlocked his phone with a lazy swipe of his thumb, and immediately flinched at the explosion of messages flooding his screen.

Heeseung [8:12 AM]: BRO DID YOU KILL (Y/N) OR DID YOU KILL HER, WHAT IS IT

Jungwon [8:12 AM]: Jay? Hello? Hello???

Jake [8:12 AM]: Guys what if they’re dead

Ni-ki [8:12 AM]: HELLO HELLO HELLO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON DID THEY FINALLY KILL EACH OTHER

Sunghoon [8:13 AM]: someone call the police im serious 🤷‍♂️

Sunoo [8:13 AM]: bro imagine we have to explain to the media that they died fighting 💀

Heeseung [8:14 AM]: i don’t wanna cancel our trip to jeju later wtf do i tell (y/n)’s parents i booked a private plane under their company PLEASE RESPOND

Sunoo [8:14 AM]: LMFAOOO oh wow not jay’s company huh 👀

Sunghoon [8:14 AM]: wtf i haven’t even packed yet STOP PLAYING

Jay let out a low snort of amusement, his chest vibrating against you.

You tilted your head back slightly, just enough to see the way his mouth quirked up into that slow, cocky grin you knew all too well.

Still holding you snug against him, he started typing with both thumbs, his phone wobbling slightly in the air above your face.

Jay [8:15 AM]: we’re alive. we’ll be there later.

Seconds later, another explosion of messages hit:

Ni-ki [8:15 AM]: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WE??????

Jake [8:15 AM]: no fucking way no no no no no

Sunghoon [8:16 AM]: yeah, i need a drink

Jay just smirked wider, lowering his phone back to the nightstand before tightening his grip on you, tugging you even closer into his chest like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between you.

“They’re so dramatic,” he muttered into your hair, pressing a lazy kiss against the crown of your head.

“You’re literally worse.”

He hummed like he didn’t even deny it.

Before you could react, Jay moved, sweeping you up effortlessly into his arms, one under your knees, the other supporting your back. You gasped, clinging to his shoulders as he lifted you.

“Jay!” you squeaked, laughing breathlessly.

He only grinned, that lazy, devastating grin that made your heart race. “Princesses don’t walk,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You melted into him without a fight, hiding your face against his neck, breathing him in. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, and it made your chest ache in the sweetest way.

Jay carried you across the massive bedroom like you weighed nothing, setting you down gently on the cool marble counter of the bathroom.

He brushed your hair back with careful fingers, then grabbed a towel, wetting it with warm water.

You watched, blinking hard to keep from tearing up, as he cleaned you up with a reverence you didn’t think you deserved but that he gave you anyway.

“You’re so pretty,” he said under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean to let it slip.

You tugged lightly at his shirt, wordlessly pulling him in, and Jay leaned down without hesitation, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When he was done, he let his hand linger against your cheek, his thumb stroking lazily.

“Alright, little princess,” he murmured, “you wanna raid my closet? Pick something to wear before we head out?”

You nodded shyly, and he grinned like he was proud of himself.

Jay helped you down from the counter, keeping a hand firmly at your waist like he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

He guided you into the massive walk-in closet and gestured proudly.

“Take your pick, the empire’s yours.”

You snorted, rifling through his things, oversized hoodies, crisp dress shirts, soft designer sweats.

Eventually, you chose one of his favorite sweatshirts. He watched you pull it over your head with a look that could only be described as smitten.

Once the both of you were dressed, he laced your fingers with his again and tugged you toward the stairs. One hand stayed steady at your back the entire walk down, guiding you gently, protectively.

The Park estate opened up before you, morning sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows, gleaming against spotless marble floors and expensive furniture.

You blinked—there was no sign that a wild party had even happened just hours ago. No empty glasses, no discarded decorations, no mess.

The place was pristine.

Jay caught your glance and shrugged casually.

“We pay them enough,” he said with a smirk, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles against your spine.

He led you outside, the garage doors sliding open smoothly, revealing rows of luxury cars lined up—Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis.

He headed straight for a sleek black BMW, already gleaming under the early morning sun.

You squinted at it in surprise, “Not taking the Ferrari?”

Jay shot you a look over his shoulder, one brow raised.

“Please. I’m a family man now,” he said with a grin, unlocking the car. “I need to be flashy but timeless.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

He just winked at you, opening the passenger door and holding it out like a true pureblooded Alpha.

You slid inside the plush interior—the scent of leather and something distinctly Jay wrapping around you immediately.

The BMW i7, because of course it had to be the luxury electric sedan—was pure understated elegance, still sleek enough to scream money without being obnoxious.

Jay circled the front and climbed into the driver’s seat, immediately reaching for you.

One hand found your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy, possessive circles there, while the other started the engine.

The car hummed to life, smooth and silent, and Jay pulled out of the driveway like he wasn’t in a rush at all—like he had all the time in the world as long as you were sitting next to him.

Morning sunlight poured through the windshield, casting a soft glow on the sharp lines of his face, painting the air between you gold. It felt so easy, slipping into small talk. random jokes, casual teasing—the kind of mindless conversations that only came when you were at peace with someone.

But somewhere along the road, Jay’s voice dipped into something quieter, almost like he was thinking out loud.

“Y’know…” he said, thumb still tracing idle patterns on your thigh, “Heeseung almost beat the shit out of me once.”

You blinked, turning to glance at him. “Only once?”

Jay chuckled under his breath, the sound low and fond, “Okay… this time was different.”

He flexed his fingers slightly against you, gripping just a little tighter, like the memory still had claws in him.

“It was about a year ago,” he continued, his voice dipping softer, almost cautious. “I… caught a scent. It was intoxicating. It stopped me dead in my tracks.”

Your breath caught. Your chest tightened, because you already knew exactly where this was going.

“I followed it,” Jay said, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Like some idiot that couldn’t even think straight. Just moved. Through the hallways, past the South Wing… And then I wasn’t the only one. Other alphas caught it too. They started trailing after it—after you.”

You turned toward him fully now, eyes wide.

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking. “They were talking. Joking. Saying disgusting shit. I don’t even remember what set me off, just that one of them said something like ‘whoever she is, she’s already mine’ and the next thing I knew…”

He exhaled hard, voice trembling with the weight of memory, “I lost it.”

“I fought them,” he said quietly, “right there in the middle of the hallway. Didn’t even register Heeseung yelling at me until he grabbed me from behind, slammed me against the lockers.”

Jay’s knuckles whitened around the wheel.

“Heeseung was furious. Said I was reckless. That I was scaring her. That I wasn’t thinking—just reacting.”

You closed your eyes for a second, heart thudding painfully.

“And when I looked up… you were already gone. You ran.”

The silence that fell between you was deafening and thick, like fog curling around your ribs. Like every breath was harder than the last.

Jay’s grip tightened again, “I didn’t know it was you,” he whispered. “Didn’t even see your face.”

You turned your head away, blinking fast as the car sped down the quiet streets, buildings blurring past.

Jay glanced at you, his voice lower now, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There wasn’t any anger there, just something aching, something that bled.

You exhaled shakily. “I was scared,” you said, your voice barely there. “We hated each other so much back then… I thought if you knew, it would just make things worse. I thought you’d hate me even more.”

Jay pulled the car to a slow stop at a red light. His free hand reached over without hesitation, fingers finding yours. He threaded them together and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles.

“I knew it,” he murmured against your skin. “The moment I smelled your scent last night… it all made sense.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, emotions crashing over you like waves against a cliff as Jay’s thumb brushed over your hand gently.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, eyes locked on yours, “if I knew sooner… we wouldn’t have wasted so much time fighting. But maybe…” he smiled, small and bittersweet, “Maybe fate knew what it was doing. Maybe we had to go through all that first… just to get here.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Maybe we did.”

Jay didn’t look away. Not even for a second. Like if he blinked, you’d disappear again. Like he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream.

Your fingers curled a little tighter around his, “Yes,” you added, more firmly this time. “Yes… I think we did.”

The long stretch of your family’s estate driveway came into view, guarded by manicured hedges and century-old trees that swayed lazily under the late morning sun.

You barely had time to pull your phone out before the front gate began to creak open. The guards didn’t even glance at the cameras or lift the clipboard that usually held a guest list. One of them even gave a small nod toward the BMW with a knowing grin.

Jay chuckled from the driver’s seat, one hand lazily resting on the wheel. “See that?” he murmured. “Didn’t even need to flex the last name this time.”

You were already reaching for your door handle when his voice cut through, teasing, but somehow impossibly gentle.

“Not on my watch.”

Before you could protest, he was unbuckled and out of his seat, circling the car with a graceful stride. He pulled open your door like it was second nature, offering his hand as you stepped out.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You know I have hands, right?”

“Yeah,” Jay murmured, already slipping one of his arms around your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he leaned in. “But I like using mine on you better.”

Your breath caught for a second, but before you could say anything back, he was already guiding you toward the front steps, his hand never leaving your waist.

As the double doors opened, the two of you were met with the low hum of movement. Staff bustling past with quick, light steps, some carrying neatly packed luggage while others adjusted flower vases or stacked up trays by the door. But even in the rush, their smiles bloomed the moment they saw you both.

“Good morning, Ma’am. Sir,” one maid greeted politely, nodding once before ducking back into a hallway with a tray of fruit.

Another paused just long enough to grin and whisper, “Welcome back,” to Jay like he was some extended family member returning from vacation.

You blinked, glancing around at the busy, borderline chaotic atmosphere. “Okay, what is happening—”

“Darling!”

Your mother’s voice echoed through the hallway before you saw her, sweeping in from the corridor that led to the kitchen, wearing a silk robe over her day dress, earrings already on like she was mid-way through prepping for lunch guests.

“Mom—?”

But before you could finish, she was wrapping you up in a warm hug, her familiar perfume wrapping around you like a second home. A second later, her arms extended to Jay with equal affection. He stepped into her embrace easily, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“I knew it,” she murmured as she pulled back with a sparkle in her eyes. “I knew something was different when Heeseung mentioned the group trip. I had a feeling.”

Trailing behind her, your father appeared, less dramatic than your mom, of course, but no less warm. His eyes crinkled as he clapped a hand to Jay’s shoulder.

“Well, well,” he said with a low chuckle. “Took you two long enough.”

Jay only laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, still keeping his other arm loosely around your waist.

Your mom glanced over at the staircase, where another housekeeper was hurrying down with more of your things. “Your bags are almost done being packed, sweetheart. I told the staff as soon as I got wind of the flight being booked. Heeseung can’t keep secrets to save his life.”

You blinked. “Wait—you knew about the trip before I even—?”

“I had a hunch,” she smiled knowingly. “Mother’s instinct.”

Jay leaned closer, whispering in your ear, “They’re worse than we are.”

You bit back a laugh and turned to your mom. “I’m just gonna go upstairs and change real quick.”

She waved you off with a wink. “Take your time. I’m sure Jay will keep your father company.”

Jay remained at the base of the staircase, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he looked around the space he’d come to know like the back of his hand.

He didn’t wander or make himself at home, he stood there patiently, shoulders squared, waiting until he was invited further in.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Your father laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, don’t just stand out here like a statue. Let’s sit. I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.”

Your mother smiled and motioned toward the sunlit living room just off the main foyer. “Let’s catch up before (Y/N) comes back down.”

Jay followed them into the living room, the tall windows letting soft afternoon light spill across the cream sofas and mahogany floors.

He waited until your parents were seated before taking the spot they offered, straight-backed but comfortable, like someone raised with discipline but surrounded by warmth.

“So,” your dad started, leaning forward slightly with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Tell me, how’s my favorite rival company’s heir doing? Still beating our numbers in Q2?”

Jay smirked. “Only barely. You’re making it harder every year, sir.”

“Good,” your father said with a nod of approval. “You’ll need the fight in you. So… are you planning on taking the reins before or after graduation?”

“After,” Jay replied. “Officially, anyway. But I’ve been managing one of the Park Group’s newer divisions since last year. It’s a test, sort of —my father wants to see if I can build something without the family name propping it up.”

“And?” your mom asked, interest piqued.

Jay met her eyes, confident. “It’s going well. Better than expected.”

Your father leaned back, eyebrows raised in surprise and maybe a bit of pride. “Look at that. You're already shaping up to be a better CEO than half the council. And what about your personal life?”

Jay hesitated, just for a second. Then he gave a small smile.

“Actually… that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Is this about our daughter?” your mom asked, her tone teasing but gentle.

“Yes,” Jay nodded. “I know you probably saw it coming, but something changed recently.”

He took a breath.

“We’re mates.”

Silence blanketed the room.

Your mom blinked, mouth parting slightly in shock. “You’re—? What?”

Jay nodded again. “I found out last night. I didn’t tell her immediately—I didn’t want to scare her. We weren’t exactly… in the best place before. But I’ve always known. And now she knows too.”

Your dad sat forward, processing. “Mates? As in… fated?”

Jay nodded. “Yes, sir. I couldn’t believe it either at first.”

Your mom slowly sat back, eyes still wide but brimming with awe. “We always thought you two would end up together eventually but—this?”

Jay smiled a little. “It surprised me too. But in the best way.”

Your dad looked at him for a long second before breaking into a grin and reaching forward to clap his hand onto Jay’s shoulder.

“Now that is a twist I didn’t see coming. But you know what? If there’s anyone I’d want my daughter to be bonded to for life… it’s you.”

Jay’s expression softened, something like relief and deep gratitude passing over his face.

“Thank you, sir. That means everything.”

“And now I don’t even have to threaten you to keep her safe,” your dad added with a wink. “The bond’s already doing the work.”

Your mom laughed gently. “Poor thing. He’s already halfway in love with our family.”

“Halfway?” your dad scoffed. “I think he’s already planning the wedding.”

Jay flushed slightly but smiled anyway, glancing toward the stairs where you’d disappeared minutes ago.

“If she’ll have me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Then yeah… I am.”

And as if summoned by the warmth in his voice, the faint sound of heels tapping echoed faintly from the top of the stairs, but not quite loud enough to carry into the living room if it hadn’t been for the silence that followed Jay’s confession.

You emerged, one hand brushing down the sleek fabric of your dress, the other adjusting the strap of your purse. “Did I miss anything?” you asked casually, a small smile playing on your lips.

Jay turned his head—and for a second, he could only stare. You were matching him.

From head to toe—Prada. The rich black of your dress mirrored the stitching of his blazer. Your heels were delicate but sharp, and your purse swung gently from your fingers like you’d been born to carry it. Like fate had handpicked this exact moment to knock the wind right out of him.

Jay let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not a thing,” he said softly, rising to his feet.

Your parents, sitting just nearby, shared a knowing look. The kind only longtime friends and now amused parents could understand. Jay didn’t miss it. He offered a respectful nod, then turned his full attention to you.

With an easy, instinctive grace, he walked toward the stairs and extended his hand to you. “Let me,” he murmured, voice low as if the act itself was something sacred.

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers slid into his, and his touch was warm. He supported you gently as you stepped down, the way he always did when no one else was looking. Except now, everyone was.

Behind you, your mother smiled at the sight while your father quietly cleared his throat, trying to mask the fond grin tugging at his lips.

“Well, don’t let us hold you two up,” your dad said, standing. “You’ve got a trip to prepare for, right?”

“We’ll have the staff help with your luggage,” your mom added with a wave. “Already had some of them load the bags into the car, figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Jay gave them a polite bow of thanks. “Thank you, ma’am. Sir.”

But your mom only chuckled, waving him off. “Oh, hush. We’re practically family now.”

Jay glanced back at you, his fingers still wrapped gently around yours.

“Ready?” he asked, voice soft, just for you.

You nodded.

“Always.”

The ride to the airport was calm, the kind of stillness that felt heavenly. Jay drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other comfortably resting on your thigh, a new habit of his he wasn’t even subtle about anymore.

Your hand rested over his, fingers loosely laced. You didn’t need to speak. There was something peaceful about just sitting beside him.

As the city began to fade behind you, replaced by long private roads and security gates, you both recognized the road instantly. The executive terminal: exclusive, guarded, and custom-fitted to handle high-profile families like yours.

Jay slowed the car in front of the entrance gate, and before anyone could reach for IDs or protocols, the guard recognized the vehicle immediately and stepped back with a slight bow.

“Mr. Park,” he greeted. “Welcome back.”

Jay gave a nod, the shift in his expression immediate. Gone was the quiet softness from earlier, in its place was the composed, unreadable pureblood Alpha everyone knew. Shoulders squared, jaw sharp, posture flawless. This was the version of Jay the world saw. The version you used to see, too.

He drove up to the private hangar like he owned the place, parking with ease.

You reached for your door out of instinct, already used to doing things yourself.

But before you could even brush the handle, you heard him mutter low under his breath, a smirk ghosting his lips.

“So stubborn.”

“Stay put,” he added, “I’ve got it.”

You blinked, amused, and waited as he circled around to your side, opening the door with confidence only Jay could pull off. One hand reached out to help you, while the other naturally returned to your waist—always touching, always claiming.

Two staff members approached from the terminal, rolling a luggage cart beside them. And the moment they entered the scene, Jay changed again.

Eyes sharper. Back straighter. Voice clipped and clear.

He helped unload the luggage himself, ignoring the slight protests from the staff. Calm, professional. Cold, even. The full effect of a pureblooded Alpha.

The staff didn’t dare question him, only nodded along and took the bags with a silent understanding.

Then Jay turned back to you, and just like that, he softened.

He walked toward you, hand naturally returning to your lower back like a reflex, you leaned into him without thinking.

He handed his keys to a man waiting off to the side—one of your family’s staff.

“Same spot as last time,” Jay said smoothly. “Make sure it’s locked.”

“Yes, sir. Safe travels.”

He nodded once, eyes already back on you. “Everything’s good,” he said gently. “Let’s go.”

But before either of you could even take a step toward the plane, the air cracked with the sound of multiple gasps and curses.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

“I KNEW IT!” Ni-ki practically screamed, throwing his hands up like he'd just won the lottery. “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

You and Jay both froze, turning slowly.

Jay’s demeanor didn’t change much—stoic, as always—but there was the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. The pureblooded alpha aura didn’t falter, but you knew him too well now. He was amused.

You, on the other hand, were already trying not to burst into laughter.

Ni-ki looked like he’d just witnessed history being made. “This feels illegal. I feel so betrayed. Everyone has their mates now. What the hell—”

Jungwon chuckled and patted him on the back like a grieving brother. “It’s okay, Ni-ki. One day, you’re still young.”

“I’m eighteen!”

“Exactly.”

Sunoo was fanning his mate like they were on the verge of passing out. “Baby, breathe— I told you. I told you something was going on, didn’t I? The text message!”

Heeseung had a hand on his forehead, staring at the two of you like he couldn’t compute what he was seeing. His mate was gripping his arm, whispering, “Hee, calm down, your jaw’s on the floor.”

Jake and Jungwon both had their arms around their mates, grinning ear to ear.

“Finally,” Jake muttered, practically beaming. “He actually did it.”

“I told you there was no way they hated each other that much,” Jungwon added.

Sunghoon let out a long exhale and shook his head, his mate squeezing his hand. “That’s one more bet I lost.”

“Should’ve listened to me,” Jake grinned. “I said it’d happen before the semester ended.”

“You also said they’d kill each other before finals,” Jungwon’s mate reminded him.

He shrugged. “Same thing.”

But before any of them could spiral again, a low chime echoed across the hangar.

The pilot stepped forward with a slight bow. “The aircraft is ready. You may board now.”

Jay nodded once, adjusting the strap of his carry-on while his other hand instinctively found your lower back again. “Come on.”

But you barely made it five steps before chaos exploded behind you again.

“WAIT, WAIT—YOU'RE JUST GONNA WALK AWAY?!” Ni-ki cried, storming forward and jabbing Jay repeatedly in the ribs with his index finger. “You don’t get to drop a relationship bomb and not explain anything! You’re like my older brother, and you’ve been lying to me this whole time?!”

Jay didn't even flinch. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I slept in the same house as you! I let you drive my Lamborghini Revuelto! I shared my bungeoppang with you!” Ni-ki clutched his chest like Jay had personally betrayed his bloodline. “Bungeoppang, Jay!”

The others erupted in laughter, and Jay finally cracked a tiny smirk, clearly amused but trying not to show it.

“YOU!” Sunoo’s mate pointed at you with a gasp. “Come here right now.”

Before you could even blink, you were swept right out of Jay’s reach by a very determined cluster of mates—Sunoo’s, Jungwon’s, Jake’s, Heeseung’s, even Sunghoon’s—looping their arms around yours like a pack of seagulls finding shiny treasure.

“No!” Jay called behind you, his voice laced with playful disbelief. “Don’t tell them anything!”

But it was too late. They had you now.

“How did it happen?”

“Who confessed first?”

“Did he like, chase after you?”

“Did he scent you before or after the party?!”

“Was it romantic or did he just say, ‘You’re mine now’ in that stupid alpha voice of his?”

You were laughing now, nearly breathless as they herded you up the steps to the private plane like a gaggle of gossiping aunts. “I—It’s complicated!”

“So you are scented and marked!” Sunoo’s mate screamed.

Inside the plane, Jay sighed and looked at the other alphas, already walking up with their own bags.

“She’s not making it out of this alive.”

“You’re not either,” Jake grinned. “You’re gonna be the main topic of the whole student body after this.”

Onboard, the cabin was sleek and spacious, cushioned leather seats and wood-paneled walls humming with quiet luxury. Everyone was settling in—bags in compartments, jackets off, seatbelts clicked.

You were finally back beside Jay, who placed your bag in the overhead with one hand and rested the other on your thigh like it was second nature. Like it had always been his favorite place to rest.

“But, when did this even happen?!” Jake asked as he buckled in across from Jay, barely able to contain the grin on his face. “Was it before the council meeting yesterday? During the party? What?”

“I need a timeline,” Jake’s mate added, already halfway turned in her seat as she looked at you for answers.

“I second that,” Jungwon nodded, his arm draped lazily around his mate. “The whole council is going to have a meltdown when they find out. I want to know exactly when to be ready.”

Ni-ki was practically vibrating in his seat. “You said you hated (Y/N)!” he cried, pointing accusingly at Jay with narrowed eyes. “You said she made your blood boil!”

Jay blinked. “So-so, I said she was annoying, infuriating, exasperating, bothersome, and tiresome. ”

“Same thing!” Ni-ki snapped, voice cracking in betrayal.

Sunghoon, who had been leaning back with his arms crossed, let out a sigh and casually tossed a bag of chips across the aisle. “There, there, you big baby,” he muttered.

Ni-ki caught the bag with deadly precision, sending Sunghoon a sharp glare. “This isn’t over.”

Jay just rolled his eyes, the faintest smirk on his lips as his hand found your thigh again.

“Seriously, though,” Jake leaned in a bit, tone curious. “When did it happen? You two hated each other for years.”

Jay gave your leg a small squeeze, glancing at you for confirmation before answering. “Just yesterday, really,” he said simply. “It… clicked.”

“‘Clicked,’ he says,” Sunoo muttered with a shake of his head. “We need to talk about how to define ‘clicked’ from now on.”

The soft ding of the seatbelt sign echoed through the private jet, signaling it was safe to move around. Heeseung’s mate immediately perked up, turning to Jay with a cheeky grin.

“Can we steal her for a bit?” She asked, motioning to you already mid-laugh with Sunoo’s mate and the others gathering near the lounging area at the back of the plane.

Jay sighed dramatically, but the corners of his mouth betrayed the amusement he tried to hide. His hand lingered on your thigh for a second longer before he gently pulled away.

“Fine,” he murmured, leaning in to press a warm, tender kiss to your cheek. “Have fun, but don’t forget whose seat that is.”

You giggled, giving his hand a squeeze before letting the girls tug you toward the oversized cream leather couch that wrapped around one corner of the plane. It was cozy and softly lit, with plush pillows and just enough privacy from the boys still seated at the front.

Sunoo’s mate—who had somehow befriended one of the flight attendants like they’d known each other for years—flashed a wink and raised a single hand in the air.

“Champagne, please? For… celebration purposes.”

The attendant giggled and nodded, “Coming right up.”

As laughter erupted from the girls’ side, the guys remained at the front, scattered across the seats. Heeseung slowly stood and made his way to Jay’s side, his expression more thoughtful than stern. He dropped into the seat across from him, arms loosely crossed over his chest.

“I’m gonna ask you something,” Heeseung began, his voice low enough to be serious but not confrontational. “And you better answer me straight.”

Jay looked up, posture instinctively alert. “Go ahead.”

“You didn’t force her into this, right?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowing slightly. “Because I remember the incident. I had to physically pull you back from losing it. And even though I didn’t get to be around her as much as I wanted when we were younger, I still saw (Y/N) as a little sister. You know that.”

Jay didn’t speak for a second. His gaze shifted briefly toward you—legs folded under you, glass of champagne in hand, laughing at whatever nonsense Ni-ki’s mate just said. Then back to Heeseung.

“I didn’t force anything,” Jay replied softly. “Not a single thing. I didn’t even realize how bad I wanted her until I saw her cry… and I couldn’t do anything about it. But no. She chose this. She chose me.”

Heeseung nodded slowly, leaning back. “Okay. Good. Just had to make sure.”

“And if I did?” Jay challenged lightly, one brow raised in a smirk. He flashed a smile, one canine subtly showing. It wasn’t meant as a threat, but rather instinct; a silent, unspoken flex only pureblooded Alphas understood.

“Then I’d have to throw you off this plane mid-air,” Heeseung replied with a half-smile. “With no parachute.”

“Fair.”

From behind them, Sunghoon added, “Same goes for if you ever make (Y/N) cry again. Just saying.”

“Noted.”

Jake leaned over the armrest with a mock-serious look. “If she texts me anything longer than three sentences sounding even slightly sad, I’m storming your house with Jungwon and Ni-ki.”

“I’ll bring my baseball bat,” Ni-ki offered with a casual shrug.

“I’ll bring my lawyer,” Jungwon quipped.

Sunoo, from the side, rested his chin on his palm. “And I’ll cry. Loudly. And dramatically. For hours.”

Jay couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “Wow. Emotional blackmail and legal threats? That’s impressive.”

“You mess with (Y/N), you mess with all of us,” Heeseung shrugged. “You knew the deal the moment you fell for her, we’re like her annoying big brothers.”

Jay just nodded, more affected than he let on. “I know. She’s worth all of it.”

At the back of the plane, you peeked toward the front and found Jay already looking at you. He gave you the softest smile—one none of them had seen before today—and you swore your heart did a little flip.

You mouthed, ‘You okay?’

He just nodded, mouthing back, ‘Perfect.’

And then Ni-ki’s voice cut through the air like a bullet.

