Kristyynaah

Riki froze. The fury in his eyes shifted, hardening into something cold, calculating, and infinitely more dangerous.

"Where is this daughter of his?" Riki asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Ryan hesitated, his jaw locked in terror. Before he could even think about staying silent, the sharp, metallic click of a gun echoed through the room. Sunghoon stepped forward, pressing the cold barrel directly against Ryan’s temple.

"Where is she, little boy?" Sunghoon murmured, his eyes empty of mercy.

Ryan gulped, the hard steel biting into his skin as all his resolve evaporated.

"She—she goes to a university campus on the north side," Ryan stammered, the metal of Sunghoon’s gun leaving a red indent against his skin. "She lives in an off-campus apartment. Alone. Security is light during the week."

Sunghoon didn't lower the weapon. He looked over at Riki, waiting for the word.

Riki stood up slowly, wiping Ryan's sweat off his hands onto his jeans. The initial blind fury that had driven him into the club was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating focus. If this man took his sister, he would take his most prized possession in return.

"Get the address from him," Riki ordered, turning his back on Ryan as if the man were already dead. He looked at the rest of the boys crowded in the doorway. "Jake, get the car ready. Sunoo, I want eyes on that apartment complex before we even touch the perimeter."

"On it," Sunoo replied, already tapping away at his phone to pull up the campus blueprints.

Riki stepped out of the suffocating, neon-lit room and into the dim hallway of the club. His chest tightened at the thought of his sister, but a new, dark resolve took over. He didn't care who this girl was, what she looked like, or how innocent she might be in her father's war.

She was his leverage now.

The soft lo-fi beat playing from your laptop was the only thing keeping you awake. Your desk was a chaotic battlefield of highlighters, sticky notes, and half-empty coffee mugs. Outside, the night was perfectly still, the quiet streets of the north-side campus completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding across town.

You rubbed your tired eyes, leaning back in your chair and staring at the textbook open in front of you.

Just two more chapters, you promised yourself, glancing at the clock on your phone. It was past midnight. If I pass this midterm tomorrow, I can sleep for a week.

Your dad had called earlier in the evening—a short, tense conversation where he reminded you, for the hundredth time, to keep your doors locked. You had laughed it off, teasing him about being overly protective. You were safe here. The apartment complex was quiet, your neighbors were mostly sleepy design students, and nothing ever happened on this side of town.

Unbeknownst to you, miles away, a black SUV was already tearing down the highway, cutting through the dark toward your building.

You stood up to stretch, padding over to your small kitchen to pour another glass of water. As you passed the window, you caught your reflection in the glass. You looked exhausted, completely consumed by the mundane stress of a college exam.

You had no idea that a girl you had never met was missing. You had no idea who Riki was. And you certainly didn't know that right now, your name was being whispered in the dark by five men who were about to shatter your quiet world forever.

A floorboard creaked in the hallway outside your front door.

You paused, glass halfway to your mouth, and listened.

The silence that followed was suffocating. You held your breath, eyes locked on the deadbolt of your front door.

It’s just an old building, you told yourself, a nervous chuckle catching in your throat. The pipes click. The wood expands. It's fine.

You forced your feet to move, setting the water glass down on the counter with a soft clink. But as you turned back toward your desk, the soft lo-fi music coming from your laptop abruptly cut out. The screen flickered, a strange line of code flashing across the display before the entire device went completely black.

Then, the overhead lights died.

The sudden darkness was absolute, leaving only the weak moonlight filtering through your sheer curtains. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your chest. Your heart began to hammer against your ribs. You lunged for your phone on the desk, but the screen wouldn't light up. The battery was full, yet it was completely dead.

They had cut the power.

Before you could even scream, the heavy wood of your front door didn't just open—it splintered.

The sound of the deadbolt snapping echoed like a gunshot in the small apartment. Shadows flooded into your entryway, tall, imposing, and moving with terrifying coordination. You scrambled backward, knocking over your desk chair as you tried to find a weapon, a hiding place, anything.

"Clear the rooms," a low, smooth voice commanded from the dark.

"She's right there," another voice murmured.

A flashlight beam sliced through the darkness, blinding you. You blocked your eyes with your arm, backing up until your spine hit the kitchen counter. "Who are you? What do you want? I have money, just—"

"We don't want your money," a third voice interrupted. It was deeper, colder, and sent a shiver straight down your spine.

As your eyes adjusted to the glare of the flashlight, you could make out the silhouettes of five men closing in on you. One of them stepped forward, stepping directly into the moonlight.

It was Riki.

His eyes were completely devoid of warmth as they swept over your terrified form, taking in your oversized sweater, your trembling hands, and the sheer confusion on your face. For a fraction of a second, his gaze lingered, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his sharp features.

But just as quickly, his expression hardened back into ice.

You tried to push past him, but your hands only met the solid, unyielding wall of his chest.

"What— No! Do you know who my dad—"

Riki cut you off rudely, his hand instantly clamping around your wrist with a grip like steel. "I know exactly who your dad is, and frankly, I don't give a fuck."

The sheer malice in his voice made you freeze. He stepped closer, crowding you against the kitchen counter until you could feel the dangerous warmth radiating off him, completely contrasting his icy stare.

"Sunghoon, grab her coat," Riki ordered, not taking his eyes off you for a single second. "It’s freezing outside, and I don’t need her dying of hypothermia before we get what we want."

"Please," you choked out, terror finally loosening your vocal cords as tears stung the corners of your eyes. "You're making a mistake. I don't have anything to do with whatever my dad did."

A dark, humorless smile touched Riki's lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're his daughter. That makes you his greatest asset—and my perfect leverage."

