#Intense Primer

[tapedsleeves]

Thank you <333 Everyone is so loveable 😭 I'm so glad you added Hutton cause I vaguely remember him playing in a few games but the lip sync video is sooo funny

One last batch of questions if you're up to it cause I adore how you describe everyone <3 looking at the roster I think the last guys left are Barbie and ammo? (the funniest nicknames 😂) and guys like Dorofeyev, brisson, and jiri patera but I think they might fall under the Henderson duckling group?

also if you don't mind, I keep seeing patches and Reilly smith pop up when I scroll thru himbeaux's blog. I've heard a lot about marc andre fleury before but I didn't realize how many other ex-players were also so beloved! I'd love to hear about any of them if you have the time

There are actually a couple I haven't talked about in depth, but Hertl & Hanifin have only been on the team since the trade deadline. I don't know probably more about them than you do.

So, here's the list of current roster guys I'm gonna touch on: Ivan Barbashev, Michael Amadio, Pavel Dorofeyev, Brendan Brisson, Brett Howden, and Jonas Rondbjerg

and the traded guys I'm gonna talk about: Marc-Andre Fleury, Reilly Smith, Max Pacioretty, Robin Lehner, Ryan Reaves, Erik Haula, and Dylan Coghlan.

Now you see why I was like "I don't know if I can do it all in one ask" - because not only is team chemistry defined by who's there currently it is SO informed by who's been there.

These blurbs are probably gonna be shorter, because there's (counts) 14 of them.

That's many. And there are some that I don't know a whole bunch about. That's truer for some than others.

Ivan Barbashev Traded to VGK at the trade deadline in 2023. Learned about the trade at the same time as his wife (she screamed in the other room). was very excited to play with petro again, since they're good friends. got headbutted by LT and was very cute about it. his little face when jack yells He's actually just. giggly in general. he was part of the 12 Knights of Giving and was VERY VERY cute about giving ppl their groceries for free. his face on this save is REALLY CUTE. He fell off the bus during the STL parade. this supports my theory that he's made of like. variable density. it's impossible to knock him over and yet he is SO fast and agile? it's fucking wild.

he's got really good taste in sunglasses

2. Michael amadio: UNDERRATED!!!! i love Ammo. based on getty, i think either he and nic roy have very similar schedules or ride in together bc they are almost always in walkin photos together. i'm just now finding this out.

I don't know a lot about him, because he's very quiet, but he's got really nice eyelashes and his face looks very soft. even his beard. even his voice is soft & deep. he seems really nice. just a cool room guy.

3. Pavel Dorofeyev: Dorothea!!!. Ok so this is not his actual nickname. I call him this bc when Dave Goucher says his name on the broadcast it sounds like Dorothea. And when Dave had Laryngitis, and he said his full name, it truly sounded like he said "pebble dorothea." this is his name in my head.

Dorothea is SO cute. He looks like a Tall Bitty to me, and i can't get that out of my head.

I know that's not very informative, but that's just.

true.

when Brendan Gallagher busted his teeth in, alec martinez picked them up and carried them to him. Dorothea is one of the HSK guys, who are the closest.

4. Brendan Brisson - son of famous agent Pat Brisson. babysat by Sidney crosby. Umich guy. lots of ppl know more about him than me. always wants to tuck himself into a hug. this is very funny hwen the other guy is shorter than him

lots of people who followed him at umich know more about him than me, i'm sure.

5. Brett Howden: Bread!!! Just a sweet young manitoban guy. Childhood friend of nolan patrick went through Tampa & New York before coming to Vegas. changed his play style to play with Mark. Was part of the 2018 WJC team, but hasn't been implicated in any crimes :(

Grabbed Marchy by the jersey and yelled "we did it we did it" when they won the cup

Jonathan Marchessault followed up with him after and said "oh i had to tell you, when i had my vision of winning the cup, we weren't wearing the white (away) jerseys. we were wearing the gold ones"

indicating that??? Marchy??? has prophetic visions?? and shares them with brett howden???? what the hell is happenign here i love this so much. (seriously this video has SO MUCH. keegan kolesar kissing marchessault on the face SO MUCH. jack and marchy beign sO romantic about Marchy's conn smythe win "I did it for - you did it for me." / "that's the best thing i've ever seen" and all the i love yous. I just. love them)

6. Jonas Rondbjerg - Ronny is just a really sweet, quiet HSK guy! he's not the main roster, so when he gets called up, he hangs with the guys he knows. He was best friends with Jake Leschyshyn before he got traded to the NYR.

Notable Guys who've been traded

Marc- Andre Fleury - found out he got traded on twitter. Known prankster. Everyone loves him, excellent but aging goalie who is going to retire after 24-25. After retirement, he's moving back to Vegas to live during the non-summer months. If he hadn't been a goalie, probably he'd have been captain. I love him so much and he tried to fight jordan binnington while he was on the Wild.

Reilly Smith - OG Golden Misfit, traded to VGK with Jonathan Marchessault. Jonathan Marchessault said of him that he was relieved when they got drafted / traded that wasn't scared to go to a new place bc he would know somebody. And when Smitty joined VGK for their White House Cup Visit, Jonathan said in the interview after "Everywhere he is is home a little bit"

Reilly started the Battle For Vegas, a charity baseball game during the summer, which is a great time which Jack Eichel took over since Smitty got traded. Said "What a time to be alive" with an absolutely blasted voice while on the ice right after they won the cup.

Max Pacioretty - Traded to Vegas after doing frankly a nuclear option with his prior agent (switching to Allan Walsh on draft day) because talks with Montreal had gotten so bad. was SO happy to be in Vegas. When Stone was traded in February, was kind of worried bc they'd been such rivals during their time in MTL & OTT respectively. but they were almost immediately complimentary of each other. They were best friends. Patch says that he knew, almost as soon as Mark came in that he was gonna be the captain. Which is WILD. Bc it had been almost 3 season without them having one. but Mark is their captain. He was right.

Ryan Reaves - is a GREAT room guy, and a WONDERFUL guy off the ice. Loves a prank. ate spicy chocolate. He's done B4V a couple of summers (he did it last year iirc) and it's just. Really sweet. A lot of these guys just. really really bonded for life during that first year, you know? I know that Belly is still friends with a bunch of the OG Misfits, and so is Reavo (he was pumped to play on the wild with flower, for instance). Reavo said that when mark stone fought tomas hertl that "Those hands aren’t made to fight; they’re made to dance. They’re supposed to be soft." basically "I'd rather they let ME do the fighting, their hands are meant for better things" like. ReAVO MY GUY. UGH.

i love him

Erik Haula - Another guy who does B4V, got traded to the Canes (who mistreated him) and is now with the Devils (who love him). Is still best friends with Karly.

Dylan Coghlan - came to VGK in the Erik Haula trade from the Canes system. Was VERY VERY good friends with the younger guys, Haguer, Roysie, Whitecloud, Keegan, Howden, etc. Went to a concert with Jack, Haguer, & HOwdy/ Also still does B4V and excels at it. Is a defensemen, but when we didn't have any forwards, filled in. I would know him by his teeth anywhere (very distinctive). adorable.

[3416]

auston being jealous when all his guys started to date and leave him out of stuff vs mitch being jealous when his guys Breathe without asking him to join in... FIGHT

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

I got a new lavender purple eyeshadow and I like it a lot. It's very subtle so it hides the fact that I never learned how to blend eyeshadow. I also got a holographic glitter eyeshadow topper because of course I did.

[junkyarddemento]

PLAY ME

Influences of films like MEMENTO and PRIMER are all over this, and in a great way! All phases are impressively executed. From Caleb Phillips direction, to the acting, sound design, and cinematography, every element works together to create an intensely satisfying viewing experience. Special shout to actress Lindsey Garrett, who is able to create a layered and believable character in ten minutes. Now, do as the title states and hit play!

[necronatural]

Even If You Got Dropped In A Ghost Story, You Still Go To Work: A visual primer for English speakers

This took me a week. I did this for ORV like 4 years ago so it felt like my moral obligation to make one again.

Some notes on character designs and images without text:

Gorals and domestic goats look very different, but in Manor of the Blind attention is put into how these two are similar and contrasting, the truly noble Go Youngeun with the white goat and the sinister Baek Saheon with the black goat. I also picked a literal goral instead of a mountain goat (which are naturally white) because gorals look more like roe deers than goats, making the 3 of them more closely linked.

I always thought it was a shame most fanartists don't give Baek Saheon darling 90s curls because that's one of the only traits he explicitly has and is tied into how harmless he looks at first glance and it's adorable

Because this is a horror novel and unnatural features aren't mentioned, I tried to keep this as grounded as possible. Mowing through these anime designs. I don't think J3 is an idol with hair in his eyes. I think he just looks like a very tired guy of ambiguous age

Another hardliner of of grounded designs is Jin Nasol, who gets the most ostentatious anime character treatment besides Jay in fanart. She is coldly utilitarian and prizes efficiency over all else, there is no way that woman has bangs

I am not giving Park Minseong brown hair. There is nothing wrong with a good warm black

Lee Jaheon is often depicted as an adorable little newt in fanart, but a huge part of why he is so hysterical is that he is scary, so I picked more intimidating lizard traits so he functions in both dramatic heroic scenes and eating granola bars with the wrappers still on. He gets to keep the newt mask though

I gave Braun white gloves at first but I saw a Braun cosplayer and a demon possessed me. I have no idea what colour is canon. who doesnt love black leather

Making Jang Heo-un the "sharp eyes meek personality" trope made my brain light up so good. I was trying to contrast with the relaxed eyes of the easygoing Park Minseong to make them more obviously different but this feels cosmically correct

I tried to avoid the stereotypical fanart designs but the fanartists really captured how it feels for Lee Seonghae to be on the page with this design. Made her hair darker and that's it like we nailed it

Choi's design archetypes are 1. reliable senior 2. cheerful 3. unsettlingly intense, so I leaned on a more gritty korean procedural archetype with Choi. Kind of guy that makes your entire spinal column freeze when he turns on the heat

You can use these pics for whatever you want. ⬆️

[fantasmadelaciudad]

nunca me voy a perdonar x dejarme caer en la trampa de i’m not like other girls a los 12 xq les aseguré a mis papás a esa edad ke no quería quince, y como. 5 meses antes de cumplir los 15 les dije. jiji saben ke si quiero 🤭🤭 Y‼️ si no hubiera hecho eso hubiera podido tener un quince con tema darks :(

[zaczenemiji]

Where reader  beg Kenji to let her do her makeup on him and he all pout the entire time but he secretly likes it

Glam Before the Slam

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,435

Genre/Warning: Established Relationship, Fluff, Makeover

Author’s Note: This felt like Kenji’s GRWM and him looking bonita 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ

MASTERLIST

You were so so excited for Kenji’s upcoming big interview tonight, and you, being the supportive girlfriend that you are, were more than willing to help in your own way.

Kenji stood in front of the mirror, combing his hair for what felt like the hundredth time. The Grand Slam Show was just a few hours away, and the nerves were starting to get to him.

“You look handsome,” you said, creeping up on him and hugging him from behind. You tiptoed so your chin could rest on his shoulder and stare at him in the mirror.

“I know what’s missing,” you told him, referring to the unending combing of his hair. He's been doing that for the past minutes, trying to get things to look right.

But if he asked you, you’d tell him he didn’t have to change anything because he already looked perfect. He was the most handsome guy in the world and nothing can change your mind.

“What is it?” He asked, his form relaxing and leaning back into your smaller figure.

You smiled as you circled his body, arms still wrapped around him until you were in front of him. You let go to lean on his your vanity table in his room, pulling one of the drawers out to show your makeup essentials.

Kenji crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth tugging into a familiar pout. "I don't do makeup, (y/n)."

"Please," you pleaded, stepping closer and giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. "Just this once. For me?"

Kenji sighed, his resolve already crumbling. He could never say no to you when you looked at him like that. "Fine," he muttered, “but just this once."

Or so he thought.

You beamed, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. He settled down reluctantly, still pouting but clearly resigned to his fate.

“Aren’t we going to do this in front of the mirror?” He asked, looking up at you.

You shook your head. ���No because I know that you’d just go against everything,” you said, chuckling and giving him a kiss on his forehead.

“First, before applying your makeup, we’ll need to moisturize,” from the vanity drawer within reach, you took out a small bottle and showed it to him. It’s important that he knows what’ll be applied to his face.

“Intense renewal serum,” he read. He looked up at you to see your eyes sparkling with excitement.

With the dropper, you put some on his forehead and under his eyes before spreading it on his face using your fingers.

“Next, we’ll create a base,” you said. “This would control the oil on your face.”

“Oil blocker ex,” he read. You scooped a small amount with your fingers and applied it to his face.

“Alright, the base is done,” you said, placing the primer on the table. “We’ll now put…” you paused, rummaging through the drawer. “Foundation!” You held it close to his face for him to read.

“Gel creamy foundation,” he said.

“Very good!” you chuckled. “You’re so good at reading.”

You pumped it twice on your hand, leaving two dots of foundation on it. Afterward, you gently ran a brush over it and then applied it to Kenji’s face.

He closed his eyes, his lips still set in a stubborn line. As the brush moved across his face, his pout gradually softened, and he began to relax.

After applying the foundation, you grab a sponge and pat it on his face; this process really makes a difference. “This would even your skin tone,” you told him.

You leaned back to check him. “Your skin looks really good!” you said, smiling at him. At that moment, he felt like he fell in love with you again. He does every time he sees you happy.

Next, you held the concealer in front of him, waiting for him to read it.

“Skin reflect fresh concealer,” he said.

“You’re going to look so good on camera,” you said, leaning close. You used the other side of the sponge to dab it and blend it on his face, covering any signs of tiredness.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, but you noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“To finish up the base, we’ll use this,” you said, holding up yet again another product in front of him.

“Invisible essence loose powder translucent,” he read, chuckling afterward. “That’s a long one.”

Using a big brush, you applied the powder lightly to set everything in place. “There you go,” you said, holding him below his jaw.

“We’re done?” Kenji asked.

“No, but I’m gonna let you have a water break,” you answered. “Mina, please get him a glass of water.”

As the two of you waited for Mina, you went over the vanity to place back the items you’ve used and to take out the ones you’ll be using next.

This time, it was his turn to hug you from behind. He gave little tickling kisses on your neck. “Stop!” You said, laughing and squirming away from his embrace. “You’re gonna ruin your makeup!”

“Here is the wa— oh,” Mina said, pausing when she saw the two of you.

You finally escaped his arms, still laughing as you took a step back. You thanked Mina as Kenji took the glass, drank the water, and handed it back to Mina.

Kenji then returned to sit on the edge of the bed, letting you continue. “I’m going to contour the sides of your nose, your jawline, and your cheeks,” you said, walking towards him.

“Shading powder,” he read the product.

You used the included brush in the palette to apply the product to the areas you mentioned.

“Suck in your cheeks,” you told him as you were about to apply contour on his cheeks. Surprisingly, he did as told but you could see him trying hard to hold back a smile.

"Almost done," you said, reaching for an eyebrow pencil to define his brows slightly.

He opened one eye to peek at you, his expression softening. "This really necessary?" he asked, though his tone was more curious than annoyed.