“I still can’t believe you managed to keep a secret relationship for a whole day! From me!?” Ni-ki wailed dramatically, arms flung into the air like it was the end of the world.

“Ni-ki, oh my god,” you groaned from the couch, laughing so hard you almost spilled your drink. “We didn’t even try to hide it. You’re just blind.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” he pointed accusingly, already gearing up for another round of outrage.

Jungwon’s mate leaned in from the other couch, glass of champagne in hand, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s okay, boo. We’ll tease you just as much when you find your mate.”

Ni-ki went completely still.

“Hell no.”

The entire cabin erupted into laughter—Sunoo actually snorted, and Jake nearly spilled his water as he doubled over. Even Heeseung cracked a grin while shaking his head.

“Oh my god, he looked like you asked him to give up one of his cars,” Jungwon wheezed, pointing at Ni-ki.

“I’d consider giving up one of my cars,” Ni-ki deadpanned, eyes narrowed. “But getting mated? That’s permanent.”

Sunghoon lifted his glass in salute. “Such a big baby.”

Ni-ki glared at him. “Say that again and I’ll tell your mate you cried at Titanic.”

Sunghoon gasped, nearly choking on his drink. “You said that was a safe space!”

You were breathless from laughter, cradling your glass to your chest as Jay sent you a soft smile.

It was warm. It was real. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like some fantasy or secret—just yours. And his.

The descent was smooth, but the moment the plane’s wheels kissed the ground, excitement hummed like electricity in the air. As the door opened and the stairs were lowered, the scent hit you all almost instantly—warm, salty, and heady. The ocean.

Jungwon was the first to breathe it in, eyes widening slightly. “Smells like freedom.”

Ni-ki stepped out right behind him, inhaling deeply. “Smells like salt and sand in my shoes.”

“Not this again,” Sunghoon muttered, shaking his head as he slung an arm over his mate’s shoulder.

The group was ushered into waiting black SUVs—sleek, polished, and already air-conditioned. The kind of airport-to-hotel service only the wealthy were used to.

You and Jay naturally took one car, while the rest split into their own pairs and groups. The ride was scenic, the road winding along cliffsides with views of the sprawling sea, sun dipping low in the sky.

At the hotel lobby, grand and gilded in a way that didn’t feel showy—just expensive—everyone gathered by the reception desk, carry-ons in hand. Bellboys already whisked away the rest of the luggage.

The front desk staff handed out keycards with practiced grace.

“Couples get the honeymoon suites,” Sunoo teased with a smirk, flashing his and his mate’s matching keycards.

Ni-ki dramatically dropped his carry-on with a groan. “Thank God! I was about to stab my eyeballs out if I had to witness one more mushy couple moment.”

“Why are you so dramatic?” Jungwon laughed, ruffling his hair as he passed by.

“It’s a skill,” Ni-ki sniffed, picking up his bag with a huff.

Your suite was at the far end of the top floor, quiet and private—like everything about it had been carefully curated. The moment you stepped inside, your breath caught.

It was magic.

Wide open, marble floors, soft white furniture, walls made of glass overlooking the ocean. A king-sized bed sat at the center of it all like royalty, and the sound of the waves crashing in the distance filled the space like a lullaby.

You walked towards the balcony, the sliding glass door already slightly ajar, letting in the salty air and golden light. The view made you pause completely.

Endless ocean. A stretch of ivory beach. The horizon bathed in sunset orange.

You smiled softly, leaning on the railing. Behind you, Jay’s lingered. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you back into his chest as he leaned his chin gently on your shoulder. A soft kiss was pressed to the top of your head.

“You good?” he asked, voice low and warm.

You nodded, your fingers playing with his. “Do you want another room? I know you like your peace and quiet.”

He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “This view is so much better.”

You turned slightly to catch the small smile tugging at his lips, eyes locked on you, not the sunset.

“You’re so cheesy,” you whispered, laughing.

“And yet you still love me.”

Jay’s lips were gentle but determined as they trailed along the curve of your neck, hands now resting low on your hips while the waves crashed far beneath the balcony.

The golden light from the sunset made everything glow—his skin, your cheeks, the white curtains swaying in the ocean breeze. His voice rumbled softly against your skin as he murmured something you didn’t catch, too distracted by the way his nose nuzzled behind your ear.

You were smiling like an idiot. That kind of unbothered, heart-floating smile that said: I could stay here forever.

And then, your phone buzzed.

You groaned dramatically, grabbing it from where you had left it on the lounge chair nearby, thumb tapping the notification.

my girl + and heeseung’s too [6:40 PM]: hi babes! get changed in a bit okay?? dinner’s at this five-star restaurant sunghoon booked by the beach. v romantic, dress cute 💗 see u there!

You held up the phone with a little laugh. “We’ve been summoned.”

Jay didn’t even look up. His lips were already lower—brushing over your collarbone with the kind of devotion that made your knees weak.

You smacked his shoulder, trying not to burst into a fit of laughter.

“Jay!”

He groaned and buried his face into your neck.

“I can never have nice things,” he mumbled against your skin, voice full of playful frustration. “Every time I try to be happy.”

You twisted around in his arms, cupping his face and pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ll survive.”

He followed you as you stepped back into the suite, eyes raking down your body like you were something out of a dream.

"Fine,” he sighed again, hands shoved dramatically in his pockets. “But only because I want to show you off.”

You emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, slipping on your gold hoops and adjusting the soft chain around your neck—and Jay’s eyes snapped to you like a moth to a flame.

You were wearing a flowy white skirt that hugged your hips like it was tailored for you, the hem falling just above your ankles and catching the light as you moved.

On top, a strapless tube blouse bloomed in soft tones of blush pink and white florals, cinched perfectly at your waist. You’d kept your makeup light, sun-kissed, a dab of gloss on your lips and shimmer on your cheekbones. The final touch was a set of gold bangles and the way your hair fell just right.

Jay’s jaw went slack for a second before he swallowed thickly and straightened his collar.

“I’m gonna fight someone tonight,” he said flatly.

You looked him over too, cheeks warming—because your man showed up in an off-white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar undone just enough to show the chain you always stared at. He paired it with tailored beige shorts, casual but rich. Hair freshly tousled, cologne just the right amount.

“You clean up okay,” you teased.

Jay raised a brow. “Okay?”

You gave him a cheeky grin and pulled him closer by the front of his shirt. “Okay, but dangerously hot.”

He leaned in to kiss you again—until your phone buzzed. Again.

This time, it was Jungwon’s mate.

best girl [7:20 PM]: HELLO the table is literally set. we’re WAITING. pls come before ni-ki starts eating the candles.

You both groaned, bursting into laughter.

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing your bag and slipping your hand into his. “We have an audience to shock.”

“You mean impress,” Jay corrected smugly, kissing the back of your hand before leading you out the door.

Just before stepping out of the suite, Jay leaned in one more time—his hand cradling your jaw as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He lingered longer than he probably should have, but you didn’t mind. Your hands slid into the front of his shirt as you kissed him back, warm and sure and sweet.

When you pulled apart, his thumb grazed your cheek.

“God, you’re ravishing,” he whispered.

You laughed, breathless. “Just like you.”

The elevator ride was quiet, full of those soft looks and stupid little smiles, the kind you couldn’t wipe off even if you tried. Jay had one hand holding yours and the other stuffed in his pocket, body leaning slightly toward you like gravity itself was playing favorites.

The doors opened, and the two of you stepped out into a different world.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, giving way to a sky full of stars. Lanterns and fairy lights strung between palm trees danced in the breeze, while fire pits lit up the sand near the shore.

The beachfront restaurant was glowing, flames flickering and casting golden hues across everything. There were live performers by the boardwalk—someone playing acoustic guitar, a couple of dancers moving like waves—and laughter from every table filled the air like music.

And there they were: your friends. Your chaotic, perfect family.

“Finally!” Sunoo’s mate waved you over dramatically. “We were about to start a missing persons search.”

“I was two seconds away from calling the coast guard,” Jungwon’s mate added.

Ni-ki, who was mid-bite of some appetizer he’d stolen from the center platter, pointed at you both with wide eyes.

“Why do you two look like a vacation ad?”

Jay gave him a smug grin. “Because we’re happy.”

“Gross,” Ni-ki gagged.

But despite the eye-rolls, everyone lit up when you joined the group. And as Jay pulled out a chair for you like a perfect gentleman, the rest of the boys followed suit—pushing chairs in for their mates, brushing sand off seats, scooting closer to make room for elbows and chaos.

“You’d think we were in a k-drama,” Sunghoon said under his breath, but you saw the little smile he wore as he adjusted his mate’s shawl.

Heeseung leaned back, eyes drifting up to the starry sky. “Damn, it’s nice out tonight.”

“Yeah,” his mate agreed, sipping wine. “Almost makes you forget that Ni-ki tried to eat a candle earlier.”

“It looked like marshmallow wax!” Ni-ki defended, voice muffled by the bread roll in his mouth.

The whole table erupted in laughter.

“You’re going to be thirty and we’re still going to call you the baby,” Sunoo said, affectionately.

“That’s because I am the baby,” Ni-ki sniffed, flicking a piece of lettuce at Jungwon.

“You say that like it’s a flex,” Jay muttered.

“It is!” Ni-ki declared, puffing out his chest like a toddler defending their favorite blanket.

Jungwon just leaned back with a small smile, arm slung behind his mate. “Don’t worry, we’ll still tease you just as hard when you find your own mate, Ni-ki.”

“As I said, hell no,” Ni-ki said immediately. “I’m staying single forever. I’ve seen what y’all turn into—”

He gestured wildly at the group pf pureblooded Alphas helping their partners cut food, fix jewelry, pass drinks, refill plates, or in Jay’s case—who was currently leaning over to tuck your hair behind your ear with a smile so sweet it made you blush.

“—absolute whipped losers.”

Jay kissed your temple without shame. “Happy losers.”

“You’ll be one of us one day,” Jake’s mate told Ni-ki with a knowing smile.

The youngest alpha shivered dramatically. “Over my dead body.”

The laughter came easy, waves of it crashing over your little corner of paradise. You looked around at the familiar faces, the jokes that overlapped, the little touches and glances exchanged between everyone.

You felt Jay’s hand rest on your thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. When you turned to him, he was already looking at you with that soft, quiet kind of awe.

“What?” you whispered.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Just thinking how stupid lucky I am.”

Your heart did a full flip.

“Same,” you whispered back, lips brushing his.

And then the food arrived—plated beautifully, the scents of garlic butter, grilled meat, and warm bread snapping everyone out of their starry-eyed haze. A waiter slid a wooden board of seared steak between you and Jay, and another set down a massive tray of garlic shrimp next to Ni-ki, whose eyes lit up like Christmas.

You straightened in your seat, cheeks warm, just in time to hear Jungwon mutter across from you, “We can’t drown in steak and shrimp all night. That’s how you get greasy skin and regret.”

Jay snorted. “You sound like your dad.”

“I am my dad,” Jungwon said solemnly, lifting a fork.

You both had ordered salads earlier—more out of balance than preference. “Mine has feta cheese and baby spinach,” he said proudly, holding his plate up for a second like it was a championship belt. “You added strawberries,” Jungwon pointed at your bowl with a grimace, lifting his fork like it offended him.

“They’re balsamic-glazed,” you countered coolly, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “It’s gourmet, you can’t compete.”

“I can and I will.”

“You’re delusional,” you replied, already picking up your fork and motioning a dramatic switch. “Let’s trade for a second. Just so you can finally realize you’re wrong.”

“Oh, I’m wrong?”

Around the table, your little argument was clearly entertaining. Sunoo was chuckling behind his napkin, Heeseung was recording the whole banter, while Ni-ki—mouth full of shrimp—just mumbled, “God, they’re both so stubborn.”

But just as you and Jungwon leaned over the table, balancing forks and exchanging plates to exchange bites, a sudden voice chimed in—bright, musical, and unfamiliar.

“You’re glowing. Come! Come!”

A hand appeared at your arm before you could react, gently tugging you from your seat.

“Wait—what—?”

Before you knew it, a woman dressed in vibrant orange and red was leading you toward the stage-like dance platform built into the sand just a few feet from the restaurant tables. Laughter erupted behind you.

Another performer had already snatched Jungwon’s mate, and a third was tugging on Jay’s arm, urging him to follow you with a playful, “You too, handsome!”

Jay stood with zero hesitation, eyes fixed on you like he couldn’t let you out of his sight for more than a second. “Guess we’re dancing.”

“You are not leaving me!” Jungwon barked as his mate started dragging him up next. “You know I hate—” he yelped as she kissed his cheek mid-pull—“—dancing.”

“You’ll live!” she laughed.

Within moments, the stage was alive. The wooden floor was warm under your feet, the lights overhead casting gold and amber glows over everything. The song thumping like a heartbeat into the night. Drums, horns, guitars, and claps filled the air as the performers began spinning, clapping, moving around you with infectious joy.

You moved instinctively, hair flying around your shoulders, hips swaying with the rhythm. Your white skirt flowed with each step, golden jewelry catching glints of light as you raised your arms and let go. And that’s when Jay forgot everything.

The music. The people. The polished table he’d left behind. Even the fact that just a few feet away, Jungwon was being twirled by his mate, canine peeking out as he laughed and tried not to trip over his own feet.

Normally, Jay would’ve never let him live that down—he would’ve teased him about the flush crawling up his neck, the way he was clearly embarrassed but still going along with it.

But not tonight.

Because Jay’s gaze was fixed on you.

You, spinning in the amber light like you belonged to the sea and sky both. You, radiant and glowing, your lips, full and glossed, were curved in the kind of smile that made something in his chest physically ache.

Your hair fluttered in the ocean breeze, strands catching the wind with every spin, every laugh, every head toss that made your gold accessories catch the light and shimmer like they were part of you.

Goddess. That was the only word that came to mind.

You looked like a goddess.

You looked divine.

The prime example of a perfect Omega. No, his Omega.

Jay stood frozen on the edge of the stage, jaw slack, heart pounding. He looked utterly and entirely wrecked. And then—slowly, like pulled by gravity he couldn’t fight—he stepped forward.

His feet moved before his brain caught up.

He didn’t care if people saw. Didn’t care if someone whispered about Park Jongseong, heir to an empire, dancing on a beach stage like some love-struck idiot. Didn’t care if the cameras snapped, if the council caught wind, if it got printed on some gossip page tomorrow.

Let them talk.

All he cared about was you.

He reached you in a daze, hands sliding around your waist like they’d been waiting for this exact moment. His fingers splayed over your hips, thumbs brushing against the exposed skin beneath your top, eyes drinking you in like he hadn’t seen you in years—like you were the most intoxicating thing in the world.

You turned your head slightly in surprise, smiling when you realized it was him. He looked at you. Like you hung the stars. Like he was completely, unapologetically, catastrophically in love.

“Hi…” you breathed, unsure whether to laugh or melt into him.

But you didn’t need to say anything else.

He pulled you closer with ease, your bodies molding together as the beat picked up again. You moved with him, spinning just slightly, your hands bracing his shoulders as his found your waist again—confident, possessive, in awe.

His gaze never broke from yours, not even as your hair flew again, brushing against his cheeks, not even as the stage swayed with laughter and movement around you. He moved with you like he’d been dancing this dance for years. Like his body had memorized yours long before this night even began.

The cheers from the crowd only grew louder. Some from your table, some strangers now clapping to the beat, watching the way Jay held you like a man who knew what he had—and wasn’t ever letting go.

His lips brushed your ear, breath hot and reverent.

“I’m so gone for you,” he murmured.

And god, he was.

Down to the bone.

Down to the softest part of him that he never let anyone see.

He dipped you suddenly, catching your weight with ease, the edge of your skirt brushing the floor, your hair cascading in the light like a waterfall of ink. You gasped, both at the move and at the look in his eyes when he hovered above you.

Not just desire.

Devotion.

He pulled you back up with that same effortless grace, holding you steady even as your knees wobbled slightly from the dip and the rush of it all.

You grinned at him, breathless. “You’re insane.”

Jay smirked, forehead falling to yours. “For you? Always.”

As the music finally slowed, a new beat taking over, softer and slower now, the two of you stayed there for a second—foreheads pressed, the world shrinking into nothing but the warmth between you. Then Jay pulled back, brushing your hair from your face with the gentlest flick of his fingers.

You hadn’t even fully turned around yet when you heard the deafening noise coming from your table.

“Go Jay! That’s my best friend!” Sunoo’s voice rang out above everything else, his clap echoing as he jumped to his feet.

Heeseung choked on his drink, nearly dropping his glass. “This is love, people! Do you see that?! This is what Shakespeare wrote about!”

Jake banged the table with both palms, voice hoarse from yelling. “I knew it! I called it first!”

“No, I did,” Sunghoon argued, which was rich coming from him, considering he was practically standing on his chair—his usual cold, unreadable expression long gone as he cupped his hands around his mouth. “I always said Jay was down bad for her.”

Ni-ki wasn’t even watching the scene anymore; he was working double-time, phone in one hand, a camera strapped to the other like some kind of paparazzi. “Everyone move! I need a clear shot! Okay, now kiss—wait, let me get this angle...”

The girls screamed like you had just walked the carpet at Cannes.

Sunoo’s mate gripped his hand, practically yanking his arm off as they jumped up and down together. “That’s my best friend too!”

Heeseung’s mate clutched his arm, pressing her face into his bicep as she let out a long, dreamy sigh. “They look like they stepped straight out of a romance movie.”

Heeseung just nodded as he calmed down, misty-eyed. “This is so real. This is soulmates. No one talk to me.”

Jake’s mate threw her head back laughing, covering her mouth with both hands. “Jay is so down bad, and I have never seen Jungwon look more flustered.”

Sunghoon’s mate nearly collapsed into Jake’s as they leaned against each other. “Those men are in love.”

Behind you, soft laughter spilled through the air as the music slowly faded.

Jungwon was hovering just a few feet away, his posture tense, entire face flushed red. His mate had her arms around his shoulders, soothing him with a hand in his hair. Jungwon had ducked down—his chin pressed to her shoulder, nose buried in her scent, his height folded awkwardly so he could hide behind her like a kid clinging to his comfort blanket.

“I bared my canines like some flustered puppy.” Jungwon muttered.

“You looked adorable,” his mate said, holding back a giggle.

“Stop,” he groaned, ears red and canines still slightly peeking out in a shy grin. “I twirled. I twirled and now Ni-ki has footage.”

He tightened his grip around his mate’s waist as Jay and you began walking back toward the table, your hands still tangled, smiles still evident on your faces.

Jungwon muttered through gritted teeth, “I’m never hearing the end of this.”

“Just wait until Ni-ki posts these online,” his mate teased.

“Kill me now.”

You passed them with a laugh, bumping shoulders with the younger Alpha, your tone light. “You looked good out there, Mr. President.”

“I—” Jungwon didn’t even finish. He just whimpered and buried himself deeper into his mate’s shoulder.

Jay raised a brow, smirking. “The twirl was nice. We should duet sometime.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE.”

You were mid-laugh, just turning back toward the table with Jungwon and his mate when a gentle tug stopped you in your tracks. Jay’s hand found yours easily, fingers lacing between yours with the kind of confidence that could only come from someone who’s been dying to hold you like this for longer than he’d ever admit.

“Wait,” he said lowly, already stepping closer, his voice practically vibrating against your skin. “Didn’t we say we were gonna go back inside to order those extra margaritas?”

You blinked, confused. “We—what? No, we didn’t—”

Jay didn’t even let you finish. “Yeah, we did. During that second spin—you said, ‘remind me to get more drinks later, okay?’” He was trying so hard not to smile, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I—Jay, I literally said ‘remind me to not trip in these heels,’ and you said ‘bet.’”

He was already dragging you backward with a grin, pulling you toward the main hall of the venue and away from the lingering stares and blinding phone flashes. “Close enough. Come on.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t resist. Not even for a second.

“Sunoo’s going to yell at us,” you muttered, casting a quick glance over your shoulder where the others were already halfway to your table.

You raised a brow but didn’t ask. The way his hand tightened in yours was answer enough.

You let him lead you inside—through the double doors and around the corner, past the bar where laughter echoed and waiters still weaved between tables. He didn’t stop until you were in one of the quieter corridors near the side balcony, where the golden lights dimmed and the noise of the restaurant dulled behind thick velvet curtains.

The moment you stepped outside, the wind caught your hair.

It was warm, a soft breeze carrying the scent of salt and citrus and fresh linen from the tablecloths inside. The ocean was barely visible beyond the courtyard, but you could hear it—soft, steady waves brushing against the edge of the world.

Jay let go of your hand only to step behind you, his arms easily wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, the way his chin gently dropped to rest on your shoulder.

His fingers grazed along the fabric of your skirt, the rings on his hands catching faint moonlight as they curled gently against your sides.

“Sorry for stealing you,” he murmured against your ear.

“You’re not sorry.”

“No, I’m not.”

You smiled softly, arms covering his as you let your head fall back onto his shoulder. “What’s this really about?”

Jay was quiet for a second. Then, voice low and so full of something you couldn’t name just yet, he whispered, “I wanted to see you without the noise. Just you. No lights, no cheers, no cameras. Just… you.”

Your heart jumped.

“You had me,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“I did,” he said. “But I needed you like this.”

You turned in his arms slowly, letting his hands trail from your waist to your back, and finally to your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, the look in his eyes so raw you almost couldn’t hold it.

“You looked divine out there,” he whispered.

“You made me feel like it.”

He leaned in slowly, forehead brushing against yours. “You are.”

You weren’t sure who leaned in first.

Maybe it didn’t matter—because the second your lips met, the world quieted.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t showy or eager or for anyone else’s eyes.

It was slow and soft.

His hand settled behind your head, thumb resting just beneath your ear, while the other wrapped securely around your waist. You could feel every inch of him against you—broad, strong, Alpha—and yet somehow he held you like porcelain.

And then, like a tide rolling in, you felt his scent bloom.

Sandalwood and tequila.

Familiar and calming. Wild and warm. It flooded around you, sweet and musky and comforting, laced with something richer—something unmistakably him. You leaned into it without hesitation, like breathing him in was second nature.

Jay pulled away only slightly, forehead resting against yours. His breath mingled with yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak—he just smiled. Soft, stunned. Like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

“You smell like me,” he murmured after a beat, lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Jay…”

“I—sorry,” he chuckled under his breath. “Didn’t mean to… scent you. At least not now. I just… couldn’t help it.”

You smiled, dizzy and warm. “It’s okay. I like it.”

His eyes searched yours for something. Something unspoken. Something sacred.

And then—

“God, we’re so gross.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean, look at us,” he said, half-laughing as he leaned back a bit to really look at you—still in his arms, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen. “Scented. Kiss-drunk. Cuddling on a balcony like we’ve been married ten years.”

You giggled into his chest. “You do realize we’ve only been dating for like… one? Two days?”

“Two,” he corrected, looking far too proud of himself. “And hey, I’m committed. I already lied to the boys and said we talked about ordering more margaritas. That’s basically a legally binding contract.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “Great. So when’s the wedding?”

He grinned—slow, easy. Then softened.

“…Dunno. But I already know what your vows would sound like.”

You glanced up at him again, brows lifting. “Oh yeah?”

Jay nodded, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. “You’d ramble. Make fun of me halfway through. Probably cry before the end.”

“And you would black out from emotion before the officiant even got to my name.”

He chuckled, and the sound rumbled in your chest. “True.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself sink into the quiet. The waves crashed softly below. Somewhere behind the balcony, the muffled bass of music still thudded faintly through the floor. But here, in Jay’s arms, none of it mattered.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he whispered after a moment, voice barely audible over the wind.

You blinked, your gaze meeting his.

Because he had.

Jay had known you for years.

You’d grown up together—shared the same schools, same tutors, same suffocatingly formal family galas and business banquets. You sat at opposite ends of the table, always side-eyeing each other, always pretending to be indifferent. Or annoyed. Or too good to care.

But you did.

God, you both did.

So when he spoke again, there was no trace of hesitation in his voice—only something raw. Honest.

“I know it’s only been two days of… this,” he said, gesturing faintly between you. “But I’ve known you my whole life. I know how you get annoyed when someone doesn’t listen to you. Like really listen. You do this thing with your mouth—like you’re chewing back the urge to scream.”

You huffed a small laugh. You did do that.

“And I know you fix your hair a certain way when we attend board meetings. Always the same twist behind your ear, always neat, because you want them to take you seriously. Because you think they’ll underestimate you otherwise.”

Your breath hitched—because he noticed that?

Jay leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours again, eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ve always noticed.”

He kept going, smiling like he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. “You do that little dance when you taste something you really like. You bounce a bit, right foot, then left, and your eyes light up like you just discovered magic. You did it in the plane with the mango mousse and I nearly lost my mind.”

You gaped. “I do not dance.”

“You do,” he grinned. “And it’s criminally adorable.”

You buried your face into his chest with a groan as he chuckled and hugged you tighter.

“I know you think this happened too fast,” he murmured, “but tell me this wasn’t always going to happen. Tell me we didn’t always end up here.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.

The look in your eyes said everything.

Jay smiled softly, fingers brushing against your waist. “The heir of Park Group and the heir of the (L/n) empire—caught scenting each other on a balcony. We’re gonna be tomorrow’s headline.”

You laughed through your nose. “'Childhood rivals turn lovers at tropical summit—wedding bells in sight?'”

He gave you a pointed look. “You just gave the press their title.”

“Think they’ll include how you spun me like a princess on the dance floor?”

Jay tilted his head, smirking. “If they’re lucky.”

You giggled again—then stilled when his expression softened, completely, completely sincere.

“But I don’t care,” he said, thumb sweeping gently along your cheekbone. “About the articles. The attention. The mess. I’d go through all of it. Every headline. Every interrogation. Every legacy war our families throw at us.”

“If it means I get to end up with you, I’d do it again. A hundred times over.”

You didn’t think. You just kissed him.

And this time, it wasn’t just soft. It was sure. Like everything you’d run from was finally something you wanted to run toward. His arms wrapped fully around you, pulling you closer, and his scent—sandalwood and tequila—curled around your senses again, familiar and heady and yours.

“I hated you for so long,” you whispered into the space between his lips. “I thought you were arrogant and reckless and infuriating.”

“I was,” he agreed, smiling. “Still kind of am.”

“And still,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his, “here I am.”

He laughed gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Here you are.”

And under the stars, wrapped in his arms, with the scent of him buried into your skin and the sea humming below, you felt something that had never made sense before.

Maybe it was always supposed to be him.

And maybe he’d always known.

Jay pressed one last kiss to the crown of your head. The type that said everything words couldn’t.