Before you could scream for help, a heavy jacket was thrown over your shoulders, and Riki yanked you forward, forcing you to move with him toward the splintered doorway. The other four boys formed a tight perimeter around you, their silent, lethal presence making it explicitly clear that running was not an option.

The backseat of the SUV was suffocatingly quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic click of the turn signal as Jake navigated the dark, winding roads away from your campus.

They hadn't blindfolded you. They hadn't tied your wrists or held you down. In a strange way, that made it worse—it meant they weren't afraid of what you saw, because they knew you had absolutely nowhere to run.

Instead, you were trapped in the crushing weight of Riki’s gaze.

He sat directly across from you, leaning back against the leather seat with a terrifyingly casual posture. But his eyes were doing all the work. He examined you slowly, deliberately—from the nervous way you bit your lip to the slight tremble in your hands hidden beneath the oversized coat. Every time your eyes met his, he sent you a threatening, heavy glare. It was a silent promise of violence, a warning drilled into your head so you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was not someone to mess with.

"She's quiet," Sunoo remarked from the front passenger seat, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. "Expected her to scream more."

"She's smart enough to know it wouldn't change anything," Riki replied, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the quiet car. He didn't break eye contact with you as he spoke. "Right?"

You swallowed hard, pressing your back deeper into the seat, unable to look away from the lethal boy who now held your life in his hands.

You didn't answer. You just squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the suffocating intensity of his stare, but you could still feel his eyes burning into you.

The SUV finally slowed down, turning off the paved road onto a gravel path. The tires crunched loudly in the quiet night before the car came to a smooth halt. Through the tinted window, you could see the dark silhouette of a massive, secluded estate hidden deep within the trees. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress.

"We're here," Jake announced, killing the engine.

The heavy silence of the car shattered as the doors opened. Sunghoon got out first, scanning the perimeter out of pure habit, while Riki slid closer to you. He grabbed your upper arm—not enough to bruise, but firm enough to let you know he wasn't letting go—and pulled you out into the biting night air.

Your knees wobbled the second your sneakers hit the gravel, the adrenaline finally wearing off and leaving you weak. Riki caught you before you could fall, his grip tightening.

"Walk," he muttered against your ear, his breath warm against the cold skin of your neck.

He guided you through the side entrance of the estate, down a flight of concrete stairs that led into a heavily reinforced basement. It wasn't a dungeon, but it was far from comfortable. The room was large, containing a single bed, a chair, and a heavy iron door with a digital keypad lock on the outside.

Riki gently but firmly pushed you inside. The other boys lingered in the hallway, watching the exchange in silence.

"This is your home until your father decides to give back what he stole from me," Riki said, stepping backward toward the threshold.

You finally found your courage, taking a step toward him. "How long is that going to take?" your voice cracked, desperate and small. "What if he doesn't—"

"He will," Riki interrupted, his expression turning completely unreadable as he stared at you under the harsh fluorescent light. For a brief second, his eyes softened as he took in your disheveled, terrified state, but the wall went right back up. "And if he doesn't... well, let's hope he cares about you as much as Ryan said he does."

Before you could say another word, he stepped out, and the heavy iron door slammed shut, the electronic lock clicking into place with a definitive, terrifying snap.

You stood there for a moment, listening to the echo of his footsteps fade down the concrete hallway. Once the silence returned, you let out a sharp, disbelief-filled scoff, violently brushing a layer of basement dust off your sleeves.

"Rude bastard," you muttered to the empty room. "Could've at least had some manners."

Your fear was still there, a tight knot in the pit of your stomach, but your initial panic was fast being replaced by a strange, fiery spark of irritation. And beneath that irritation, a completely unexpected feeling started to take root: intrigue.

Your entire life, people had looked at you with a mix of fear and forced politeness. Everyone knew who your father was. Men twice your age trembled at the mere mention of his name, and anyone who ever approached you did so with extreme caution, terrified of the consequences.

But Riki? Riki had looked at you like you were nothing more than an inconvenience. He had cut you off, dragged you out of your apartment, and openly admitted he didn't give a single fuck about your dad’s reputation.

For the first time in your life, you were dealing with someone who wasn't afraid of the monster that ruled your world.

A slow, cynical smile touched your lips as you turned to look at the sparse bed. Well, you thought, walking over and tossing your borrowed coat onto the mattress, this is definitely going to be interesting.

The relentless glare of the fluorescent light overhead made it impossible to tell when night turned into day. You had managed to drift into a fitful, restless sleep, curling up on the sparse mattress with Riki’s heavy jacket draped over you for warmth. It smelled faintly of expensive cologne, rain, and leather—a scent that had completely filled your senses until you finally passed out.

The loud, metallic clank of the electronic keypad clearing woke you with a start.

You bolted upright, kicking the jacket aside as the heavy iron door swung open.

Riki stepped into the room. The cold, dangerous aura from the night before hadn't faded, but he looked different in the morning light filtering down from the hallway. He had changed into a clean black sweater, his dark hair slightly damp, and in his hands, he carried a porcelain mug and a small paper bag.

He stopped a few feet from the bed, his sharp eyes instantly tracking your movement as you scrambled back against the wall, fixing him with a glare.

"You're awake," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that suggested he hadn't slept much either.

"Hard to sleep when you've been kidnapped by a giant jerk," you snapped back, your voice laced with all the morning attitude you could muster.

Riki paused, one eyebrow arching in slight surprise at your tone. Most people in your position would be begging or crying. He took a slow step closer, setting the mug and the bag down on the small table next to the bed. The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries instantly filled the damp room.