"Absolutely," you replied with a grin, stepping back to admire your handiwork. "You look amazing."

You took his hand, “Don’t open your eyes yet,” and guided him back to the mirror. “Okay, you can look now.”

Kenji opened his eyes, looking at himself in the mirror. His expression shifted from skepticism to surprise. "I do look different," he admitted, turning his head to get a better look. "Better, I guess."

You smiled, feeling a warm rush of satisfaction. “You already looked the best even before the makeup,” you said. "You're going to knock 'The Grand Slam Show' out of the park."

Kenji chuckled, finally letting a genuine smile break through his pout. "Thanks, (y/n)."

He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead, his hand giving yours a gentle squeeze. "I appreciate it. Really.”

You stare up at him lovingly, knowing that he secretly loved every moment of being pampered by you.

When you guys arrived on the set, you made sure to apply a bit of lipstick on Kenji so he wouldn’t look pale.

“Thanks, (y/n),” leaning in for a kiss but you held your hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Micro kiss only,” you said as you gently pressed your lips on his so as to not ruin his lipstick.

Bonus Scene: The Grand Slam Show

"So, Kenji, you've been having an incredible season so far," the host said, leaning forward with a grin. "But I have to say, you're looking particularly sharp today. What's your secret?"

Kenji chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he glanced at you in the audience.

"Well, I have to give credit where it's due," he said, a playful smile forming on his lips. "My girlfriend actually did my makeup for me today."

The host raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? That's fantastic! Tell us more."

Kenji's smile widened, and he looked directly into the camera, his eyes twinkling. "Yeah, she insisted on it. Said I needed to look my best for the cameras. And honestly, I think she did a great job."

The host laughed, clapping his hands together.” Well, she certainly did. You look amazing. Shoutout to Kenji's girlfriend for the excellent work!"

Kenji nodded, his expression softening. “Thanks, babe," he said sincerely. “Couldn't have done it without you."

The audience let out a collective "aww" and applauded, and Kenji couldn't help but grin, feeling a warmth in his chest.

From that day on, in every interview, you became his personal makeup artist.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@sweetangle8 @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart

[liuhsng]

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

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe… maybe this didn’t fix everything.

But it felt like a start.

But then Ni-ki let go of your hand.

Just for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes. “Now.”

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

“You love that about me.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

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

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said.”

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

He looked at you, deadpan. “As if.”

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

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

Your mouth parted. “Wait, seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

And you did. You belonged. You both did.

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart beat a little faster.

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

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

The corners of your lips twitched.

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

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

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

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

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

“OH MY GOD.”

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung blinked. “Did hell freeze over?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did not! Are you kidding me?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay blinked. “You’re kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t answer right away. Just smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sunoo, I’m warning you—”

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon smirked. “Isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a week since you returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His reply came in literal seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there he was.

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

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

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

But then, just like that, his head lifted.

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

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

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

He met you halfway.

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

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

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

You laughed. “It’s my new shampoo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Charming? Smooth?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked at him pointedly.

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

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

“Speed bump.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She grinned. “That sounds about right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned again and covered your face with the checklist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Um…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…What?” he asked flatly.

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

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

Your jaw dropped. “You escaped?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows rose immediately.

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

You picked up the napkin slowly and stared.

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

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

“There were two bags.”

“Exactly,” he said, completely unfazed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She narrowed her eyes. “But?”

“But he was being annoying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until someone gently tapped your shoulder.

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

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

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

“(Y/N), right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

Not by the crowd of students still flooding the hallway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was not the Nishimura Riki people knew.

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

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

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

The Ni-ki who was yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the rest of the world hadn’t disappeared.

Not really.

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

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

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

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

He blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

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

Nishimura Riki.

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

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

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

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath.

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

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

Nothing? Maybe.

But something about the way his gaze lingered said otherwise.

You felt it.

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

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

Still, the unease lingered for a moment longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it wasn’t just your usual group inside.

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

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

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

“Guilty,” he said with a wink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “I am so not.”

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

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

And God, was she right.

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

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

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

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

You looked away, heat creeping up your neck.

“God,” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t even bother to hide your awe.

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

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

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

“You were.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, I’m in trouble.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Riki,” you called softly.

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

“Your bag please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, you’re such a sap.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Riki…” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

And then, gently, he opened the box.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It fit perfectly.

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

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

Except you were already gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you murmured.

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

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

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

You checked the time—again.

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

A soft creak sounded as the double doors swung open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then a second time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both girls melted instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart flipped again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Final checklist for the broadcast schedules—”

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

She gasped. Loudly. Audibly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Groans and chatter broke out instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Delusional,” Sunghoon muttered, and laughter followed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oops! You moved!”

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

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

But then it happened—suddenly and purely by accident.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked, surprised. “Riku?”

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

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

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

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

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

He held it out to you, gaze steady.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed, but gave in. “Alright.”

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

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

“(Y/N)?!”

You both stopped in your tracks.

Ni-ki.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath caught. “You—um.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Riku didn’t take it.

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

The emphasis wasn’t lost on anyone.

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

It was a claim.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pulled his hand from yours.

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

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

You froze. “Wait… Riki—”

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

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

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure of what to do. Panic sparked up your spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something warmer, messier.

“Are you sure?” you managed, voice small. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or—”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure,” he replied, quiet but firm.

You slowly reached out, brushing your fingers against the edge of the jersey. The moment it touched your skin, you felt the difference—the heat still trapped in the fabric, the unmistakable pull of Alpha scent that made your heart do something wild and unsteady.

He watched you for a moment—like he could see all the thoughts tumbling in your head and didn’t mind waiting for you to sort through them.

“Change inside,” he said finally, his voice dipping a little, eyes flicking to the booth behind you. “I’ll wait right here.”

You nodded slowly—wordlessly—the jersey pressed tightly to your chest like it might slip away if you didn’t hold it hard enough. You stepped into the small booth, the curtain falling shut behind you with a soft swoosh.

The space was dimly lit, just a single overhead bulb flickering above, casting shaky shadows along the metal frame. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, heart thundering in your ears.

Carefully, you reached for the hem of your stained jersey, fingers brushing over the ring on your finger—Ni-ki’s ring—worn on a chain for safekeeping. You adjusted it gently, making sure it didn’t tug or catch.

Your hands trembled just a little as you peeled your own jersey off, careful with the fabric even though it was ruined. And then you held up his—still warm from his skin, still heavy with the scent of him.

The moment you pulled it over your head, your Omega curled warmly inside you like a contented sigh. It was too big—his scent immediately wrapping around your frame like a second skin, sinking deep into the crook of your neck, down your spine, and blooming in your chest.

You were wearing something that was his, and your body knew it.

When you stepped out again, Ni-ki was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed loosely. His gaze had been fixed somewhere else, distant—jaw still tense from earlier—but the second he looked up and saw you, something shifted.

The irritation melted right out of his eyes, his arms dropped to his sides slowly, uncrossing as he straightened up.

You looked shyly at him from under your lashes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the oversized jersey that nearly swallowed your hands.

“I… I’m done,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek.

Ni-ki didn’t answer, he just stared.

Like he’d never seen you before. Like he’d forgotten what he was angry about—what he was supposed to care about at all—because there you were, standing in his jersey like it was always meant for you. The sight hit him with a force stronger than any punch. Stronger than the stupid bitterness he’d been trying to swallow since earlier.

You looked like his—and he couldn’t pretend that didn’t matter.

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze trailing down the fit of the jersey on your frame. It clung to the edges of your shoulders, hit mid-thigh, sleeves way too long—but that was the best part. It looked right on you. Too right.

His voice, when it came, was quiet—almost a whisper.

“Come here.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide, but your feet moved before you could think. And the second you were close enough, Ni-ki reached out and wrapped his arms around you—pulling you in like he didn’t plan to let go for a while.

You melted instantly.

The jersey was warm between you, the weight of him familiar as you pressed your cheek to his chest. He was solid, heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing calming you more than you wanted to admit.

Your arms snuck around his waist without hesitation, fingers knotting into the back of his shirt as if they belonged there.

Ni-ki sighed—deep, relieved—and tilted his head just slightly so his lips brushed the top of your head. He lingered there for a second before placing the softest, gentlest kiss into your hairline.

“You look good, angel,” he murmured, the word curling into you like a brand.

You beamed before you could stop it. The kind of smile that bloomed without warning, the kind that pulled your whole face with it.

You shifted a little on your feet, raising up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek—barely even reaching it, just the edge of it—but it was enough to make him laugh, full and boyish.

He let go, but only enough to reach for your hand, fingers locking through yours like instinct.

“C’mon,” he said, eyes still crinkled from the laugh. “Let’s go—”

“Wait,” you blurted, tugging him gently by the hand.

He paused, brows lifting. “What’s wrong?”

Your scent spiked sweet in the air—like raspberries melting under the harsh sunlight—and Ni-ki immediately stiffened a little, taken off guard. It was your nervous-sweet, your shy scent, and he knew it too well by now.

Your fingers fumbled into your pocket, cheeks pink, voice small. “I just—before we go…”

From your pocket, you pulled out a neatly folded pink and white handkerchief—soft cotton, dainty edges embroidered in pale thread. Your initials sat stitched into the corner, barely the size of your thumb.

Ni-ki’s gaze followed it, curious.

You looked away bashfully, rubbing the fabric gently along the inside of your wrist—just enough for your scent to soak in, for it to cling and linger. You folded it once more, carefully, and stepped closer to him. With shy, delicate fingers, you reached for one of the front belt loops on his pants and looped the cloth through it—tying it into a small bow that rested lightly against his hip.

“There,” you whispered, barely above the wind.

Ni-ki stared down at it, then at you.

His eyes softened completely, the edges of his lips curling up into something open and unguarded. “Is that for me?”

You nodded, trying not to combust on the spot. “Mhm. It’s… so you can have something scented, too.”

He smiled so widely it made your chest hurt. “You really just did that.”

You laughed softly, heart thudding way too fast as you reached out and laced your fingers through his—warm palm against yours, fingers naturally curling between your own like they were always meant to fit there.

You tugged him forward with a grin, gently pulling him back into the sunlight pooling between the banisters and the soft chatter of students echoing nearby.

“It was only fair, you know?” you said teasingly, giving his hand a playful swing as you walked. “You gave me something of yours.”

He let out a quiet hum, the corner of his mouth still quirked up. “Still,” he muttered. His free hand brushed against the little pink and white bow now fluttering slightly from his belt loop. “I’m never taking this off.”

You laughed again, cheeks blooming with warmth. “But Riki—” you tilted your head up at him, teasing, “—you have to wash it eventually.”

His face twisted in mock offense. “What? No.”

You giggled. “It’s going to get dirty.”

“But your scent will come off,” he protested, brows furrowing like a pouty kid. “I want to keep it like this.”

You laughed again, breathy and warm, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “You’re so dramatic,” you teased softly, and he gave you a mock offended look—though his fingers didn’t let go of yours for even a second.

“Come on, Mr. Scent-Obsessed,” you mumbled fondly, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Let’s go back.”

He let out a hum, allowing you to tug him gently down the corridor, the two of you walking in no particular rush. Your pace was slow—like your own private bubble had formed, untouched by the noise of the festival still bustling around you.

You walked hand in hand, fingertips interlaced and swinging lightly between you, your head occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He let you pull him toward the direction of the booth, but neither of you were in a hurry to leave the little moment behind.

There were stares—people passing by, whispering, watching. After all, Ni-ki wasn’t the type to walk around publicly this soft, this clingy, this visibly whipped.

But he didn’t care, and neither did you.

You gave his hand a few light squeezes as you passed a group of stunned-looking underclassmen, giggling under your breath. “I think you just ruined someone’s perception of you.”

He glanced sideways at you, smirking. “Good.”

You laughed again, heart so full you couldn’t help it—you stood on your toes, leaned over, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

It barely landed—your height not quite enough and him not expecting it—but it still made his entire body still for a second.

“…You just—” he blinked, that soft pink blush spreading across his ears.

You smiled, eyes glowing. “Mhm. I did.”

He bit back a grin, exhaling hard through his nose like he couldn’t quite handle it. “You’re killing me.”

You giggled as you turned the final corner and spotted your booth coming into view.

Sunghoon’s mate perked up instantly from her place by the counter, her face lighting up in relief as she spotted you. She stepped toward you immediately.

“There you are! I was starting to think you got kidnapped or something—” her eyes raked over you once, gaze lingering on the jersey you now wore. “Wait. That’s not—oh.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I’m okay, promise. Just needed a minute.”

She glanced at Ni-ki beside you, who gave her a small wave with his free hand, the other still firmly locked around yours. The sight made her blink, lips twitching into a slow smile.

“Well,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I’ll leave you two then. You got your scent reset and everything,” she teased, stepping back toward the booth with a tiny smirk.

You gave her a grateful look before turning to Ni-ki again.

“I’ll see you later?” you asked, giving his hand one last gentle squeeze.

He smiled—soft and full of something deeper than words. “Text me if anything happens.”

You nodded, and he lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before slowly letting go.

You turned back toward the booth, heart still fluttering, and just as you stepped behind the counter, you glanced back—Ni-ki was still watching you, hands tucked into his pockets, smile still etched across his lips.

The third day of the festival was in full swing, and the west wing buzzed with life. Colorful banners fluttered above head, laughter echoing through the open walkways.

Students weaved through stalls with food in hand, music playing faintly from a nearby booth, and somewhere in the distance, a karaoke machine wailed a familiar pop ballad.

You walked with Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate at your sides, the three of you armed with clipboards and pens, diligently checking off updates from the clubs stationed in the area. Despite the paperwork, your pace was casual and your conversations light.

“Okay, the Robotics Club extended their booth for another day,” Jungwon’s mate said, tapping her pen to the checklist.

Jake’s mate grinned. “As long as they don’t start flying drones over the food stalls again, I’m good.”

That sent you all into a quick burst of laughter.

You paused near the newly built Wedding Booth—complete with plastic flower arches, a rented velvet aisle runner, and a cardboard sign that read: "Find your potential mate, or at least look good trying!"

“I can’t believe they actually pulled this off,” you muttered, eyeing the velvet guestbook and fake rings lined neatly on the side.

“Honestly,” Jake’s mate giggled, elbowing you gently, “with how you look in that jersey, someone might just propose to you here and now.”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”

Jungwon’s mate was already spinning you around dramatically, cackling. “You seriously didn’t think we’d notice? Navy blue Decelis jersey. Number ten. Nishimura stretched loud and proud on the back?”

You swatted at them playfully, heat creeping up your neck. “It was an instruction for today!”

“We were told to wear our own jerseys,” Jake’s mate pointed out, arching a brow.

You sighed, exasperated but fond. “Riki refused to wear his. Gave it to me this morning, said he’d rather see me in it than wear it himself.

Jungwon’s mate clutched her chest. “That’s so disgustingly cute I want to throw something.”

You laughed, heart fluttering. “And then he pestered Jay for a new one, with my last name on the back.”

Jake’s mate snorted. “So that’s why he was flaunting his jersey earlier—before we were called down for the parade lineup. He kept tugging at the sleeves like he was showing something off.”