“Let’s make them talk,” he murmured against your hair, “Let them write a thousand headlines, start a million rumors. Let them say we’re insane for falling so fast—”

“Let them say we’ve always been in love,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “Because maybe we have.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, pulling you closer still, like he wanted to imprint the moment into his soul.

The wind swayed gently around you both, soft and salty. The world faded to a low murmur—somewhere behind you, laughter echoed from the beach, glasses clinked, music shifted. But here, with his arms around your waist and your forehead pressed to his chest, everything felt still.

The kind of still that comes after the storm.

The kind of still that feels like peace.

And maybe this was what peace looked like. Not silence, not stillness—but him. Jay. The boy you grew up with. The boy you hated. The man who kissed you like he couldn’t believe you were real. The man who knew you better than anyone ever had.

The one you were no longer afraid to fall into.

“I’m yours, you know,” you said softly, not quite sure where the words came from—but they were true.

Jay looked down at you, eyes shining, no trace of his usual cool arrogance. Just warmth. Just you.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, “and I’ve always been yours.”

You didn’t need to say anything else.

Not when his fingers slid between yours. Not when you both stood there, pressed close, breathing in the scent of forever. Not when the world buzzed on without you.

Because in that moment, it was just you and him.

Two broken pieces that had finally found where they fit.

And for once in your lives, you didn’t hold back.

⤷ read part 1 here !

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liuhsng · 2 months ago

Note

I think no fly zone might be after my heart. Chewing metal until part 2 is posted

hi love, don’t worry chewing metal is the intended experience tbh LMAO, but part 2 is on the way i swear !!

thank u sm for reading my works btw, it seriously means the world that u’re here waiting for them 🫶

#˙⋆✮ asks

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liuhsng · 2 months ago

Text

is it just me or like i’m so sick of writers needing to pitch down their vocabularies or their use of em dashes bc people accuse writers of using ai like—I’M SORRY, GOD FORBID WE HAVE ADVANCED AND CORRECT GRAMMAR 💔🥀⛓️

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #ni-ki x reader

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liuhsng · 2 months ago

Text

✩ˎˊ˗ no-fly zone ( pjs ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 14.5k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, foul language, alpha!jay, omega!reader, fem!reader, enemies to lovers trope, forced proximity, lots of sexual tension, jay’s a menace = you’re a menace, jay is emotinally constipated, jay has issues (but he’s your issue now), jay is confused and lowkey obsessed, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

⤷ a/n — i'm back baby, this is literally my favorite work rn i can’t even lie + I SWEAR, THIS HAS A PART 2 JUST GIVE ME A FEW HOURS, enjoy !!

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — park jongseong—better known as jay, had everything: wealth, power, and a name that carried undeniable influence. a pureblooded alpha and the only son of a family that dominated the aviation industry, he was sharp enough to take over the business and reckless enough to make the upper-ups lose patience. despite his position as student council treasurer, his reputation preceded him: missed deadlines, flawless grades, and a habit of picking the wrong fights. their solution? a tutor. a glorified babysitter. and, of course, it had to be you. an omega with a spotless record, a name as weighty as his own, and an infuriating presence that had always stood in his way. your families worked together, but you and jay never had. now, forced into each other’s space, the line between rivalry and something far more dangerous begins to blur.

The atmosphere in the lecture hall was suffocating, tension thick enough to choke on.

Jay sat back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, one arm draped lazily over the chair’s backrest. His expression was unreadable, a careful mask of boredom that only made the fury in his professor’s voice sound more desperate.

“You think just because you have power, you don’t have to put in the effort?” The professor’s voice cut through the silence, accusing.

“That your name alone is enough to get you by? That you can just waltz in and out of this classroom and still expect to be given the same respect as those who actually work for it?”

A few students stiffened in their seats. Others exchanged glances, some barely breathing. No one spoke. No one dared to.

Jay, however, barely looked fazed. If anything, he looked bored. He blinked, slow and deliberate, before tilting his head slightly.

“That’s an interesting accusation,” he mused, voice smooth, laced with something dangerous. “And what exactly have I done to ‘abuse’ my so-called power?”

The professor scoffed, crossing his arms. “Do you even hear yourself, Park? You show up when you feel like it, you turn in work whenever it suits you, and yet you still expect to be at the top of this class. You might be the student council treasurer, but that doesn’t mean you can—”

“—handle my academics?” Jay cut in, raising a brow. His voice was quieter now, but somehow even sharper. “I do my council work, don’t I? So tell me, if I can run the financials of this entire school, why wouldn’t I be able to keep up with my classes?”

His professor faltered, lips pressing into a thin line. But Jay was already done with this conversation.

His gaze dropped, falling to the Cartier watch wrapped around his wrist. He stared at it for a long moment, watching the second hand tick forward, before exhaling slowly.

Then, without another word, he pushed back his chair. The legs scraped against the tiled floor, the sound ringing through the lecture hall like a gunshot.

He stood, grabbing his bag in one fluid motion. On the desk beside him, a thick folder sat untouched; the very project that had been due yesterday. Without looking, he picked it up and strode to the front of the room, his footsteps slow, measured, deafening in the silence.

And then, with the kind of careless precision that only he could pull off, he dropped the folder onto the professor’s desk with a heavy thud.

A few students flinched. The professor barely breathed.

Jay adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, finally meeting the man’s eyes again. His expression was unreadable, but there was something almost amused lurking beneath it.

“Here,” he said simply, his voice dangerously quiet. “On time, as always.”

And then, without sparing another glance, he turned and walked out.

No rush, no hesitation. Just Park Jongseong, unbothered as ever, leaving behind a stunned professor and a classroom full of students who could do nothing but watch in awed, uneasy silence.

Because even when Jay didn’t follow the rules—he never once lost.

Jay moved through the halls with the ease of someone who belonged, not just in the school but above it. His strides were unhurried, exuding a quiet authority that made people step aside without him ever asking. Conversations dipped the moment he passed, whispers filling the void he left behind.

Most watched him with admiration, others with wariness, but they all watched.

It was always like this. Jay wasn’t just a student; he was the heir to a business empire, a pureblooded Alpha; he never begged, never chased, never had to ask for anything. The world bent in his favor.

And even when it didn’t, he simply took what he wanted anyway.

He barely acknowledged the attention, barely registered the murmured voices trailing behind him like a shadow. He had no reason to care. The class he had just left had been nothing short of a joke— lessons he had already known for years. A complete waste of time.

Now, he had better things to do.

The student council room was quiet when he arrived, the heavy doors clicking shut behind him. Jungwon sat at the far end of the room, hunched over his own stack of files, brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t even glance up. On the opposite side, Ni-ki was slumped over his desk, one arm draped over his face, mouth slightly parted in sleep.

Jay stepped inside like he owned the place, because he did.

His desk stood exactly where he left it, neat and untouched, save for the stack of papers waiting for his approval. The nameplate perched on the edge gleamed under the fluorescent light: Park Jongseong, Student Council Treasurer.

He didn’t waste time. Shrugging off his blazer, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the toned forearms littered with faint bruises from a fight long since forgotten. Then, without hesitation, he reached for the first document on the pile, flipping through the pages with the same sharp precision he applied to everything else.

The weight of the world balanced between his fingers.

And Jay, as always, carried it like it was nothing.

The room remained steeped in silence, save for the rustle of papers and the occasional shift of Ni-ki’s sleeping form. The quiet was almost welcome—almost.

“Another disagreement with a professor?”

The words came from across the room, flat and unsurprised. Jungwon didn’t even bother looking up from his stack of files, his pen scratching lazily against the paper.

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose, a scoff more than an actual laugh. Not at Jungwon, but at the fact that word had already spread.

“Didn’t take long, huh?” he muttered, flipping to the next page in his file without much thought. His voice held the same easy arrogance as always, laced with something almost amused.

Jungwon smirked, still not looking up. “Dude, it’s you. At this point, it’d be bigger news if you actually went an entire week without pissing off a professor.”

Jay hummed, leaning back against his chair, stretching his arms over his head before letting them drop onto the armrests. “And? What about it?”

Jungwon let out a breath that was more laughter than sigh, finally setting his pen down. He clasped his hands together, resting his chin atop them as he gave Jay a knowing look. “You know, for someone who checks every box of a perfect student, you really need to start giving a damn about these kinds of shit.”

Jay’s eyes flickered up, “Why would I?”

Jungwon merely chuckled, shaking his head. “Because you’re giving the higher-ups exactly what they want.”

For a moment, Jay didn’t respond. Then he leaned forward, arms resting on the desk, voice low and laced with something just shy of amusement. “And what exactly is that?”

Jay let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Jungwon,” he started, voice dripping with something close to condescension, “their salaries come from us. From our families,”

He tilted his head slightly, watching Jungwon carefully. “So tell me, do you really think they’d risk stepping out of line?”

Jungwon only shrugged, picking up his pen again. “I think you’re making it easier for them to try.”

Before Jay could respond, the heavy doors swung open, cutting through the conversation.

Heeseung was the first to walk in, adjusting his cufflinks, his brows furrowed slightly like he had just come from something particularly annoying. Jake followed soon after, his lips twitching with amusement, and Sunghoon strolled in right beside him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Sunoo had his arms crossed, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Jay,” Heeseung drawled, dropping into one of the empty chairs, “you really need to stop pissing off the professors.”

Sunghoon huffed, tugging at the loosened tie around his collar. “And you say we’re reckless.”

Jake smirked, shaking his head. “I just saw your professor storming into the admin office, he didn’t look too happy.”

Jay didn’t even look up from the papers in front of him. “Should’ve assigned something actually worth my time, then.”

Sunoo let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You are so full of yourself.”

Jay finally glanced up, resting his elbow on the desk and tilting his head slightly. “And?” His smirk widened, voice laced with amusement. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jake whistled lowly, shaking his head. “One day, man. One day, they’re actually gonna pull something on you.”

Jay only chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Then let’s see if they have the nerve.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Jay wasn’t looking for trouble.

Not this time, at least.

He had left the council room with one goal in mind—find a vending machine, grab a drink, and get to his next class before the headache forming behind his eyes got any worse. With his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, he looked more like someone who ruled this academy than simply walked through it.

“Fucking useless council doesn’t even do shit. Bunch of spoiled leeches living off family names.”

Jay’s steps didn’t stop. He’d heard worse. He wasn’t in the mood.

But then—

“And Park Jongseong? That bastard’s a walking headache. Always in fights, never in class. Total burden, that one.”

That made him stop.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tightening as he turned on his heel. Three Alphas. Not just any Alphas—delusional ones. Ones who thought that just because they shared the same title, they were anywhere near his level.

Jay’s gaze swept over them with cold indifference, expression unreadable. A predator surveying prey.

One of them, a bulky second-year with more muscle than sense, met his gaze with an arrogant smirk.

“What did you just say?” His voice was soft. Almost pleasant. Almost.

Jay took a step forward, gaze steady. His bag slid off his shoulder and hit the ground with a dull thud.

The guy scoffed, chin raising like he thought this was going to be some pathetic pissing contest. “You heard me. You’re a burden, Park Jongseong. Just throwing your weight around, hiding behind your family’s name.”

Jay’s jaw twitched. Not with anger.

With boredom.

“You really think this is the hill you want to die on?”

Before they could answer, Jay’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw. The crack echoed across the stone path, followed by a sharp grunt as the Alpha stumbled back, crashing into the iron bench behind him.

The other two didn’t waste time—they lunged.

Jay ducked under the first punch, letting it sail over his shoulder before delivering a brutal elbow to the side of the Alpha’s head. The third tried to grab him from behind, but Jay twisted free, slamming his palm against the guy’s face and shoving him backward with enough force to send him toppling over his friend.

Blood spattered across the edge of his collar. Someone groaned. Another cursed.

Jay barely blinked.

One of the Alphas managed to swing wide, landing a weak punch to Jay’s side. He barely flinched. Instead, he turned and landed a right hook that sent the idiot reeling to the dirt.

It didn’t last long. It never did.

Jay adjusted his sleeve, breathing steady as he looked over the mess he left in the grass.

One of them groaned from where he lay curled on the ground, and somewhere in the distance—a shrill cry.

Jay’s head tilted slightly.

A girl, probably one of their mates had appeared from around the hedge, gasping in horror as she caught sight of the scene.

Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my god, what happened—what did you do to them?!”

Jay didn’t even look at her. He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and wiped a streak of blood from his knuckle with the corner of his uniform.

“Tch.” He scoffed under his breath, turning away from the mess like it wasn’t even worth the effort of acknowledgment. “Tell them to watch who they run their mouths around.”

The girl’s voice rang out behind him—shaky, pitched with fury and disbelief. “You’re gonna pay for this, Park! You think you can keep getting away like this?”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.

The sound of her threats faded behind him, buried under the weight of his own indifference. Her voice was just another noise in a world that had too much of it already. He tugged at the sleeve of his uniform where blood had stained the cuff, and with a quiet scoff, flicked the edge down like it wasn’t even there.

What was she going to do? Cry to the higher-ups?

Jay stalked through the side halls of the academy, his pace unhurried, movements fluid with the same dangerous calm that had haunted the bruised and bloodied trio left behind on the grass. He passed by a few students, some whispered. Some stared. Most pretended not to notice the faint smudge of blood near his collar.

The classroom was quiet when he pushed open the door. Second period. Business Strategy. Another joke of a class with a professor who acted like theory ever meant anything in a real-world empire.

Jay’s eyes scanned the room once, sharp and bored, before they landed on the only person who mattered in the moment.

Sunghoon.

Sitting by the window, legs crossed, silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scribbled something into his notes with a blue pen. His back was straight, posture perfect. He didn’t even need to look up, he already knew.

But unlike him, Sunghoon didn’t indulge in chaos. He didn’t need to. His brand of power was colder, quieter, a silent scalpel instead of a roaring fire.

Jay made his way to his seat without a word, dropping his bag with a thud, the chair creaking under his weight as he leaned back.

Then—

“You smell like blood.”

Sunghoon’s voice broke the stillness, calm but edged with that unmistakable disapproval only he could manage. He didn’t look up from his notes. Didn’t need to.

Jay smirked. The one that twisted the corners of his mouth into something sharp and crooked. The one that came right before someone regretted crossing him.

“Wasn’t my fault this time.”

Sunghoon finally looked up, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowing as they landed on the faint red on Jay’s knuckles.

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Jay leaned forward, elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his hand as he stared back, amused. “They were talking. Spouting shit about the council. About me.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond right away. Just studied him. Like he was debating whether to call him out or let it slide.

“They’re just jealous.” Jay’s voice dropped into something lower, laced with pride. “No pedigree. No power. Just noise trying to echo louder than it should.”

Sunghoon sighed, setting down his pen.

“You’re going to end up on the university's front page one day, you know that?”

Jay chuckled under his breath, stretching out in his seat like the whole world owed him space.

“Good. About time they started printing things that matter.”

And with that, he turned his head toward the window, letting the sunlight catch the faint smudge of red still clinging to his skin, completely unbothered.

The council room was quieter than usual, the afternoon sun slanting through the high arched windows and casting golden streaks across the dark wood table.

Only seven seats were filled, the rest empty; a rare, informal meeting between the inner circle. Jungwon sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he flipped through several clipped pages of final project proposals, while Heeseung leaned closer to get a better view, murmuring comments here and there.

“We’ll need to finalize the proposals by next week,” Jungwon said, his voice calm but laced with authority. “Heeseung, double-check which department submissions are missing and send a notice before tomorrow’s end. Jake, make sure the permits are in by Friday, I don’t want delays. Sunoo, go over the communications plan, see if it fits the timeline.”

Jake nodded, scribbling something into his notes. “Already on it.”

Sunoo offered a small salute from across the table. “Social media templates are halfway done. I’ll send them for review tonight.”

“Sunghoon,” Jungwon continued, “you’re in charge of marketing coordination for the week. Keep our outreach tight. Ni-ki, check in with the lower-year reps, remind them this isn’t vacation season.”

Ni-ki groaned but gave a thumbs-up, clearly still half-asleep as he twirled his pen lazily between his fingers.

“And Jay,” Jungwon said, his eyes shifting to the treasurer who sat farther down the table, lounging like the meeting was a minor inconvenience. His legs were crossed, one hand twirling a pen while the other balanced the budget folder against the table's edge.

Jay sighed, snapping the folder open. “Yeah, yeah. Budget review. Let’s get it over with.”

He glanced at the numbers and began reading aloud with casual detachment. “We have more than enough to fund this cycle’s cultural and academic allocations, assuming no new surprise expenses show up.”

He flipped to the next page, eyes narrowing slightly. “Also, whoever ordered last term’s light rentals should be banned from touching a receipt again.”

Jake chuckled under his breath, already knowing who Jay was referring to.

Jay paused briefly, his fingers tapping against the wood. There was something contemplative in the way he stared down at the inked numbers, like his mind had wandered elsewhere. “Isn’t it funny,” he muttered, voice low but clearly audible, “how I’m the irresponsible one, and yet I’m still the one cleaning up their mess?”

A knock interrupted the moment.

Jay didn’t bother looking up. “Probably someone wasting my time,” he mumbled, flipping the folder closed.

Another knock came, louder.

He clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Come in,” he snapped.

The door creaked open, revealing a first-year beta standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a folded paper like it might protect him. He hesitated before stepping fully inside, his face already pale.

Jay’s eyes locked on him, slow and deliberate. The beta visibly tensed as the scent of sandalwood and tequila thickened, laced with a bitter edge of annoyance. Jay raised a brow, unimpressed.

“Spit it out.”

The boy’s hands shook. “Y-You’re needed at the Head Office, sir. The Headmaster… he said it’s urgent.”

Jay didn’t respond. He simply stared, the silence stretching long enough to make the boy fidget.

Jake reached over and gently pulled the folder from Jay’s hand before the latter’s temper could ignite. “Just go,” he said with a half-smile. “You’ll melt the poor kid with that glare.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his tablet. “Try not to start a war while you’re at it.”

Jay scoffed, rising to his full height, his movements smooth and deliberate. He tugged the cuffs of his blazer into place, the air around him still crackling faintly from his earlier irritation.

“Tell the Headmaster he owes me ten minutes of peace,” he muttered coldly, shooting one last glare at the messenger as he strode past, his presence still lingering heavily even after the door clicked shut behind him.

The hallway was quiet, footsteps echoing as Jay and the first-year beta walked side by side—or rather, the beta trailed half a step behind, nervously glancing up at him every few seconds. Jay said nothing. His silence was as sharp as a blade, stretched taut like a wire ready to snap.

They hadn’t made it more than a few turns from the council room when the boy fumbled with the folded paper and held it out, his voice almost a whisper. “S-Sir, the letter… the Headmaster asked me to give it to you.”

Jay stopped. He took the letter slowly, opening it with a lazy flick of his fingers. His eyes scanned the contents. Whatever was written on the paper didn’t seem to amuse him in the way it should have—instead, a sarcastic laugh slipped past his lips.

“Of course,” he said under his breath, crumpling the letter in one hand before stuffing it into his blazer pocket like it was trash. “If he makes me late for my next class, I’m filing a harassment complaint.”

The beta beside him paled even more, sweating nervously under the weight of Jay’s sharp tone and overpowering scent. Jay didn’t spare him another glance, already walking forward again as if the entire thing was an inconvenience unworthy of his time.

By the time they reached the administration wing—tucked at the far end of the sprawling campus like a punishment in itself, Jay was already dragging his feet. The place smelled like polished floors and expensive paper. Too clean. Too suffocating.

The receptionist stood up the second she spotted him, mouth already opening to offer a polite greeting. But Jay walked right past her without so much as eye contact. He didn’t care. Didn’t need the fake pleasantries. And certainly didn’t have the patience for it.

Without knocking, he pushed open the heavy door to the headmaster’s office, letting it swing in with a dull thud against the wall.

Inside, seated like a damn tribunal, were the Headmaster, the Disciplinary Director, and one of the academy’s Legal Advisors.

There was a single, untouched glass of water placed neatly on the desk in front of the empty chair.

Obviously for him.

Jay didn’t sit.

He didn’t even step fully inside yet, standing just past the office with a look of total disinterest.

“If you’re trying to scare me with the full panel,” he said, voice dipped in sarcasm, “you should’ve invited my father. He would’ve appreciated the effort.”

The Legal Advisor raised a brow. The Disciplinary Director narrowed her eyes. The Headmaster just sighed, already bracing for the kind of conversation only Park Jongseong could bring to the table.

“You’ll want to sit, Mr. Park,” the Headmaster offered, gesturing toward the chair.

“I’m good,” Jay replied, tone clipped. “Let’s not pretend we enjoy each other’s company.”

“Suit yourself.” The Headmaster folded his hands over the folder in front of him. “We’re here today because of your recent behavior.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. Recent is vague.”

The Headmaster exhaled, already used to the boy’s theatrics.

“You’ve been in four separate altercations this month alone,” he began calmly, lifting a folder and flipping it open. “Three of which resulted in faculty involvement. One of which resulted in the school clinic being called in. You’ve submitted two assignments this term, both a week late, and there are five courses where your professors have yet to receive even a syllabus outline from you.”

Jay blinked. “And?”

The Disciplinary Director tensed. “Mr. Park, that isn’t—”

“But your council duties,” the Headmaster interrupted, ignoring the tension. “Perfect. Every report on time. Budget reports accurate. Project proposals double-checked. Even your attendance is flawless.”

Jay scoffed quietly. “Because I actually give a shit about that.”

The Headmaster raised a brow but didn’t respond to that. Instead, he closed the folder and folded his hands together.

“No one here is threatening expulsion, Mr. Park. That would be a waste of everyone’s time. You’re not a delinquent. You’re intelligent. Capable. You just lack… consistency.” He paused. “What you need is someone to keep you grounded. Someone who’ll remind you that your brilliance doesn’t exempt you from basic responsibility.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed. His posture stiffened slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re assigning me a babysitter.”

“In a sense,” the Headmaster said slowly, reaching for a second file from beneath his desk. “I’ve spoken with your father about this. He’s agreed.”

Jay finally moved. He dropped himself into the empty chair across the desk with a mockingly loud sigh, slouching in the seat like he had nothing to lose.

He leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, tone dripping with fake concern. “So what now? You gonna slap me with another warning? Extra hours in the archives? Gonna pair me with some first-year Omega who’ll sob if I raise my voice?”

He sat back with a grin, fully expecting the usual lecture.

But then the Headmaster slid a new folder across the desk.

And said your name.

“(L/N) (Y/N),” he announced, calm and final. “You’ll be paired with her for one month.”

Jay’s entire body went still.

Gone was the amused posture, the lazy grin, the biting sarcasm—replaced by a cold, simmering silence. His face didn’t just fall; it contorted, the corners of his mouth pulling down into something bordering on disgust, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles ticked.

The glass of water on the desk remained untouched, condensation dripping silently onto the wood.

“You’re kidding,” he said finally, voice low and razor sharp.

The Headmaster merely straightened his papers. “Her academic record is exemplary. No demerits. No late submissions. Excellent conduct and a proven sense of leadership. You both rank highest in your respective year levels.”

“You know your families have been close for generations,” the Headmaster continued. “She’s one of the top students in her year, and her record is—”

“Clean. Of course it is,” Jay snapped, voice low and dangerous now.

The Legal Advisor cleared her throat, flipping open a second folder. “In fact, your records side by side paint quite the contrast.”

She held up the paper, a side-by-side chart. One half filled with distinctions, glowing reviews, recommendations. The other half, Jay’s half, filled with warning slips, missed assignments, and disciplinary notes scribbled in rushed red ink.

Jay just stared, harder and colder than ever before, like he was mentally setting the entire office on fire.

“You excel when you care,” the Headmaster said, voice even. “But you don’t care enough, and that’s the problem. So, for one month, she’ll be tasked with overseeing your academic responsibilities. Any delays or failures in submission will reflect on both of you.”

That made Jay’s brows twitch.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you want her to babysit me?” he muttered under his breath.

“She’s not a babysitter,” the Disciplinary Director corrected. “She’s your academic liaison for the month.”

Jay gave a dry laugh. Cold. Humorless. Like someone told him the world was ending and handed him a glitter pen to sign the paperwork.

“She won’t last a week,” he sneered. “She’ll run the moment she realizes I don’t play by honor student rules.”

“You’ll be surprised,” the Headmaster replied simply. “She agreed.”

That made Jay’s smirk falter. You agreed?

Jay leaned back again, arms crossed, and stared them down with a look that could've burned holes through solid steel.

“If you’re top of the class,” the Headmaster said, “it’s time you start acting like it.”

Jay gave a short laugh—dry and humorless as he stood.

He didn’t bother collecting the folder. Didn’t look at the water. Didn’t thank them for their concern.

He just turned, the sneer still tugging at his lips as he opened the door again without a word. His shoulder brushed the frame just enough to make it swing back sharply behind him as he walked out, scent sharp and bitter in his wake.

And the silence that followed was louder than anything he could’ve said.

The scent of sandalwood and tequila spiked in the halls like a warning bell.

Students cleared the way without needing to be told, no one wanted to be collateral damage to whatever mood Park Jongseong was in. His bag was slung over one shoulder carelessly, steps heavy and sharp as he made his way toward the admin wing. Again.

“This better be the last damn time,” he muttered under his breath, jaw tight.

The moment he reached the polished wooden doors, he didn’t knock. With one swift shove, the door swung open and slammed against the inside wall with a loud crack that echoed through the room.

And then he saw you.

Sitting pretty on one of the chairs opposite the Headmaster’s desk, legs crossed at the ankle, back straight, hands folded neatly over your lap.

Jay blinked once, twice.

You didn’t look at him right away. No, of course not. You were too busy conversing with the Headmaster like you weren’t just assigned to be his personal nightmare for the next month.

He scoffed quietly, stepping further in and letting the door close behind him with a solid thunk.

The Headmaster glanced up. “Ah. Mr. Park. Right on time.”

“If this is another lecture, skip it,” Jay said flatly, “I’ve already heard yesterday’s greatest hits.”

The Disciplinary Director looked mildly amused. The Legal Advisor didn’t even blink.

The Headmaster simply gestured toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

Jay didn’t move. Instead, he looked at you again, finally catching your eyes as you turned toward him with the smallest smile. Innocent. Too innocent. It made his teeth grit.

And he hated that he noticed how good you looked, you always do.

“Park.” The Headmaster’s voice was firm. “Sit.”

Jay sighed through his nose and dragged the chair back with a loud scrape, dropping into it like it offended him to be told what to do. He leaned back, arms crossed, one ankle resting over his knee.

The Headmaster folded his hands. “Now that you’re both here… Let’s discuss the terms of your arrangement. It’s one month. Ms. (L/N) will be overseeing your academic responsibilities alongside your council work. Every submission, every report, every meeting—you two will handle together.”