"Keep that attitude up and I'll skip the breakfast next time," Riki replied smoothly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He looked down at you, that same intense, calculating gaze from the car ride returning. "Your dad hasn't answered my calls yet. He's playing dumb."

You scoffed, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, refusing to let him intimidate you today. "Of course he is. He thinks he's untouchable. Everyone treats him like a god." You looked up, locking eyes with him, a challenging spark in your expression. "But you don't care about that, do you?"

Riki didn't answer right away. He just stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to figure out if you were genuinely brave or just incredibly stupid. The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded, until a dark, slow smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

"Treat him like a god?" Riki repeated, taking a step away from the wall. He walked closer, stopping just inches from where you sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned down, bringing himself to your eye level, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your eyes. "Gods can bleed. And your dad is about to find out how easily he bleeds if he doesn't give me back what's mine."

You swallowed hard, the proximity making your heart do a strange, treacherous flip. Up close, you could see the sharp, lethal perfection of his features, the dangerous intensity that made him feel less like a captor and more like a storm you couldn't escape.

"You're confident," you murmured, refusing to back down, your voice a challenge despite the racing of your pulse.

"I'm impatient," Riki corrected coldly, straightening back up to his full, imposing height. He kicked the small table closer to you with the toe of his boot. "Eat. I don't need you starving on my watch. We're moving you upstairs in an hour—the boys think the basement is too depressing for a princess."

He turned on his heel, his long strides taking him back toward the heavy iron door.

"Hey," you called out before you could stop yourself.

Riki paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder, his dark silhouette cutting off the light from the hallway. "What?"

"The coffee," you said, gesturing to the steaming mug. "Is it poisoned?"

Riki let out a low, dry chuckle—the first real sound of amusement you'd heard from him. "If I wanted you dead, sweetheart, I wouldn't waste the caffeine."

With that, he stepped out, and the door slammed shut behind him.

His response made you smile a bit, a small, genuine huff of laughter escaping your lips. You shook your head, reaching for the steaming mug. This may have been a high-stakes, life-or-death hostage situation, but you couldn't deny it—the guy was funny. In a dark, twisted, incredibly aggravating sort of way.

The coffee was surprisingly good, hot and rich, and the pastry was still warm. As you ate, you found your eyes wandering back to the heavy black jacket he’d left behind on the bed. You reached out, running your fingers over the smooth leather. He was a criminal, a kidnapper, and your father's sworn enemy... but he was also the most fascinating thing to ever crash into your structured, suffocating life.

An hour passed quicker than you expected. You had just finished the last bite of the pastry when the electronic lock chimed again.

This time, the door swung open to reveal Sunoo leaning casually against the frame, a bright, almost playful grin on his face that entirely mismatched the fact that he was guarding a prisoner.

"Alright, princess," Sunoo said, tilting his head toward the hallway. "Time's up. Riki said to bring you upstairs, and trust me, the living room has a way better view than this dungeon."

"I'd hope so, my back was hurting while I was sleeping, i'm too young to have back pain you know?"

Sunoo let out a dramatic gasp, his hand flying to his chest in mock offense. "Oh, absolutely not. We cannot have the hostage getting back pain. Riki would kill us if you broke before your dad even called back."

He stepped aside, gesturing for you to lead the way out of the cell. "Come on. Let’s get you to a couch before you start complaining about arthritis."

You grabbed Riki’s heavy leather jacket, throwing it over your shoulders as you walked past Sunoo into the hallway. He didn't try to grab you or push you; instead, he just walked a step behind, escorting you up a grand, winding staircase that led out of the concrete basement and into the main floor of the estate.

The moment you stepped into the living room, your eyes widened.

The space was massive, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over miles of thick, secluded forest. It was minimalist, expensive, and drenched in morning sunlight. Sitting on a massive plush sofa in the center of the room were Jake and Sunghoon, both looking up the moment you walked in.

Riki was standing by a marble kitchen island, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. He watched you enter, his eyes instantly dropping to his own jacket draped over your shoulders before snapping back up to your face.

"Look who decided to join us," Sunghoon muttered dryly, though his eyes held a flicker of curiosity as he took in your completely unbothered demeanor.

"She’s complaining about back pain," Sunoo announced to the room, practically pushing you toward the softest-looking armchair. "So, please, let’s accommodate the lady."

Riki set his coffee down with a soft clink, leaning against the counter as he fixed you with that familiar, intense stare. "Back pain? You were down there for eight hours."

"Eight hours too long," you countered smoothly, sinking into the expensive leather chair and looking right back at him. "If you're going to keep me here, the least you can do is provide better lumbar support."

A heavy silence fell over the room as the other boys looked between you and Riki, clearly waiting for him to snap or lose his temper at your audacity. Instead, Riki just stared at you, his jaw tightening slightly before that slow, dangerous smirk crept back onto his face.

"You've got a lot of nerve for someone in a cage," Riki murmured, his voice low and dangerous as he took a slow step toward your chair.

"and you're so rude for someone who has so much boyfriend potential" you bite back, the comment catching him off guard

A collective, stunned silence dropped over the room like an anvil.

Jake choked on whatever he was drinking, letting out a violent cough, while Sunoo’s jaw practically hit the floor. Sunghoon just stared at you, his eyes darting between you and Riki as if waiting for a bomb to go off.

Riki froze mid-stride. The cold, calculated mask he’d been wearing since the moment he broke down your door completely shattered. For a fraction of a second, his brain seemed to short-circuit. A dark flush of color crept up his neck, and his sharp eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.

The comment had caught him entirely off guard.

"What did you just say?" Riki asked, his voice dropping an octave, though this time it wasn't out of malice—it was pure disbelief.