“Jay refused at first but… let’s be real. He can never say no to Riki.”

“He’s basically his son,” Jungwon’s mate chuckled.

You three stopped near one of the more crowded food booths. The smoky scent of grilled chicken and barbecue skewers filled the air, and rows of sizzling meat on sticks lined the stall counters. Students gathered around, picking at fried rice, fish balls, and spicy wings stacked in paper boats.

“This smells amazing,” Jake’s mate said, leaning forward to peek at the handwritten menu.

“Remind me to get a stick before we go,” Jungwon’s mate mumbled.

You handed off your clipboard briefly. “I’ll catch up—I need to find a restroom.”

“Go ahead,” Jake’s mate waved you off. “We’ll be right here. Don’t get kidnapped by a wedding booth Alpha.”

Jungwon’s mate snorted, nudging Jake’s. “As if Ni-ki would ever let that happen.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you waved them off. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Your feet carried you in a light jog across the tiled walkway, sneakers thudding gently against the floor as you made your way to the nearest restroom nestled between the photography club’s booth and a snack corner.

The door creaked as you pushed it open, a burst of cool air greeting your warm skin. You placed your clipboard gently down on the sink counter, the paper checklist still clipped tightly in place, and turned the faucet on.

Cool water splashed against your fingers as you lathered up, the sweet scent of Ni-ki’s detergent lingering faintly on your borrowed jersey sleeves as they rolled back slightly past your elbows.

Your gaze flicked to the mirror as you leaned closer, pulling out a familiar, slightly worn tube of lip gloss from your pocket. The light pink tint shimmered faintly under the restroom lights as you applied it carefully, dabbing your lips and smacking them together once before tucking the gloss away again.

The star-shaped clips framing your face had slipped slightly with the wind, so you gently adjusted them—each little motion calming.

The door creaked open again.

Loud voices immediately followed—three, maybe four girls giggling as they poured into the restroom behind you. You didn’t think much of it at first, focused on your reflection as you fixed the hem of your jersey and reached for the clipboard again.

“You’re (Y/N), right?”

You glanced at the mirror, catching their reflection as you raised a brow at the tone—too casual, laced with just the right amount of disrespect to catch your attention. You didn’t recognize her, but her badge said she was from your year.

Still, you kept your cool.

“Yes,” you said simply, fingers curling around the clipboard. “Excuse me.” You took one step forward before another girl—shorter—sidestepped directly in front of you, blocking the door.

You sighed under your breath and forced a tight smile to your lips, straightening your shoulders. The air suddenly felt heavier. Your eyes flicked to her badge, then to the other girls now huddled behind her like shadows.

Same year. Figures.

One of them let out a stifled laugh, whispering something into the ear of the taller girl beside her. You didn’t catch it, but it didn’t matter. The smug look on their faces said it all.

“So…” the girl in front said, head tilting like she was trying to look curious and not catty. “Are you really wearing Ni-ki’s jersey right now?”

You blinked once, tone steady. “What’s it to you if I am?”

That made them laugh—too loud, too rehearsed.

The girl blocking your way scoffed, arms crossing in front of her chest. “Who even are you to do that? Like, seriously? You think wearing his jersey makes you someone special?”

There it was. The bite behind the fake curiosity. You stared at her for a moment, expression unreadable.

“No,” you said. “But being his fiancée does.”

Like a glass shattering on tile, the laughter abruptly died. One of the girls behind her coughed, eyes widening slightly as the smirk slid off her lips.

The girl in front furrowed her brows. “Wait—what?”

You didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “I’m his fiancée.”

And the moment the words settled in the air—unshaking, confident—they scoffed again, this time with disbelief.

“You’re kidding.” The shorter girl laughed again, looking you up and down as if expecting a punchline.

But you didn’t give one. You just looked at her. Expression steady. Shoulders relaxed. Chin tilted just slightly higher than it had been a minute ago.

You were the (L/N) heir.

A pureblooded Omega born into the higher ranks of the food chain. Groomed with etiquette sharper than knives, raised with poise sewn into your spine, and molded under pressure that would’ve crumbled people like the ones standing in front of you. You were never taught to flinch. Not even in the face of fire.

Your smile only tightened as you stared the four of them down. Being scared of jealous people? That was beneath you. You’d been envied all your life—admired, whispered about, hated from across gilded rooms. What were four girls in a bathroom compared to the world you were built to rule?

You were treated like a goddess among men. And they? They were just mortals—wielding bitterness like it made them powerful.

One of them—standing near the girl who first spoke—let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “You’re lying,” she sneered, eyes rolling like your words were dirt under her shoes. “Ni-ki would never go for someone as low as you.”

“Yeah,” the fourth girl chimed in, stepping closer to your right. “He’s way too serious for romance. Everyone knows he doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

Your head tilted ever so slightly. “Mm,” you hummed. “Too busy for omegas like you?”

Suddenly, the girl blocking your path lashed out.

Her fingers curled around your clipboard and yanked it from your grasp with a forceful tug, the wood smacking the tiles as she slammed it to the floor. The pages scattered, fluttering like leaves around your feet.

But you simply pushed your hair behind your ear, tilting your head in polite disinterest.

“Are you done?” you asked softly.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse of a bitch,” The girl in front growled. “You’re gonna stay away from Ni-ki. Got it? You don’t belong anywhere near him. So take that jersey off, wipe that smug little smile off your face, and disappear.”

You laughed. Not the nervous kind. Not even a gentle one. It was mocking. Low, amused, cruel in the way it curled from your lips with zero fear. The sound echoed off the tiled walls, drawing tension from the others like a struck match.

“You’re adorable,” you said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Thinking you can threaten me like I haven’t heard worse at family dinners.”

The girl in front raised her hand.

You didn’t block it. Didn’t lean away. You simply stood there, posture poised, shoulders relaxed—untouched by the rage blazing in her eyes. And when the slap landed—sharp against your cheek, the sting echoing with a faint crack—you barely blinked.

You sighed. “Hmm,” you murmured. “That’ll bruise.”

Your cheek burned. It would definitely swell later. But you still looked at her like she was a mild inconvenience at most.

“You done embarrassing yourselves?” you said, voice low but firm now. No more fake sweetness. “Because I really have better things to do than stand here while a bunch of desperate little nobodies throw tantrums over my Alpha who doesn’t even know your names.”

And then, with nothing but the click of your tongue and the rustle of your jersey as you turned, you walked out.

Your shoulder brushed—shoved—into the two standing in front of you, not enough to throw them off, but enough to send a message. You didn’t shrink. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run.

Your footsteps were steady. Your head held high.

You spotted them easily—Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate, standing exactly where you left them by the food booth. Their laughter had stopped. The light conversation had vanished the second they caught sight of you.

Jake’s mate blinked, her eyes widening as she took in the redness blooming on your cheek. Jungwon’s mate stiffened, clipboard nearly dropping from her hand.

They were by your side in an instant.

“Hey—hey, what happened?” Jake’s mate asked, voice gentle but frantic as her hands flew to your arms, eyes scanning your face. “Why do you look like that? What the hell happened to your—?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off, trying to smile even as your cheek pulsed.

“You’re not,” Jungwon’s mate said, her voice deadly calm. Her scent, normally floral and light, began to sharpen—tinged with smoke and stormclouds. “Your scent’s all over the place.”

“I just—look, it’s not that big of a deal—”

Jake’s mate rubbed your arm softly, like you were breakable, like one wrong word would crack your composure. “It is a big deal. Your cheek is turning red.”

“I said I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not.” Jungwon’s mate stepped back, fingers already digging into her pocket for her phone. “Who was it?”

“Don’t,” you said quickly, reaching for her wrist. “Seriously, it’s—”

She dodged you, stepping out of reach like a flash. Her eyes met yours, narrowed and blazing, and for a second she looked so much like your mother—stern, impossible to argue with—you froze.

“I’m not letting anyone touch our girls and walk away from it,” she muttered under her breath as she typed furiously on her screen. “Ni-ki’s gonna find out in the next five minutes whether you like it or not.”

Jake’s mate let out a low whistle. “You know,” she said, trying to ease the fire in the air with a soft laugh, “you used to be so timid before you met Jungwon. And now look at you—like a mother wolf ready to bite someone's head off.”

Jungwon’s mate didn’t even pause. “That’s because people keep testing me.”

You sighed again, torn between affection and mild dread. “Please don’t cause a scene.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake’s mate smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “that ship sailed the second someone laid a hand on you.”

The next thing you knew, you were walking beside Jay’s mate and Heeseung’s mate, both having joined the fussing. Their Omega instincts were in full swing as they cursed under their breaths, furious.

"They dared touch you?" Heeseung’s mate snapped. “Where are they? I’ll break their teeth.”

“Jay’s going to lose it when he hears, you’re practically his sister,” his mate muttered, shaking her head.

Behind you, Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate were whispering sharply, their conversation too low to catch—but you knew it was about you.

You all reached the student council meeting room. The door swung open.

Inside, Sunoo’s mate and Sunghoon’s mate immediately rushed forward.

“Sit down—come on, sit,” Sunghoon’s mate urged, guiding you gently to the head of the long table.

Sunoo’s mate placed a cold strawberry milk in your hands without a word.

They exchanged worried glances. “What happened?”

Before you could even open your mouth, the doors slammed open.

The air turned suffocating.

Every Omega in the room flinched.

And there he was—Ni-ki. A storm in human form, standing at the entrance with his eyes blown wide in rage and his scent turned foul, bitter and sour. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, and his jaw was locked so tight it looked like it might snap.

The other six Alphas followed behind him. Jay and Heeseung were at his heels, trying to talk him down.

“Ni-ki, you need to calm down,” Heeseung urged, voice low.

“You’re going to scare (Y/N),” Jay added, stepping closer. “Come on, kid.”

But Ni-ki wasn’t listening. He barely heard them.

Sunghoon stepped in before Heeseung could lunge after him again. “Let him be,” Sunghoon said, calm but firm. “He’s not going to hurt anyone. He needs to see her.”

Jungwon lingered behind them, visibly torn. His eyes flicked from Sunghoon to Jay, to Ni-ki, unsure of who to follow. His Alpha instincts were clashing—protect Ni-ki? Protect you? Pick a side?

Meanwhile, Sunoo’s eyes had narrowed dangerously, his posture stiff as he walked beside Jay. “You’re seriously going to let this slide?” he asked under his breath, furious. “Someone laid a hand on (Y/N) and no one’s doing anything?”

Ni-ki’s scent spiked again.

Ni-ki stormed across the room, the sound of his shoes echoing as he came to a full stop in front of you. His hands landed harshly on the arms of your chair—gripping tight, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking something.

You didn’t meet his eyes, you couldn’t. Not when your cheek still ached and your pride was hanging on by a thread.

“Fuck,” Ni-ki hissed, voice low and raw. His head lowered, nose brushing the air just above your shoulder. “Who?”

You stayed silent, still refusing to look up.

“I need names, Omega,” he bit out, jaw clenching. “Right now.”

The room was silent, thick with tension and bitter Alpha scent. Even the other couldn’t speak—caught between instinct and logic.

“There are pros and cons to being a pureblooded Alpha,” Ni-ki ground out, every word dripping with restrained fury. “You know what the downside is?”

He pulled back just enough to let you see his face—eyes burning, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Stronger blood. Stronger instincts. Harder to fucking control.”

“Ni-ki,” Jay warned softly from behind, trying to reel him back. “You need to think rationally. You can't—”

But Ni-ki turned sharply, sending Jay a glare that made even the older Alpha tense.

Jay held his hands up, trying to stay neutral, but the twitch in his jaw gave him away. He was close to growling. Sunghoon placed a firm hand on Jay’s chest, stopping him.

Ni-ki turned back to you, breath shallow. “I said I need names. Who did this to you? Who fucking touched you?”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t shrink away. But you didn’t answer either.

Ni-ki’s eyes shuttered, frustration curling in his throat. He looked at Jungwon—just one glance, and Jungwon understood.

Jungwon gave a single, sharp nod before clapping his hands once. “Everyone. Out.”

The room exploded into soft gasps and protests.

“Jungwon—” Jake’s mate started.

“Out,” Jungwon repeated, firm. “She needs space. He needs space.”

Sunoo’s mate grabbed Sunghoon’s mate by the wrist, muttering something about giving them a few minutes. Jay pulled his mate close and backed toward the door. Jake lingered, gaze flicking between you and Ni-ki before Jungwon tugged his arm.

And just like that, one by one, they all filed out. Until it was just you and Ni-ki.

He stood in front of you, still tense, chest rising and falling with each breath like he was forcing himself to stay grounded. He dropped to one knee, finally, carefully—slow enough that you realized this was him trying.

His hands reached for yours, hesitant, but he didn’t grab.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, finally—like your name was the only word that could calm him. “Please. Tell me.”

You inhaled shakily.

And then—slowly, finally—you lifted your gaze and met his eyes.

Your own were glossy, clouded with the emotion you’d been biting down for too long. But you swallowed hard, forcing it down, blinking quickly as if you could will the tears not to fall.

“I… I don’t know their names,” you admitted, shaking your head once. “But Jay’s mate does.”

Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt.

You glanced down at his hands—still kneeling, still holding yours with a gentleness that didn’t match the rage boiling in his scent. His thumbs moved over your knuckles, calming himself.

“I know they’re from the Han, Choi, Yoon, and Nam families,” you added carefully, your words deliberate, quiet. “All Omegas. All from our year.”

His expression didn’t change much—but his entire body seemed to lock into place, like every nerve had gone tight at once. He pressed his forehead against your intertwined hands. His breathing was ragged now.

You felt the tremble in his fingers before you heard the soft, barely-contained growl curling in his throat. “Why,” he whispered, voice cracking under the strain, “didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I had to find out through Jay’s mate,” he said, a low rasp. “I was halfway to the north wing when I got the text and—I should’ve been there.”

“Riki—”

“No,” he said sharply, pulling back just enough to look at you again.

His eyes were bloodshot. Unblinking. “You’re mine, Omega. Do you understand that? Mine to protect. Mine to stand in front of when people look at you wrong, let alone touch you.”

“And they dared lay hands on you?” he continued, voice hollow. “While I wasn’t there? While I was wasting time checking fucking booths and pretending I could focus on anything when I should’ve known something was wrong?”

He brought your hands up and pressed a kiss to your fingers—tender, but desperate.

“I would burn the entire world for you,” he whispered, his lips trembling against your knuckles. “And you think I wouldn’t rip through a few desperate, entitled Omegas?”

“Riki, it’s not about—”

“It is,” he said, a growl finally bleeding into the syllables. “This isn’t just some worthless drama, (Y/N). They crossed a line. They laid a hand on what’s mine.”

“All I’ve done is hold back.”

His voice was low now, sharp and fast like venom slipping through his fangs. “I’ve played nice. I’ve waited. I’ve controlled myself around people who didn’t deserve my restraint. And for what? So some egotistic Alpha prick could think he has the right to look at you like he has a chance?”

“So Riku thinks he’s some sort of god now?” he scoffed bitterly. “Thinks that just because he’s from the Maeda family and walks around like he owns the academy, he can steal you away from me?”