The Headmaster continued. “Your records are being compared as we speak. While you may be leading your class in terms of final results, Jay, it’s clear you’ve neglected basic academic structure. Submissions late. Skipped consults. Zero communication with your professors.”

Jay sneered. “They get the work, don’t they?”

The Headmaster ignored him. “Ms. (L/N), on the other hand, has an impeccable record.”

Jay laughed. A soft, breathy scoff that held zero amusement.

“Of course she does.” His voice dropped into something darker. “Perfect little (L/N).”

You turned your head toward him slowly, brows raised just slightly. Not enough to argue. Just enough to say try me.

Jay didn’t look away.

“So,” he said, voice dripping sarcasm. “I’m to be micromanaged for the next month by Miss Honors?”

“You’re to be held accountable,” the Headmaster replied, voice stern. “By someone who understands the responsibility your title carries. You're not just a student, Jay. If you're top of your class, it's time you act like it."

Silence.

“Are we understood, Mr. Park?”

Jay didn’t answer.

He stood slowly, the chair scraping back again as he pushed it away, and with one final glare that could’ve shattered glass, he turned on his heel.

And walked out.

You stood the moment the door clicked shut, smoothing the crisp pleats of your uniform and adjusting the bow behind your head. You didn’t need a mirror, you knew everything was in place. It always was. Your image was pristine. Polished. Perfect.

But your patience? Absolutely gone.

The moment they told you who you’d be paired with, something in you snapped like a frayed violin string. Park Jongseong. Park fucking Jongseong.

The bane of your existence since you were little. A pureblooded Alpha with more detentions than he had emotions. The only student who could match your grades and outmatch your blood pressure.

You hated him. Down to your last well-behaved nerve.

But of course, you smiled. Nodded. Bowed your head like the good little Omega everyone expected.

Until you walked out.

Jay was leaning against the wall just outside the office, arms crossed, head tipped back like he was the picture of unbothered royalty. But the moment your heels hit the marble, he lifted his head. His eyes raked over you once, and you didn’t miss the flicker in his gaze, a flash of recognition, followed by instant, irritated regret.

You looked perfect. As always.

Hair pinned into place with your signature ribbon, uniform wrinkle-free and tailored to academy standards, not a single thing out of line. Your heels clicked across the floor with infuriating grace, and your thigh-high socks—dress code approved, of course—drew eyes whether you wanted them to or not.

To Jay, you were the image of a perfect Omega.

Too bad you were a pain in his ass.

You brushed past him without a glance, your lavender perfume lingering in the air like a silent challenge. But Jay’s nose twitched, beneath the floral sweetness was the faint, sterile bite of scent blockers.

His sneer was instant.

And for some reason, that pissed him off more than it should’ve.

“I’m not doing your reports,” Jay muttered after you, voice sharp with disdain.

You stopped and turned on your heel with the calm of someone born to kill with kindness.

“Good,” you bit back, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Because I wouldn’t trust you to spell your own name right on a cover sheet.”

Jay pushed off the wall, stalking forward with that arrogant, deliberate stride. “Keep talking, princess. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll forget you’re the one who begged the Headmaster to babysit me.”

Your jaw twitched. “I didn’t beg. I was assigned. Believe me, I’d rather chew glass.”

He stepped into your space, just close enough to make your skin crawl.

“You’d probably find a way to do it politely.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’d probably choke on it.”

The tension in the air snapped. His scent spiked, darker, colder.

“Let’s be clear,” you said, voice low. “You don’t scare me. You don’t impress me. And if you think I’m going to fall into line just because you’ve got a title and a family name—”

Jay leaned closer, a breath away from your face.

“You know, Jay, I don’t need you to fall in line. I just need you to keep up.” You laughed once—cold, and walked away, heels echoing like gunshots across the hall.

He watched you go. Jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed. Every inch of his body screamed irritation.

You were going to ruin his life even more than you already did.

It had been a week.

One whole week of walking down hallways like you didn’t want to claw each other's throats out, of sharing study sessions where pens nearly snapped from the pressure of your grip.

And now, here you were. Walking toward the council room, side by side with him.

Whispers followed almost immediately, they were sharp and insistent, bouncing off the marble halls like a chorus of disbelief.

“Are they seriously—”

“No way. They hate each other.”

“Didn’t (Y/N) throw a stapler at him in sophomore year?”

“I swear Jay once said she’d haunt his nightmares.”

You didn’t bat an eye. Jay didn’t, either. But the tension between you both was impossible to miss.

He reached for the heavy wooden doors first, pushing it open with a grunt, shoulders tense as he muttered under his breath, “Get your ass inside.”

You clicked your heels deliberately loud as you stepped in, pausing just long enough to throw him a side glance.

“How chivalrous,” you said, nose tilting upward with a picture-perfect scoff as you walked right past him.

Jay growled behind you, hands tightening at his sides as you strutted into the council room like it was your runway.

You took your usual seat beside Jake’s mate, crossing one leg over the other as you adjusted your skirt like it was second nature.

“There you are!” she gasped, pulling her phone out with a sparkle in her eyes. “Look, they dropped the preview for the new Dior line.”

You leaned in with genuine interest, annoyance dissolving for a moment as you gasped softly. “The saddle bag in navy, is that matte leather?”

“Yes!” she squealed. “But I can’t decide between that or the canvas one.”

“I’d go matte. It’s more timeless. We’re getting matching, right?”

Sunghoon’s mate slid into the conversation with a flawless grin. “I knew you two would be twins again. I’m getting the boots, though.”

Jake’s mate giggled. “We’re just waiting on the others. Where are they?”

You shrugged lightly, not even glancing up from the phone screen. “Saw them heading to the washroom a minute ago.”

As the three of you giggled and gushed over your plans, Jay dropped into his seat across the room with a sigh so heavy it practically echoed.

The chair creaked under him as he sank down, dragging a hand down his face before reaching into his bag to pull out the thick folder of budget reports he’d stayed up half the night organizing.

Sunoo rolled across the room in his chair with Ni-ki right behind him, both of them practically vibrating with the need to be menaces.

“Bro,” Ni-ki grinned, whispering, “we seriously thought you were kidding when you said (Y/N) would be up your ass.”

“She’s not just up there,” Sunoo added with a snort. “She built a house. Probably a pool too.”

Jay didn’t even bother looking at them. “She’s not up my ass. She is the pain in it.”

Despite the chaos, the other boys started to trickle in one by one—Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung—each taking note of your presence with quiet glances. They all knew the drill by now: acknowledge you, be polite, and above all… don’t spark anything.

They greeted their mates with soft smiles and casual kisses on the cheek, but when their eyes met yours, they all gave short nods and carefully neutral expressions. Polite, yes. Friendly, sure.

But when Jay was in the room with you, they kept everything restrained, their own mates sometimes exchanging glances that said, not today.

The murmuring died down when Jungwon cleared his throat and looked directly at Jay, motioning toward the front of the table. “Let’s get started,” he said simply. “Jay, you’re up.”

Jay stood with that usual bored elegance, flipping open his laptop and connecting it to the monitor in one smooth motion. The screen flickered to life, revealing a neat layout of monthly budget allocations, proposals, and expense reports.

He scrolled through his slides as he spoke, voice low, crisp, and straight to the point. “Quarterly allocations are being finalized. Clubs requesting additional budget this month include Performing Arts, and Athletics. Most proposals passed the standard review. Here’s the breakdown.”

Bar graphs. Pie charts. More numbers you couldn’t care less about, but you still kept your gaze steady. Even if he was a pain in the ass, Jay knew how to present well. Of course he did. He didn’t get to be top of the class and treasurer of the council without being dangerously capable.

But he wasn’t perfect.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly when a certain number blinked across the screen. He clicked to the next slide without pause.

You raised your hand.

Jay paused mid-sentence, jaw clenching for half a second before he forced his voice to stay even. “Yes, (L/N)?”

You uncrossed your arms slowly, tapping a manicured nail against your phone screen as you double-checked the file Jungwon had shared earlier. “You listed the Performing Arts’ costume fund under miscellaneous expenses. That’s a flagged violation from last semester’s audit. It’s required to be under equipment to fall within the allowed allocation.”

The room went still.

Even Ni-ki, who had been quietly fidgeting with Sunoo’s pen, stopped. Eyes darted between you and Jay like this was the moment someone’s house would be set on fire.

Jay blinked once. Twice.

He didn’t look at the screen. He didn’t need to.

His lips curled into a frown. “Noted,” he muttered, switching slides.

Still, you turned your eyes back to your phone with the same calmness as before, like correcting him wasn’t something worth breaking a sweat over.

Because it wasn’t, not to you.

The room stayed quiet even after the meeting wrapped up, the final slide lingering on the monitor like it was scared to leave before Jay did.

Jungwon began to close his notes, his mate already standing from her seat on the far end of the table. Without skipping a beat, she turned toward you with a practiced smile and a glint of urgency in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, sliding her phone across the table to you, screen lit up with soft pastel colors and a fresh Louis Vuitton collection, “they finally dropped the new ribbon line. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks. You’re going to love this on, it’d look so good with your white blouse and that nude gloss you wore the other day.”

You blinked—just once—before your eyes lit up, your sharp features softening into something more playful as you leaned in. “Wait, that’s the one you mentioned at brunch? I thought they delayed the release?”

Jungwon’s mate grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction, and shot her Alpha a subtle wink as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Jungwon, who’d been standing by the head of the table with a clipboard in hand, caught the look and smiled faintly

Jay had stayed seated for a beat longer than usual, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. The low buzz of post-meeting chatter picked up as if nothing had happened, but the muscles in his jaw hadn’t quite relaxed.

You were too busy comparing satin tones with the other omega, voice light and sweet, like you hadn’t just called out one of the most feared Alphas in the room mid-meeting.

Then his voice cut through the chatter like a knife. Low, firm, utterly annoyed.

“We need to go. That report for the R&D proposal isn’t going to fix itself.”

He didn’t even spare you a glance, just pushed the door open halfway and walked out like the air in the room wasn’t worth breathing anymore.

The moment it clicked shut behind him, you blinked twice and muttered under your breath, loud enough for the right people to hear, “What an absolute dickhead.”

Heeseung’s mate laughed, hand immediately flying up to her lips, trying and failing to mask her laugh. Sunghoon’s mate nudged her sharply, eyes wide with warning, but even she had her knuckles pressed to her mouth to keep the giggle down.

You, ever the picture of grace, turned back to your girls with a polished smile and the kind of voice used at press conferences.

“Ladies, I’ll see you all tomorrow—don’t forget to reserve our usual table, alright?”

They nodded, still stifling laughter.

You leaned forward, placed polite air kisses on each of their cheeks, then straightened your skirt and flipped your hair over one shoulder with the elegance of someone about to chase after a walking migraine.

Then, with a sharp turn, your smile dropped. You stared down the half-open door like it insulted your entire lineage.

“God give me strength,” you mumbled under your breath, and scowled as you followed the retreating figure of Jay.

The two of you descended from the pristine council wing toward the private university parking lot, which gleamed with rows of high-end luxury vehicles.

Jay walked ahead like the world owed him something, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, his white button-up rumpled, the two top few buttons left undone, hair tousled in that deliberately careless way, and his scent…

It had been faint earlier, he was clearly trying to suppress it—but now that you were outside, the sharp, rich scent of sandalwood and tequila started bleeding through.

It lingered in the air, bitter at the edges as his irritation was slipping through in whispers.

“You’re coming over,” Jay said, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes snapped to the back of his head. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t even slow down. “To my house. We’ve got to fix the R&D layouts. I’m not failing just because you’re allergic to being useful.”

You scoffed. “I’ll send my revisions through email. You don’t need me breathing the same air.”

Jay turned his head just slightly, his lips curling into that condescending smirk that made your blood boil. “I already called your dad.”

Your steps halted. “You what?”

“I called him.” He stopped too, finally facing you with the kind of confidence that only someone who knew they were always five moves ahead could have. “He said—and I quote—‘Of course, anything for my favorite son.’”

Your entire body went rigid.

You didn’t reply. You didn’t trust yourself to. But your glare? Sharp enough to slice diamonds.

Jay’s smirk grew. “Aw. Don’t look so hurt.”

You pushed past him, determined to put space between you and his smug little existence, but fate, or something far more dramatic—had other plans.

The moment you spotted your car—your custom pearl-white Porsche Panamera GTS, trimmed in gold accents; your stomach dropped.

Both of your front tires were flat. Completely.

You blinked and looked again, still flat.

“What the actual fuck?”

Jay’s quiet, amused chuckle cut through your spiraling thoughts like a dagger. “Damn. Looks like you’re out of luck, princess.”

You turned toward him slowly. “If you had anything to do with this—”

“I didn’t,” he said immediately, voice too casual. “I don’t have time to sabotage your Barbie car. Besides, why would I? You’re already being forced into my passenger seat.”

He clicked his keys, and his black Ferrari 812 Superfast lit up like a siren call from hell. Powerful and loud, just like him.

You straightened your spine, clenching your jaw. “I could call a driver.”

Jay leaned back against his hood, crossing his arms. “Sure. Call him. He’ll get here in, what, forty minutes? An hour? Long enough for me to finish the whole thing myself and tell your dad you flaked.”

You inhaled deeply through your nose. The bitter twist in his scent was stronger now, like the burn of tequila was stronger. He was annoyed. And suppressing it. He could’ve easily let his Alpha pheromones flood out, scare you off. But he didn’t.

Not because he respected you.

Because he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of reacting.

“I hate you,” you said, voice dripping with venom.

Jay opened the passenger door like a damn chauffeur. “Get in.”

You stared at him for a moment. The door. The smirk. The scent. The absolute nerve of him.

Then you huffed, stepped forward with the grace of a practiced heiress, and climbed into the car like it offended you to touch it.

Jay slid into the driver’s seat without a word. The engine roared to life.

So did the silence.

So did the tension.

The hum of the Ferrari’s engine was a low, luxurious growl as it sped down the private road, headlights slicing through the evening haze. Inside, the silence was suffocating, except for the occasional click of the turn signal and the quiet sound of leather shifting under your movements.

You sat rigid in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest, gaze fixed on the window like you could pretend Jay didn’t exist a foot away.

But unfortunately, he did. In his own school uniform, shirt sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins on his forearms, tie tossed into the backseat, collar unbuttoned like the world bent to him instead of the other way around.

“You’re still handling the KBC merger reports?” he asked eventually, his tone low and clipped.

You didn’t look at him. “Obviously. My dad would have my head if I dropped the ball.”

Jay’s jaw flexed, one hand tightening on the wheel. “Yeah, mine too. Legacy, bloodlines, whatever. Apparently, being born rich means your life isn’t yours.”

You scoffed, brushing invisible lint off your pleated skirt. “At least they’re not trying to marry you off to some desperate heir from a dying charter airline.”

Jay’s head snapped toward you, just for a second. A twitch in his brow. A deeper furrow in his jaw. The kind of tension that wasn’t all anger but wasn’t calm either.

“What?” you muttered, catching the change.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes on the road. “Nothing. It's just stupid.”

The silence came again, colder now.

You tilted your head slightly, voice quieter. “It’s not like I’d ever say yes anyway.”

“Neither would I,” he said quickly, sharper than intended. Then he added, almost to himself, “Even if they tried.”

Another pause.

“Because you’re the golden boy,” you muttered.

Jay let out a humorless laugh. “Golden boys don’t get choices. They just get told who to be and when.”

You finally looked at him, eyes narrowing. “You are such a self-righteous ass.”

“And you’re a know-it-all omega with a god complex.”

Your lips twitched, annoyance blooming into something more twisted. “Still predictable, I see.”

“So are you,” he said, glancing at you sideways. “Still impossible.”

The silence that followed wasn’t calm. It simmered. Buzzed.

Because you weren’t just heirs to multi-billion dollar aviation empires—you were rivals. Old friends turned competitors.

You knew how he tapped his thumb against the steering wheel when he was deep in thought. He knew you always stared out the window when you were trying not to say something you’d regret.

You’d grown up together—vacation homes, shared private jet rides to summit meetings, side-by-side seats at galas and charity auctions. Him: the sharp-tongued pureblooded Alpha with the perfect face and a reputation that couldn’t be touched. You: the picture-perfect omega with a brain that could out-deal most adults in the boardroom.

But somewhere along the way, the teasing soured. The closeness cracked. And now, here you were, two loaded weapons in high-end school uniforms and too much shared history.

Jay pulled up to the gates of the Park estate, and even that was overkill.

Black wrought iron, towering and laced with gold detailing. The Park family crest—two outstretched wings around a crown that was stamped on the gate’s center. Guards in sleek black uniforms stood at attention on either side, already confirming Jay’s identity through biometric scanners built into the intercom posts.

The gates peeled open with a soft mechanical hum, revealing a winding driveway that looked more like a runway. Perfectly sculpted hedges ran along either side, interspersed with glowing path lights and imported pines.

The Park mansion wasn’t just big, it was power incarnate.

Limestone and ivory stone. Classical architecture with steel accents. Towering windows, slate rooftops, and a line of vintage jet turbine sculptures flanking the entry path. A private helipad lay just beyond the side courtyard. The entire estate was surrounded by land: quiet, cold, expensive.

Jay parked neatly at the base of the steps, but instead of grabbing his door first, he moved with quiet precision. You barely had time to touch your seatbelt before he was already out of the car and rounding the front.

You blinked as your door swung open.

Jay stood there, not meeting your eyes. One hand on the door, the other shoved into his pocket. His jaw was locked. His eyes fixed on the trees ahead, not you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Chivalry? From you? Again?”

“I’m not a monster,” he muttered.

You stepped out, ignoring the subtle warmth that hit your cheeks. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He let the door close behind you with a soft click. Then, voice dry and low, he added, “My mother didn’t raise a savage. I know how to handle an omega.”

You turned, fixing your uniform ribbon as you looked him dead in the eye. “Good. Handle yourself first.”

Jay’s lip twitched, whether it was a smirk or a sneer, you weren’t sure—and then he was already walking past you, up the stairs.

The massive front doors of the Park estate opened with a soft click the moment Jay reached them, as if the house itself recognized him.

Marble floors stretched endlessly beyond the threshold, gleaming under the glow of the chandelier above. The foyer was immaculate—pristine white walls, polished gold accents, and fresh lilies arranged delicately in a glass vase near the staircase. The air smelled like jasmine, aged oak, and old money.

Jay stepped in first, face unreadable, his blazer now slung lazily over one shoulder. You followed, brushing invisible dust from your pleated skirt.

Despite the animosity that practically radiated off Jay, he slowed his pace just enough to reach back and open the door for you, eyes flat and uninterested.

“Don’t read into it,” he muttered before you could even say thank you. “My mom didn’t raise a monster.”

“You sure?” you hummed back, voice laced with annoyance.

Before either of you could say more, a warm, familiar voice called from deeper inside the estate.

“Ah! Ms. (Y/N), welcome back!”

You turned to find Mr. Cho, the family’s long-time butler, walking towards you with a small, respectful smile. He took your bag as naturally as if he did this daily. “Shall I prepare your usual tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“She doesn’t live here,” Jay muttered.

Mr. Cho remained unfazed. “Of course not, Master Jay. I was merely offering Ms. (Y/N) our hospitality. She always enjoyed the Kyoto chamomile.”

“Still does,” you added with a soft smile.

As Mr. Cho disappeared, a young maid passed by and paused when she saw you. “Ms. (Y/N)! I’ll have the blueberry cheesecake sent to the living room, just like last time.”

You blinked. “You still remember?”

“Of course! You always said it helped you focus during study sessions.”

Jay looked like he was physically restraining himself from exploding. The staff adored you. Genuinely. Fully. And not in the polite, distant way they treated him, but with familiarity. Like they cared.

And unfortunately for Jay, things only got worse.

A pair of footsteps echoed from the top of the spiral stairs. “Jay, darling—”

You turned just as Mrs. Park appeared at the landing. She was elegant in a soft blue silk dress, simple and flowing, sleeves delicately cuffed with pearl buttons. Her makeup was fresh, understated, and her smile lit up the room when she saw you.

“(Y/N)!” she practically sang. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise!”

You bowed your head slightly. “Good evening, Mrs. Park.”

Jay’s shoulders visibly tensed. “Mom.”

His mother didn’t even look at him. She descended the stairs with grace and opened her arms, embracing you warmly. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful. And that uniform on you—still so well-kept! You always take care of yourself.”

You smiled, still polite but not overly so. “You look amazing, ma’am. That dress is beautiful.”

She laughed, lightly patting your cheek. “Oh, this old thing? Thank you, dear. It’s one of my favorites, you like it?”

“I do, actually,” you said, fingers brushing the hem with admiration. “I’ve been looking for something similar. It’s the kind of style I’d wear even outside formal events.”

That made her beam. “You’ve always had taste. You’re so much like me when I was your age.”

Jay nearly gagged.

The conversation flowed naturall. It was as if you belonged in the Park household more than he did. Mrs. Park looped her arm through yours and began walking with you toward the living room.

“You know,” she said with a not-so-subtle glint in her eyes, “you’d make such a wonderful daughter-in-law.”

You choked on air.

Jay stopped walking entirely. “Mom—”

“I mean it! You’re smart, elegant, and you carry yourself so well. Our family just adores you, (Y/N). Don’t we?”

As if summoned, one of the estate's gardeners who’d come in to drop off fresh flowers—paused by the doorway. “Miss (Y/N)? Always so kind. The roses you suggested for the east garden look stunning now.”

You nodded, cheeks heating. “I’m glad they turned out well.”

Jay looked ready to combust. His jaw clenched. His eye twitched.

“She’s not here for dinner,” he reminded sharply. “She’s just here to make sure I don’t flunk some projects.”

You smiled sweetly at the older woman. “A job I take very seriously.”

His mother waved him off with a laugh. “Yes, yes. Academics. But it doesn’t hurt to get to know each other better, hmm?”

You chuckled nervously, but before the topic could spin further into dangerous territory, Jay suddenly called, “(Y/N).”

You glanced over. His tone was flat, but his eyes were sharp. “We should start,” he said.

You cleared your throat, nodding. “Of course.”

You didn’t rush after him. Of course you didn’t. You just turned to Mrs. Park with a polite nod and a small smile, excusing yourself with the grace of someone who had no interest in chasing after a moody boy.

Jay’s footsteps were already fading down the hallway as you began walking like the floor belonged to you too. Head held high. Skirt swaying. If he was going to call you princess, you’d damn well wear the crown.

By the time you stepped into the sitting room, the warm golds of the afternoon had dimmed into bluer hues, early evening creeping in with a hush. The chandelier above glowed brighter now, casting a soft sheen over everything, from the velvet couches to the massive coffee table between you and Jay.

He was already on the floor, back against the couch, legs spread like he owned the room, laptop balanced on one knee. He didn’t look at you when you entered, just clicked his pen and muttered, “Took you long enough.”

You dropped your bag on the opposite side of the table with just enough force to make a point. “I don’t run for anyone. You should know that by now.”

“I forgot,” he replied dryly. “Princesses don’t hurry after all.”

You sat down slowly, folding your legs beneath you with practiced poise, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt before pulling out your notes. “And crownless boys don’t get to comment on royalty.”

Jay looked up at you then, eyebrows arching. “That supposed to hurt?”

“No,” you said sweetly, flipping your folder open, “just a reminder.”

Between you, the oversized coffee table gleamed. A silver tray sat in the center, stacked with delicate desserts and a fresh pot of tea. You reached out carefully, nudging a teacup to the side to make space for your things.

Jay scoffed, eyeing the setup. “Of course she pulled out the royal treatment. Blueberry cheesecake, fresh tea… should’ve just set the dining table while she was at it.”

“She’s being kind,” you replied, tone cool, but your fingers tapped once against the table. “Something you could try once in a while.”

“I’m not fake,” he snapped. “And I don’t kiss ass to people who walk in like they already belong here.”

You looked up at him then, full stare. “You think I’m kissing ass?”

Jay met your eyes without flinching. “I think you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

You smiled, all teeth and ice. “Maybe that’s because I don’t sulk through life like a kicked puppy, Park.”

He barked a laugh. “You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“No,” you said, pulling your textbook into your lap, “if I did, I wouldn’t waste my time talking to you.”

Jay reached forward without warning, sliding the cheesecake slightly closer to your side.

You blinked. “What, is this a peace offering?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, not looking at you. “You’re just less annoying when your mouth is full.”

You let out a quiet, sarcastic laugh. “Right. That ego of yours must need hourly feeding too, huh?”

Jay didn��t respond. He didn’t have to.

Because the silence that followed said enough.

It had been quiet. Too quiet.

Three hours in, and the tension that once burned like a wildfire had simmered into something else, maybe it was an unspoken truce, or maybe just mutual exhaustion.

Papers were scattered between you both. The once-pristine coffee table was now a war zone of half-solved equations, scribbled graphs, and open textbooks stacked like makeshift barricades.

The cake was mostly gone, your teacup emptied long ago. Even the silver fork had been abandoned at some point, lazily resting on a napkin with a streak of blueberry at the tip.

Jay was deep into the budget projections for next quarter, fingers tapping steadily against the keyboard of his laptop—when he suddenly paused.

Something felt off.

He frowned.

You usually threw in some sarcastic comment every twenty minutes. A jab at his handwriting. A smug comment about how even your cat could organize files better. A dramatic gasp every time he actually agreed with your suggestions.

Jay glanced sideways, and there you were.

Head resting on your folded arms, body slumped slightly forward. Breathing even. Completely still.

Your hair had slipped over your cheek, and the soft chandelier lighting caught on the curve of your nose, the edge of your lashes, the way your lips were ever so slightly parted in sleep. The rise and fall of your shoulders was slow and steady, peaceful in a way that didn’t match your usual fire. Even the stubborn furrow of your eyebrows had softened.

Jay stared for a second too long.

He narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to find a reason to roll them. But nothing came out of his mouth. No insult. No complaint.

Just a long, sharp sigh.

Because for fuck’s sake, even asleep, you had to look—ethereal. And worst of all? You looked peaceful. Something he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

He set the laptop down on the table with a soft click, leaned back, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, like it was your fault for being like this.

Then, with ease, Jay reached behind him, tugged his blazer off the couch, and stood. The fabric slid over his shoulder in one swift motion, and without a single dramatic exhale, he walked over to your side of the coffee table.

Each step was careful. Silent. Like the heir of one of the most powerful families in the country hadn’t just decided to play blanket-boy for the rival heiress who haunted his every waking moment.

He paused when he reached you, and watched just a second more.

Then he draped the blazer over your shoulders with slow, precise hands—adjusting it so the collar covered the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your arm for the briefest moment before pulling away.

And right when he was about to back away, you moved.