"You heard me," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back into the leather chair, entirely aware of the power dynamic shifting in the room. "You bring me breakfast, you make sure I'm not cold, you move me upstairs because the basement is too depressing... I'm just saying. Lose the attitude, and you’d actually be pretty good at this."

"Oh my god," Sunoo whispered, covering his mouth to hide a massive, delighted grin. "Riki, she's got you there. You did buy her the expensive pastries from down the street."

"Shut up, Sunoo," Riki snapped, though his eyes never left yours. He took the remaining steps toward your chair, leaning down until his shadow completely eclipsed you. The initial shock was gone, replaced by a dangerous, intense heat that made the air between you feel thick and heavy.

"You think this is a joke?" he murmured, his face inches from yours, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. "I kidnapped you. I can end your father's entire empire, and I hold your life in my hands. I am not your boyfriend."

"Not with that attitude, you aren't," you replied smoothly, refusing to blink.

Riki’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He stared at you, completely baffled by how a girl in an oversized sweater and his own jacket was successfully making him lose his composure.

"what did my dad do anyway?"

The playful tension in the room vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a sudden, heavy coldness.

Jake stopped coughing, and Sunoo’s amused smile dropped instantly. Riki slowly straightened up to his full height, the lingering flush on his neck fading as his expression hardened back into unyielding ice.

"You really don't know?" Riki asked, his voice flat and devoid of the banter from a moment ago.

You shook your head, looking around at the boys, who were all suddenly avoiding your gaze. "He keeps me completely separate from his business. He always has. I just thought he was a strict, overprotective businessman."

Riki let out a harsh, humorless laugh that sent a chill down your spine. He walked back to the kitchen island, picking up his coffee, though he didn't drink it.

"Your 'businessman' father runs the largest smuggling ring on the coast," Riki said, his eyes cutting back to you, sharp and unforgiving. "And three days ago, his men ambushed a transport route that belonged to my family. They slaughtered four of my guys, took a shipment worth millions, and took my younger sister."

He set the mug down with a sharp crack against the marble.

"He's keeping her somewhere, and he's refusing to negotiate because he thinks he's a god who answers to no one," Riki stepped closer to you again, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "So I took you. Because if he won't listen to reason, he'll listen to the sound of his only daughter's life hanging in the balance."

"I always knew he was up to something," you muttered, staring down at your hands, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his oversized jacket. A dark, cynical laugh escaped your lips, though it sounded entirely hollow. "That motherfucker killed my mom. His own wife. Can you believe that? They called it a 'car accident,' but I found the files before he shipped me off to that campus. He had her erased because she threatened to go to the police about his 'investments'."

The room went completely, devastatingly quiet.

Jake, who had been leaning back on the sofa, sat up straight. Sunoo’s eyes widened, any trace of his earlier playfulness instantly vanishing as he looked at you with a mixture of shock and sudden sympathy. Sunghoon simply stared, his calculating expression faltering for the first time.

Riki froze. The furious, vengeful speech he had been preparing died in his throat. He looked down at you, his sharp eyes searching your face for any sign of a lie, any sign that this was a tactical play to get him to lower his guard.

But all he found was raw, bitter truth.

"What?" Riki asked, his voice losing its lethal edge, replaced by a stunned, low rumble.

You looked up, locking your eyes directly with Riki’s. The fear was entirely gone from your expression, replaced by a cold, burning resentment that mirrored his own.

"If you think threatening my life is going to make him break," you said softly, your voice steady despite the weight of the words, "you might want a backup plan. Because a man who kills his wife for his business isn't going to give up his empire for his daughter."

Riki didn't move. He stood completely still, his jaw tight as he processed the information. He had taken you expecting a spoiled, protected mafia princess who would cry for her daddy. Instead, he was looking at another casualty of the exact same monster he was trying to destroy.

A heavy shift passed through the room. The boys looked at Riki, silently waiting for his lead. Riki ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling a slow, heavy breath as he stared at you, the dangerous hostility in his eyes shifting into something much deeper, darker, and infinitely more complicated.

"why are you all stunned? didn't you know he was evil?"

"We knew he was a monster," Jake said softly from the couch, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "But turning on his own blood? That's a different kind of sick."

Riki didn't say anything at first. He just kept his eyes locked on yours, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. The cold, calculated barrier he usually kept between himself and his targets was completely disintegrating. He took a slow step toward your chair, his hands sliding casually into his pockets, though his shoulders remained tense.

"There's a line," Riki murmured, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register. "Even in our world, you don't touch family. You protect them at all costs."

He looked down at you, his sharp gaze taking in the defiant set of your jaw, the anger still burning in your eyes. He realized then that you weren't his enemy. You were just another piece of collateral damage left in your father's wake.

Sunoo leaned against the back of your chair, his tone unusually quiet. "If he doesn't care about getting you back... then our leverage is gone. What do we do now, Riki?"

All eyes in the room turned to Riki. He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the sprawling forest for a long moment before his eyes snapped back to yours. A dark, dangerous spark ignited in his eyes—but this time, it wasn't directed at you.

"If he won't trade for you," Riki said, a slow, lethal smirk creeping onto his lips, "then we use what you know. You want revenge for your mother, right?" He leaned down, bringing himself to your eye level, his presence completely consuming. "Help me take down his empire from the inside. Show me where he hides his assets, and I promise you, he will pay for what he did to your family. And what he did to mine."

A slow, sharp smile curved your lips, the fear completely gone from your eyes as you met his intense gaze.

"Like an alliance?" you asked softly.

Riki’s smirk widened just a fraction, a flash of genuine appreciation crossing his sharp features. He liked that you didn't flinch. He liked that instead of begging for mercy, you were negotiating terms.