Ni-ki’s lip curled into something between a snarl and a heartbreak. “And those Omegas? Those girls who think they can corner you, question your worth, my feelings, my claim—”

He stood up, towering over you like a wall between you and the world. His chest was heaving, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The scent of burnt lime was still there—but calmer now.

“I have been patient,” he seethed, “when all I wanted was to scream to the world that you belong to me. That I would tear down anyone who so much as thought of touching you.”

He leaned forward slowly, one hand braced on the chair behind your head, the other gripping your jaw just gently enough to tilt your face to him. “So let me say it now, and let everyone hear me: You are mine.”

His forehead met yours again—harder this time, but not to hurt. To anchor. To swear a vow. You leaned forward, pressing back as much as you could in your seat, meeting him halfway even if it meant losing your breath.

How could you not match the fire in his gaze when every word he said was drenched in love—twisted and feral, but love nonetheless?

“I’m calling our families,” he muttered against your skin, voice so low you almost thought you imagined it. “After this. No more waiting.”

“We’re moving up the engagement announcement,” Ni-ki continued, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Tomorrow. No more long talks. No more letting people assume they have time to get between us.”

“I will not give them a single second longer to doubt you. Or me.” He straightened, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped past your control. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You sat with your back straight, hands folded neatly on your lap, but it was obvious—your nerves were everywhere.

The large venue hall buzzed with low murmurs and flashing lights, cameras capturing every polished angle of the Nishimura Enterprises press conference. You sat beside Ni-ki in the front row, the only Omega seated beside the board’s Alpha heir—and everyone noticed.

On stage, Konon—Ni-ki’s older sister—cleared her throat and continued confidently, gesturing toward a digital chart on the screen behind her as she finished it up.

Applause echoed in the hall, polite and expected.

You were supposed to be in the academy right now. Checking booths. Chatting with Jungwon’s mate. Laughing with your friends and not… sitting in front of every broadcast journalist in the country.

You swallowed thickly, your hands curling just a little too tightly into the fabric of your dress pants.

All around you, cameras clicked—some subtle, some not. Every movement was being analyzed, every whisper caught by directional mics. News anchors from national stations muttered softly under their breath, piecing together a live feed, and you could already feel the headlines forming.

A gentle squeeze to your hand beneath the table, calloused fingers sliding against your palm like a lifeline. Ni-ki’s hand wrapped around yours with a quiet kind of fierceness.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch him leaning in.

He dipped his head low until his breath brushed your ear, voice soft—only for you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Your throat bobbed. “I—just… overwhelmed”

Ni-ki hummed in understanding, his thumb brushing small circles over the back of your hand. “I know. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I wanted to. I need this to be over.”

“You’ve got nothing to prove to them,” he said, voice low and firm. “You just sit here, hold my hand, and look pretty like always.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Riki—”

“I mean it,” he said, smiling softly now. “Let them all talk. Let them watch. You’re mine. And this?”

He tilted his head toward the stage where his sister’s voice echoed through the room, still talking about market shares and quarterly projections.

“This is just noise. We’re the headline.”

You let out a breath, one that almost turned into a laugh. “You’re such a show-off.”

He grinned. “Only for you.”

You glanced around. The cameras had definitely caught that moment. But you didn’t care—not when Ni-ki was looking at you like that, like you were the center of his entire universe.

He leaned in once more, pressing a fleeting kiss to your temple, so quick you almost missed it. “Ten more minutes,” he promised, “and then I’m dragging you out of here. I heard there’s strawberry milk waiting for us in the car.”

You were just about to turn to him, the corners of your lips lifting, when—

“May I now call on Nishimura Riki and (L/N (Y/N) to come on the stage?” Konon’s voice boomed through the venue, calm and commanding through the microphone. The murmuring in the room rose in volume, camera flashes flickering like fireflies.

Ni-ki sighed softly, squeezing your hand one last time before standing. “Well, there goes our exit plan.”

He straightened his posture and extended his arm toward you with a slight smirk. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his without hesitation, letting him pull you gently to your feet. Despite the swell of eyes and lights on you, his presence kept you steady. His other hand hovered protectively at your back as he guided you through the aisle, careful to keep pace with your steps.

“I told you not to wear those heels,” he whispered lowly, glancing down with a frown at the strappy, elegant but clearly uncomfortable shoes. “You’re barely walking, angel.”

“They matched the dress,” you whispered back.

“They match nothing if you trip on the stairs.”

You bit back a laugh as you both climbed onto the stage, the applause swelling around you. Konon greeted the two of you with a polite nod and a knowing smile. Her poised, professional demeanor didn’t hide the subtle glance she gave your intertwined hands.

Without waiting, Ni-ki took the mic from his sister with a nod of thanks, standing tall in front of the crowd of stakeholders, executives, journalists, and live-stream viewers.

“Good afternoon,” he began, voice smooth, practiced—but still very him. “I’m Nishimura Riki, and on behalf of my family, I’d like to extend our deepest gratitude for your support of Nishimura Enterprises and its many developments these past months.”

A pause.

“And while today is a celebration of progress and success, I’d like to take this moment to share something… more personal.”

He turned to look at you. The lights made his eyes shine.

“With the blessing and push from both of our families,” he continued, voice firmer now, “I would like to announce my engagement to (L/N) (Y/N).”

The entire venue erupted in noise. Flashes exploded from every direction. Voices overlapped—cheers, gasps, even a few stunned laughs. The applause felt deafening, but you didn’t flinch. You were used to it.

What you weren’t used to was the way Ni-ki looked at you in that moment—not just as the Nishimura heir, not just as your Alpha—but as your best friend since you were both kids building castles out of pillows in your living rooms, hiding away from the pressure of your last names.

You turned slightly to face the crowd, and when you spoke, your voice came out warm and composed.

“We’ve known each other since we were too short to reach the kitchen counter,” you said with a soft smile. “And even back then, Riki always looked out for me. From scraped knees to late-night calls to strawberry milk after long days… he’s always been there.”

You felt him smile beside you.

“And now,” you continued, “I’m honored to be by his side—not just as his partner, but as someone who believes in the future we’ll build together.”

Ni-ki nodded once, like you’d just said the exact thing his heart was holding. He leaned toward you subtly, just enough that your shoulders brushed, and whispered, “You were perfect.”

“You’re biased,” you whispered back.

“I’m yours,” he replied, and even with all the noise, all the lights, and all the eyes watching—you swore it was just the two of you on that stage.

Another wave of applause erupted like thunder, sweeping through the grand venue. From the reserved family section near the front, your parents stood—smiles stretched wide across their faces—clapping with such pride and joy it made your chest ache. Beside them, the Nishimuras, regal and composed, mirrored the same warmth, their approval unmistakable.

Ni-ki’s eyes didn’t leave yours.

His hand gently tugged you closer, your sides brushing as the lights above cast a golden hue around your figures. He smiled down at you—real, soft, the kind that only you got to see when no one else was looking.

And you, unable to help the emotion building in your chest, looked up at him with eyes full of everything you’d never been able to say out loud before.

Your lips parted, voice quiet but certain as it reached him despite the noise.

“Always been.”

⤷ read part 1 here !

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© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don’t hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[foone]

The rules are simple: Two wizards. Two pistols. No magic.

Now, don't misunderstand: "No magic" of course means "no magic now". The pistols are constructed using magic, of course. Wizards don't carry unenchanted firearms, that'd be silly. You don't spend years learning to bend all the rules of spacetime just to make a gun that shoots lead bullets using exploding powder. No magic just means you don't cast a shield spell while you're taking aim. But if you want to bring a gun you've designed to cast a shield itself when drawn? Go nuts.

So most wizards will have a dedicated dueling gun for these reasons. You want something that helps against the other wizard's enchantments, something that protects you from the effects of their bullets, and casts some protective magic on you. Shields, invisibility, illusions, healing... Your dueling pistol is usually a tricked out masterpiece of everything you know about magic and firearms.

Which is why this pistol in front of you is so worrying.

It's basically virgin. This is the product of a skilled gunsmith, not a wizard. There's no shields, no infinite ammunition, no enchantments on the bullets, which are mere lead and brass. There's some low level enchantments to strengthen the barrel from misfires, and the powder is enhanced to ensure it's always enough. That's the kind of magic you'd find on a pistol you buy from an average gun store, and it'd cost you only a few coins. This is the weapon of an unmagical security guard or a robber, not the dueling weapon of a world-class magician.

Veynor turned up his magic sense as far as he could without melting his eyes out of his head. Could it have an enchantment to hide other enchantments? No, unless they're being powered by half a city's worth of power. And even if they were, that much anti-magic would hide the low level enhancements on the barrel and the powder.

He asks if he can examine the bullets. "Bullet", says the nameless wizard, pulling out the empty magazine and showing it to Veynor. They pull back the slide and eject a single bullet, grabbing it in their other hand with practiced ease. They hand it over, and Veynor stares at it with the kind of intensity you only see when someone is looking not with their eyes. It's... Lead. Lead and powder and brass and a primer and the only magic here just makes sure the powder is sufficient to fire it. That's the kind of enchantment that you cast on a whole batch of bullets to ensure none will misfire, not the kind a wizard intricately carves into each bullet individually to give them a fighting chance in a magic battle.

Veynor hands back the bullet, and the nameless wizard loads it back in their pistol. It's a bluff, it has to be. They're trying to scare me, he thinks. Wizards know the inverse rule of subtlety and power. Your average wizard throwing fireballs and lightning is a student still in their first few years, while an old master will not need to do anything as flashy. They'll just wave a hand dismissively and your entire family line going back seven generations will retroactively be erased... So this has to be a trick. They know they're outclassed (Veynor has been at this for decades, after all), and are trying to psych him out. With a gun this cheap and unpowerful, they're betting that the more powerful wizard will call off the duel out of imagined danger.

Too bad. Veynor is not blinking at the bluff... "Let's do this".

They face away from each other, as if they could only see from their eyes. Veynor holds his pistol high, and the nameless wizard holsters it, their arrogance apparently extending to not needing to have it ready to fire. Another attempt at bluffing, as if Veynor could even call it off now. The rules are clear, and wizard rules aren't the kind you break without consequences.

They take their requisite ten paces, and Veynor flips around and takes aim, his pistol setting up shields and blurring his image as he takes aim at... Nothing? Where's the nameless wizard?! Did he flee? Veynor didn't feel any ripples from a teleport, he must have gone invisible. His gun continues casting spells on him, and he feels the enhanced vision kick in. The morning mist fades and the clouds in the distance come into view, but still no nameless wizard.

Veynor swears. The nameless wizard must have cheated. There's no way that gun could have done this. If it could, he would have seen the enchantment. Well, if they're cheating... He casts a review spell, rewinding time in his mind and watching the duel again. They face away, the take the steps. 1,2,3...

The cloud parts in the distance. There's a rumbling in the ground. Even with enhanced vision it's not obvious what happens. Veynor tries to dismiss the review magic but their magical control is going haywire. Something is very, very wrong. They start to feel like they're being pulled out to sea by an undertow, as the ambient mana field is suddenly becoming a raging river pulling past them.

In their vision, they see the nameless wizard stop at the end of their paces, and turn as they reach for their pistol. As the review ends, they see the holster glow with the colorless light of magic, as an enchantment activates. That's their trick, they placed magic on the holster! But what kind? And what's happening in the sky?

The clouds part to a black circle with a silver rim. The circle grows in size, seemingly, an Veynor casts a farsight spell now to see this from another angle. Casting his vision miles to the side, he sees the circle is a tube descending from the clouds at a shallow angle, pointed right at him... Oh sweet silent mother, that's the barrel of the pistol. It's now big enough to cross the inland sea, with a caliber better described in miles.

The sky goes dark as the barrel blots out the sun, the shadow stretching halfway to the way station at the edge of the wizarding wastes. With his senses stretched by the enchantments on his gun, he sees the events happening in slow motion. There's a click, and a hammer starts moving towards the back of the bullet.

Veynor tries to set up a teleport, an emergency one to anywhere, anyplace, any time but here. The flowing mana is making it difficult but he sees a destination: the abandoned fortress at the other end of the wastes. It'll be easier to get to than outside the wastes, and it'll give him time to set up another jump. The sky shatters as a sound starts coming his way.

With his slowed time sense, it'll be minutes before he can hear the gunshot, but already the shockwave is visible, even to the unaided eye. The bullet is supersonic, however, so no matter what happens he'll never hear that gunshot: either he teleports out of here or the bullet turns him and half the landscape into a fine paste.

He focuses his vision on the fortress, concentrating on finishing the teleport. The soundwave of the gunshot hits the fortress in his sight beyond sight, and it doesn't collapse, exactly, so much as cease being a structure and reverts back to a thousand small stones no longer sharing any association with each other.

With his destination destroyed, his teleport fizzles. The sky is still dark, but the mana flowing towards him has sped up to the point where he's having trouble staying upright, as his footing gets shakier and shakier. He looks up and sees the slug moving towards him at a bit more than the speed of sound, and he closes his eyes.

It doesn't help, his magical senses continue to show him the movement of objects around him, right up until the moment of impact.

The barrier around the wizard wastes goes white, and slowly fades back down through the colors until it returns to its normal semi-transparency.

The nameless wizard catches the hot brass in their right hand, before it hits the rapidly solidifying bedrock under their feet. The wizard wastes are self-healing (you'd be surprised how much even the average wizard duel destroys the landscape), but that's no reason to litter. They look at the deep crater they find themselves in, and start planning a route up the side. Most of it is still flowing, with the sand and rock intermixing in their white hot state, but there's spots here and there that are cooling quicker.

They could try a teleport, but it's a nice day for a bit of rock climbing. Besides, like they always say: half the trick of being a wizard is knowing when not to use magic. And right now the local mana field is a bit chaotic, having just gone through the equivalent of the Chicxulub impact.

They hike up their robes and begin to climb. Their feet may be heat proof, but they don't want to singe their robe again. It's a lot harder to enchant wool with heat protection spells, something to do with how the will of the former owner interferes. They make a note to do more research into the inherent magical abilities of sheep, once they climb out of this crater. Behind them, rocky ejecta finally crashes back into the crater. They wonder if the barrier has a roof, or if they just flung rocks onto the moons. They'll have to ask one of the lunar residents later, and make amends for any property damage.

They'll have to get lunch after this, all this climbing is working up an appetite. Maybe some mutton chops, since they were thinking about sheep? There's a good place on the bigger moon, they haven't been there in a while.

On the moon, there's a small impact, a puff of dust thrown up into the (lack of) air and slowly drifting back down. In the puddle-sized crater, a heavily enchanted pistol lies, still in perfect shape. The engraving on the side, readable in all languages, says "if found, return to Veynor". The dust lands on it, slowly burying it.