Jay froze. Held in a breath.

His hand stilled mid-air as your body instinctively curled further into the warmth. One soft nuzzle, and then…

You sighed contentedly.

Right into his blazer.

He stared like you’d just committed a crime.

He finally took a step back—reluctantly—and returned to his seat with a scowl trying to eat his face.

You weren’t supposed to be unguarded, you were supposed to be a brat—his bratty little academic babysitter.

Jay sighed again, loudly this time.

About thirty minutes later, you stirred.

It started slow. A flicker of your lashes. A barely-there shift in your breathing. A little crease between your brows as your body tried to figure out why it felt suspiciously cozy in the middle of an air-conditioned mansion that usually felt like the inside of a freezer.

You blinked, sluggish and dazed, slowly dragging yourself out of sleep. The world was quiet, too quiet. Just the faint hum of the AC, the occasional distant clink of dishware.

But more importantly—you were warm.

Your brain stalled. That… wasn’t right.

You shifted slightly and felt the weight of something thick and heavy draped over your shoulders. Your brows furrowed. And then—you inhaled.

And you knew.

The scent hit you like a truck—clean, sharp cologne, with his scent of cedarwood and tequila, something undeniably Alpha, something that was not yours, and it curled through your lungs like a goddamn curse.

Park Jongseong.

No. No, no, no.

You sat up an inch, heart hammering in your chest as your gaze dropped to the dark blazer now resting over your frame. His blazer. Neatly placed.

“What the f—” You didn’t even finish the curse. You were too busy spiraling.

When did he do this? Why did he do this? Was this a pity move? A trap? Was he trying to prove some twisted point? That he could be thoughtful or soft or human?

God, you hated him.

You hated that your first instinct was to pull it tighter around yourself because the warmth was just that comforting. You hated that it smelled like him, and that it wasn’t disgusting. You hated that your cheeks were warm and you didn’t know if it was the blazer or the mortifying realization that he’d seen you asleep and had the audacity to care.

You glared at it like it personally betrayed you.

You wanted to chuck it across the room, you wanted to march over to him and kick him in the shin with your heels, you wanted to scream and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing being—decent.

But just as you sat up, ready to commit violence, your gaze lifted—Jay was asleep.

Head down on the table the same way you had been minutes ago, lips parted just slightly, one arm bent awkwardly under his head, the other still loosely holding onto the edge of his laptop. His brows, usually furrowed in perpetual annoyance or superiority, were finally relaxed. His sharp jaw was tilted your way, soft in sleep, like even gravity didn’t dare ruin his symmetry.

And for a second—you stared, and God, He was gorgeous.

His dark blonde hair had fallen slightly over his forehead, just messy enough to make your stomach twist in frustration. His eyelashes were too long to be fair, brushing softly against his cheeks. His lips were tinted that stupid natural pink, curved in a way that would be charming if he wasn’t, well, him. His nose—the one you had once insulted out of spite for being too perfect, was somehow even more annoying up close.

The kind of beautiful that was cinematic.

The kind of beautiful that made your blood boil because it was attached to a man you actively fantasized about strangling.

You pressed your fingers to your temple, sighing quietly, mind racing with a war of contradicting thoughts.

You were this close—this close—to standing up and throwing the jacket at his face like a grenade. But your body betrayed you and stayed seated, clutching the fabric instead, heart still hammering.

This couldn’t be happening, he was Park Jongseong.

You groaned softly into your hands, blazer still wrapped around your shoulders like some cursed reminder of your ongoing descent into hell.

You had to leave.

Not because you were done. Not because you had calmed down. But because something about sitting here, wrapped in his blazer, watching him sleep, made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t want to name. Something dangerous.

You didn’t do dangerous with Jay.

You did rivalry. Snark. Academic warfare. Arguments with sharp tongues and bitten-back smirks.

Not… this.

So, you moved.

As quietly as you could, you pulled away from the coffee table, the plush rug soft under your heels. You began packing up your things—the papers, the scattered pens, the flash drive you had almost forgotten. You glanced over at Jay once, just to make sure he was still sleeping. He hadn’t moved. Still slumped over the table like he was seconds away from snoring.

Then you reached up, fingers brushing the edge of the blazer still wrapped around your shoulders.

Returning it now would be the decent thing to do.

Which was exactly why you didn’t do it.

If you handed it back now, it would be simple. Done. Over.

But if you left with it? Oh, he’d hate it.

He’d hate that it would come back smelling like your expensive perfume—the one you wore to events just to piss off old men who said women should dress modestly and stay silent.

The one you wore like a weapon. Sweet, intoxicating, with a cold bite underneath. A perfect contrast to your scent-blockers, which left your natural scent unreadable by anyone—even him.

So yes, you were going to bring the blazer home.

Dry clean it? Of course. You weren’t a monster.

Smiling faintly, you folded the blazer over your arm and reached into your tote bag for a notepad. You scribbled something quickly, your handwriting elegant and infuriatingly neat.

You placed the note where his laptop used to be and glanced at him one last time. He was still dead asleep. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course you sleep like a rock when I actually have something to say,” you muttered under your breath.

With that, you turned on your heel and left the room.

You made your way through the quiet mansion, heels ticking softly against the polished floor, the gentle hum of the chandelier casting warm light over the entrance hall. The foyer was peaceful, bathed in a mellow amber glow that clung to the air like honey.

Jay’s mother sat near the base of the staircase, a tablet resting on her lap, glasses perched delicately on her nose. She looked up when she heard you, her expression instantly brightening.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” she asked, her voice soft but touched with disappointment.

You nodded politely, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. It’s gotten pretty late, and I didn’t want to wake Jay. He looked… like he needed the sleep.”

She smiled knowingly. “He always overworks himself. But I was hoping you might stay a little longer.”

You blinked, a little surprised. “Really?”

“Of course.” She stood, placing the tablet aside and walking over to you, her lips curled slightly. “Your banter kept the house interesting today.”

You chuckled, genuinely this time. “I’m sure Jay would say otherwise.”

She reached out and gently pulled you into a light hug, arms warm and motherly around your shoulders. You stiffened for half a second, caught off-guard… and then relaxed. It was nice. Disarming. Familiar in a way that scraped against the icy corners you usually kept up.

You pulled back with a soft, genuine smile. “Thank you. For the tea. And the cake.”

She laughed lightly. “Come by again. Preferably when he’s less cranky.”

You grinned at that, nodding once. “No promises.” Then, ou stepped out into the evening.

Your driver opened the car door as you approached, holding it just long enough for you to slide in without needing to break stride. As you settled in, you kept Jay’s blazer folded neatly on your lap, fingers idly running over the fabric.

The car pulled away from the estate, disappearing into the night.

Back in the living room, Jay stirred.

His head ached in the weird, groggy way it always did after falling asleep at a desk. He sat up slowly, blinking at the dimmed lights and the stretch of silence around him.

Something felt off.

His eyes scanned the room. The papers had been tidied. Your bag was gone. And so was his blazer.

Then—he spotted the note.

Right where his laptop had been, placed delicately like a landmine dressed in silk.

He picked it up, already exhaling like he was bracing for a slap.

thanks for your stinky blazer, shit head. returning it ASAP. don’t miss me. — (l/n)

His jaw ticked.

“Stinky—are you fucking serious—”

He stopped, the words were ridiculous. Petty. Absolutely you. The handwriting? Annoyingly perfect. Not a single letter out of place.

Jay scowled, letting the paper crumple slightly in his hand.

But then, his scowl faltered.

It softened, not into anything gentle, but into a low, frustrated frown. The kind that twisted deep between his brows and lingered. He leaned back in his seat, note still in hand, blazer gone, and a sudden, unwanted awareness in his chest.

You’d worn his blazer. And you’d taken it with you.

His eyes slid to the spot where you’d been curled up not even an hour ago.

And then they narrowed.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

He stared at the note for another few seconds.

And then he folded it. Neatly. Slid it under his laptop.

He’d burn it later. Maybe.

Jay was spiraling.

Which was ridiculous, really, because Park Jongseong did not spiral. He was composed. In control. Cool, collected, cold even, especially when it came to you.

But as he stepped out of his sleek black car, designer shoes clicking against the pavement of the academy’s private parking lot, his jaw clenched. His usually sharp mind was fogged up with one thing and one thing only: you still had his blazer.

His personal, custom-fit, dry-clean-only, still-drenched-in-his-scent blazer.

And not just handed to you. No. He had fucking placed it over your shoulders like some old-school, gentlemanly, possessive courting maneuver from a textbook.

Which, in Alpha society, it kind of was.

His inner Alpha had been screaming about it since the moment he stepped out of the shower that morning. The memory hit him like a train—the sight of you curled up, breathing evenly, his blazer slipping slightly down your arm as you unconsciously pulled it closer. His scent wrapped around you.

He stopped walking. Just for a second. Just enough for his eyes to flutter shut and for him to mutter under his breath, “Shit.”

Then he straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and shoved the panic down where he shoved everything else he didn’t want to deal with. You probably still had i. Or worse, you were going to return it drenched in your expensive perfume, just to rub salt in the wound.

His hate for you burned hotter.

By the time he reached the student council wing, his expression was blank again. He adjusted the strap of his bag, reached for the door to the council room—and paused.

There were voices inside. Heated ones.

He slowly pushed one of the double wooden doors open only to be met by the searing glare of Jake’s mate.

Usually the quiet one. Reserved. Soft-spoken. But right now? Absolutely fuming.

She was already standing, arms crossed so tight it looked painful, expression twisted in something close to betrayal under the soft chandelier light.

“Jay, I thought you hated (Y/N)?”

Jay blinked. “I do.”

“Then why the actual fuck would you give her your blazer?!”

He opened his mouth to speak. Then shut it.

She stormed a few steps closer, each one heavier with rage.

“That’s a courting gesture, you moron! That’s like waving a giant flag in Alpha society! Do you not think before you act? Or did your brain short-circuit the moment she looked remotely human to you?”

Jake, from behind her, threw his hands up like a hostage. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this. She’s gonna kill me, man. Don’t even look at me.”

Jay stared at him. “Get your girl.”

Jake shook his head even faster. “Hell no.”

“You do realize stepping into an omega’s wrath is like signing a death warrant, right?” Heeseung added lazily from the couch, sipping his coffee with a smirk. “Might as well start drafting your will.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything, but he shared a look with Heeseung that said it all.

Jay dragged a hand down his face and sighed heavily, the ache behind his temples pulsing stronger with each passing second. “This is all your fault,” he muttered.

Jake’s mate’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My fault?”

Jay gestured vaguely toward the air, the universe, toward you—wherever the hell you were. “Yes. Yours. Hers. Everyone’s.”

She looked ready to lunge at him.

Jay turned on his heel and strode right back out of the room, tossing over his shoulder, “Unbelievable.”

The door thudded shut behind him, muffling the noise.

The afternoon sun poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching in the glossy floors as you walked side-by-side with Heeseung’s mate, laughing about something stupid from earlier that morning.

“Seriously though,” she giggled, bumping her shoulder lightly against yours, “you and that old history teacher— I thought he was gonna combust when you corrected him in front of the whole class.”

You laughed, bright and easy, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Not my fault I actually read the assigned chapters.”

She snorted, tossing you a fond look. “You’re dangerous.”

You grinned back. “Tell that to Park. He still thinks I’m a walking plague.”

Unknowingly, you and Heeseung’s mate stole every pair of eyes in the hall.

Heads turned. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. It was impossible not to notice the two of you—two Omegas, looking every bit the part, effortless and untouchable, with unreal beauty and an almost unfair kind of perfection. Every step you took seemed to hum with power, the kind that made even passing Alphas stop in their tracks just to get another look.

Jay caught sight of you just as he rounded the corner, heading lazily toward the vending machines.

He told himself to keep walking. To pretend he hadn’t seen you.

But the second Heeseung’s mate chirped something about using the bathroom and peeled off with a wave, leaving you alone—he moved.

In three long strides, he was in front of you. You barely had time to blink before his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“Hey!” you protested, yanking instinctively, but his grip was iron, burning against your skin.

“What the hell, Park—”

“Shut up,” he hissed under his breath, casting a quick glance down the hall where classroom doors remained closed and the faint sound of teachers’ voices carried through the cracks. Without waiting, he dragged you with him, your heels skidding against the marble as you struggled to dig your heels in.

“Let me go!” you seethed, twisting in his grasp. “You’re insane—!”

Jay didn't spare you even a look. He hauled you to the very end of the corridor, shoving you back behind one of the thick stone pillars that lined the old architecture of the school.

You stumbled, slamming into the cold stone, only to find Jay caging you in, one hand pressed hard against the pillar beside your head, the other still wrapped tight around your wrist.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped, glaring up at him.

Jay’s eyes were burning—not with heat, but with something more violent. Dark, furious. Dangerous.

“Where is it?” he demanded.

You blinked. “Where’s what?”

“My blazer,” he gritted out. His gaze flickered down your figure, eyes narrowing when he saw the clean navy blue blazeryou were wearing —your own—instead of the one he had forced on you last night. His jaw tensed so hard it could’ve been carved from stone.

A laugh tore out of your throat.

“Ohhh,” you drawled mockingly. “That.” You leaned back against the pillar, smirking up at him. “I left it in the council room hours ago.”

“You’d know that if you actually showed up for your own responsibilities instead of lurking around like a damn creep,” you said sweetly, dripping venom with every word.

Something flickered dangerously in his gaze. His hand slammed harder against the stone, right by your ear, but you didn’t even flinch.

If anything, you pushed closer, close enough to catch the faintest trace of his scent still clinging to your skin, stubborn even after all these hours.

“You’re unbelievable,” Jay muttered, his voice low and rough.

“Right back at you, Park,” you sneered. “Next time you want to play knight in shining armor, pick someone who actually wants your damn jacket.”

Jay’s breathing was harsh, every muscle in his body visibly tense. “You think you know everything, don't you?" he bit out.

“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you hate me. And guess what, Park? I hate you more.”

The tension between you two was electric, suffocating, so thick you could practically taste the anger rolling off him in waves. Your heart hammered in your chest—not from fear, but from the pure adrenaline of it all.

His gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest, most dangerous second.

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare.

Finally, with a furious, muttered curse under his breath, Jay ripped himself away from you like you physically burned him, storming down the hall without another word.

You stayed leaning against the pillar for a second longer, catching your breath, a small, wicked smirk curling on your lips.

Without hesitation, you pushed yourself off the cold stone with a deep breath, smoothing down your skirt like it could fix the way your blood was still rushing hot under your skin.

You turned the corner—and there she was, Heeseung’s mate leaning casually against the wall, waiting exactly where she said she would.

She didn’t say a word when her eyes landed on you. Just smiled softly and reached out, fingers deft as she adjusted the ribbon tied at the back of your head.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice light but her gaze a little too knowing.

You just smiled, slow and sweet, like you weren’t still shaking a little on the inside. “Perfect,” you lied easily, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing you for a second, but said nothing else. Only slipped her arm through yours again, guiding you both back down the hallway toward your next class.

The council room was packed.

The long conference table overflowed with council members and their mates—Heeseung and his omega tucked close together at one end, Jungwon whispering something that made his mate giggle, Jake and his tossing casual grins across the table, Sunghoon lounging like a king with his arm slung behind his omega's chair.

Even Sunoo’s mate was there, perched elegantly beside you.

The air was thick with bodies, with heat, with the buzzing undercurrent of alphas, betas, and omegas crowding too close.

But you only saw one person. Jay.

You sat poised, the sharp line of your jaw held high, your nails—perfectly manicured, painted a sleek, mocking black; tapping against the folder in front of you.

You stared at him like you could set him on fire.

And Jay—that cocky bastard, barely spared you a glance.

Sunoo’s mate leaned toward you, voice soft. “Hey, Y/n. After this, can you help me with the decorations list—?”

“Of course,” you answered smoothly, your tone light and sweet, but your eyes never once left Jay.

You watched as he lazily flipped a page, jaw ticking ever so slightly.

He knew you caught the mistake in the proposal you worked on together, the one he touched last without telling you.

You could practically feel the smugness radiating off him, like he thought it wasn’t a big deal.

It was a big deal. And you wanted to gut him for it.

Jungwon’s voice rang loud and clear from the head of the table, “Meeting adjourned.”

Chairs screeched against the marble floor instantly, papers shuffled, and the whole council meeting room turned into a buzzing hive of motion and noise as everyone started packing up.

And just when it should’ve ended neatly—

Jay pushed off his chair with a lazy, almost predatory grace. Slamming his palm hard enough against the table that several people jumped, including you, though you masked it behind a lazy blink.

Heads whipped towards him.

Jay just smiled—that slow, confident, devastating smile that made you want to slap it off his face with your perfectly manicured hand.

“Party at my place tomorrow night,” he announced, voice booming across the council room like thunder.

“Bring everyone. Seniors, juniors—hell, bring half the damn school if you want. I want it packed.”

A collective gasp, then a loud eruption of cheers and whistles filled the air.

Someone from the Public Relations Committee actually banged a fist on the table in excitement. Another kid from Jungwon’s group whooped so loudly, it startled Heeseung.

Jake whistled low and threw an arm around his mate’s shoulders, grinning wide. Ni-ki immediately started planning out a playlist with two of the juniors trailing behind him like excited puppies.

Sunoo’s mate leaned in to whisper something excitedly into your ear about outfits—but your eyes stayed locked only on Jay. You barely heard anything over the roaring in your blood.

Jay wasn’t looking at anyone else. He was looking straight at you, one brow cocked high like a fucking challenge, daring you to say something.

The way he stood there, hands in his pockets, broad shoulders soaking up every ounce of attention in the room like he owned it—like he owned you.

You felt your jaw clench so tight your teeth ached.

Jay’s smirk grew wider.

He was baiting you, he wanted you angry, he thrived off it.

You lifted your chin higher, giving him a lazy, mocking once-over, from his disheveled tie down to the way his expensive shoes tapped against the marble floor like he couldn't stand still.

Jay’s smile faltered for half a second.

Sunoo’s mate nudged you, beaming. “What are you wearing to the party?”

Without tearing your glare away from Jay, you answered smoothly, “Whatever works.” Your voice was sweet as syrup but your eyes spat venom across the room at the boy you hated most.

Jay’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, a slow, dangerous movement that made your stomach twist—in rage.

He tilted his head at you, smirking wider, like he was thinking the exact same thing.

The room swirled with laughter and plans and wild energy, but right then, it felt like only you and him existed.

Two storms waiting to crash into each other.

And when he finally tore his gaze away to clap Jungwon on the back and bark out something about making it the best party of the year.

You were left standing there, fuming, heart racing, hands trembling slightly from the effort it took to keep yourself composed.

The war had just begun.

And Jay had just thrown the first grenade.

⤷ read part 2 here !

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liuhsng · 3 months ago

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hi to all my lovely readers, finally finally FINALLY got around to publishing part two of jake’s fic, took long enough, i know. but rn, i desperately need sleep, but i really do hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it + i did lose a few brain cells in the process ! anws happy reading and love lots 🫶

#˙⋆✮ liuhsng #˙⋆✮ updates #im going to sleep now bye ily all

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liuhsng · 3 months ago

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✩ˎˊ˗ between the shelves ( sjy ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 18.7k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, alpha!jake, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, strangers to lovers trope-ish, jake is in love-love, jake is literally just so down bad for you oml, kinda self-depraving thoughts, tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

⤷ a/n — this is so sweet and fluffy i legit cried writing this + here's the second part bc tumblr told me that i was too much of a yapper LMAO

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — jake had spent his whole life believing patience was his greatest virtue. it was what made him the perfect friend, the perfect son, the perfect alpha. and then he met you. and suddenly, patience felt like a cruel joke. because who would’ve thought that the big, bad, pureblooded alpha named sim jaeyun—the one who always kept his head up, would find himself wrapped around your finger? jake had always known he would have a mate someday. he had just never imagined that once he found you, he wouldn’t be able to stay away.

Jake had been careful.

Or at least, he thought he had.

But apparently, not careful enough.

Because the second he smelled it—them, it was already too late.

Jake’s body tensed, his nose twitched, and his fingers flexed against the back of the bench. The comfortable warmth of your scent was suddenly invaded, drowned out by something else.

Jake inhaled once again, and immediately regretted it.

The sharp mix of scents crashed into him all at once; strong and entirely too familiar. His grip on the bench tightened as his mind registered what this meant, who this meant.

He didn’t need to raise his head up. He already knew.

A few feet away, a cluster of figures stood at the entrance of the parking lot, their presence thick in the air. Pureblooded alphas and omegas: his friends. His pack.

Jake exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his shoulders to relax, but it was no use. The warmth of your scent had been his safe haven for weeks, and now it was being suffocated under the weight of theirs.

He could feel the way you stilled beside him, your fingers subtly tightening around the edge of your book. You felt it too.

The realization settled in your chest like a stone.

You could feel their eyes now. The weight of their stares pressing in, a mix of emotions swirling between them: amusement, curiosity, suspicion.

Jungwon and his mate, Heeseung and his mate, Sunghoon and his mate, Sunoo and his mate. Jay and Ni-ki. All of them.

You swallowed, glancing at Jake, only to find his gaze locked straight ahead, jaw clenched. “Jake?” you whispered.

He didn’t respond.

But he did look at you. His golden-brown eyes met yours, flickering with something unreadable, it was heavy, waiting.

That silence stretched too long, and your heart started to pound. Instinct took over before you could stop yourself. “Alpha?” you murmured, softer this time, almost hesitant.

That snapped him out of it.

His shoulders eased just a fraction, his fingers flexing against the wood of the bench before he sighed. His head tilted ever so slightly, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Do you wanna meet them?”

Your breath hitched.

He was waiting. Waiting for your response.

It was as if nothing else existed in that moment but the space between you and him. Not the weight of the stares boring into your back, not the amusement in Sunghoon’s smirk, not the knowing gleam in Jay’s eyes. Just Jake. Just his question.

And when you gave the smallest nod, Jake didn’t hesitate.

With ease, he reached for your things, moving as if he had done it a thousand times before. His hands brushed against yours as he fixed your books, slipping them into your bag before slinging it over his shoulder. Then, in one smooth motion, he reached for his own.

Two bags. One on each shoulder.

The sight of it sent something warm and electric through your veins. It was such a simple thing, such an Alpha thing, but your inner omega reacted instantly, curling with satisfaction, swooning.

And the worst part?

Despite the situation, despite the fact that all of your friends had just caught Jake ditching them for you—you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Jake took slow steps forward, as if still assessing the situation. His grip on your bag tightened for a moment before loosening, his gaze flickering between you and the group still watching from a few feet away.

And then—he caught it, the slightest shift in your scent.

It was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to him? It was everything.

The hesitance. The nerves. The way your omega fluttered beneath the surface, not just from the weight of their stares but from him.

And just like that, Jake didn’t hesitate.

His free hand dropped from your bag strap, fingers brushing against yours for only a second before he took your hand fully, intertwining them without a second thought.

Your breath hitched. Your head snapped up to look at him, but he wasn’t fazed at all.

Jake gave your hand a single, reassuring squeeze. Then, in a voice just above a whisper—low and teasing, meant only for you; he murmured, “How fucking unbearable are they about to be?”

Your lips parted, a small, nervous laugh tumbled past your lips. “Very unbearable.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

You could feel it, the weight of their stares, the unspoken words pressing into your back.

Jake, in true Jake fashion, pretended not to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

His grip on your hand didn’t loosen, his fingers still intertwined with yours like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon. His strides were slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. But you weren’t fooled.

He was stalling.

And then—

“Sim Jaeyun, you absolute menace.”

Jay’s voice rang through the air, and the exasperation in it was so familiar, so expected, that you almost laughed.

Almost.

Jake finally stopped walking, letting out a slow, drawn-out sigh before finally, finally turning to face the group. Still holding your hand.

And as expected—they were all staring.

All of them.

Sunghoon had his arms crossed, unimpressed but unsurprised, Jungwon looked beyond entertained, Sunoo was clutching Heeseung’s arm in excitement, and Ni-ki? Ni-ki had his phone out.

“Not a word.” Jake pointed a warning finger at them, but it only made Sunoo’s grin widen.

“Aww, but Jakey—”

“Not. A. Word.”

You felt the second Ni-ki snapped a picture.

Jake groaned, running a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

Jay scoffed. “Clearly not as much as you love disappearing on us.”

“Correction.” Sunghoon lifted a finger. “Disappearing on us for the love of his life.”

Jake gave him a flat look. “Wow, thanks for that. Really needed the clarification.”

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Jungwon added, voice dripping with amusement. “We’re just catching up with our dear council secretary. You know, since he’s been avoiding his actual responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities?” Jake echoed, feigning confusion. He squeezed your hand lightly before flashing his signature, lazy grin. “I don’t know, I think I’ve been pretty responsible.”

Jungwon blinked. Then, he laughed.

It was slow, knowing, and full of amusement.

Because it was true.

Because even when he was ditching them, Jake had still been keeping everything in order. Still answering emails, still approving proposals, still handling every little thing he needed to.

He just… hadn’t been doing it in person.

“Do you know what I had to suffer through today, Sim?” Sunghoon cut him his thoughts, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Coach absolutely wrecked me on the field. Do you know why?” He paused for effect. “Because my dear best friend, my beloved council secretary, my alpha packmate—left me to die.”

Jake sighed. “Sunghoon—”

“Left. Me. To. Die.”

“You weren’t even there on time.”

“That’s not the point!” Sunghoon threw his hands up. “I had to run extra laps alone! Do you know how humiliating it is to be the only one doing laps while everyone else is just standing there watching?”

Jungwon nodded sagely. “That does sound tragic.”

“Oh, utterly devastating.” Sunoo pressed a hand to his chest. “Poor Sunghoon. Abandoned. Betrayed.”

Sunghoon clicked his tongue. “Exactly. And for what? For you to come running to your omega?”

That did it. You finally laughed, the sound slipping out before you could stop it.

Jake blinked. Then smirked. “Sounds like a pretty good reason to me.”

Sunghoon’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

Ni-ki burst out laughing. “Dude, he didn’t even hesitate.”

Jungwon chuckled. “Man knows his priorities.”

Jay exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Jake only smirked, shrugging. “I do my best.”

Then, before anyone else could add more, he cleared his throat, straightening up.

“Alright,” he said, voice cutting through the noise. “Since you guys are so invested in my love life—”

“Secret love life.” Heeseung corrected.

Jake ignored him.

“—I might as well make this official,” he finished, then turned to you, his gaze softening. “(Y/N), meet my incredibly nosy, insufferable friends.”

Sunoo gasped. “Did you just call us insufferable?”

Jake smirked. “You deserved that one.”