"Exactly like an alliance," Riki murmured, holding your gaze. He straightened up and extended a hand toward you, his long fingers open in an invitation. "You give us the keys to his kingdom, and we give you the head of the man who ruined your life."

Behind him, Sunoo let out a low whistle. "Well, this took a turn. From hostage to business partner in less than twenty-four hours."

"Shut up, Sunoo," Riki said, though there was no real heat in it this time. His focus remained entirely on you, waiting to see if you would take his hand.

You looked at his open palm, then back up to his dark, lethal eyes. The monster who raised you had spent your entire life keeping you in the dark, treating you like a piece of property to be hidden away. But Riki was offering you a seat at the table. He was offering you a chance to fight back.

You reached out, your hand looking small against his as your fingers brushed against his skin. The moment your hand slid into his, Riki’s grip closed firmly around yours—a solid, unyielding pact sealed in the morning light.

"Deal," you said smoothly, your smile turning cold and dangerous. "Let's burn his empire to the ground."

Riki’s grip tightened on your hand for a beat before he let go, a dark satisfaction settling over his face. He stepped back, gesturing toward the large dining table at the edge of the living room.

"Sunghoon, get the blueprints of the city sectors. Jake, pull up the financial logs we intercepted last night," Riki commanded, his voice immediately shifting into the tone of a leader who meant business. The boys moved instantly, the playful atmosphere from earlier completely replaced by sharp, professional focus.

Sunghoon laid out a massive digital tablet on the glass table, flickering images of building layouts and secure warehouses illuminating the dark wood.

"If we're doing this, we start from the bottom up," Riki said, looking at you as you walked over to the table, still wrapped in his heavy leather jacket. "He has three main distribution hubs in the city. None of our contacts can get close to them without triggering an alarm. Which one is his favorite?"

You leaned over the table, your eyes scanning the map. Your fingers traced a path toward a secluded dock on the east side of the river.

"This one," you said, pointing to a non-descript warehouse labeled under a dummy corporation. "He always told me he was investing in shipping imports there. But every time he came back from 'inspecting the docks,' he smelled like heavy industrial grease and cigars. He only goes there when he's personally overseeing something high-value."

Riki leaned in next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. The scent of his cologne wafted up again, a sharp contrast to the cold tactical data on the screen. He studied the point you marked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"The docks," Riki murmured, his voice low. "That’s likely where he's keeping my sister. Or at least the records of where they moved her." He looked up, his face only inches from yours. "You're useful, princess."

"I told you," you replied, looking right back at him with a smirk. "Lose the attitude, and we make a great team."

Jake let out a stifled snort from across the table, quickly coughing to cover it up when Riki shot him a warning glare.

"Alright," Riki said, straightening up and tapping the screen to lock in the coordinates. "We move tonight. You're coming with us."

"Wait, she's coming with us?" Sunghoon asked, his eyebrows snapping together as he looked up from the screen. "Riki, it’s a live-fire zone. If things go sideways—"

"If things go sideways, she knows the layout better than any blueprint we have," Riki interrupted smoothly, his voice cutting off any further argument. He kept his eyes locked on you, analyzing your reaction. "Besides, she stays close to me. She’ll be fine."

The casual way he said she stays close to me sent a strange, sudden jolt through your chest. You covered it quickly, crossing your arms and tilting your head. "Don't worry about me, Sunghoon. I can handle myself. Just make sure your boss here keeps up his end of the bargain."

Riki let out a low, dark chuckle, stepping closer until the heat radiating from him completely enveloped you. "I always keep my word, princess. Now, let's get you prepared."

He led you down a side corridor to a heavily secured armory. The walls were lined with tactical gear, matte-black weapons, and rows of sleek tech. Riki walked over to a rack, pulling down a lightweight, bulletproof tactical vest and a pair of dark cargo pants. He tossed them onto a bench next to you, along with a small, sleek Glock.

"Put these on," he ordered, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.

You picked up the vest, inspecting it before looking back at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you going to stand there and watch, or do you actually have some of those manners we talked about?"

A faint, amused smirk tugged at his lips, though he didn't move right away. He took a slow step backward into the hallway, his eyes dropping down your frame one last time before he pulled the door shut. "You have ten minutes. Don't make me come back in there."

When the door clicked shut, you quickly changed out of your oversized campus clothes and into the tactical gear. The vest fit snugly, making you feel instantly grounded, dangerous, and ready. You strapped the holster to your thigh, checking the weight of the firearm just like you'd seen your father's guards do a thousand times.

When you stepped out into the hallway, Riki was leaning against the opposite wall, tossing a pocket knife casually in one hand. He stopped when he saw you. His gaze swept over you, starting from your boots, up your tightly fitted gear, to the defiant expression on your face.

For a second, his composure faltered again, his eyes darkening with something intense and entirely unreadable.

"Not bad," Riki murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rough register as he straightened up and closed the distance between you. He reached out, his long fingers brushing against your collarbone as he adjusted the strap of your tactical vest, pulling it just a bit tighter. His breath was warm against your cheek. "You actually look like one of us now."

"I told you," you whispered, looking right into his sharp eyes, your heart hammering against your ribs from the proximity. "I'm full of surprises."

"Good," Riki said, his smirk returning as his hand lingered on your shoulder for a split second before dropping away. "Because tonight, we're going to need all of them. Let's go."

The heavy, suffocating silence returned, but this time it felt twice as thick. The hum of the SUV’s engine was the only thing anchoring you to reality as the city skyline faded into the dark, jagged outline of the docks.

You couldn't handle it. The quiet always let the ghosts in.