[passengerprincipessa]

if you feel like giving like. a quick primer on rallying to someone who's only ever watched f1 and motogp. i would love that. but no pressure it's a big ask + i could always do my own research!!

rallying is literally the most intense racing discipline in the world. the races are called rallies, and they take place over a weekend, sort of like a grand prix. this year, the wrc (world rally championship, rallying’s equivalent to f1) races in all sorts of places: kenya, sweden in the snow, estonia, mexico. the routes are usually unpaved, so cars will race on dirt, snow, ice, gravel, water, really whatever conditions they encounter. routes will usually include jumps where the cars literally go flying through the air, like it’s crazy

the big difference with f1 is that rally cars (almost) never compete head to head. instead, everything is based on the time it takes to complete each “stage” (a section of track that’s closed for racing. rally cars will drive on the road to reach each stage because all the stages are separated from each other). the winner is whoever has the fastest time at the end of the rally from across all stages

where rallying gets really crazy is that the routes are literally always different. it’s not like f1 where drivers memorize the track. instead, drivers have co-drivers, who sit in the passenger seat during a rally and have things called “pace notes” which the driver dictates to the co-driver during their first drive of a stage. then, the co-driver reads the pace notes to the driver during the rally, which is how the driver knows what they’re about to encounter on the route. the pace notes are the holy bible of rally. literally a car once flipped and went into a lake, and the co-driver still rescued the pace notes, even as the car was filling with water. he then laid them all out to dry on his hotel room floor overnight

the other crazy part about rallying is that the driver and co-driver often have to act as mechanics. because they’re covering large distances, there’s sometimes no one to fix the car except… you. so you’ll see drivers banging bent driveshafts with rocks to try and fix them, kicking out smashed windshields, replacing lost coolant with water they steal from a lake or a swimming pool. one time a rally car lost a wheel and the co-driver literally dangled himself out the window to act as a counterbalance while the car tried to get back to the rally equivalent of the pits. he was doing this on a public road in italy and they got pulled over by italian police 💀

anyway, it’s insane, everyone should at least watch highlights because literally no one is doing it like them

[the-east-art]

hello!! I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but do you have any good gf fic recs? I really like your sister’s one so maybe ones with similar vibes to that? :D

heck yeah! *to the tune of Stunkle Bunkle* East gives Gravity Falls Fic Recs!

idk if i can say for sure what does or doesn't have similar vibes to Pines Paradox, but I can tell you fics I like! Although legally if you like a fic I recommended you have to tell me 'I read that one and liked it' so I can feel like I'm getting a good grade in fics recs. One last thing: I'm not really a shipper so these should all if not mostly be gen. (if you want to see my entire list of bookmarks fics you can check out my ao3

Pines Paradox - BrownieFox

Ford's research is interrupted by his estranged brother showing up on his doorstep with a kid who claims to be time traveller. Meanwhile in the present, Stan and Mabel try to figure out how to get Dipper back to the right time. There will be secrets revealed, old wounds readdressed, and above it all a one-eyed demon watches with interest.

East: the primer. the blueprint. The one I do all the fanart for. Obv you have already read it, but in case this list gets around to other circles outside of my own, I want to put this one up first. Dipper gets stuck in the past BEFORE Not What He Seems.

Adrift - Jamesneatojourney

Stanford wakes up on the deck of the Stan O'War, concussed and alone

East: intense and dramatic - I'm kind of a sucker for Stan whump and that's what it is paired with REALLY good Ford POV

Pines! Pines! Pines! - hellmandraws

A collection of my various Gravity Falls fan comics, previously posted on Tumblr. The main focus tends to be on the Stan twins.

East: MUST READ COMICS. Hops all over the timeline, mostly focusing on Stan and Ford. Explores a bunch of aspects of their relationship, of the years they spend alone. It's the beast stuff out there.

putting the dog to sleep - parsnipit

ford can’t stop thinking about old yeller that night, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on their ceiling. he couldn’t do it, he thinks. he couldn’t ever shoot his own dog, no matter what. “well,” stanley says pragmatically the next morning, pretending like he doesn’t care as much as ford knows he does, “since he was sufferin’ and all, it was really better for him to be dead, wasn’t it? not much point in being alive if your whole life is terrible and you’re a danger to everybody you ever loved.” something cold and sharp takes up residence in ford’s stomach. he doesn’t like hearing stanley say stuff like that. he doesn’t like it at all. “i wouldn’t do it,” ford insists. “no matter what, i wouldn’t. there’s always another way.” “heh. yeah, i bet you’d find another way, brainiac,” stanley teases, reaching over to muss ford’s hair. ford swats him away. stanley can make fun all he wants—ford still spends all night thinking about cures for rabies.

East: OUTRHGDSGD the old yeller analogy that runs through this one shot absolutely kills me - I'm such a sucker for these types of metaphors. It uses quotes from the book to set the stage the the different sections and it drives me crazy in the best ways.

Things You Can't Take Back - thesnadger

It's Nineteen Seventy-Something. Stan is running from his mistakes, when he suddenly encounters the last person he ever thought he'd run into out here. What is he doing in Columbia, so far from Glass Shard Beach?

East: dare I spoil the twist? I won't. Read it. One of my all time faves.

Persist and Dwell - fencesit

Wendy pauses with her hand on the door and then says, "Hey, Soos—you ever notice Stan doesn't really...touch things?" He probably should have seen this coming, but the problem with deliberately not looking at things is that they have lots of chances to blindside you. In hopes of avoiding this conversation, Soos says, "I haven't noticed that." "Okay," Wendy says. "So. I'm going crazy, right?" "Dude, you're too smart to be crazy," Soos says, "but he totally touches things. He handed you money like five minutes ago."

East: What if Stan was lowkey-highkey haunting the shack?! THIS IS SUCH A GREAT IDEA. I really wish that there was more for this au or this idea

Deja Vu - interlude

Stan and Ford get stuck in a time loop on the day of the portal incident and are forced to work through some things.

East: Through the lense of a timeloop, watch the brothers have their struggles, and find that with infinite time on their hands there is nothing else for them to do but to eventually work things out (and maybe deal with how to get out of the loop). ITS GOOD SHIT

The Sacrifice of Stanford Pines - Jugare

Instead of sending Stan a postcard, Ford leaves Gravity Falls to find his brother. But to his shock, Stan is not nearly as willing to help as Ford thought. Everything goes south quickly.

East: I love this fic. The act of Ford going and finding Stan rather than having him send a letter gives these characters more time to interact before they arrive at the Shack, changing the course of fate. A top tier fic.

Under The Ice - castielrisingabove

What if that phone call the Bill-possessed Ford made to Stan actually went through?

East: short but to the point. A fun thought experiment and I think does a good job portraying both Stanley and Ford.

Sleight of Hand - impish_nature

Stan the magician!

East: Stan, post weirdmageddon, shows off his sleight of hand and his magic tricks. Ford POV. If you like the idea of the things lost in the cracks of memory after the series finale, or at least while Stan recuperates, you'll like this.

Unexpected but not Unwanted - impish_nature

Ford struggles as Stan remembers.

East: the tentative movements towards being a family, being brothers again, post weirdmageddon. shamelessly soft.

I Am A Selkie On The Sea - scribefindegil

The twins may be able to use the same sealskin, but only the one born with it is the true selkie. At least, that's what Ford's been telling himself for the past 40-odd years.

East: This series in general is really good. I like how the selkie skin is used to unit and to tear apart. My one gripe is I wish we never found out whether the skin belonged to Mabel or Dipper, and it was left for the reader to decide (and to decide if that even matters)

Too Late, Too Soon, Not Enough - IncomingAlbatross

(Another take on the missing scene in the Fearamid, featuring protectiveness, promises, and some long-overdue emotional progress. Also Stan being annoying on purpose.)

East: one of my favorite depictions of this scene. Does a good job with Fords POV and writing Stanley

why can't we just teach kids swears? - untrustworthyglitch

“Anyway, what’s in my kitchen that needs kid proofed? I keep the liquor in the high cabinets, where the kids won’t be able to reach,” Stan says. “Plus, the gun in the breadbox isn’t even loaded. Probably. I think.” Soos sighs. “I have my work cut out for me.” Or, in which Stan's niece and nephew are coming, and it's up to Wendy and Soos to fix Stan's life and habits.

East: A good fic, but more than that I really love this idea of how Soos and Wendy helped Stan get the shack ready for the kids.

Protective Instincts - ShyEye

Stanford decides to do some out of house research one late full moon night. He returns home only to almost instantly be attacked by an unfamiliar monster that maybe isn't as unfamiliar as initially thought.

East: I just love werewolf Stan au okay?

The Other Portal - Haberdasher

AU where, when items are lost in the Bottomless Pit, they come to Ford… regardless of his current location in the multiverse.

East: A good fic, but more than that it's a really fun idea! I wish they had pushed the implications of this even more (especially with the bottomless pit episode)

Off-Season - anistarrose

Winters running the Mystery Shack are difficult, but two unexpected guests improve Stan’s day.

East: cute oneshot. I'm a big fan of timetravel oneshots that are from the pov of the person who ISNT the timetraveler. Dramatic (or in this case tbh just very cute) irony.

In the Shadow of Death - A_Zap

It all started with the grim. Now it seems like every time he turns around, Ford finds yet another death omen hanging around his brother. Seriously, what exactly is going on with his brother that death constantly seems to follow his footsteps? A 5+1 fic of the death omens that adopted Stan and he adopted back.

East: It all comes together in the final chapter, trust me.

Changing Tides - Ariasune

When their dæmons settle, they'll be grown up. At least, that's the general idea.

and

Post-script - Ariasune

Poindexter, your deed is in the safe -- Wendy can open it for you -- don't worry about the mortgage, that's been paid off. Sorry about messing your life up again. Bye. PS - the milk is about to go bad, so you should use that up.

East: DAEMON AU DAEMON AU I'm such a sucker for these kinds of aus. Changing Tides focuses on canon, flipping between when the Stans were kids and the time of the show. Post Script naturally happens after the show. They're both good and dramatic.

Raising Stakes - Mary P Sue

East: heck, my copy and paste stopped working for some reason, so no summary for you. This is a vampire au and it's good! Create characterization, pretty clearly written either while Mystery Trio was a big thing or inspired by it. Carla fans get your juice.

[good-chimes]

Proposing:

Grand Unified Scarian Theory

a single, overarching Scarian romance arc across the whole Hermitcraft and Life series as well as a primer for anyone curious about the early seasons.

We start with NEIGHBOR MEET CUTE in early Season 6:

Season 6 begins in a peaceful pirate bay. SCAR, an established hermit just beginning his third season, is happily making pirate caves. Into this tranquil scene comes GRIAN.

Grian, fresh-faced and new to Hermitcraft, picks a sea-themed base location right next to Scar’s pirate caves. He gets himself set up and starts his base. Even someone like Grian can get newcomer nerves, and he spends the first few weeks desperately trying to act like a normal person instead of the horrible gremlin he really is.

(Some hermits are taken in by this. Doc and Xisuma give him pity diamonds, something that—after getting to know Grian—they noticeably never do again.)

The only person exempt from Grian’s just-a-little-birthday-boy act is Mumbo, whom Grian already knows, clearly has a puppy-crush on, and pursues relentlessly.

Grian and Scar don’t interact much at first. Grian sees Scar for the first time while passing by his base. Scar instantly falls in one of his own caves and dies.

Grian panics.

Grian: I DIDN’T DO IT!

Scar, intrigued by his new neighbor, makes some overtures of interest:

1. Scar leaves a fully enchanted trident at Grian’s base as a welcome present. This is a generous gift for the cute neighbor you have a crush on and frankly the most normal thing either of them do in the entire years-long relationship.

Grian goes ‘huh!’ at the trident, never finds out who sent it, and immediately forgets the whole thing.

2. Scar entertains Grian’s traveling-salesman pitch and buys his overpriced armor boxes.

Multiple jokes about the size of Scar’s wallet. Grian clearly pleased by the transaction.

3. Scar makes Grian a complementary in-joke build (Spongebob’s house by Squidward’s house).

This delights Grian immeasurably for five minutes until he turns back to his prank war with Mumbo.

(Poor Mumbo. Clearly immensely fond of Grian but not sure he wants to be in a relationship with a lit stick of dynamite. This is very understandable.)

By this point Scar obviously kind of clocks that Grian is insane about Mumbo. This isn’t much of a leap. The entire SERVER is aware that Grian is horribly in love with Mumbo.

Ah. That’s okay. Scar backs off a bit. He recognizes when he’s not really in with a chance.

Maybe this thing he has with Grian is just going to be a friendship, and that’s okay! Having a crush is fun even if you’re not going to do anything about it. Scar is going to build some shops about it and be normal.

Both of them are going to be very normal.

FLIRTING (First Stages) – mid-Season 6

Both of them immediately forget to be normal.

Grian has started a detective agency and has no mysteries to solve. Scar instantly invents a cookie-based mystery supervillain called the Jangler and leaves Grian a series of tantalizing cookie-based puzzles for enrichment in his enclosure.

Grian has invented a game where you kill people with rockets. Scar volunteers to get murdered. Both of them are delighted.

Scar and Cub’s business empire is incidentally crushing Grian’s startup venture. There is no reason for this to be so flirtatiously charged.

At this point all the hermits move to a new village because of the Minecraft update. Grian starts a who-can-build-the-tallest-house war with Mumbo and Iskall. Scar notices and starts doing the same from the other side of the village.

It quickly gets so wild that Mumbo taps out (Mumbo does not do well with intensity, would rather just not, thankyouverymuch), and it's only Grian, Iskall and Scar.

Scar builds a wild giant plant eating his rocketship, and then a castle in the sky, and an enormous version of himself firing a canon at Grian's house. This is the first time you can really see Grian trying to hold in shrieks when he flies back in to see what Scar has done while he's gone.

Grian’s interest has been caught. He’s gone from barely seeing Scar to checking on him regularly. What’s our good friend Scar up to? What’s Scar done? What is Scar going to do next?

FLIRTING (How To Catch Your Crush’s Interest By Building A Secret Government Facility) – late Season 6

What Scar does next is put on a snazzy military uniform, team up with Doc to steal the time machine Grian invented last week, then, in the most effort someone has EVER gone to to get Grian's attention, spend weeks on end building a fully-functional 'Area 77' military base and containment facility to stop him getting it back.

Turns out this works beyond Scar’s wildest dreams.

Grian INSTANTLY obsessed with breaking into Scar’s base and retrieving his time machine.

Grian persuades Ren into forming a hippie camp with him next to the base and spends weeks entirely fixated on Scar. Meanwhile Scar, who is starting to really understand how to get and keep Grian's attention, builds more and fancier infrastructure to keep Grian out. This is also where Grian really starts looking at Scar's art—the insane cliffs Scar has build around his new hangers—and awkwardly not quite managing words, because it would be very embarrassing to just outright say the word beautiful, and Grian’s a very normal and non-embarrassing person.

In the climax of the season, Grian-the-hippie breaks into General Scar’s base.

Nobody can say that Scar making himself a top brass general and Grian making himself an anti-establishment flower power hippie does not end up with plausibly-deniable not-making-out Grian-provoking-Scar-into-holding-him-against-a-wall.

but.

BUT.

This is Hermitcraft. It’s temporary. Scar and Grian both know it was a bit. A bit they both got super into, sure! But a bit. Not weird at all.