Before anyone else could chime in, Heeseung’s mate stepped forward, looking straight at you with a knowing smile.

“Oh, we know her,” she said, and then—“More than you do.”

Jake blinked, brows furrowing. “What?”

Before you could even begin to explain, Jungwon’s mate tilted her head, grinning.

“This little missy’s been hiding a lot from us these past few weeks,” she teased, crossing her arms. “I’m honestly impressed we didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Jake turned to you, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been hiding from them?”

Your face warmed, but you squared your shoulders, pursing your lips. “…Maybe.”

“Oh, my God.” Sunoo'smate looked delighted. “So this was a two-way sneaking-around situation? Adorable.”

And then—before you could react, Sunghoon’s mate and Sunoo's mate were suddenly at your side, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Finally! A new friend!” Sunghoon’s mate beamed.

“Oh, this is gonna be so fun!” Sunoo's mate added, already looping her arm through yours. “We have so much to talk about.”

Jake frowned, pulling you back toward him. “Okay, can we all calm down?”

Jungwon's mate smirked. “What’s wrong, Sim? Afraid we’ll steal your girl?”

Jake glared. “We’re not even official yet.”

Silence.

And then—

Laughter.

Full, unrestrained, absolutely merciless laughter.

“Oh, honey.” Heeseung’s mate patted your arm, smiling fondly. “You’re already one of us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungwon waved Jake off. “Technicalities, technicalities. It’s basically official.”

Jake shook his head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Heeseung shrugged. “And you’re in love.”

Jake froze.

And then—he scoffed.

But he didn’t deny it.

The low purr of the engine filled the space between you, steady and smooth as Jake effortlessly navigated the road. The once playful energy that surrounded you both earlier had shifted into something quieter, softer.

The streetlights flickered past in a golden blur, casting fleeting glows over his face. Sharp jaw, slightly tousled hair, the relaxed curve of his mouth.

And his hand; still warm against yours. Still holding on.

Not like before, when it had been a casual, almost unconscious gesture.

No, this was different, this was intentional.

Jake was driving with one hand, his other still intertwined with yours, resting against the center console like it belonged there. And maybe… maybe it did.

“You good?” His voice broke the comfortable silence, gentle but teasing. “You’ve been staring at me for a while now, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “I have not.”

Jake hummed, clearly amused. “No? Then what were you looking at?”

You huffed, shifting in your seat. “I was just… thinking.”

“About?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to say it, but because you weren’t sure how to.

Jake, however, wasn’t one for patience. With a slight squeeze of your hand, he coaxed, “Come on, pretty girl. Let me in.”

You exhaled, fingers tightening around his. “Just… your friends.”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Ah. Yeah. Them.”

You laughed softly. “You make it sound like they’re the problem.”

“Well, they are,” he said, grinning. “Did you see the way Sunghoon was looking at me? I swear he was two seconds away from kicking my ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s because you ditched him on the field, Jake.”

“For a very valid reason,” he defended, tapping his thumb against your skin absentmindedly. “I mean, come on, what’s more important? A stupid practice game or my favorite omega?”

Your breath hitched. Just a little.

But he noticed, and that cocky little smirk of his deepened.

“Jake,” you warned.

“What?” He feigned innocence. “I’m just saying. If you were me, wouldn’t you choose the same?”

You gave him a look, but your silence spoke volumes.

Jake chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

Another beat of silence. Another flicker of golden light over his skin.

Then—

“You know, they really like you,” Jake murmured, a bit more serious now. “Even if they’re insufferable.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you briefly, his gaze softer than you’d ever seen it. “So, I hope they didn’t overwhelm you too much. I know they can be a lot.”

You smiled. “It was… a lot. But not in a bad way.”

Jake’s fingers flexed slightly around yours, like he liked that answer.

“Good.”

The car slowed as he pulled up in front of your place, but neither of you made a move to get out just yet.

The street was quiet. The world felt small.

And Jake? He looked too damn good in the dim light, one hand on the wheel, the other still tangled with yours.

Jake’s foot eased off the gas the moment you passed through the large iron gates. The car rolled forward at a slower, almost leisurely pace as the long, luxurious road stretched out before you, lined with towering trees and carefully maintained flora. The headlights cast soft glows along the stone pathway, painting the scenery in warm, golden hues.

He was stalling, you could tell.

The way his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, the way his other hand, still holding yours, tightened just the slightest bit.

Sim Jaeyun was never the nervous type. He was always so sure of himself, so effortlessly confident. But right now? With the way he exhaled softly, the way his jaw tensed and relaxed in quick succession, you knew.

Something was coming.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Jake murmured, eyes flickering briefly to you before settling back on the road.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Thinking about what?”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “You.”

Your breath hitched, and he noticed—of course, he did.

Jake glanced at you again, this time longer, like he wanted to see your reaction. Then, with a soft squeeze of your hand, he continued.

“I didn’t think it’d happen like this.” He exhaled, shaking his head lightly. “I didn’t think we would happen like this. But then I started spending more time with you. Started prioritizing you over things I never thought I’d neglect.” He clicked his tongue. “And the thing is, sweetheart? I didn’t even care.”

His grip on the wheel tightened, his thumb brushing absently over your knuckles.

“I didn’t care that I was missing out on game nights, that I wasn’t showing up to practice as much, that I was skipping out on meetings.” His voice softened. “Because I was with you. And that always felt more important.”

Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest, you were surprised he didn’t comment on it.

Jake kept talking, his voice quieter now, like he was letting you in on a secret.

“And I tried,” he admitted, shaking his head with a small, breathy laugh. “God, I tried to be subtle about it. But the guys caught on. Hell, everyone caught on before I even did.”

Your stomach flipped. “Jake…”

He turned his head fully now, his dark eyes locking onto yours. And the intensity in them? It froze you in place.

“I want you, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught.

“I want to court you. Properly. Not just as Jake, your annoying escape from reality, not just as your friend.” He turned his palm up, allowing you to tangle your fingers with his if you wanted to. “I want to court you as your Alpha. As your mate, if you’ll let me.”

Silence.

The kind that hung heavy, filled with something more.

The car rolled to a stop at the grand entrance of your home, the world around you completely still, yet your mind spun.

Because Sim Jaeyun, the big bad council secretary, the golden boy who had it all—was offering himself to you.

Entirely.

Completely.

You stared at him, your lips parting slightly, and Jake—he waited.

No teasing remark, no smug smirk, no impatience.

Just… waiting, waiting for you, waiting for your answer.

Jake’s grip on the wheel tightened, his other hand still wrapped around yours. He hadn’t let go once. Not in the library. Not in front of his friends. Not even now.

And yet, there was hesitation in his touch.

“I meant what I said,” he finally broke the silence, voice lower now, more careful. “I want to do this right.”

You swallowed, fingers twitching slightly against his. He noticed.

“I want to court you,” he repeated, slower this time, like each word was deliberate, like they carried more weight than he knew how to handle. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand. “Not because I think I should. Not because of some expectation. But because it’s you.”

The car rolled to a stop at the base of your driveway, the soft hum of the engine lingering between you. His gaze never wavered.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” he added, quieter. “I just… I needed you to know. I needed to say it.”

The way he said it, like it was inevitable. Like it didn’t matter how long it took, because he had already made his choice.

He had chosen you.

And he was just waiting for you to choose him back.

Your breath hitched.

Jake exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head as he glanced down at your joined hands. “God, I thought I’d be good at this,” he admitted. “I thought I’d know exactly what to say, exactly how to make this sound… less terrifying.”

Your heart squeezed.

Sim Jaeyun, the ever-composed, ever-effortless Alpha—was terrified.

Because for the first time, he was giving someone the chance to say no.

And yet, he was still here. Still holding on.

Still waiting.

And maybe it was the sincerity in his voice. Maybe it was the way his fingers curled just slightly around yours, like he was memorizing the shape of them. Maybe it was the fact that deep down, you already knew your answer.

You squeezed his hand back.

Jake inhaled sharply, his entire body going still.

You didn’t let him wait any longer.

“Yes.”

His breath left him in a quiet rush, like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. “Yes?”

You nodded, biting down the smile threatening to break through. “Yes, Jake.”

And just like that—just like that—Jake Sim, the Alpha who had spent his life in perfect control, the student council secretary who had built his world around responsibilities and expectations, broke.

Not in the way that meant ruin, but in the way that meant relief.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t standing at the top alone.

He had you, and he wasn’t letting go, but even then, he still couldn’t believe it.

Jake let out something between a breath and a laugh, but it was unsteady, like he was struggling to ground himself. He shook his head, giving your hand a small tug before turning fully in his seat to face you.

“Wait—wait, say it again.” His voice was rushed, almost urgent, like he needed to hear it one more time just to be sure. “You actually—” He broke off, exhaling sharply before letting out a breathless laugh. “You actually said yes?”

Your chest ached in the best way possible.

“I did say yes,” you repeated, slow and teasing, and his grip on your hand only tightened.

Jake exhaled another stunned laugh, tilting his head back against the seat before running a hand through his hair. His fingers curled slightly, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or bury his face in his hands.

“Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Holy shit.”

And you would’ve laughed, would’ve teased him for how utterly shaken he sounded, but then he was leaning in, forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath fanning over your lips.

“I don’t think you get it,” he murmured, voice softer now, a little more vulnerable. “I was prepared to wait. I was ready to wait as long as it took.” His fingers curled around your wrist, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin. “But then you just—” He broke off, exhaling a sharp breath, “—you just said yes like it was the easiest thing in the world.”

Your heart swelled.

“It was the easiest thing in the world,” you whispered.

Jake let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head again.

And then, he pulled you in.

Not for a kiss.

Not yet.

But just close enough that you could hear his heartbeat pounding against his ribs, just close enough that you knew, he was yours now.

Then—

The sound of the big white wooden doors opening snapped the both of you back to reality.

Jake didn’t hurry, didn’t jolt or stiffen or scramble like he’d been caught red-handed.

No, he just let out a soft chuckle, low and fond, before he begrudgingly, slowly—let go of your hand. The warmth of his palm lingered against your skin, even as he pulled away to step out of the car.

You barely had time to process the rush of cool air in his absence before he was rounding the front of his sleek black sports car, movements unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

Your door opened with a soft click, and there he was, standing before you, effortlessly illuminated by the warm glow of the driveway lights.

His eyes met yours as he extended a hand, palm up, waiting.

You slipped your fingers into his grasp without hesitation.

Jake gave the slightest squeeze before helping you out of the car.

And then, wordlessly, he ducked down, reaching inside for your bag, as if it were second nature, like it was obvious that he’d be the one carrying it. The sight of him, tall and broad, in his neatly pressed uniform, standing against the quiet of the night with your belongings in his hands; something about it felt so… domestic.

Before you could say anything, he grabbed something else, his discarded school blazer, which had been tossed carelessly onto the passenger seat earlier.

Jake straightened, holding both items with ease before turning back to you.

Then—he held his blazer out, shaking it slightly, like an unspoken invitation.

You hesitated, glancing up at him.

Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Take it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek but complied, reaching out to grasp the familiar fabric, feeling the weight of him lingering in it.

The scent—his scent—was everywhere.

And then, in an almost perfect, synchronized motion, your hands reached up to your own blazer, still snugly draped over your shoulders. You slipped it off, folding it neatly before handing it over to him.

Jake blinked once. Then twice.

His lips twitched.

“Can’t let me go without a properly scented item too, yeah?” he mused, voice laced with something teasing but sincere.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Jake didn’t slip your blazer on, just held it, fingers curling around the soft fabric. Meanwhile, he moved forward slightly, lifting his own blazer before draping it carefully over your shoulders, adjusting the collar just right.

The moment was soft, warm.

And then—

“Ahem.”

A small, quiet cough cut through the thick silence.

Jake froze.

Your heart plummeted.

Slowly—so, so slowly—your heads turned toward the front porch.

There stood your mother.

Still dressed in her business attire from work, a hand perched on her hip, her gaze cool but undeniably amused as she took in the sight before her. The sight of you, bundled in Jake’s blazer, standing just a little too close to him under the soft glow of the peeking moonlight.

Jake straightened. Not stiffly, but… refined. Almost like he was preparing to introduce himself to a superior officer.

Your mom tilted her head, the corners of her lips twitching.

With a quiet, knowing sigh, she muttered, “Young love.”

Your stomach dropped.

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, half a laugh, half disbelief.

Meanwhile, you, mortified beyond belief—groaned, hiding your face behind your hands.

Jake barely had time to school his expression before your mother took a slow step forward, heels clicking softly against the marble porch floor.

The corners of her lips curled just slightly, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile, just enough to let you know she was enjoying every second of this.

Meanwhile, you were dying.

Young love? Young love? Oh, you were never going to hear the end of this.

Jake, for his part, seemed to recover faster than you. He straightened—not stiffly, but with that effortless poise he always carried himself with. He still held onto your blazer, fingers curled around the soft fabric, like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

Your mom’s gaze flickered to the exchanged blazers, the way his sat snugly over your shoulders, the way yours was still resting in his grip.

A knowing glint passed through her eyes.

Then, without hesitation, she turned to Jake and said, “You’re staying for dinner.”

Not a question. Not even a suggestion. A statement.

Jake blinked.

You blinked.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

Your mother simply shrugged, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear as if she hadn’t just casually invited Jake into your home for dinner.

Jake’s lips parted slightly, caught between amusement and surprise, but he recovered quickly. He shifted his hold on your blazer, glanced at you briefly before nodding, effortlessly slipping into that charming, golden boy demeanor of his.

“I’d be honored,” he said smoothly, giving your mother a slight bow of his head.

You groaned under your breath, pressing your fingers against your temples. This was not happening.

Your mother, entirely unbothered, turned her attention back to you.

“(Y/N), dear,” she said airily, clasping her hands together. “Please inform me ahead of time when you're bringing Jaeyun over, yes?”

Jake coughed.

You choked.

Your mom merely smiled.

Jake, to his credit, kept it together. Mostly. He tilted his head, eyes twinkling with barely contained laughter as he leaned slightly in your direction.

“Well?” he mused, voice rich with amusement. “You heard your mom.”

You glared at him.

He grinned.

The warm glow of chandeliers illuminated the grand foyer as you and Jake stepped inside, the scent of freshly prepared dishes wafting through the air.

The moment the doors shut behind you, the sight that greeted Jake was the chefs bustling in the open-concept kitchen, a handful of staff moving seamlessly, plates clinking, and the rich aroma of slow-cooked meats filling the space.

Jake let out a low whistle, eyes flickering over the scene before turning to you. “So… what’s for dinner?”

You snorted. “I don’t know. You’ll find out with the rest of us.”

“Great,” he said, amused. “Love a little mystery in my life.”

Your mom, already slipping into host mode, gave Jake a polite smile before excusing herself toward the kitchen, probably to oversee the final preparations.

Which left the two of you alone.

“Come on,” you said, motioning for him to follow you toward the living room. “Let’s get comfortable before they make us sit through some formal dinner.”

Jake chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets as he trailed behind you. “So, do I sit wherever, or is there some unspoken family hierarchy I need to know about?”

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “You’re fine, golden boy. Just don’t sit in my dad’s chair, unless you have a death wish.”

Jake raised his hands in mock surrender, lips quirking up. “Noted. Avoid the dad throne.”

The two of you settled onto the plush couch, the air shifting into something more relaxed, comfortable. You curled your legs under you, and Jake, ever the gentleman, didn’t immediately invade your space—though the scented blazer still draped over your shoulders said enough about the way he wanted to.

The soft murmur of the staff in the kitchen filled the background.

And then—

A deep, serious voice cut through the space.

Your dad.

Both of you stilled, tuning in as the unmistakable authority in his tone rang clear.

“—If the shipment doesn’t arrive by Friday, I expect a full report by the end of the day. No excuses.”

Jake leaned in slightly, brows lifting, intrigued.

Another pause. Your father’s voice lowered slightly, but still firm. “No. I want the contract finalized before the month ends. I don’t care what needs to be done, just make it happen.”

It was funny, he had spent years in rooms full of powerful business partners, men who made decisions that shifted markets and controlled entire industries. He had shaken hands with some of the most influential Alphas in the country. He had sat through negotiations worth millions, unflinching.

But this?

Facing your dad?

He was nervous.

God, he was so screwed.

Because this wasn’t just some businessman, this was your father; your very much pureblooded of an Alpha father.

And Jake was about to do something infinitely more terrifying than striking a deal.

He was asking for his daughter and risking it all didn’t even begin to cover it.

His hand flexed at his side as the sound of your father’s deep voice grew closer, footsteps heavy against the marble floors. The call had ended, the sharp clack of his phone being placed down echoing through the vast space.

Jake straightened.

Your dad stepped into the room.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of presence that could silence a room without saying a word. He barely looked at Jake at first, his gaze landing on you instead. And just like that, the hardened businessman softened.

“Did you just get home?” he asked, voice much gentler than it had been on the call.

You nodded. “Jake drove me.”

That was when your dad finally turned to him.

Jake didn’t miss a beat, he stood up immediately, straight-backed, and bowed slightly before extending a hand.

“Good evening, sir,” he said, perfectly composed, though his fingers curled just a little tighter. “Sim Jaeyun, please, just call me Jake. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your dad’s eyes flickered to his outstretched hand.

Then, slowly, he clasped it.

The handshake was firm, and Jake wasn’t stupid enough to think that was unintentional.

“Jake.” Your father’s voice was slow, calculated. “I remember you.”

Jake nodded, maintaining steady eye contact. “I’ve had the privilege of seeing you before at a few events.”

“Mm.” Your dad hummed, unimpressed. “And now you’re here. In my home.”

Jake felt the weight of the words. He refused to let it shake him.

“Yes, sir,” he said evenly. “Thank you for having me.”

Your dad’s gaze flickered. Assessing. Calculating.

“Do you like cars, Jake?”

Jake nearly let out a relieved laugh, but he knew better. Instead, he grinned. “I love cars, sir.”

Your dad’s expression didn’t change. But there was a glint of approval in his eyes.

“Good.” He released Jake’s hand, then gestured toward the dining room. “Let’s talk over dinner.”

Jake caught your gaze for a brief second before following your father, only to catch the amused, shit-eating grin on your lips.

He huffed a quiet laugh.

You knew he’d survive.

Jake had barely taken a step before your dad’s voice rang through the space, cutting through the distant clatter of the kitchen.

“That black sports car outside.”

Jake halted mid-stride, his fingers tightening slightly at his sides.

Your dad turned to him, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “That yours?”

It was a simple question, but the weight behind it made something coil in Jake’s stomach.

“Yes, sir,” Jake answered, nodding with practiced ease. His voice was steady, his posture relaxed, but you saw the way his jaw tensed for just a fraction of a second.

Your father hummed.

Jake nearly swayed on his feet.

It wasn’t disapproval, but it wasn’t outright approval either. It was the kind of sound that could mean anything, and Jake knew better than to assume the best too soon.

Your dad’s eyes flicked towards the door, as if mentally reviewing the car in question. Finally, he turned back to Jake, tilting his head slightly. “What model?”

Jake almost let out a breath of relief. “McLaren Artura,” he answered, voice calm but undeniably proud.

Your dad’s brows lifted ever so slightly. “Hybrid, right?” he asked, his tone shifting from scrutinizing to genuinely interested.

Jake internally grinned. He knew that tone.

“Yes, sir.” His shoulders eased just a fraction as he continued, “Twin-turbo V6, powerful but efficient.”

Your father actually nodded, his lips twitching in what could almost be called approval.

“It’s an incredible drive,” Jake admitted, unable to hide the slight excitement in his voice. “Would you like to take a look after dinner?”

Your dad barely hesitated. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

The tension in Jake’s shoulders disappeared completely. He let out a slow exhale, stealing a glance at you, only to find you already watching him with barely contained amusement.

Your lips twitched.

Jake shot you a told you so look, the corner of his mouth curving slightly.

You just grinned.

Because, of course all it took was a damn car to break the ice.

Your dad barely gave you a second to recover from his unexpected interest in Jake’s car before he turned to you with a teasing glint in his eye.

“Come on, (Y/N), don’t keep your suitor waiting.”

Jake barely had a second to process your dad’s words before you froze beside him.

Your eyes widened in absolute shock, head snapping toward him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. Your dad? The same man who had spent years maintaining his unreadable, intimidating aura? He just casually called Jake your suitor?

Jake, meanwhile, stiffened beside you. Not in fear, no, at this point, he had already thrown himself headfirst into the battlefield that was your family; but in pure disbelief.

Your dad let out a low chuckle, effortlessly amused at both your reactions. Then, before either of you could fully recover, he gave Jake a firm clap on the back. Not light, not cautious, just enough force to make Jake jolt slightly in surprise.

"Relax, son,” your dad mused, eyes glinting with something almost mischievous. "I was the same way with her mom."

Your jaw dropped.

Jake, who had just barely started to regain his composure, choked on air.

Your dad? The same man who had kept his business empire running with an iron grip? The same man who rarely let emotions slip past his carefully built walls? Once upon a time, he had been just as whipped as Jake was now?

Jake straightened slightly, as if realizing that. His lips parted just a little, and then, ever so subtly, a smirk tugged at his mouth. It was barely there, almost unnoticeable. But you saw it.

Jake was relieved, like some kind of weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Like this small confirmation from your dad was the reassurance he hadn’t even realized he needed.

Your dad smirked at the sight, already making his way toward the dining hall. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Jake exhaled, finally relaxing. He turned to you, catching your gaze with a look that was half amused, half triumphant. You just huffed, biting back a smile as you both followed your dad into the dining area.

The dining hall was massive but warm. Despite the high ceilings and the long mahogany table stretching across the center, the soft glow of the chandelier cast a golden hue over the space, making it feel less like a cold, formal setting and more like home. The faint scent of herbs and spices wafted from the kitchen, promising a well-prepared meal.

Jake slowed down as you both reached the table. Before taking his seat, he momentarily set down your bag and his blazer—your blazer, on the side of the couch near the dining hall entrance, making sure they were placed neatly.

Jake hadn’t even taken his seat yet. Instead, he moved wordlessly, hands brushing against the back of the chair as he pulled it out for you. There was no hesitation, just quiet, effortless care.

You hesitated for only a second before sitting down, watching as he made sure you were comfortable before pushing the chair in gently. The moment was brief, simple, yet something about it made warmth bloom in your chest.

Just around the corner, where the kitchen met the dining hall, your parents lingered for a second longer. A glance was exchange, one of knowing, of quiet approval.

Then, they stepped in.

Your mom took her usual seat first, and your dad followed soon after, settling at the head of the table. He didn’t say much at first, simply reaching for his glass of water.

Your dad set down his glass, regarding him with a thoughtful look before asking, “How’s your father doing?”

Jake swallowed his bite of food before answering. “He’s doing well, sir. Still as hands-on as ever when it comes to the business.”

Your dad nodded. “And how’s it been? The family business?”

Jake’s lips twitched slightly, something fond in his expression. “Really good, actually. We’ve opened more branches recently, both for the restaurants and the malls. My father’s been focusing on expansion in other regions, and I’ve been following him more closely to learn how to manage everything. It’s been challenging but rewarding.”

Your dad hummed in approval. “Planning to take over one day?”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said without hesitation. “I’ve always wanted to. I’ve been training for it properly a few years back, but I started learning the basics way before that. My father believes that the best way to understand the business is by experiencing every level of it firsthand.”

Your mom smiled, clearly impressed, while your dad nodded in agreement.

You sat quietly, not wanting to intrude, though your attention had shifted slightly, toward the mashed potatoes sitting just a few plates away from Jake. You weren’t even thinking about it, really, just absently staring, considering whether or not you wanted to reach for them.

Jake, ever observant, noticed.

Without breaking his flow in conversation, he reached for the dish, smoothly setting it down in front of you before finally glancing your way.

“Do you want anything else?” His voice was low, meant just for you. “String beans, carrots, shrimp?”

You blinked, a little caught off guard, but shook your head. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

Jake gave a small nod, as if satisfied with your answer, before effortlessly shifting back to your dad, seamlessly continuing their conversation.

It was such a simple moment, but something about it—his attentiveness, the way he so naturally took care of you made warmth curl in your chest.

Your parents exchanged another look.

Yeah. Jake had definitely won them over.

The kitchen smelled like vanilla and melted butter, the warmth of the oven humming softly in the background. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden patterns on the marble counter where you stood, a wooden spoon in hand as you mixed the cookie dough in a glass bowl.

Jake was seated on one of the stools at the kitchen island, elbows resting lazily on the counter as he watched you. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing his forearms as he idly drummed his fingers against the cool surface. He’d been stealing bits of cookie dough whenever you weren’t looking, but you let it slide.

“So, explain to me again,” Jake said, breaking the quiet. “Why are walnuts a crime in cookies?”

You huffed, pausing to shoot him a look. “Because some of us actually enjoy soft, chewy cookies.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You have zero appreciation for texture.”

“I appreciate textures that make sense,” you corrected.

Jake chuckled, leaning forward to swipe a bit of cookie dough from the bowl. He popped it into his mouth before you could swat him away.

“Well, more for me, then.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, sending the Alpha a teasingly glare.

“By the way, my parents want to meet you.”

You froze for half a second, just long enough for Jake to notice. The spoon in your hand stopped mid-stir, and when you turned to look at him, your voice was steady, but your fingers gripped the edge of the bowl a little tighter.

“Really?”

Jake immediately caught the nervousness laced in that single word. His lips curled up slightly, half amusement, half affection—before he pushed himself off the stool.

“Mhmm,” He hummed as he made his way around the counter, closing the space between you. You weren’t facing him yet, still staring at the dough like it held all the answers to your life, so he gently rubbed his hands up and down your arms

“Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now. “It's just my parents, not a police interrogation.”

He let out a small chuckle, hoping to ease the tension, but you only sighed, grip loosening on the spoon but not quite relaxing.

“What if they don’t like me?” you muttered, finally turning to face him. Your brows furrowed, uncertainty flickering behind your eyes. “What if I say something wrong? Or they think I’m not… I don’t know, enough for you?”

Jake clicked his tongue, tilting his head slightly. “First of all, impossible.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jake—”

“Second of all,” he cut in, grinning now, “if my parents don’t like you, I’m disowning them.”

That made you pause. “Jake.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, hands squeezing your arms reassuringly. “But seriously, that’s not gonna happen. My mom already thinks you’re great, and my dad is all about first impressions. Just be yourself.” He shrugged. “Worst case scenario, you bribe them with cookies.”

You let out a breathy laugh despite yourself, finally feeling some of the tension melt away. “You think that’ll work?”

Jake smirked. “Babe, you had me wrapped around your finger after one batch.”

You sighed, your hands instinctively finding his as they rested on your arms.