"There's only six of you?"

The sudden question cut through the dark interior like glass. In the rearview mirror, Jake’s eyes closed tightly for a split second. Sunoo, who had been staring out the window, completely froze. Next to you, Riki tensed so violently his knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white against his weapon. He didn't look at you. He just stared out at the passing streetlights, his jaw tight enough to shatter.

"Yeah," Riki finally rasped. His voice sounded hollowed out, entirely stripped of the arrogant, dangerous confidence he'd carried all morning.

You hesitated, but the quiet was threatening to swallow you whole again. "I saw a picture in the foyer before we left. There were seven in it. Who's the seventh one?"

A sharp, ragged breath echoed from the front seat. Jake’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his hands shook.

"His name was Heeseung," Sunoo murmured, his voice cracking so badly he had to stop and swallow hard. He couldn't even bring himself to turn around. "He was our older brother. The one who actually looked out for us when everything else went to hell."

"It’s been three months," Riki whispered, his voice dropping into a low, devastating register. He finally turned his head, and the sheer, raw agony in his eyes hit you like a physical blow. The cold mafia boss vanished; in his place was a boy bleeding out from a wound that wouldn't heal.

"Your dad’s men ambushed us," Riki said, his words coming out slow and painful. "We were cornered. I made a reckless call... I thought I could outsmart them. I got trapped in the crossfire. I was a second away from taking a bullet to the chest."

Riki stopped, taking a shaky, uneven breath as he looked down at his own hands.

"Heeseung didn't even hesitate," Riki continued, his voice trembling with a dark, bitter fury. "He threw himself in front of me. He took three rounds to the torso so I could keep breathing. He died in my arms on that concrete floor, bleeding out while your father's guys laughed and retreated with our shipment."

The car was dead silent now, save for the faint, stifled sound of Sunoo wiping his eyes in the front seat. Riki leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes as a single, bitter tear slipped down his cheek, though his expression remained hard as stone.

"For ninety days, I’ve had to look in the mirror and know that the only reason I’m alive is because he’s in the ground," Riki whispered, opening his eyes to lock them onto yours, burning with a mix of profound grief and terrifying resolve. "Your father didn't just kill our leader. He made me live with the guilt of his death. Tonight, I’m giving that pain back to him."

"Is that why you're the leader now?"

Riki didn't answer immediately. He just stared out the window, the passing streetlights casting long, sharp shadows across his face. The silence in the car grew so heavy you could almost hear the weight of the unspoken words pressing down on everyone.

"I didn't want it," Riki said finally, his voice barely louder than the hum of the tires against the asphalt. He didn't look at you, but his jaw was wound so tight the muscle was practically twitching. "None of us wanted this. But when Heeseung died... everything fell apart. The guys were bleeding, the business was compromised, and your father was already moving in to take the rest of our territory."

He slowly turned his head back to look at you. The grief in his eyes hadn't disappeared, but a terrifying, icy layer of resolve had hardened over it.

"Heeseung spent his whole life protecting us," Riki whispered, leaning slightly closer so his words were meant for your ears alone. "When he died saving me, he left me with his jacket, his gun, and his crew. If I didn't step up, if I didn't take the heat, his sacrifice would have been for nothing. I became the leader because I’m the one who owes him a life."

From the front seat, Jake let out a low, rough breath. "He’s doing a good job," Jake muttered, his eyes fixed firmly on the dark road ahead. "Heeseung would be proud of him. We all are."

Riki swallowed hard, looking away from you and fixing his gaze back on his weapon. He didn't acknowledge Jake's words, but you could see the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he took a stabilizing breath.

"We're five minutes out," Riki announced, his voice instantly snapping back into that cold, authoritative tone, burying the pain back down where it belonged. He looked at you one last time, his eyes searching yours. "When we hit those docks, you stay behind me. No exceptions. We're finishing this tonight."

You nodded silently, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the prickle of tears threatening to blur your vision. You kept your eyes fixed on the dark floor of the SUV, wrapping Riki's heavy leather jacket a little tighter around yourself.

The name Heeseung was now permanently etched into your mind. He wasn't just a face in a photo anymore; he was a brother, a protector, a young man who had so much to live for, whose life was violently stolen away because of your father’s bottomless selfishness and greed. The weight of it settled heavily in your chest, a crushing mix of second-hand grief and a fierce, burning anger. Your father hadn't just destroyed your family—he was actively destroying others.

"Hey," a low voice murmured, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You looked up to find Riki watching you. The cold, unyielding mask of a mafia leader was still firmly in place, but as his eyes scanned your face, taking in the slight shine of tears you were desperately trying to hide, his expression softened just a fraction. He didn't say anything comforting—that wasn't who he was—but he reached over, his large, warm hand briefly gripping your shoulder, a grounding weight that told you he understood.

"Get ready," Riki said, his grip tightening for a split second before he pulled his hand away and racked the slide of his weapon with a sharp, lethal clack.

The SUV slowed to a crawl, the headlights cutting out as Jake pulled the vehicle into the deep, pitch-black shadows of an abandoned warehouse overlooking the east side docks. Outside, the fog was rolling in thick off the water, obscuring the towering shipping containers ahead.

"We're on site," Jake whispered, switching the comms on. "No mistakes tonight, boys."

The heavy iron doors of the SUV slid open with a faint, metallic hiss, and the freezing, salt-laced air of the docks immediately rushed in to fill the cabin. The fog was dense, rolling off the black water like smoke, swallowing the base of the towering shipping containers.