(“Sure, mate, not weird at all,” Mumbo says, after all of this is over. “Then why are you making it SOUND weird Mumbo you’re the WORST”)*

(“Sooo....” Cub says, and Scar says, “I know. I know!”)*

*not canon but you can't tell me it didn't happen off screen

FLIRTING (But What About…) – early Season 7

Okay, so that was weird, but Grian is definitely still in love with Mumbo. The Mumbo pursuit is going great and Mumbo definitely doesn’t look nervous whenever Grian turns up with a new idea. Grian is going to get Mumbo to fall in love with him and they will marry in the spring and have a dozen beautiful children redstone contraptions.

Grian attempts to make it more official with Mumbo. Surely they have been flirting long enough, they are ready for the next stage! This is in no way a reaction to Scar becoming a weird wizard in a way very unsettling to Grian and building the kind of wild organic tangled forest build that Grian is fascinated by but can't even begin to comprehend.

Everything is very under control in Grian's life. He's now official boyfriends with Mumbo. They live together and have a messaging system and everything.

Mumbo announces he’s moving out.

It’s-not-you-it’s-me

You’re… you’re moving out? Grian says, in the smallest possible voice.

We’ll still have the messaging system, Mumbo says, unconvincingly.

FINE, Grian says, I’m moving out TOO.

Mumbo moves out.

Grian deals with this in the healthiest possible way. He invents a mayorship and attempts to give it to Mumbo.

Grian is Mumbo’s self-appointed campaign manager so Mumbo has to be round him ALL THE TIME, it’s for the CAMPAIGN, Mumbo.

Mumbo, a man who doesn’t deal well with pressure or responsibility, is maybe not the ideal choice for mayor, something that has escaped Grian entirely.

Mumbo builds a robot and attempts to palm off all responsibility for decision-making onto it. Grian immediately calls it their son.

Grian puts his moustache all over the server.

NO other hermits support them for mayor (except Scar, from a lost bet, who Grian has continued to have intensely weird flirtations with while all this is happening)

Things reach a fever pitch. Election day arrives. Mumbo doesn’t want this actually but try telling Grian that. The entire MumboGrian edifice that Grian has obsessively and wildly build has reached an unsustainable pitch and finally comes tumbling down around them.

Mumbo votes Scar for mayor.

Grian votes Scar for mayor.

Mumbo disappears for several weeks to do some nice soothing redstone and calm down.

FLIRTING (Civil War) – late Season 7

Everything has calmed down now. Scar is mayor. Mumbo is...somewhere. Grian is going to work on his base normally.

Grian has a new project. He wants to build in the new nether biomes. He builds a huge and echoing and obsessively inverse version of his huge and echoing and obsessively symmetrical mansion base. It's very impressive. It's totally hollow. There's... no one else here.

Grian decides that okay, he is going to bring PEOPLE here.

He invites Mumbo, because he hasn't seen him in weeks. He invites Bdubs, because Grian above all loves genius. And he invites Scar. Because of course. Everything major Grian does now, Scar is an of course.

Bdubs shows up! Generously builds Grian's entire mansion interior. Mumbo shows up. Builds a tiny upside down disco shack.

Scar does not show up.

Scar is being mayor! Scar is a very busy and important man! Scar has spent the last few weeks obsessively replacing every single goddamn mycelium block in the shopping district with beautifully tailored grass and making trees whose flowers are diamonds. He's also got his own megabase going on. For once Scar has so much to do it's even enough for Scar's ambitions, which have never been small.

He does not come when Grian calls.

Grian is Not Happy.

This is the point where Grian starts a steadily more unhinged campaign of leaving Scar invitations. He makes little tailor's dummies of himself and delivers them to Scar's house. He sets up a tea party of three grians in a secret space under Scar's mayoral throne. He hangs himself in effigy on the tip of Scar's megadrill build. Normal behavior.

And then when Scar still doesn't notice, he puts a tiny bit of mycelium back on one of the streets of the shopping district.

This starts… THE MYCELIUM WARS

Scar attempts to contain the growing mycelium patch with warning tape.

Grian spreads more mushroom spores.

Scar brings in his allies to help contain the growing mushroom patches.

Grian digs out an underground rebel HQ, recruits several rebels, and declares himself Motherspore.

Mayor Scar stares into a camera and uses his most velvety baritone to proclaim he will hunt down Grian and the mycelium resistance and bring them to justice.

Grian sets loose mushroom-spreading sheep.

Mayor Scar obsessively searches for his base.

Grian and Impulse build several decoy bases and trap them.

Mayor Scar employs Mumbo to strip-mine every block of the shopping district with redstone tunnel-borers.

Eventually Deputy Mayor Bdubs, having his own thing with rebel Etho, tricks all of the resistance into ender-pearling into jail.

Scar gets to threaten to pour lava on an imprisoned Grian for ten minutes straight and they’re both enjoying this so much.

Grian: Scar! SCAR! Scar Scar Scar no Scar no Scar no listen Scar

Scar: Yes?

Grian: …Let’s take this somewhere else.

They ‘take this’ to Scar’s beautifully-appointed mayoral office. Grian sits on the arm of his chair (I don’t know what to tell you, this is on-screen canon).

Grian: So I know how to end the war.

Grian: We have to play minigames and make personal bets.

Grian: And Scar, Scar, if you lose…

Scar: Yes?

Grian: … you have to help build my base.

Entire room: [stunned silence]

Etho: Is this what it was about the whole time, Grian?

So! That happened. And the thing is, they could both mentally pass off the area 77 general/hippie stuff as Just A Fun Bit That Got Very Intense.

They can't do this with the mayor/motherspore stuff. They are basically making out on Scar’s chair. The resistance have noticed. The mayoral staff have noticed. EVERYONE has noticed.

Scar is into it. Scar is going along with it. Scar knows he’d had a crush for a long time, and he isn't scared of swimming with a huge wave, never mind where it's going to break. Scar has always embraced the rush. With Grian, you never know what’s going to happen next.

Grian has always loved being around Scar because there’s so much going on that you don’t have to think. Grian doesn’t have to think until everything’s calmed down. It's not until now that he stops and realizes… could this be… something.

(Maybe it already is.)

And then, by whatever eldritch mechanic you personally favor:

3rd life begins.

HEAD-OVER-HEELS – Third Life

In the tiny claustrophobic stripped-bare world of Third Life, Grian makes a choice. Grian thinks, for once very, very clearly: what if it wasn't a bit? What if it was real. What if Grian took every explosive piece of who he was and handed it over to someone he's—okay, he'll admit it—someone he's been obsessed with for a long time. What if that heady sparkle he's been seeing in the corner of his vision is true. What happens if you grab it with both hands?

Scar—surprised, bemused, amazed but wrong-footed—almost doesn't know what to DO with this.

Scar is so used to Grian layering all his obsession behind a thick layer of irony and drama and second-guessing and schemes. ‘Sure we can make out but only if I'm trailing mushroom spores and you're wearing that sash.’ ‘I'm only here because Mumbo's not around.’ ‘It’s not a thing.’ ‘It's not real.’

But it is real.

And, for once, Scar hears a tiny alarm go off in his brain. Scar knows Grian better than anyone else does, by now, and even he doesn't know where this ends. Grian is a force of nature and Scar has never been his unfiltered target. But Grian's throwing himself into this, throwing himself at Scar. And Scar always says 'yes.' 'Yes, and.' 'Yes, let's'. Scar never wants less of Grian. Scar has always taken what he can get.

But with that warning bell, Scar does try to keep that slight layer of dramatic distance, even in this new world where you can die and not come back, even if they don't know if they'll get out of this alive. Scar doesn't fully buy into Grian's second-in-command-devotion, he forces a space for Grian to still be the Grian he knows, some kind of safety vent (‘here's a bee on a lead’). And it could be a lot of reasons, but part of it is…Grian's head-over-heels, for once, and Scar has the unfamiliar feeling of needing to be the one to look where they're going.

Because where they're going is: the last two, all their friends dead, not knowing if there's any way to survive but knowing their friends haven't come back, and at that point Scar takes off the very last of his brakes and the very last of his reservations and says:

For everything you've done for me you can kill me.

(I want this. I want it to be you.)

This breaks Grian absolutely and completely.

And not broken in the fun way! Grian is too far in. Grian let go of Mumbo, who was safe because Mumbo never let it get too far, and he took a risk on Scar, and now Grian is discovering that he didn’t even know what risk meant. Grian is in emotional pain he never suspected existed. Grian has let himself put all his gambling chips on someone who wasn't SAFE and he has lost.

Grian has LOST SCAR and he has LOST HIMSELF and he has FOUND OUT HE CAN BE HURT and he is never going to be the fucking same again.

Scar is in the pond with Grian’s sword at his unresisting neck. And Scar is going to die, and Scar (damn him damn him) has turned it into: he's going to die for Grian. Now Grian is hurting, he's complicit, it turns out grief is an inevitable part of love and beauty, this is all it's taken for Grian's worldview to fall apart in pieces he can't pick up, and Grian has no defenses against pain so there's obviously no way to cope except to beat Scar to death in a cactus ring and jump off a cliff.

AFTERMATH – Season 8

They wake up in Hermitcraft.

They wake up in Hermitcraft! Scar is delighted to find out they just reincarnate, after all that!

Sure, they've all got some lingering trauma but Scar has never let that stop him from doing anything. Scar thought that whole thing went well! He just about dares to think...romantic...? Maybe...?

Grian is Normal to him.

Grian is so fucking normal. it's like. s6 normal.

Scar is. kind of. confused.

Grian is NOT acting like someone he had a romantic death match with.

(Grian is falling apart, but if there's one thing Grian has proved in his building it’s that he’s SO. fucking. good. at facades.)

(Don't go round the back.)

Neither of them are ready for the death game to repeat.

DIVORCE (Traumatic) – Last Life, Season 8

Second death game. Grian deals with his trauma super well by isolating Scar, stealing all his friends, tricking a life out of him, dropping his horse in lava, forcing him into an extortion death loop, then abandoning him and—just as a bonus—murdering Mumbo as well.

This time it’s Scar who comes back falling apart.

A theory that seems plausible: Scar’s old friend Cub picks him up, puts him back together, gets him on his feet. What we do know is that Cub moves in next to Boatem, where Scar is still living with Grian, and incidentally builds an enormous dripstone megabiome that is coincidentally very hostile and might murder you upon landing if you're someone who flies a lot, or happens to be a bird.

There’s a hole with an endless dark void between Scar and Grian’s Boatem bases. They built it together. It’s around this time they both keep repeatedly falling in it.

DIVORCE (But When It Was Good It Was So Good) – Season 8, Double Life

Then the moon gets big. Gets close. Gravity breaks down and that should be the end, should be a way out of this terrible spiral they're in, surely they're better without each other—

Grian turns up at Scar's base and says: Scar. Build us an escape pod.

—and Scar does.

They go out together. Both of them can feel the pull back into each other’s orbit but they’ll die if they acknowledge it. At the end of it all, the void, the protective suits, the unbearable gravity of falling into space together, of holding each other until another uncertain end. They're nowhere but they're in it together.

Is this a good time for another death game? Of course. How much worse can it get.

Double Life, and this time Scar keeps his distance. My soulmate is this allay! My soulmate is my cat! I don’t need a soulmate. Oh—it’s Grian? This whole time? Hahaha. How funny.

Grian: Soo… do you want to base together?

Scar: Do we have to?

Grian: It…might be nice…?

Scar is wary.

He has been burned.

But the pull is still there. The pull is always there. You can’t forget Grian, but you can blunt the edge of him on your skin. Scar is here to take care of these cat-pandas. Grian can do what he likes.

Cheated of Scar’s full attention, Grian tries to tempt BigB into a pale imitation of the Scarian folie à deux (BigB is a genuinely nice man who does not deserve this).

The rest of the server turn red, one by one. Grian and Scar are the last greens. BigB is audibly nervous when Grian proposes a red-green alliance, even though BigB is the red, he has the power. But Grian can’t escape the rest of the server, and the red hunt begins.

Grian and Scar, hunted—trapped at the top of flaming towers, jumping from heights, chased down like foxes at bay, crammed into boltholes with their hands over each other’s mouths, Grian shrieks and laughs and falls back on Scar and Scar catches him and they’re both as alive and elated as they’ve ever been. Scar dies once to Ren and BigB’s zombies and Grian murders both BigB and Ren in revenge (BigB was right to be nervous). Grian has another unhinged murder plan underway when he dies for the last time.

This whole time, Grian was hit in the face by remembering that when it's good, it's so good.

Scar isn’t surprised. Scar has known that forever.

Back in Hermitcraft, its not magically fixed. They’re not innocent any more. But every time Grian looks at Scar he remembers: when it’s good, it’s so good.

And Scar never forgot.

DIVORCE (We’re In Love And We’re Not Done Yet) – Season 9, Limited Life

By now we're into Season 9. They’re still alive. They always live, they always start again, and the other one is just there. Being, infuriatingly and magnetically, them.

Grian is thoroughly annoyed by Scar’s new allegiance to King Ren, but he keeps coming back to Scarland anyway. Scar, I made you an obstacle course. Scar, stand here and get squashed by this anvil. Scar if you don’t do something I’m going to start a resistance.

Grian pretends King Ren doesn’t exist and he has more important things to do, and pretends this so hard that he incidentally invents a mad science robot pulls them all through into the Empires dimension.

Scar, assuming Grian is doing his own thing, shacks up with Jimmy.

It takes Grian three weeks to notice and be shriekingly outraged.

Scar we’re doing a project. Scar you can’t spend all your time with Jimmy! Join my cult. Get in my shrinking machine. I made you an enchanted netherite bow. I need your allegiance. (Another real quote).

Scar teases Grian for weeks then instantly abandons Jimmy when the choice comes down to him or Grian.

Fourth death game—they’re used to this, now. Nothing too intense. Nothing too weird. Grian can’t help murdering Scar.

At this point, Scar is starting to read it as: I love you.

And that’s how we get to the current Scarian dynamic we know and love of you're the worst and I'm the worst and we've divorced a few time but we still like each other so fucking much.

It's been years. They've killed each other every possible way. These two characters are in love and they're not done yet.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Pretty Girl

Alastor x female reader

Summary: Alastor likes watching the reader (you) put on makeup because it's like another form of art.

A/N- So I actually don't wear makeup, so I hope most of this is right ha-ha! I wrote based off what I know.

You sat at your vanity and reached for your primer, dabbing a small amount onto your fingers before gently smoothing it across your face in circular motions. The cool sensation against your skin was refreshing, and you took a deep breath, glancing at your phone for the time. There was no need to rush, but you never knew when Charlie might come banging on your door.

Next came your foundation. You picked up a makeup brush and began applying it in light, even strokes, starting from the center of your face and blending outward. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Alastor sitting on your bed, his crimson gaze fixed intently on you. His legs were crossed, one foot bouncing slightly, his posture straight as his claws rested on his knees. That familiar grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he took in the scene before him.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you reached for your translucent powder. The thing was, Alastor loved watching you get ready. He found the entire process fascinating—each step transforming into a piece of art in his eyes. You dipped your brush into the powder and set your foundation, dabbing it delicately onto your face. Glancing up at him through the mirror, your eyes met his. The reflection of his intense, curious gaze sent a small shiver through you—not from discomfort, but from something warmer.