Jake gave your arms another reassuring squeeze before dipping his head slightly, voice laced with certainty. “Besides, our parents work in close circles. I just know they’ll love you.”

He nudged his nose against your temple playfully before adding, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, omega.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the way he said it—soft, teasing, but still carrying that familiar weight of possession, of affection.

You scoffed, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “That obvious, huh?”

Jake grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Painfully.”

You groaned, leaning back against him dramatically, and he chuckled, easily holding you up. “I hate you.”

“Mm, no you don’t,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You love me, and you’re gonna charm the hell out of my parents, just like you did with yours truly.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow, and he let out a mock oof before grinning against your skin.

“Anyway,” he continued, dropping another kiss to the side of your head. “On the bright side, you’ll finally get to meet Layla.”

That made you perk up slightly. “Your dog?”

“My baby,” Jake corrected, pulling back just enough to look at you. “And trust me, once she sees you, I’m pretty sure she’s gonna forget I exist.”

You laughed, the last remnants of your nerves fading. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Oh, you will,” he smirked. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when she ditches me for you.”

You fumbled with your necklace, fingers grazing over the small pendant as if it would somehow calm the nerves bubbling in your stomach. You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, but it wasn’t working.

A beige coat wrapped snugly around your frame, paired with a brown sweater underneath and a black skirt—something Jake specifically asked you to wear.

Jake had texted you the night before, the alpha sending a flurry of ‘I miss you messages’ before casually asking you to wear something beige tomorrow. When you asked why, he said that he wanted to match with you—like this was just some casual thing and not the biggest meeting of your life.

You pushed open your bedroom door, stepping out and making your way down the spiral staircase. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the motion did nothing to help the uneasy feeling settling in your chest. You weren’t even in the car yet, and it already felt like you had a rock in your stomach.

Jake’s parents wanted to meet you. That was all this was.

So why did it feel like you were walking into a battlefield?

As you stepped into the hall leading to the living room, your eyes immediately landed on the neatly wrapped box of cookies you had prepared that morning.

A small gift for his parents, something to bring, something to keep your hands busy, something to make a good first impression. You reached out to grab it, only to freeze when you noticed someone else sitting on the couch.

Your mom.

She was staring at you with glossy eyes, and before you could even react, she was already on her feet, pulling you into a quick but tight embrace.

You stood there, blinking, arms awkwardly hovering in the air as she held onto you like she was about to send you off to college in another country.

“…Mom?”

She pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, letting out a soft, wistful laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You look so beautiful.”

You barely had time to register the compliment before she let out a dramatic sigh.

“My baby’s meeting her mate’s parents. Time flies so fast.”

You deadpanned. There it is.

“Mom—”

She pinched your cheek before you could finish, making you let out a small noise of protest.

“Breathe, darling,” she said, smiling. “They’re going to love you.”

Before you could argue, your dad’s voice interrupted.

Standing in the doorway, he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, watching the scene with an amused smile.

“She hasn’t even left yet and you’re already emotional?”

Your mom shot him a glare but didn’t let go of you just yet.

“Let me have my moment.”

Your dad only chuckled, shaking his head. You sighed. This was already off to a great start.

Before any of you could say anything else, the faint sound of an engine pulling into the driveway reached your ears. You swallowed hard, heart skipping a beat.

Jake was here.

The deep, purring hum of his sleek black McLaren filled the air, the polished exterior gleaming under the soft morning light. Your dad, as expected, cast an approving nod toward the car the moment it came into view, he never failed to acknowledge Jake’s car, much to your amusement.

The door swung open smoothly, and Jake stepped out with confidence, adjusting the cuffs of his coat before shutting the door behind him. His eyes flickered toward the front door, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile the second he spotted you through the glass.

Your dad didn’t even hesitate to step forward, meeting Jake halfway with an outstretched fist. Without missing a beat, Jake bumped it with his own, the casual gesture signifying just how close they had grown in the span of a few weeks.

You blinked. If someone had told you months ago that your father and Sim Jaeyun would be on fist-bumping terms, you wouldn’t have believed it.

You took a deep breath, fingers tightening around the box in your hands before stepping forward. Your mom walked beside you, her hand brushing against your back in silent reassurance as you both made your way to the entryway. Jake met you halfway, his smile growing the moment he laid eyes on you.

Before you could say anything, your mom pulled him into a warm hug. Jake, never one to hesitate, wrapped his arms around her with ease, his touch gentle but firm.

“Take care of my baby, okay?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jake pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, nodding once with unwavering certainty. “Always.”

Something in your chest softened. He said it so naturally, like it wasn’t even a question. Like it was a promise he never had to think twice about.

And just like that, he turned to you, wordlessly reaching for the box of cookies in your hands. You blinked in surprise as he effortlessly took it from your grasp, holding it securely in one hand before his other hand found yours. His fingers slid between yours with ease as he gave them a small squeeze.

You cast one last glance at your parents, who stood side by side in the doorway, their smiles filled with something between amusement and quiet pride. Jake mirrored the gesture, flashing them his signature grin before gently tugging you forward.

Like always, he opened the passenger door for you, a silent but familiar gesture that never failed to make your heart do the smallest flip. You slid into the seat, watching as he carefully set the box of cookies in your lap before shutting the door with a soft click.

A moment later, he was in the driver’s seat, adjusting his sleeves before starting the engine. The low, smooth purr of the sportscar filled the space between you.

Jake glanced at you as he shifted into gear, his smirk playful yet reassuring. “You ready, pretty?”

You exhaled, finally allowing yourself to settle into the seat. “As I’ll ever be.”

Tall buildings stretched high into the sky, their glass windows reflecting the afternoon sun. The sidewalks bustled with people, neon signs flickered against storefronts, and the distant sounds of car horns and laughter filled the air.

Inside the car, however, it was quieter, just the soft hum of the engine and the faint sound of music playing from the speakers. Jake’s hand rested effortlessly on the wheel, his other draped over your thigh, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the fabric of your skirt as he drove through the familiar streets.

A beat of silence passed before he glanced at you. “You okay?”

You turned to look at him, his side profile glowing under the soft golden light. “Yeah.”

Jake hummed, unconvinced. His fingers drummed lightly against your thigh before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You nervous?”

You sighed, shifting slightly in your seat. “A little.”

Jake chuckled, his thumb brushing circles against your skin. “I can tell. You’ve been messing with your necklace since we left.”

Your hand immediately dropped to your lap. “I do not.”

“(Y/N).” Jake smirked as he turned onto a wider street, city lights reflecting off the sleek black exterior of his car. “You’ve been doing it since you walked out the door.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, maybe I am. A little.”

Jake squeezed your thigh again. “Again, it’s just my parents, pretty. Not a job interview.”

You gave him a look. “Easy for you to say. You already passed my parents’ test.”

“And you’ll pass mine, too.” Jake’s lips curled up. “Besides, our parents work in the same circles. You think they haven’t already talked about us behind our backs?”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You exhaled, turning your gaze to the city outside. The skyline blurred past, “What if they think I’m not… business-minded enough for their only son?”

Jake let out an amused scoff. “You’re kidding, right?”

You blinked at him.

Jake shook his head, lips quirking slightly. “You were practically born into the industry. You know how to navigate this world better than anyone. If anything, I think my parents are more worried I’m not good enough for you.”

You faltered at that, brows furrowing slightly.

Suddenly, the car rolled to a smooth stop at a red light, the soft hum of the engine filling the momentary silence between you. Jake shifted in his seat slightly, and before you could process what he was doing, he leaned over, closing the distance between you.

You barely had time to react before he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his scent enveloping you as his wrist brushed against your skin. The familiar, comforting warmth of him sent a shiver down your spine, his touch soft as he rubbed his wrist along your scent glands, letting his pheromones settle into you.

Your breath hitched, hands tightening slightly in your lap.

He inhaled deeply, voice low as he murmured, “Just so you can ease up a little.”

The tension in your shoulders loosened almost immediately, the comfort of his scent working faster than your own attempts to calm yourself down. A soft, grateful smile tugged at your lips, though he couldn’t see it with his face still pressed against you. Instead, you raised a hand, fingers slipping into his hair as you gently ran them through the soft strands.

Jake hummed at the touch, his grip on your thigh tightening for a brief second before he finally pulled back, eyes lazily flickering up to meet yours. His smirk was subtle, teasing, but his gaze held something warm.

“You’re really overthinking this, huh?”

You hesitated. “Maybe a little.”

Jake chuckled, shifting his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. “You'll be fine, omega.”

The ride continued in easy comfort, the city’s vibrant energy gradually fading as the streets grew quieter, more exclusive. You watched as the towering buildings gave way to sprawling estates, each one grander than the last, their high gates and manicured gardens a clear mark of old money.

And then, as Jake turned onto a long, private driveway, you saw it—their estate.

The first thing that caught your eye was the sheer size of the garden. Lush, endless greenery stretched across the front of the property, perfectly trimmed hedges lining the stone pathway leading up to the house.

Various trees, their branches swaying gently in the afternoon breeze, stood tall and proud, while vibrant flower beds added soft bursts of color to the landscape. A few workers were scattered around, tending to the greens—trimming bushes, watering flowerbeds, adjusting small decorative lanterns placed strategically around the garden.

You raised a brow, leaning forward slightly. “Damn. Your mom is just like mine with the plants.”

Jake let out a short laugh, slowing down as he drove past another set of hedges. “You could say that.”

Your gaze followed the stretch of land, taking in the well-maintained beauty of it all. It was similar to your own estate, but while your family leaned toward a sleek, modern aesthetic, the Sim estate carried a sense of old-world charm.

The house itself was a perfect blend of traditional and elegant—a massive structure of smooth marble mixed with rich oak wood. Tall, arched windows lined the facade, allowing glimpses of grand chandeliers and luxurious interiors inside. The pillars supporting the grand entrance had intricate carvings, and the towering front doors were framed by a classic stone archway.

Jake pulled up to the front, the car rolling to a smooth stop just before the entrance. A staff member, dressed in a crisp uniform, was already making his way down the front steps, likely to open the door for you. But before he could reach the car, Jake wordlessly beat him to it.

He stepped out smoothly, shutting the driver’s side door before rounding the front of the car to your side. You barely had time to reach for the door handle before he was already there, opening it with ease.

“Come on, pretty,” he murmured, offering his hand.

Your fingers slipped into his without hesitation, the warmth of his touch grounding you as he helped you out. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and as you straightened up, your eyes flickered toward the house once more.

It felt real now. You were here. You were about to meet his parents.

Jake gave your hand a gentle squeeze, bringing you back to the moment. When you glanced at him, he was already reaching for the box of cookies, his other hand still holding yours firmly.

Your chest tightened at the simple yet reassuring gesture.

Before you and Jake could take another step, a blur of golden fur came rushing out from one of the garden houses. The rapid thud of paws against the stone pathway echoed in the air, followed by an excited bark.

Jake barely had time to react before the golden retriever launched herself straight at him, her tail wagging furiously as she jumped up, paws nearly reaching his chest. He laughed, shifting the box of cookies to one hand while keeping his grip on yours.

“Layla,” he greeted, his voice dropping into something softer, more affectionate. He crouched slightly, giving the dog a quick scratch behind her ears before she finally noticed you.

Her big brown eyes flickered to you, curiosity taking over as she took a hesitant step forward. Layla sniffed the air, her nose twitching before she brought it close to your free hand.

You watched her for a second before letting out a laugh, bending your knees just a little to meet her halfway. “Hey there, girl,” you cooed, running your fingers through her soft golden fur.

Layla’s tail wagged faster, her entire body practically vibrating with excitement. She gave a happy little huff before pressing herself into your touch, clearly approving of you already.

Jake grinned, watching the interaction with amused satisfaction. “I think she likes you,” he remarked.

You chuckled, scratching behind Layla’s ear. “Good. I was kinda worried she’d be the hardest one to win over.”

Jake let out an exaggerated scoff. “Excuse me?”

You glanced up at him, smirking. “What? Layla’s the real judge here.”

Layla let out a happy bark in response, her tongue lolling out as if she agreed.

Jake shook his head, but the fond smile never left his face. “Let’s go. My parents probably already waiting by the door.”

With that, he wordlessly shifted the cookie box under one arm and took your hand again with his free one, tugging you gently toward the entrance while Layla trotted happily beside you.

As you approached the front steps, the grand double doors were already beginning to open.

Jake gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Ready?”

You exhaled slowly, glancing at him. “Do I have a choice?”

His lips quirked up, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Nope.”

The moment you reached the steps, one of the staff members outside, dressed sharply in a clean, tailored uniform—bowed his head slightly toward Jake before reaching for the grand double doors. With a practiced ease, he pulled them open, revealing the warm glow of the estate’s interior.

As the doors parted, Jake gave your hand a light squeeze, wordlessly guiding you forward. You barely had time to take in the intricate details of the grand entryway, the high ceilings, the cascading chandelier that shimmered like stars, the polished floors reflecting the golden light, before he was leading you deeper inside.

Your heart pounded as you stepped through the threshold. The faint scent of wood and something subtly floral filled the air, mingling with the distant sound of soft classical music playing from somewhere in the house.

Layla padded ahead happily, her tail still wagging as she trotted down the hallway, clearly knowing exactly where to go.

Jake, ever the effortless alpha, walked with quiet confidence. The smooth stride of his steps, the way he carried himself so naturally here, only made you more aware of the difference between your nerves and his ease.

As you passed by, another staff member stepped aside, bowing their head slightly toward Jake in silent acknowledgment before continuing with their tasks. You swallowed, this wasn’t just some casual introduction—Jake was bringing you into his home, into his world.

He must have sensed your nerves creeping back in because, without looking, he gently ran his thumb over the back of your hand in slow, comforting strokes.

“Breathe, baby, breathe,” he murmured, just low enough for only you to hear.

You exhaled, steadying yourself as you let your gaze drift to the hallway ahead. The dark oak floors stretched long, leading to an open archway where the living room came into view.

Soft, golden light filtered in through the tall windows, illuminating the plush sofas and polished coffee table. The fireplace flickered quietly in the corner, casting a warm glow over the space. The air held the faintest trace of fresh flowers, and from where you stood, you could make out a vase sitting elegantly on a side table, delicate white lilies arranged with the utmost care.

And then you saw them.

Two figures seated on the couch, their conversation pausing as they turned their attention toward the approaching footsteps.

Jake’s parents.

Your grip on his hand instinctively tightened.

Jake glanced at you, and though he said nothing, the soft, reassuring squeeze he gave you spoke volumes.

The moment your eyes met Jake’s parents, you felt it. The nerves clawing up your throat, the way your heart pounded so loud you were convinced they could hear it too.

You were pretty sure you could smell your own scent turning bitter, your anxiety seeping into the air like an unshakable weight pressing down on your chest.

Jake’s mother sat with a perfectly poised elegance, her gaze sweeping over you in a way that made you hyper-aware of every inch of yourself. Was she scrutinizing you? Did she already think you weren’t good enough for her only son?

His father, on the other hand, blinked once. Then twice. Expression unreadable, completely composed, his lips pressed into a neutral line as he studied you in a way that sent a fresh wave of unease through you.

Oh, god. What if they didn’t like you?

And then, just as you braced yourself for whatever came next, Jake’s mother suddenly stood up. The shift was so quick you barely had time to react before she was already making her way toward you, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

Your breath hitched, the tension in your shoulders locking into place.

But then—

“(Y/n), darling! It’s so nice to finally meet you in person!”

Before you could fully process it, she was pulling you into a warm hug, her arms wrapping around you with a familiarity that caught you completely off guard.

You froze for half a second, caught between your lingering nerves and the unexpected warmth of the embrace. But then you felt it, the genuine affection in her touch, the way she held you like you already belonged here.

Your chest loosened just slightly.

Jake’s scent curled around you comfortingly as he let out an amused huff beside you. “Told you there was nothing to worry about.”

You barely registered his words, still stunned as you slowly lifted your arms to hug her back.

Jake’s mother beamed at your response, pulling away just enough to hold your hands in hers. They were soft and warm, her grip gentle as if she was already treating you like family.

“Oh, sweetheart, how was the ride? Was Jake driving too fast again? You should tell me if he does, I’ll scold him,” she fussed, her expression filled with nothing but warmth.

You blinked, stunned for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh—no, he was fine! I mean, he drove well, not—uh—”

Jake snickered beside you, clearly enjoying this.

His mother waved a dismissive hand, completely ignoring him as she kept her focus on you. “And are you hungry? I had the kitchen prepare a few dishes already, but if there’s anything else you’d like, just let me know. And, oh dear, did he even let you rest before bringing you in? The drive can be tiring—”

You barely had time to process all of her questions before a deep, amused chuckle interrupted.

“Let her breathe, love,” Jake’s father said as he finally stood up, making his way toward you. Unlike his wife’s warmth, his presence was more composed, his steps slow and steady. But the moment he reached you, he extended his hand.

You hesitated for half a second before shaking it, and then—

“Welcome to the family.”

You had to physically hold back your tears.

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over your already overwhelmed emotions. It felt real. Like you were truly being welcomed into something bigger than yourself.

Jake’s hand, still resting against the small of your back, pressed just a little firmer.

His mother, who hadn’t missed the way your eyes slightly glossed over, let out a soft coo. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re just so happy you’re here.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding as you mustered a small, grateful smile. “Thank you… really.”

Jake’s mom’s gaze then flickered downward, and the second she spotted the neatly wrapped box in her son’s hands, her eyes lit up. “Oh! Jaeyun mentioned you bake.”

Jake groaned playfully. “Mom, don’t embarrass me.”

“Oh, hush, I’m just saying,” she scolded before calling over one of the maids. “Set these aside to be served during lunch.”

You watched, still in slight disbelief, as the maid took the box with careful hands and carried it toward the kitchen.

Jake’s father clapped a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, shaking his head fondly. “You really found a good one, son.”

Jake grinned, nudging you slightly. “Told you they’d love you.”

Before you could even fully process the warmth of their welcome, Jake’s mother looped her arm around yours, gently stealing you away from the entrance.

“Oh, come, darling. Some of the dishes are still being prepared, and I don’t want you standing around hungry.”

Jake and his father trailed closely behind, Jake’s hand instinctively finding the small of your back as his mother led you through the hall and toward the garden.

“I had the staff prepare some cold brew tea for refreshments,” she continued, her voice light and eager. “I hope you don’t mind, Jake mentioned you enjoy lighter drinks rather than coffee?”

Your eyes flickered toward him, and he only smirked in response.

“You told her that?” you mused, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“I tell her everything,” Jake said smoothly.

His mother laughed. “He really does. You should hear how much he talks about you over the phone.”

You felt your cheeks warm at that, but before you could dwell on it, you stepped into the garden, your gaze immediately taking in the picturesque setup.

A beautifully arranged table sat in the middle of the lush greenery, set with delicate porcelain cups, a glass pitcher filled with golden-hued tea, and an assortment of small treats. The garden itself was breathtaking as vibrant flowers lined the stone pathways, and the soft sound of a water fountain trickled in the distance.

You turned to Jake’s mother, eyes wide. “This is beautiful.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so! I wanted everything to be perfect for you.” She gestured toward one of the chairs. “Come, sit, sit.”

You settled down, and the second you did, she was already fussing over you, pouring you a glass of tea before placing a small plate of pastries in front of you.

“Now, tell me, dear, how have you been? I hope Jake hasn’t been keeping you too busy.”

You chuckled. “Not at all. If anything, I think I’m the one keeping him busy.”

Jake scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “That’s debatable.”

His mother beamed, clearly delighted by your dynamic. “I love that! It’s good that you keep him on his toes.” She then sighed dreamily, placing her chin in her palm as she looked at you. “You really are lovely. When Jake told me he was finally bringing his mate home, I might have gotten a little too excited.”

Your heart stuttered.

His mate.

Jake stiffened slightly beside you, likely catching your reaction, but his mother simply continued, “I know you two haven’t made anything official yet, and I completely understand the pressure that comes with it. It’s a big decision, and I don’t want you to feel like we’re forcing anything.”

You swallowed, glancing at Jake, who was already looking at you with quiet reassurance.

“I really appreciate that,” you said sincerely. “It means a lot.”

His mother reached out, patting your hand gently. “Sweetheart, we already adore you. You don’t have to prove anything to us.”

Then, with a warm smile, she added, “Oh, and please, call me Mom.”

Your breath hitched slightly at that, your heart squeezing in your chest. You hadn’t expected her to say it so soon, so effortlessly—but the way she looked at you, like she had already welcomed you as part of the family, made your throat tighten.

Jake nudged your knee under the table, as if silently telling you to take it in, to believe it.

You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat and managed a small, touched smile. “Okay… Mom.”

Her face lit up instantly, and before you knew it, she was reaching over to pull you into another gentle hug. Jake’s father chuckled at the sight, shaking his head fondly as he took a sip of his tea.

And just like that, the nervous knot in your stomach completely unraveled.

The dining room was just as elegant as the rest of the house,high ceilings, warm lighting, and a long oak table set with an array of dishes that made your stomach rumble just looking at them.

You were seated next to Jake, and across from you sat his parents, who, to your surprise, had chosen seats closer to the middle rather than the grand ends of the table.

“We like to hear each other talk,” his mother had explained with a wink, pouring you a glass of freshly squeezed juice.

Jake’s father chuckled as he adjusted his napkin. “And by that, she means she likes to talk, and I listen.”

Jake groaned beside you, leaning in to whisper, “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You held back a laugh, already feeling at ease.

The meal started off light, just casual conversation and the occasional compliments toward the food. But it wasn’t long before the attention turned to Jake, and his mother, much to your delight, wasted no time embarrassing him.

“Oh, (Y/n), has Jaeyun ever told you about the time he used to sleep with his stuffed puppy?” she asked with a knowing smile, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jake, who had just taken a sip of water, nearly choked. “Mom—”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, turning to him with wide eyes. “You had a stuffed puppy?”

His mother nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, he wouldn’t go anywhere without it. He even used to call it ‘Puppy’—such a creative name, right?”

Jake groaned, dropping his head into his hand. “Mom, please.”

His father smirked, finally joining in. “He threw a fit once when we accidentally left it at a hotel during a family vacation. We had to call the staff and ask them to ship it back to us.”

Your jaw dropped as you tried to hold in your laughter. “No way.”

“Mhmm,” his mother confirmed, absolutely delighted. “He wouldn’t sleep properly for three nights until we got it back.”

You turned to Jake, who was sinking further into his seat. “You poor thing,” you teased. “I can’t believe I’m just now hearing about this.”

Jake sighed, taking your hand under the table and squeezing it as if to silently plead for mercy. “You know, I thought today was supposed to be about you meeting my parents, not me getting humiliated.”

His mother waved him off. “Oh, hush, Jaeyun. I need to make sure (Y/n) knows all the important things about you.”

His father hummed in agreement. “Like the time he dressed up as a prince and made Layla his ‘royal steed’ for a whole week.”

Jake groaned. “I was five.”

“And yet,” you giggled, “that’s still adorable.”

Jake sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I thought bringing you here was a good idea.”

You leaned into him, smirking. “Because you love me?”

His ears turned pink, but he played it cool, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to it. “Something like that.”

His mother cooed, clasping her hands together. “Oh, you two are just precious.”

His father smirked. “At least now he has something else to obsess over besides that stuffed puppy.”

Jake groaned again, and you just laughed, squeezing his hand under the table.

The laughter finally settled as the meal continued, but the warmth in the air remained. You were beginning to feel more at home, like you truly belonged here.

“So, (Y/n), you and Jaeyun go to the same academy—we already know that,” his father started, setting his utensils down neatly. “But have you given any thought to what you want to do after graduation?”

You hesitated for a second before giving a small, sheepish smile. “Not entirely. I have a few things I’m interested in, but I know for sure that I’ll be taking over the family business.”

His mother’s eyes lit up with interest. “Oh? That’s wonderful! Your family has quite an empire, don’t they?”

You nodded, swallowing a bite of food. “Yes, we have a few ventures, but our biggest ones are the island resorts and event rentals. Most of our islands are privately owned, but we lease them out for major events like weddings, corporate retreats, sometimes even small festivals.”

Jake’s father let out an impressed hum. “That’s an incredible business. It must take a sharp mind to manage all of that.”

You chuckled softly. “Well, I hope mine is sharp enough when the time comes.”

Jake squeezed your hand under the table. “You’ll be great,” he said confidently, as if it wasn’t even a question.

His mother clapped her hands together. “Oh, speaking of your family, I had the absolute pleasure of meeting your mother at a charity gala last year.”

That caught you off guard. “You did?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! We sat at the same table during dinner, and she was just delightful, so charming and intelligent. We talked about all sorts of things, and honestly, I’ve been meaning to reach out to her again. We should arrange something soon.”

You smiled, amused at how eager she sounded. “I’m sure she’d love that.”

“Wonderful,” she beamed. Then, after a beat, she tilted her head. “And what about hobbies, dear? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?”

“Oh, she bakes,” Jake answered before you could, earning a nudge from you.

His mother’s smile widened. “Oh, I already know that! These cookies are divine.” She motioned to the plate on the side, where the kitchen staff had already set them out. “Anything else?”

You thought for a moment. “I also do some graphic design when I have the time. Mostly for fun, but it’s something I’ve been doing for a while now.”

His father nodded approvingly. “A creative mind as well as a business-oriented one. That’s an excellent balance.”

Jake’s mother suddenly gasped. “Oh! I just had an idea. (Y/N), dear, if you ever want to, I’d love your help in designing invitations for some of our events! I host a few charity functions throughout the year, and I just know you’d create something elegant and fresh.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I—I'd love to, actually.”

“Perfect!” she said, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

Jake leaned in, whispering, “See? Told you they’d love you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the truth was, he was right. They did love you. And for the first time since arriving, you weren’t just trying to make a good impression, you were simply enjoying their company.

After lunch, you found yourself seated comfortably on the plush sofa in the living room, a massive photo album spread across your lap. Jake’s mom was right beside you, flipping through the pages eagerly, while his dad sat back with his drink, occasionally chiming in with his own commentary.

Jake, on the other hand, was slumped on the armrest beside you, groaning into his palm.

“Oh, look at this one!” His mom pointed excitedly, tapping the glossy page. It was a picture of Jake, probably around four or five years old—wearing the most ridiculous set of oversized sunglasses while attempting to hold an ice cream cone twice the size of his tiny hands. His chubby cheeks were dusted with crumbs, and he had the most determined expression as he tried to keep the ice cream from dripping onto his shirt.

You giggled, covering your mouth. “Oh my god, he was adorable.”

Jake peeked over his fingers, his ears already tinged pink. “Please, no.”

His dad chuckled. “That was at a summer festival. He insisted on getting the biggest ice cream available, and when it started melting all over him, he threw the saddest tantrum I’ve ever seen.”