You followed Riki’s shadow. Every step felt heavy, the lightweight tactical vest pressing against your chest, matching the frantic, irregular rhythm of your heart. Ahead of you, the boys moved like ghosts. Sunghoon and Jake split off to the left, melting into the darkness of the crane towers, while Sunoo stayed low, checking the perimeter with his weapon drawn.

Riki didn't look back, but he kept his pace deliberately measured, ensuring you were right behind him as you navigated the maze of rusted metal and wooden crates.

As you neared Pier 4, the muffled sound of voices cut through the lapping of the waves. Riki held up a hand, and you instantly pressed your back against a cold shipping container, holding your breath.

Through the gap between two crates, the scene unfolded.

Under the harsh, flickering glare of a single halogen work light stood your father. He looked exactly as he always did—immaculate, wearing an expensive wool coat that entirely masked the monster underneath, a half-burned cigar clipped between his fingers. He was looking down at a map laid out on a wooden crate, flanked by six heavily armed guards.

And tied to a rusted iron pipe just a few feet away was a young girl. She couldn't have been older than sixteen, her face bruised, her dark hair matted with sweat. Riki's sister.

"We move the remaining cargo to the northern border by midnight," your father’s voice rang out, cold, clinical, and completely devoid of humanity. "And as for the boy, Riki... let him keep playing his little games. Once we have the docks fully locked down, I’m going to bleed his remaining crew dry. I want him to watch every single one of his pathetic friends die before I put a bullet in his head, just like I did with that idiot Heeseung."

Next to you, Riki went entirely rigid. A low, terrifying sound—halfway between a gasp and a growl—escaped his throat. The mention of Heeseung’s name was the final spark in a powder keg that had been building for three months.

"Now," Riki hissed into his comms.

The silence of the night was instantly shattered by a deafening, high-caliber crack. One of your father’s guards dropped instantly, a clean shot from Sunghoon’s sniper rifle taking him out.

"Ambush!" someone screamed.

Then, hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted from all sides, the muzzle flashes illuminating the thick fog in jagged, violent bursts of orange light. The sound was overwhelming—the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of automatic weapons, the shattering of glass, the metallic ping of stray bullets ricocheting off the shipping containers.

Riki moved with a lethal, terrifying grace. He stepped out of cover, his weapon raised, firing with absolute, unyielding precision. Two guards rushed toward him; Riki dropped the first with a shot to the chest, dodging behind a stack of pallets as the second guard’s bullets tore through the wood, sending splinters flying into the air. Sunoo flanked from the right, taking the second guard down, but the air was thick with the smell of copper and sulfur.

It was messy. It was bloody. You watched as one of your father's men caught Jake in the shoulder; Jake stumbled back, swearing loudly as he fired back blindly, painting the concrete with dark crimson.

Your father didn't panic. He was a coward who let others die for him, and the moment the chaos started, he drew a heavy chrome revolver from his coat and grabbed Riki’s sister by the hair, using her as a human shield as he began backing away toward the edge of the pier.

"Riki!" you shouted over the deafening noise, pointing toward the water.

Riki’s eyes snapped to his sister. Blinded by fury and desperation, he broke cover, sprinting across the open concrete toward your father.

"Stop right there, you little bastard!" your father roared. With a brutal shove, he threw Riki’s sister onto the wet wood of the dock, freeing up his hand.

Riki raised his gun, but a sudden burst of gunfire from a hidden guard clipped his leg. Riki grunted, collapsing to one knee, his weapon slipping from his grip and clattering across the concrete, sliding just out of reach.

Your father smiled. It was that same, patronizing, hollow smile he used to give you across the dinner table before telling you everything was fine. He stepped forward, raising the chrome revolver, lining the barrel up directly between Riki’s eyes.

"You should have stayed in the dirt with your brother," your father sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. You looked at Riki, pinned to the ground, his eyes wide as he stared death in the face—the exact same death Heeseung had taken for him three months ago. You saw the exhaustion in Riki's shoulders, the phantom weight of the brother he couldn't save, the sheer, devastating unfairness of a world where monsters always won.

And suddenly, the fear inside you burned away, leaving nothing but a vast, icy void.

You didn't think. You didn't hesitate. You stepped out into the open, raising the sleek black Glock with both hands, your arms locked tight, just like you'd practiced in the mirror hours before.

The image of your mother's pale, lifeless face in the casket flashed before your eyes. The sound of Sunoo’s voice cracking when he spoke about Heeseung echoed in your ears. All the stolen futures, all the bleeding hearts, all the greed—it all condensed into the heavy iron weight of the trigger beneath your index finger.

"Hey!" you screamed, your voice tearing through the foggy night.

Your father’s head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in complete, genuine shock as he recognized his own daughter standing in tactical gear, a gun pointed directly at him. "What are you—"

A tear slipped down your cheek, hot and bitter, cutting through the dirt on your face.

This is for Mom, your mind whispered. This is for Heeseung.

You pulled the trigger.

A single, deafening bang echoed off the water.

The recoil shuddered up your arms, but your grip never wavered. The bullet tore through the air, clean and true, striking your father squarely in the center of his forehead.

His eyes rolled back, the shock freezing on his face forever. The chrome revolver slipped from his lifeless fingers, clattering loudly against the wood before he collapsed backward, tumbling over the edge of the pier and disappearing into the dark, icy depths of the black water with a heavy splash.

The silence that followed was absolute.

The remaining guards, seeing their leader dead, immediately threw down their weapons or fled into the dark. The gunfire died out, leaving only the sound of the lapping waves and the heavy, ragged breathing of the boys.

Your arms slowly dropped to your sides. The gun felt incredibly heavy now. The tears were free-flowing, hot and silent, washing over your face as the reality of what you had just done settled into your bones. You had killed the monster. But the ghosts were still there.