“You're quiet tonight,” you commented lightly, reaching for your eyeshadow palette. Choosing a soft shade, you began blending it into the creases of your eyelids. Alastor's grin widened as he shifted slightly.

"Just admiring the process," he replied smoothly. "You seem so focused. I'd hate to interrupt such artistry."

You let out a soft chuckle, your gaze flicking to him again through the mirror. "Artistry, huh? It’s just makeup, Alastor."

“To you, perhaps,” he mused, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned forward, still watching your every movement. “But to me, it’s a performance. A show. The way you apply each product with such grace and care—it’s captivating.” His eyes glimmered with intrigue, the fascination in his voice unmistakable.

You bit your lip slightly, feeling a warm blush rise beneath your foundation. His gaze never left you as you applied mascara, lifting your lashes with each sweep of the wand. It wasn’t an intense or unsettling gaze—it felt like he was admiring you, studying you in the most appreciative way.

“I’m glad you find it entertaining,” you said playfully, finishing with a light dusting of blush across your cheeks. “It’s just something I do for myself.”

Alastor chuckled, his tone rich and smooth. “Of course, darling. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t thoroughly enjoy watching.” A glint sparkled in his eyes, making your pulse quicken just a little. "There’s something undeniably charming about the care you take in perfecting every detail.”

You smiled and reached for your lipstick—the final touch. Slowly, you traced the soft pink gloss along your lips. “I think you just enjoy watching me,” you teased, setting the tube down and turning slightly in your chair to face him.

Alastor uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his ever-present grin now softer. “Guilty,” he admitted smoothly, his voice dropping as he held your gaze. “It’s hard not to admire beauty in its finest form.”

Your heart fluttered at his words as you stood from the vanity, slowly walking over to where he sat on the bed. "I suppose I can’t complain if my routine has such a captivated audience,” you teased, settling beside him, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Captivated, indeed." His gaze never wavered from yours. Without a word, you leaned in, your hand lightly brushing his shoulder as you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, his grin faltered—but only for a fraction of a second. When it returned, there was a noticeable warmth in his crimson gaze. If his bowtie could spin like a cartoon characters, it surely would have in that moment. You smiled at the thought.

“Thank you for the company, Radio Demon,” you teased, pulling back with a playful smile. Alastor blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected affection, but he quickly recovered. He raised a brow, watching you step back, his hand brushing over the spot where your lips had touched, as if savoring the moment.

You smiled to yourself as you turned toward the door. “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone,” you called over your shoulder, leaving the room. Behind you, Alastor sat there, grinning wider than ever, his eyes fixed on the doorway long after you had disappeared from view.

[kit-williams]

The black rut

Thank you @thelostprimarch for infecting me with this idea as well as @yestheantichrist for helping more with this idea aka planting the idea of a poor guardsman

tw: NSFW; dubious at best; most likely noncon; female reader

You broke from the line or rather what remained of the line after the astartes ran in. Your unit was decimated so at times with how spread out you were it felt like you were alone with the astartes and that made you feel blessed but also terrified. Like this moment now as the other Blood Angel had told you to run when his brother started acting funny. You curled up into a ball covering your mouth with your scarf and your hands as you try to calm down... nothing in the primer told you how to deal with this.

Your hearts seized as you could hear the snarling... pretty green eyes had turned red as his helm was just a partial one... leaving his eyes and the top of his head exposed. Short chocolate locks that curled at the ends... you think his laugh was melodic... you don't think you've ever seen anyone so beautiful, living, dead, even in paintings... You curled in on yourself as you could hear him slowly get closer.

You didn't understand what was going on... understand how fortuitous for this brother angel that the rage had turned into a rut... you didn't know that his brothers had allowed him to chase you down to help clear his head. The snarling sounded so close you slowly peaked up and there was blessedly nothing there... no he rushed you down from your left. The scream never had a chance to leave your throat as nearly a ton of geneforged muscle and ceremite was upon you and you were doing your best to keep your limbs in tact.

Your armor crumpled like wet paper in his hands as he ripped it free. You feel something break, you think, as his hand wrenches your lazgun away. You feel yourself curl in on yourself as you whimper to the Emperor as your trousers are torn away. It doesn't even register to you what is going on till the thud from his codpiece hitting the dirt and the bulge in his body glove just grinding hard between your legs. You hiccup as those heavy tears roll down your cheeks you think about screaming but you see the glazed look in his eyes as he just grinds against you... you're so afraid to make him mad...

You close your eyes just trying to not trigger the suddenly monstrous space marine. The material of his body glove and the heat causes you to feel something... the shame of being turned on by this... you wince as you remember your crushed armor and now missing weapon... you doubt the commissar is going to believe this. Your so caught up in your thoughts you dont feel or see for that matter, given how your eyes are closed, him pull himself out of his body glove. His cock throbbing with the pulse of a twin heartbeat.

The pain is what makes you thrash and kick as he forces himself into you deeply. You can't stop the screaming and the crying as you try and of course fail to stop him from moving. He's thick, not the thickest you've had but it still hurts for a man his size to move that deep inside of you. Your hair is grabbed, when did you lose your helmet, and your forced to look him in his eyes. You're staring at an animal and you can't help but cry.

It feels far too quickly... both merciful and shamefully quick for you to hear the wet fapping noise of your cunt swallowing his cock. The weeping turning into panting from you as you close your eyes to not look at the intense gaze from him. But that doesn't help you for when you feel him cum in you something goes wrong and you feel your sense of balance goes away... am I dying?

You learn latter after waking up on the battle barge that he had knocked you out... but isn't this how your life had always been? Never having say in anything. He tried his best to soothe you when you were told what was going on... no one caring that he was the cause of your distress and you had to swallow the fear and just accept the gentle arms now holding you as for what anyone knew... you were dead and you now served the lords angels. How grand.

[puppym3]

hiii! its my first time requesting and i was wondering if u already saw that yt video of felix with risabae? i was getting so giddy and worked up the way felix looks at her while applying his makeup 😭 if i was in her place i would've crumbled to the ground already fr 😭😭😭 i was wondering if we could get the reader doing felix's makeup and he keeps an intense eye contact with them and it turns into something heated. i love ur works so much, pls continue to write bc u make my delulus better 😇🫰

also pls make it sub felix pls if its not too much 😞🙏🤞

☄. *. ⋆ transfer test

★・・・・・・★

sub!felix x reader

wc: 2.5k

warnings: MDNI 18+, fluffy cuteness, eye contact, tension, handjob, oral (m. rec), overstim, praise, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: omg. omg. omg. i watched it and i was smiling the entire time, and his bubble message about how he'd let us do his makeup. thank you for suggesting this anon i love you, and writing subby felix is something i do anyways so yk, easy said easy done. i hope u like it bby <3

i'm currently working on other suggestions, but if you have something you'd to leave for me, please please do, also if you want to be added to the taglist lmk!!!

★・・・・・・★

The soft hum of the bathroom fan filled the room as you carefully arranged the makeup products on the counter. Felix sat on the edge of the sink, his legs dangling slightly, watching you with an intensity that made your heart flutter. His blonde hair framed his face perfectly, and the anticipation in his eyes was palpable.

"So, I'm just putting it on you this time?" You asked him, a little nervous about what you were about to do. You had never done anyone else's makeup.

"Yes, please." Felix said, a soft smile appearing on his face. His smile was contagious, and you felt a soft smile on your own face as you picked up the foundation, you could tell he didn't need any though. He had a gorgeous, natural tan.

"Close your eyes." You said, and he complied, and you dabbed the brush in the foundation and lightly dotted it around his face. He didn't need any on his neck, his skin was so perfect and smooth, and the light dusting of freckles was just enough. You put the foundation back on the counter and grabbed a little bottle of primer, and dabbed it onto your finger, and then lightly on Felix's eyelids.

"Open." You whispered, and he complied, staring deep into your eyes, the light from the bulbs above shining through his brown irises, his pupils slightly dilated. Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept working, and picked up a small sponge, dabbing a light pink blush on his cheeks. He was naturally rosy, but he was also a very expressive person, and sometimes it could look a bit unnatural. The blush made his cheeks look soft and full, and his skin was so smooth under your fingers.

The way he was staring into your eyes was distracting, feeling like his gaze was searing into your soul. He was looking at you like he wanted you, his gaze was so intense that you could feel your whole body getting hot. You looked away, the tension unbearable, and he smirked at your reaction.

You grabbed a small brush and applied a shimmery highlighter, dusting it along his cheekbones. Felix closed his eyes for a moment, and let out a soft sigh.

"It feels nice..." He murmured, and your stomach filled with butterflies, and you smiled at him.

"That's... good." You replied, and he opened his eyes, looking at you as if he was in a trance. You felt like your breath was taken away, and your body was growing weak from the heat in the room. You put the brush down and picked up a little tube.

"Open your mouth." You said, and he did as you commanded, and you squeezed it onto his lips, and began to rub it in with your finger. He let out a soft gasp as you touched him, and his lips were so plush and soft.

"What's that for?" He asked, his voice breathy and low.

"To keep the color on your lips, and so they won't be dry." You told him, and his breathing got heavy. He nodded, and you looked back at the products on the counter. There was a light-colored lipstick you were saving for last, it was a little expensive, but the color would look so gorgeous on him, and his lips were already so plump and soft. You knew he would look stunning.

"I'll... do the eyeshadow, then." You told him, picking up a small brush and the shimmery powder. You lightly tapped the brush into the eyeshadow, and then brought it close to his face, and he looked you in the eye as you lightly swiped the brush along his edge of his eyelids. His lips parted as you came closer, and his face was so close to yours. You could feel his hot breath on your skin, and his intense gaze was burning into you.

"That tickles" He murmured, and grabbed your hand, and pulled it close to his mouth, and you let out a gasp as he kissed your palm. He looked up at you, and his smile was soft and seductive. He was flirting with you.

You could barely concentrate as you applied the rest of the eyeshadow, the tension thick in the air, and the soft kiss he left on your palm was still tingling on your skin. You were trying to keep yourself together, but the heat was overwhelming.

You had to move away from him, or you would do something reckless, and you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. You needed to end this quickly and just finish off with his lipstick.

"Can you tilt your head back?" You asked him, and he did as you commanded, and now you had easy access to his lips, and his face was fully illuminated, the lights making his skin look like it was glowing. He was breathtakingly gorgeous, his eyes half-lidded and staring into yours. You held the lipstick close to his lips, and he stared deep into your eyes as you moved it closer. His gaze was so intense that you were struggling to focus, the lipstick carefully landed on his bottom lip, a light pink color complementing his natural color.

"Is that the one you bought?" He asked, his lips moving and making your job a little more difficult.

"Yes, it's the one." You told him, and he looked at it closely.

"I think it would look better on you." He said, and it caught you off guard, the lipstick falling from your hands and into the sink.

"Better on me?" You asked, and he nodded.

"You should try it." He suggested, and you looked down at the tube, and then back up at his face.

"Then, how about we do a transfer test?" You said, and he looked confused at the suggestion, and you were a little too nervous to explain, and his lips looked so kissable that it was hard to stop yourself. You grabbed his face, and looked deep into his eyes.

"A transfer test," you repeated, your eyes flickering down to his plump lips, and you leaned in, closing the gap between you, and pressing your lips against his. You could hear a soft noise escape him, his lips were so plush and warm, and the taste of the lipstick was sweet and floral. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed.

"Wait," He started, and you cut him off.

"I think it looks better on you, hm?" You asked, pressing your lips back against his, he let out a soft moan, kissing you back. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his hands moving up and down your back. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you pushed him further back against the mirror, his mouth opening in surprise. You slipped your tongue in his mouth, and he moaned softly, his own tongue swirling around yours, the sweet taste of the lipstick and his saliva driving you wild. You pressed yourself against him, your fingers pulling his hair slightly, and he gasped, the sound music to your ears.

You pulled away, and he was panting, his lips glistening with spit, the lipstick smeared, his cheeks red and eyes half-lidded. He was a vision.

"Well, is it transfer proof?" You asked, slightly out of breath.

Felix's breathing was uneven, his body trembling slightly under your touch. "I-I don't know," he stammered, his voice shaky. "Maybe we should... test it again?"

He looked so pretty with his face flushed and lips swollen, his chest rising and falling quickly.

You couldn't resist him. You grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, your tongue swirling against his, and he moaned into your mouth. You could taste him, and the sweet flavor of the lipstick, and the feeling of him pressed against you, the sounds he made, it was all driving you wild. You broke the kiss, panting heavily, and looked down at him, his eyes were lidded and he was biting his bottom lip, his cheeks were a beautiful shade of red, his hair mussed from where you had run your fingers through it, and the lipstick was smeared across his face.

"You're beautiful, Felix." You said softly, and he blushed even deeper.

"You... think so?" He asked, his eyes tracing you, and you nodded.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice tender yet commanding. "So beautiful, and all mine." You watched as his eyes widened slightly, the words sinking in, making him shiver.

"Yours?" Felix repeated, his voice barely audible, filled with a mixture of awe and desire.

"Yes, mine," you confirmed, leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time, savoring the feel of his lips against yours. "Now, be a good boy and stay still for me."

He nodded obediently, his hands resting on your hips as you took control. Your fingers gently traced along his jawline, down his neck, and over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your touch. Felix's eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting in a soft sigh as you continued to explore his body with delicate, deliberate movements.

You moved your lips to his neck, planting soft kisses along his sensitive skin, eliciting more sweet moans from him. He shivered when you brushed your fingertips over his nipples, and he bit his lower lip to keep from crying out. You smiled to yourself as you watched him squirm beneath your touch, his cock throbbing against your thigh.

"Don't hold back, Felix," you whispered into his ear, your hot breath making him shiver. "I want to hear how much you love this."

Felix whimpered in response, his hands tightening on your hips, his eyes still closed. You trailed your fingers down his stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles, before finally reaching his clothed bulge, your hand cupping him through the thin fabric. He let out a soft cry as you began to palm him, his cock twitching in his pants.

Felix breathed out your name, his voice strained with need. You felt him buck his hips against your hand, desperate for more friction, and you obliged him by squeezing his cock gently, drawing a shuddering moan from his lips.

"Good," you murmured, your voice low and sultry.

His breathing was coming in ragged gasps now, his face flushed and his body trembling with pleasure. You moved your hand up to the waistband of his pants, teasing him by dipping your fingers below the elastic, and Felix gasped as he felt the heat of your palm against his skin.

You slowly pulled his pants down, revealing his hard cock, already dripping with precum. You licked your lips, anticipation coursing through your veins.

Felix whined, his voice pleading. "Please..."

"Shhh," you whispered, running your fingers along his length, feeling his hot, throbbing flesh.

Felix gasped as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly, teasingly. He bucked his hips, seeking more contact, but you kept your pace slow and steady, drawing it out, making him desperate.

You watched his face as he writhed in ecstasy, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent cry. His cock twitched in your hand as you pumped him, his breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.

You could feel him getting close, his muscles tensing, his thighs trembling. He was so beautiful like this, lost in the throes of pleasure. You leaned forward and licked the head of his cock, tasting his precum, and he shuddered, letting out a strangled moan.