Jake groaned louder, dragging his hand down his face. “Dad, stop.”

You, however, were having the time of your life. “Wait, wait, what happened next?”

His mom laughed. “Oh, we had to strip him down to just his little shorts right then and there. He was crying about losing the ice cream, so we had to buy him another one, only for him to drop it again.”

Jake sat up suddenly. “Okay! That’s enough. We’re done.”

But his mom had already turned another page. “Oh! This one’s my favorite.”

It was a picture of a younger Jake, maybe ten years old, curled up in a pile of pillows with Layla, his golden retriever, draped across him like a blanket. His hair was a little messy, his face buried in her fur, and his small hands clutched the dog close like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Your heart melted. “That’s so sweet.”

His dad smirked. “He refused to sleep in his bed for weeks after we got Layla. He swore she’d be lonely without him.”

Jake, officially unable to handle more, grabbed the album and shut it dramatically. “That’s it. Nope. We’re done with memory lane.” He stood up and, in one smooth motion, pulled you up with him. “We’re going upstairs.”

You laughed as he practically whisked you away, but before you could fully escape, his mom called out, “I do want grandpups running around someday, Jaeyun, but not too soon!”

Jake choked, nearly missing a step on the staircase.

Your laughter doubled as you clung to his arm. “Oh, I love your mom.”

“She’s insane,” he muttered, ears burning.

As you and Jake made your way up the grand staircase, your hand still wrapped in his, you couldn’t help but notice the wall of framed pictures lining the hallway just above you.

It was a mural of memories; photographs of Jake through different stages of his life, from baby pictures to school achievements, and even candid moments with his family. Some frames held images of his cousins, aunts, and uncles, the warmth of their smiles radiating through the glass.

But what caught your eye the most was the largest frame near the top of the stairs. It was a beautifully preserved photo of his parents when they were young—probably still in high school. His father had his arm around his mother, both of them laughing, completely lost in each other’s presence. There was something so genuine about the picture, something that made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Right beside it, however, was an empty frame.

You frowned slightly, pausing your steps. “What’s this one for?” You gestured towards the blank space, curiosity lacing your voice.

Jake, who had been leading you up the stairs, followed your gaze before exhaling softly. “That’s for me,” he admitted.

You blinked. “For you?”

He nodded, lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “My parents put this up when I was little. They knew they were meant to be—fated mates, if you want to call it that. So they kept this one empty, saying it’s for when I meet mine.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words settling over you.

Before you could respond, Jake turned to you, his golden eyes searching yours with something unreadable yet undeniably deep. Then, without a word, he tugged you closer by the waist, his warmth seeping through the layers of your coat.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

Then, in a voice so soft you barely caught it, he murmured, “I already found mine.”

Your breath hitched.

The pureblooded Alpha pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression unreadable for a split second before it melted into something unmistakably tender. “I don’t need some grand revelation or the universe to tell me. I just… know.”

Your chest tightened, a warmth blooming deep within you.

Jake let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as if amused by himself. “Guess my parents were right to put that frame up, huh?”

You felt your lips part, but no words came out, too caught up in the weight of what he had just said.

As if sensing your inability to respond, he gave your waist a final squeeze and tilted his head toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s get to my room before my mom finds another way to embarrass me.”

Jake pushed open the door to his room, stepping aside to let you in first. It was big—just as big as yours, but undeniably boyish in its essence. Darker tones complemented the sleek furniture, a mix of modern luxury and personal touches that made it distinctly his.

To the side, another door led to a small office space, likely where he handled council work or studied in peace. His bed was massive, positioned near a set of tall windows that undoubtedly led to a balcony. A walk-in closet sat slightly ajar, revealing neatly arranged clothes, and another door, presumably leading to the bathroom, was slightly open.

But what really caught your attention was the study area near the far wall. Above the desk, a series of framed photographs hung neatly. Some were of his family, others of his friends, and then—

You took a step closer, heart nearly stopping in your chest.

One of them was of you.

It wasn’t just any photo. It was… breathtaking. Almost surreal.

You, asleep at one of the library tables.

It looked professional, almost like a painting. The way your hair draped over your arms, the golden light catching on just the right places. Your lashes looked impossibly long, lips naturally pink, your entire expression soft and peaceful in slumber.

You turned to Jake, wide-eyed. “Where did you get this?”

Jake scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I took it.”

Your brows furrowed. “You took this?”

“Well,” he chuckled, rubbing his jaw, “I commissioned it.”

Your stomach flipped. “Commissioned?”

He shrugged, stepping beside you to admire the piece as if seeing it for the first time himself. “You just looked… so at peace. I didn’t want to forget it. So I had an artist recreate it.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jake turned to you then, eyes gentle but serious. “I don’t think I ever told you, but that’s when I really started to notice you.”

Your throat tightened.

“I mean, I knew who you were, obviously. But that day? You were just there, completely unguarded, no pressure, no expectations. Just… you.” He exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “And I couldn’t look away.”

A warmth spread across your chest, blooming up your neck and into your cheeks. You swallowed thickly, fingers twitching at your sides.

Jake grinned at your reaction, nudging you playfully. “Don’t get all shy on me now, omega.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide.

Jake tugged you forward, guiding you toward his bed with a gentle pull. You followed, watching as he sat down at the edge, his head tilting up to look at you. You were standing between his legs now, and before you could say anything, his arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer.

Your breath hitched. His touch was warm, steady, and grounding.

His hands smoothed over the fabric of your skirt, resting on your hips as he tilted his head against your stomach, inhaling deeply.

“You have no idea how crazy you make me feel,” he murmured, voice low but soft, like it wasn’t meant for anyone else but you.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, threading through the soft strands as you smiled down at him. “Oh? That bad, huh?”

Jake chuckled, squeezing your waist. “You have no idea.”

He leaned back slightly, shrugging off his coat before pulling away just enough to pat your arms. You blinked at him, confused for a second, before realizing what he wanted.

You complied, letting him slip your coat off your shoulders, his touch lingering as he neatly set it aside.

But before you could process the tenderness of the moment, Jake suddenly tugged at your hand, pulling you forward until you toppled onto the bed—right on top of him.

A surprised giggle escaped your lips as you landed against his chest, his arms looping around you effortlessly.

Jake grinned, eyes filled with something unbearably fond. “That’s better.”

You shook your head, resting your hands against his chest, still giggling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, squeezing you gently. “But you like it.”

Jake shifted beneath you, his arms tightening for a brief moment before he suddenly flipped the both of you onto your sides. A surprised yelp left your lips, but he only chuckled, adjusting so that you were facing each other, bodies comfortably close.

His hand found your waist, thumb tracing slow circles as you stared at him, taking in the soft expression on his face.

"That went well," you murmured, still processing just how warm and welcoming his parents had been. "Your mom is amazing. Your dad too. I didn’t expect them to be so…”

“Loving?” Jake finished for you, lips curling.

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I was nervous out of my mind, but they made me feel like—like I belong.”

Jake exhaled a quiet laugh, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing just below your eye. “That’s because you do, omega.”

Your heart swelled.

“I’m just so happy,” you admitted, pressing your cheek further into his touch.

Jake’s eyes softened, and then he shifted, pulling you up slightly so you were leaning against his chest, while he settled back against the headboard. His arms remained wrapped around you, steady, secure.

“I’m just as happy as you,” he murmured. “You really have no idea.”

You smiled, looking up at him. “I think I have some idea.”

Jake chuckled, but then his expression grew distant, thoughtful. His fingers traced slow lines down your spine before he finally spoke again, voice quieter.

“I never really expected to fall in love,” he admitted, gaze fixed somewhere past you. “I thought—maybe someday, when I was older, when I had time for it. But finding you—” he paused, swallowing thickly before continuing. “It’s like everything I thought I wanted before doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I was willing to drop my position on the council,” Jake confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “I still would, if it meant spending more time with you.”

Jake exhaled shakily, his arms tightening around you like he was scared you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough. His head dipped, nose brushing against your temple as he breathed you in, like you were his lifeline.

“I was so focused on the idea of it,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “On knowing that someone was out there for me—that someday I’d find them. But you…” He let out a shaky laugh, pressing his lips together. “You were right in front of me all along.”

You stared at him, heart skipping.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your chest ached at his words, the quiet realization that had been eating at him for God knows how long.

Jake swallowed hard, his grip on you never faltering. “And I was too stupid to see it.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything, but Jake was already shaking his head, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the dampness collecting beneath your eyes.

“No, let me say this,” he pleaded, his own eyes glassy. “(Y/n), I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I love you,” he repeated, firmer this time, like he needed you to understand just how deeply he meant it. “And I don’t care if it’s too soon or if I’m not supposed to feel this way yet—I do.” His voice cracked, raw, vulnerable. “I love you so much it scares me.”

Tears slipped past your lashes, your vision blurring as you stared at him, at the boy who had somehow, in the midst of everything, become your home.

Jake’s hands trembled against your cheeks as he continued, his own emotions threatening to spill over.

“I would’ve given it all up for you,” he whispered. “Everything I’ve worked for, every expectation set on me—I would’ve thrown it all away if it meant I could be with you. But you…” He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “You didn’t even ask me to. You just wanted me, for who I was, not for what I could give up.”

A sob caught in your throat, and Jake was already pulling you in, pressing your foreheads together as he closed his eyes, his breathing uneven.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You let out a soft cry, shaking your head as your hands found his face, cupping his cheeks.

“Don’t say that,” you choked out.

Jake let out a shaky laugh, his thumbs brushing against your skin. “But it’s true.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands.

“Jaeyun,” you murmured.

His breath stilled.

“I love you too.”

Jake’s eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to say it back. Like he had prepared himself for anything but this.

And then, within seconds, he was kissing you.

Jake kissed you like he had been holding it in for years, like the weight of every suppressed emotion had finally come crashing down all at once. His hands cradled your face with the utmost care, fingers trembling as they traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your cheek, as if memorizing every inch of you.

A quiet, broken sound left his throat as he angled his head, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wanted to drown in you. His lips were warm, desperate yet gentle, moving against yours with a devotion so raw it made your chest ache.

And God, you kissed him back just as fervently.

Your hands moved to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, tugging ever so slightly. Jake groaned against your lips, his arms wrapping around you fully, pulling you flush against him, as if he needed to feel every part of you pressed against him to truly believe this moment wasn’t just a dream.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your foreheads remained pressed together, noses brushing as you both tried to catch your breath.

Jake let out a shaky laugh, one that was thick with emotion, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek. His eyes were still damp, glistening under the soft light filtering through his bedroom.

“I wasn’t ready for that,” he murmured, voice hushed, like he was afraid speaking too loudly would break the moment.

You smiled, just as breathless. “For what?”

“For you to love me back,” he admitted, voice cracking slightly. “I—I wanted it so badly, but I never let myself believe I’d actually have it.”

Your heart clenched at the quiet vulnerability in his words, at the sheer disbelief still lingering in his eyes.

You cupped his face again, your thumbs tracing soothing circles against his skin. “I love you,” you whispered, because you needed him to believe it, to understand that this wasn’t a dream. That you were here, with him, for him.

Jake closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, before exhaling just as shakily. “Say it again.”

You smiled, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I love you, Jaeyun.”

A sound escaped him—somewhere between a laugh and a sob, before he crushed you against him again, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

And you knew, in that moment, that he never would.

The Sim estate was alive.

Warm lights flickered from the chandeliers, and laughter rang from every corner of the room. The party was in full swing, with staff and chefs moving efficiently in the background, setting up the final touches on the decorations.

Your friends were scattered throughout the house, making themselves comfortable as if they lived there—Jungwon and his mate chatting near the dessert table, Heeseung and his mate inspecting the decorations, Sunghoon and his mate laughing over something near the fireplace, while Sunoo and his mate lounged nearby.

And you?

You were losing your mind on the loveseat.

Seated directly across from Jake’s and your parents, you were tense, fingers twisting the hem of your white dress, which by now had lost its crisp perfection from how much you’d been picking at it. Layla sat beside you, her large brown eyes flicking between you and your phone, sensing the waves of stress rolling off you in thick waves.

Sunoo’s mate plopped down next to you, barely settling in before your voice rang out.

“What do you mean the cake isn’t there yet?! It was supposed to arrive thirty minutes ago—where is it now?”

The entire room paused.

It was so rare for you to raise your voice that even the staff subtly slowed their movements. Ni-ki, who had been mid-sip of his drink, turned his head so fast it was a miracle he didn’t spill it. Jungwon’s mate blinked, exchanging looks with Sunghoon’s mate, while Heeseung’s mate raised a brow.

Sunoo, who had been lazily scrolling through his phone nearby, leaned over and whispered to Jungwon’s mate. “I think this is the most stressed I’ve ever seen her.”

Jungwon’s mate hummed in agreement. “Jake has no idea how much effort she’s putting into this.”

Across from you, Jake’s and your parents continued their conversation, though it was clear that Jake’s mother was watching you with amusement.

“It would be lovely to have both our families vacation together soon,” Jake’s father was saying, voice casual yet certain. “Somewhere quiet, maybe. A private resort.”

Your mother hummed in agreement. “That does sound nice. We’ve been meaning to take a break.”

Jake’s mother nodded excitedly. “Oh, absolutely! I was thinking something like—”

You barely caught the rest because your phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a message from Jay.

Jay [6:42 PM]: Yo, we’re on the way home. He’s driving. We were at the F1 event. Got him distracted, don’t worry.

Jay [6:43 PM]: Be there in like 15 minutes.

Fifteen. Minutes.

Your grip on your phone tightened. The cake still wasn’t here.

Just as panic was about to set in again, your phone vibrated with another message.

Staff [6:44 PM]: Cake is here, Miss.

Your head snapped up. The front doors opened, and two staff members walked in—one carefully holding an enormous white cake box.

The sheer relief that flooded through you had you sagging back into the loveseat, a breathy “Finally.” escaping your lips.

Sunoo’s mate patted your back, and Layla let out a soft woof, sensing the tension in your body ease.

As the staff carried the box toward you, your eyes widened at the massive size of it. It was beautifully crafted, the logo of the upscale bakery gleaming in gold on the top, and while it looked heavy, the way they handled it told you it wasn’t too much for you to carry.

You quickly stood up—so fast that Layla let out a surprised yelp, and rushed over to them.

Carefully, you placed your hands on the sides of the box, testing the weight before taking it into your arms. It was large, but the weight was manageable, and you cradled it as if it was a fragile piece of art—which, honestly, it was.

Jake’s mother, watching your intense concentration, let out a fond laugh.

“Everything alright now, sweetheart?” she called out, voice warm.

You turned, exhaling deeply before finally smiling. “Yes, everything’s good now.”

Jake’s dad chuckled. “You put so much effort into this. He’s a lucky boy.”

You glanced down at the cake, warmth blooming in your chest.

Jake had no idea what was waiting for him.

And honestly? It was going to be perfect.

The moment you carefully lifted the cake out of the box with your mother and Jake’s mother helping you steady it, you heard the familiar hum of a car pulling up outside.

Your stomach flipped, your heartbeat quickening as the entire room stilled for half a second before suddenly—

Chaos.

Everyone rushed to get into place. The staff quickly stepped back, making way for the group as they hurriedly gathered in the living room. Sunghoon, moving with sharp reflexes, snatched a lighter off the nearby console table and flicked it on.

“Keep it steady,” he murmured as he leaned over, the warm glow of the flame flickering against his face before he lit the candle sitting atop the cake. The moment the soft golden light illuminated the surface, he gave you a small, satisfied nod before stepping back.

Jake and Jay’s voices were getting closer.

“I should be spending time with (Y/n) and my family, man.” His voice was muffled at first, but as he and Jay neared the end of the hallway, it became clearer, the weight of guilt unmistakable. “I feel like a complete douche for leaving her today. I mean, I get that you wanted to take me somewhere cool, but I feel like an idiot for just—disappearing like that.”

Jay, walking beside him, nodded his head towards the living room entrance, not saying a word.

Jake kept going.

“I swear, she’s probably stressed out. She’s been planning everything so carefully, and here I am, leaving her to handle it all while I went off with you to some F1 event. God, I’m such a—”

The doors opened.

The staff stepped aside.

And the moment Jake rounded the corner, he was greeted by everyone.

His entire family.

His closest friends.

And you, standing right in the center, holding a perfectly crafted birthday cake, the candlelight glowing softly against your face.

A soft gasp left his lips as his entire body froze. His eyes swept over the room, from his parents standing by the couch, his friends scattered around with varying expressions of grins and amusement, the staff standing by with knowing smiles.

Then, his gaze landed on you.

His expression melted.

Pure shock and awe crossed his face, his lips parting slightly as he took you in—the way you were holding the cake so carefully, the way your dress had wrinkles from how much you had been fussing over everything, the way the warm glow of the candle made you look even more radiant than he thought was possible.

Jay, watching Jake turn into a complete goner, simply smirked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Surprise, birthday boy.”

Jake didn’t move. He barely blinked.

And then, as if the reality of the moment finally hit him, his eyes softened.

Jake barely had time to process what was happening before his body moved on instinct, surging forward, arms reaching for you, heart pounding in his chest.

But just as he was about to pull you into his arms, you swiftly lifted the cake up, holding it just out of reach.

Laughter erupted from everyone around you.

Jake froze mid-step, blinking at you in disbelief before a fond, exasperated smile stretched across his lips. His hands, once desperate to embrace you, found their place on your waist instead, thumbs absentmindedly tracing soft circles against the fabric of your dress.

“Make a wish first, birthday boy.”

A groan slipped past his lips, head tilting back dramatically as he let out a playful sigh. For a second, he just stood there, shaking his head at you, but the warmth in his gaze stayed.

He exhaled deeply, his grip on you tightening slightly before he leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut.

And in that moment, with the sound of laughter filling the air, the warmth of your presence in front of him, and the love of his family and friends surrounding him, he only had one wish in mind.

‘I get to spend the rest of my life with you.’

Jake opened his eyes, gaze locking onto yours one last time before he blew out the candle.

Before he could even react, Sunghoon smoothly stepped forward, grabbing the cake out of your hands with ease, as if he had been waiting for the perfect moment to do so.

Jake barely had time to process it because the second your hands were free, he finally pulled you in

His arms wrapped around you in an instant, lifting you slightly off the floor as he spun you around once, twice, before pressing you firmly against his chest. His heartbeat pounded against yours, fast and steady, so completely full.

A breathless chuckle left his lips as he set you back down, but he didn’t let go.

Instead, his forehead dropped to yours, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as he took you in, the warmth of your touch, the scent of honey and seawater lingering on your skin, the way your hands clung onto the fabric of his suit like you never wanted to let go either.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured, voice soft, almost vulnerable. “Jay was being pushy and—”

“You mean Jay, the person who was part of this entire thing?” you interrupted, amusement dancing in your tone.

Jake froze.

Slowly, he pulled back, brows furrowing as his head turned toward Jay, who stood across the room, smug as ever.

Jake’s jaw dropped.

His eyes darted from Jay, back to you, back to Jay.

And then, without missing a beat, he lifted his hand behind his back and flipped him off.

Laughter exploded in the room, the sound ringing loud and free, wrapping around the space like a comforting embrace.

Jay only grinned, completely unbothered, and threw an arm over Jungwon’s shoulder, nodding to himself proudly.

Jake sighed, dramatic as ever, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to you. The moment his gaze met yours, his entire expression softened, eyes melting into something so utterly full of love, so devastatingly tender.

“You really planned all this?”

Your smile mirrored his, just as warm, just as full. “Of course.”

Jake exhaled deeply, and then, before you could react, he was pulling you into another hug—tighter, closer, more real than before.

The night had settled deep into the sky, stars stretching far and endless above, but neither you nor Jake had the time to appreciate it.

The estate was still alive with chatter, laughter spilling through the grand halls as family members, distant relatives, and business associates roamed about, indulging in conversation, drinks, and whatever lingering slices of cake were left from earlier.

Jake had barely had a second to himself.

And neither had you.

Everywhere you turned, someone was pulling the two of you into conversation—family, distant relatives, business associates, people you had never even met before, all eager to talk, to ask, to pry.

“So, you two,” a well-dressed woman mused, swirling her wine in thought. “Not official yet?”

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could even get a word out, she continued.

“I mean, come on.” She smiled, knowingly. “The way Jake looks at you? You’d think he’s already planning the wedding.”

Jake tensed beside you. Not out of discomfort, but because she wasn’t exactly wrong.

He was sure about you.

So sure that the thought of settling down wasn’t a question of if but when.

You could feel the way his fingers twitched at his side, like he was holding himself back from pulling you closer.

“We’re still in school,” you said smoothly, keeping your voice light. “That’s the focus for now.”

“Ah, but surely you’ve thought about it,” an older gentleman chimed in, a glass of bourbon in hand. “Jake, one of the most sought-after pureblooded Alphas, practically taken? It’s a bit of a heartbreak for some, isn’t it?”

Jake let out a small chuckle, but his jaw tightened slightly.

“It just feels… right,” he said, his voice softer this time. “Like she was meant to be here all along.”

Your heart stirred, warmth creeping up your neck.

But before you could dwell on it, another question was thrown your way; how you two met, how this story of fate had begun.

The conversation dragged on. And on.

Even though Jake was right there beside you, you could barely talk to him. Barely even breathe.

Then, he saw it.

A way out.

The moment there was even a sliver of silence, his fingers slipped down, locking around your wrist.

You barely had time to react before he tugged you forward, weaving through the crowd with a quiet urgency. His steps were quick, determined, like he had been waiting all night for this chance.

“Jake—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t answer. Just kept going.

It wasn’t until the estate doors shut behind you, until the cool night air settled against your skin, the muffled noise of the party fading behind the garden walls—that you realized where he was taking you.

A gazebo.

Tucked away in a more private corner of the property, surrounded by hedges and soft-lit lanterns, hidden from the rest of the world.

Jake didn’t stop until you were standing beneath the wooden beams, the soft hum of the night pressing in around you.

And then, finally, he exhaled.

His grip loosened, fingers sliding from your wrist to lace between your own, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“Finally,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. He breathed in deeply, his chest rising and falling against yours, as if he had been holding his breath all night and only now could let it go.

A quiet chuckle left your lips, your fingers threading through his hair. Smoothing down the strands, grounding him, bringing him back to you.

But the moment your touch grazed his scalp, he moved.

Jake’s hands slid to your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you impossibly closer. And before you could even question it, he dipped his head, pressing his nose against your neck.

Then, he scented you.

His wrist brushed over your skin, tracing from your shoulder to the base of your throat before sliding down your arm. The scent glands on his wrist left a trail, claiming, replacing, erasing.

It was instinctual.

It was possessive.

And it was so very Jake.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your skin as his fingers gripped your waist tighter.

“There were too many people,” he murmured, voice rougher than before. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. “Too many different scents on you.”

He exhaled sharply, nuzzling against your shoulder again.

“I don’t like it.”

You shivered, heart hammering against your ribs.

Jake had always been protective, but this was different.

This wasn’t just about making sure you were safe or pulling you away from overwhelming conversations.

This was his instincts clawing at him, demanding that he remind everyone exactly who you belonged to.

You sighed, tilting your head slightly to give him more access, letting your hands slide up his back.

“All yours, Jake,” you whispered, voice light, teasing.

Jake stilled for a second. Then, he groaned.

His arms wrapped fully around you, caging you in, his body warm, solid, home.

“Don’t say that,” he grumbled, lips pressing against your temple.

You laughed softly, fingers playing with the strands of his hair.

“But it’s true.” Jake sighed, melting into you.

Jake’s arms tightened around you. His breaths were heavier now, measured, controlled—but you could feel the tension in every inch of his body, like a storm barely contained beneath his skin.

He wasn't okay. And for the first time tonight, he wasn't trying to hide it.

His voice was lower when he spoke, strained, edged with frustration.

“Why do they keep questioning me?” His hold on your waist tightened slightly, his fingers pressing against the fabric of your dress. “As if I’m not sure. As if I’m just—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Like I don’t know exactly what I want.”

You said nothing, letting him talk, letting him pour out everything he had kept bottled up all night.

“I’ve had to deal with this for years,” Jake continued, his voice laced with bitterness now. “Being the son of an Alpha. The pressure. The expectations. The constant need to prove that I’m worthy of it. And you know what?” He let out a sharp, humorless chuckle. “Fine. Let them push, let them question me about the business, about the future, about all of it. But not about you.”

His grip on you only grew firmer, as if trying to ground himself in the fact that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere.

“I hate that they think I’d hesitate,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke. “That I’d ever be unsure. Because I’m not. I never have been.”

His frustration simmered in the way he touched you, in the way he buried himself in your scent, in you.

“I hate how they talk about you like you’re some kind of decision I have to make.” His head dipped lower, his lips ghosting over your skin as he whispered, “You’re not a decision. You’re it. You’re my choice, my only choice.”

Your heart clenched at his words, at the sheer weight of them.

You moved then, your hands sliding up to cup his face, gently tilting his head up so that he could look at you. His eyes burned with something raw, something desperate.

“Jake,” you murmured softly.

His grip on your waist faltered for a second.

“What if we just—” He paused, his voice dropping even lower, rough with frustration, with longing. “I wish we could just be official already.”

You blinked at him.

And then, without thinking, without even questioning it, you said it.

“Okay.”

Jake’s brows furrowed. “What?”

You inhaled, watching the way his eyes searched yours.

“I said okay.” A small smile played at your lips as you brushed a strand of hair from his face. “I accept. You, us. Call it what you want—my mate, my Alpha, my boyfriend. But I’m yours, Jake. And you’re mine.”

Jake stilled. Completely.

For a moment, it was like the entire world had gone silent.

And then, he crumbled.

His lips parted slightly, a sharp exhale escaping as his eyes glistened, the first tear slipping down his cheek before he could stop it.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he let out a small, breathless laugh, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You wiped away the tear with your thumb, your touch featherlight.

His arms were around you in an instant, pulling you so tightly against him that you felt the way his heart pounded wildly against his ribs.

“Say it again,” he murmured into your skin, his voice trembling. “Please, say it again.”

You smiled softly, leaning down, pressing your forehead against his.

“I’m yours, Jake.”

And this time, his breath hitched.

Jake let out a shaky laugh before burying his face into the crook of your neck, his body trembling slightly as he held you. His hands clutched at the fabric of your dress, as if he still couldn’t believe it, as if he needed to make sure this was real.

And when he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, his next words were barely above a whisper, but they settled into your chest like they belonged there.

“I’m never letting you go.”

And with the way he was holding you, like you were the only thing that had ever truly mattered, you knew he never would.

⤷ read part 1 here !

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