He was right on the edge, his whole body shaking. You tightened your grip and pumped him faster, bringing him to the brink. His back arched and he let out a hoarse cry, his cock pulsing in your hand as he came, his cum shooting out all over your tongue and face.

He fell back against the mirror, his body limp and spent. He opened his eyes and looked at you, his expression dazed and blissful. You licked your lips, savoring the taste of his cum, and his eyes widened as he saw your face, covered in his seed.

"I... I didn't realize... sorry..." Felix mumbled, looking embarrassed.

"It's okay," you replied, smiling reassuringly. "I like it."

He blinked, looking surprised.

You took a moment to admire him, his soft blonde hair mussed, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted and his chest heaving. He was beautiful, and all yours.

Your gaze wandered lower, and you saw that he was still hard, his cock standing erect, the head glistening with precum. The sight made your mouth water.

You knelt down and licked the tip of his cock, and he gasped, his whole body tensing.

"Ah, fuck, wait!" Felix moaned, his voice strained.

You ignored him and wrapped your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the sensitive skin. He groaned and bucked his hips, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You sucked him hard, taking him deeper, your tongue teasing him mercilessly.

"Fuck, pl- wait..." Felix begged, his voice strained.

You kept going, sucking him and teasing him, listening to his cries and moans, his whole body trembling.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and saw that his expression was desperate, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted in a silent cry.

You kept sucking him, your mouth sliding up and down his shaft, your tongue flicking over the head, your lips brushing against his skin.

Felix gasped and moaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, his body shaking.

"Please, wait... fuck, I can't..." he panted, his voice ragged.

You didn't stop, though, and soon he was crying out, his hips bucking, his cock pulsing in your mouth.

You felt him come, his cock twitching and spasming in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed it eagerly, drinking him down, savoring his taste.

He fell back against the mirror, his body spent, his chest heaving.

You licked your lips, and looked up at him, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"Good boy."

Felix opened his eyes and looked at you, his expression dazed and blissful.

He blinked, looking a little shocked.

"You... that was..."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. He was so surprised by his own pleasure, like it was something foreign and unfamiliar to him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, concerned.

"Yeah... that was... wow," Felix replied, still sounding a little dazed.

You kissed him gently, and he melted into the kiss, his lips parting and his tongue darting out to taste you.

You broke the kiss, smiling softly at him.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, your voice tender.

"I'm good... really good," Felix murmured, a blush coloring his cheeks.

"Well, now I have to touch up your makeup again," you said, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "But this time, I'll make sure the lipstick stays on you."

★・・・・・・★

taglist 4 my beauties: @loverbangchan, @reignessance

[zmediaoutlet]

Hey Liz! Have you ready any good spn fic lately? :)

I have, and in fact I've been spite-reading. Have a curated wincest rec list you could share with anyone you like:

Bad Blood by astolat

Rating: E Word Count: 3,718 Summary: "Fuck me or I'm going to die isn't the world's best pickup line."  // "I've heard worse," Dean said. // "You've used worse," Sam said.

Original post date, 02/22/2007

Reccing because: No wincest primer would be complete without an astolat rec. You probably get fined by the Wincest FCC, otherwise. The flaw in astolat’s wincest, if we’re allowed to say such things about our saint and founder, is that Sam and Dean would sometimes fall into the whole thing super easily — this fic dispenses with that problem with a good ol’ classic dose of evil sex pollen, and if magic makes them do it then it could be a hell of a lot worse than how delightfully they do it here. I’m laughing out loud just remembering one of the scenes. Joys.

Coast On Through by philalethia

Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 7,857 Summary: A post-first-time fic. With a lot of sex.

Original post date, 12/22/2007

Reccing because: This is a true all-timer wincest fic. Though the characterization is of its 2007 time, the Winchesters still feel like themselves, and more important feel like adults who are trying to navigate their very odd circumstances. A real classic of the brothers-with-benefits genre.

Keep Our Minds on the Sum of Each Other by lazy_daze

Rating: E Word Count: 9,593 Summary: N/A; provided tags are Bodyswap

Original post date, 12/26/2007

Reccing because: What a cheerful fuckin’ fic this is, for a fic about incestuous fuckin’. This takes the apocalyptic stakes and reels them back to a just deeply entertaining romp. Not too worried about the plot and much more worried about how hot these two are when they slam together, it’s a refreshingly non-angsty take on what it means that you just want to slurp on your brother wholesale.

Filthy Mind by rivkat

Rating: E Word Count: 26,384 Summary: Dean acquires unwelcome nightly visitors. Set post-Hell, without details as to how that happens.

Original post date, 10/07/2008

Reccing because: RivkaT is perhaps the all-time understander of the Weird Affect of Dean Winchester (As Played By Jensen Ackles) and the entirely destabilizing effect that affect has on the world. A real reality-warper. This fic deals with non-con and dub-con and who-knows-what-con and everything in between in a way that is more thoughtful than tawdry (although you can certainly enjoy the tawdriness as presented and the fic does not judge you for that). It also, thrillingly, deals with Sam’s alarm about the whole thing in a way which is fairly unflinching: he wants and does not want to want and also just really, really desperately wants-- Fans of Sheila’s analysis will probably enjoy this one. 

seeing double by candle_beck

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 5,127 Summary: Dean has a concussion and his better senses come and go.

Original post date, 04/24/2009

Reccing because: I know there are more famous and more favored c_b fics, but this one is such a supremely perfect scene that it should be at the top of all c_b rec lists. It isn’t the catastrophic misery or assholery or intensity of some of the other big hitters but this just has this searingly true and singular experience coursing through it: to wit, that Dean is hurt and Sam is upset and then sorry and then in love. Which isn’t a half-bad summary of Supernatural itself, really. 

The incestuous courtship of the antichrist’s bride by fleshflutter

Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 48,000 Summary: Sam is trying to become the Antichrist in order to save the world. He has a small army of angels and demons, he has an adoring cult, he has a work of prophecy by Jack Kerouac, and he has Dean. Things are going pretty well until he accidentally signs Dean up as his Beloved Consort, a role that requires sex with the Antichrist on an altar. And that's when things stop going pretty well. Also, the soundtrack to the Apocalypse sucks.

Original post date, 06/08/2009

Reccing because: It is so, so rare to find crack fics that work. This is crack treated like crack and also taken entirely seriously, which is a rare balance to find. When it needs to be horror it works, when it needs to be ridiculous it works, when it needs to be hot as fuck it works, and never has the phrase ‘apocalyptic cock’ been so appropriate and so wonderful in context. 

I’ve Got A Hand For You by Edwardina

Rating: E Word Count: 14,938 Summary: Sam's inexperience is showing, and Dean helps the best way he knows how.

Original post date, 03/12/2010

Reccing because: This is underage par excellence, as wonderfully weird and vaguely creepy and hot and alarming as it should always be. Dean’s 19 and Sam’s 14 and they should not but they are, and if that isn’t just a summary of Supernatural as a whole I don’t know what is. On the face of it this is a vaguely gnasty first time fic, but what sets this one apart is how earnestly real it is — the grimy-but-not-OTT reality of the details, Sam’s goofy kiddishness being complicated by the reality of what hormones are and do, Dean’s too-cool-ness alleviated by the fact that he’s nineteen and therefore still an idiot, trying earnestly to help and getting it wrong and getting it very right, all at the same time. The attention to detail here just knocks me over with a feather. Gorgeous work.

Two Part Invention by De_Nugis

Rating: T Word Count: 6,938 Summary: Dean settles down, Sam finds him, they settle some things.

Original post date, 12/25/2010

Reccing because: I very much appreciate a fic that, on the face of it, seems like an OOC premise, and then as soon as you think about it for fifteen seconds you realize — oh, of course, of course that’s how it should be and how it would go. This fic delivers on that feeling in spades. There’s a deep appreciation here for how complicated Sam Winchester is and how strange and hard it would be to have his life, and zero judgment, really, for what he and Dean have to do to make that life tenable. I appreciate the subtlety here so much.

Top This by leonidaslion

Rating: E Word Count: 4,076 Summary: Dean's sure he's a top. Only problem is, Sam's pretty sure that's his job …

Original post date, 04/10/2011

Reccing because: Is this crack? It surely is. Is it PWP? You bet. Is it in character? To be honest it hardly matters, but despite the context and conceit it does manage, somehow, to kinda feel like Sam and Dean Winchester from the canon of the show Supernatural, and that is a trick that earns it a spot on this list. Especially the way Sam goes slightly smug there at the end. Delights.

It’s the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu

Rating: E Word Count: 38,400 Summary: Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see. Damn it, Dean thinks, This is gonna take a lot of chickflick moments.

Original post date, 10/09/2011

Reccing because: Time travel fic is fun as hell, and time travel fic that just soaks you in dramatic irony is even more fun, and more importantly time travel fic where the time traveler doesn’t have all the answers is best of all. Very little is better than Dean being somewhat at sea and Sam loving him fiercely and this fic delivers that in spades. I could only wish it were a little longer, which is a very, very rare statement from me.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez

Rating: M Word Count: 6,773 Summary: Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

Original post date, 11/06/2011

Reccing because: This fic is thoroughly in and of and intensely about season 7, which I adored and which doesn’t get enough credit from the fandom. It deals with the Sam’s Insanity arc in a way that’s angstier and ficcier than the show itself but it does so in this stupendous and murderously flat way. Dean is at his wit’s end and Sam is, too, but Sam’s finding a way to deal with it, and Sam will not compromise on what dealing with it means, and we’re all just forced to live with it. Fantastic reading experience, especially for the almost literal jumpscare you get about 2/3s through.

The Hunter Games by theproblematique

Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 92,601 Summary: When the infamous Winchester bad luck strikes twice in quick succession Sam and Dean are forced to compete in the most brutal reality TV show ever created. It’s impossible to escape the battlefield, hiding can only be temporary, and alliances inside those dark, bloodstained woods last about as long as it takes for the other Hunter to figure out how to use your weapons. And then kill you with them.

Original post date, 06/22/2012

Reccing because: This is a true all-timer wincest AU fic. We’re mostly all familiar with the source material, but this work blends the universe of the Hunger Games with the characterization & destiny of the Winchester boys in a way that’s extremely satisfying. The author’s other works are recced more often, but this piece is more deserving of a place as One Of Those Reclist Fics.

Kevin Tran for President by glovered

Rating: T Word Count: 11,714 Summary: Dean comes back from Purgatory to find Sam working as a barista at a coffee shop near Princeton, watching over Kevin Tran.

Original post date, 10/04/2012

Reccing because: Sometimes you just need a post-Purgatory fic that isn’t brutal. This story’s a light-hearted trip-along froth like most of glovered’s work, but there’s something in specific about this unfraught coming-together that makes it incredibly readable. Dean and Sam aren’t entirely on the same page but the relief of reunion makes everything else fade a little into the distance, and the charming little job they find themselves on here gives enough of an excuse for them to figure some things out. Also probably the best Cas & Meg side characters in a fic, so there’s that too.

Clear and simple and plain by Trojie

Rating: E Word Count: 1,893 Summary: After Sam gives up the Trials, things start getting better.

Original post date, 10/26/2013

Reccing because: This is a post-Trials fic where things don’t go incredibly wrong, which is a nice AU to sit in for a while. What’s impressive about this story, written in the time it was, is that it manages to presage the ~s11 era marriage very well indeed, in tone and vibe and even some content. They’re in the bunker and things aren’t perfect, but they’re together, and that’s a kind of perfection of its own. It isn’t sugary but it’s the kind of adult complex sweetness that makes one feel better, anyway.

hello by allwellandgood (formerly askance)

Rating: T Word Count: 4,128 Summary: There's a woman at the grocery store named Evelyn who always rings him up on the days he ventures out for food and she knows him, or likes to think she does. I hope you're not too lonely, she'll say. He chooses not to tell her that his dead brother sleeps at his feet every night. He'd rather not be the cause of her inevitable heart attack.

Original post date, 08/11/2014

Reccing because: So Dean’s dead. Everyone dies at some point. This fic is a beautifully soft and tender and bitterly kind way to deal with that. You feel Sam’s loss deep in your chest but it’s okay, because this is the world of Supernatural and there are options, and the relief he gets pours over like cool water. Not enough, and it’s not fixed, but it’s not as much of a misery as it was.

The Time Traveler’s Brother by amypond45

Rating: R Word Count: 55,458 Summary: Dean's life is turned upside down the night his mother dies. But that's also the night a mysterious grown-up version of Dean's brother first appears in his life. While Dean grows up, "Old Sam" is often there, especially when Dean's father isn't, and as Dean learns what the future holds, he begins to question everything his father has taught him about who he is and what he is supposed to become. Can Dean find a way to save his little brother from his own future? This pre-series AU follows Dean from age four to eighteen.

Original post date, 02/26/2015

Reccing because: It’s rare to have an AU so thoroughly engage with what the alternate universe it constructs means for characterization and plot. This does something outstanding with the Sam and Dean (and Deans) created by the conceit, but also uses that conceit to do something entirely new with the canon plot that just flips me over every time I remember it. There are some fantastic character insights here, both complimentary and not, but I’ll never be over the specific scene of young!Dean looking up at older!Dean and being disappointed. That’s him, that’s our little angst machine.

The King of Imperfections Takes Back the Prince of Mistakes: a fairy tale by britomart_is

Rating: E Word Count: 4,822 Summary: And they lived happily ever after.

Original post date, 06/06/2016

Reccing because: The summary is pretty much the summary and that’s such a relief, sometimes. They’re awful and stupid and they’re in love and love isn’t enough except it is, and they’re so friggin’ MARRIED in the most wonderful and dorky way. They have good-bad sex and they have idiot arguments and they’ve made it. Back in 2016 this seemed like the best possible option. Reading this story feels like reading 4800 words of relief.

Raw Food Diet by themegalosaurus

Rating: E Word Count: 2,959 Summary: Sam has one more meeting today. This one isn’t in his diary; not the public calendar everyone at the firm can access, nor the private one on his cell.

Original post date, 02/14/2019

Reccing because: If you were looking for depressing and almost revolting Lebanon AU, you’re in luck. This is serial killer!Dean at his worst and Sam Jobs at his (still slightly martyred) almost-worst and it’s the frankly gross and logical conclusion to: what would it mean, if those two horrible shitheads were still together, somehow or some way? It’s always almost a relief when fic manages to do a not-happy ending and this definitely does that. Refreshing, in its way, though you might want a shower after.

Ions in the Ether by nigeltde

Rating: E Word Count: 10,860 Summary: When was the last time you trusted happy.

Original post date, 03/12/2019

Reccing because: For any s2 obsessives as our author here is, this is a deep and alarming and inside-out dive into the obsession with a brother and with monstrousness and with what’s true and what’s not and also can you tell the difference, after all. A murky swirl through a shithole town, this fic picks and pries at wincest-as-concept in a way that’s somewhat achy and alarming and is overall delightful, if you’re willing to take the time to think about it. Plus Sam’s hot, which is of course a bonus.

there will be better days by deadlybride

Rating: E Word Count: 9,430 Summary: Sam and Dean settle into their heaven.

Original post date, 11/24/2020

Reccing because: I’m crass. But also I can’t think of another fic that feels as much like heaven as this one and I wanted heaven on the list.