A pair of boots crunched on the gravel, approaching you slowly.

You didn't look up until a warm, trembling hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling your fingers away from the weapon. Riki stood in front of you, limping slightly, his face pale and smeared with soot. He didn't look at the water where your father had fallen. He just looked at you.

For the first time since you met him, the dangerous mafia leader completely vanished. His dark eyes were wide, soft, and filled with a profound, overwhelming reverence. He looked at you not as a hostage, not as an ally, but as the person who had just pulled him back from the edge of the grave.

Without a word, Riki reached out, his long arms wrapping firmly around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his grip so tight it almost hurt. You could feel the rapid, violent pounding of his heart against your ribs.

Wrapped in his warmth, surrounded by the remnants of the smoke and the sea, you finally let out a shaky, broken sob, your fingers tightly gripping the back of his tactical vest as you wept for the past, for the dead, and for the bloody, uncertain future you had just chosen.

The sharp, frantic sound of rubber soles slapping against wet wood suddenly cut through your tears.

"Riki!"

The small, broken voice fractured the heavy silence of the pier. Riki went rigid against you for a fraction of a second before his arms loosened, and he turned around just in time for a small whirlwind to throw itself directly into his torso.

His little sister sobbed violently, her face burying into his tactical vest, her small hands bunching into the fabric as if she were trying to crawl inside his skin just to feel safe again. Riki dropped heavily to his knees, his injured leg giving out entirely, but he didn't seem to care. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his chest, his head dropping onto her shoulder as a ragged, trembling breath escaped his lips.

"I've got you," Riki choked out, his voice completely cracking, stripped of every ounce of the fierce leader he had been pretending to be. "I've got you, Sora. You're okay. You're safe."

You stood frozen a step back, the smoking Glock still heavy in your hand, watching the two of them. The fog swirled around their small, huddled figures on the concrete. For three months, this boy had carried the crushing guilt of Heeseung's death, surviving on nothing but the desperate, burning need to ensure he didn't lose his sister too. And now, the war was over.

Sunoo and Sunghoon limped over, Jake leaning heavily on Sunghoon’s good shoulder as they approached. None of them looked at the dark water where your father had vanished. Instead, their eyes drifted from the reunited siblings straight to you.

There was no judgment in their stares. No fear. Just a deep, silent understanding.

Sora’s quiet sobs began to quiet down, her small frame still shaking against Riki. Slowly, Riki lifted his head. His eyes, rimmed with red and fierce with an entirely new kind of emotion, found yours through the mist.

He didn't say thank you. He didn't have to. The profound, unyielding look in his eyes told you everything. He reached out one hand, keeping his sister securely tucked against his side with the other, and offered his palm to you once again.

Not as a captor. Not just as an ally. But as family.

The reality of what you had just done crashed over you like a tidal wave, heavy and suffocating. The gun slipped from your numb fingers, clattering loudly against the concrete, but the phantom weight of the trigger pull still burned in your palms.

"I-I killed him," you sobbed out, your voice small, trembling, and utterly broken. "I killed my dad."

The word dad tasted bitter, like poison on your tongue, but the biological truth of it anchored the horror deep in your chest. No matter what a monster he was, you had just taken a life. You had crossed a line you could never step back over.

Riki’s eyes snapped up from his sister. Seeing the sheer panic taking over your face, he didn't hesitate. He gave Sora a soft, reassuring squeeze, whispering, "Stay with Sunoo for a second, okay?"

Sora nodded quickly, wiping her eyes as Sunoo stepped forward, gently pulling her into a protective embrace.

Riki pushed himself up from the ground, ignoring the sharp flare of pain in his injured leg, and closed the distance between you in two strides. He didn't let you spiral. Before you could look down at your hands, his large, warm palms cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him. His thumbs swept across your cheekbones, brushing away the hot, fast-falling tears.

"Look at me," Riki commanded, his voice raw but fiercely steady, cutting through the ringing in your ears. "Look at me, princess."

You blinked through the blur, locking onto his intense, dark eyes.

"You didn't just kill a father," Riki said, his words low and heavy with absolute conviction. "You ended a monster. You saved my sister. You saved me. He was going to put a bullet in my head, and you stopped him." He leaned down slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath warm against your cold skin. "He took your mother, and he took Heeseung. Tonight, you took back your freedom."

Behind him, Jay stepped closer, his hand gripping his bleeding shoulder but his expression softer than you'd ever seen it. "He's right," Jay muttered quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "You did what had to be done. You're one of us now. We don't leave our own behind."

Riki slid his hands down from your face, wrapping his arms securely around your waist and pulling you tight against his chest again, shielding you from the blood-soaked pier and the dark, empty water.

"It's over," Riki whispered into your hair, his grip unyielding, offering you the one thing your father never could: a safe place to fall apart. "I've got you. We've got you. Let's go home."

The silence of the estate was different now. It wasn't the dangerous, tense quiet of a hostage situation, nor was it the heavy, mourning silence that had followed Heeseung’s death. It was a gentle, protective quiet, wrapping around the upstairs bedroom they had given you.

True to his word, Riki had told the boys to fix up the space. They had brought in plush blankets, warm lighting, and things in your favorite colors, trying to create a sanctuary. But no amount of soft fabric could shield you from what was happening inside your own mind.

You didn't leave the room for three days.

Every time you closed your eyes, you were back on that wet, foggy pier. You heard the deafening crack of the Glock echoing off the water. You felt the sharp, violent recoil shuddering up your arms. But worst of all, you kept seeing the life violently draining from your father's eyes—the exact moment his pupils dilated, his arrogant smirk froze, and his body tumbled backward into the pitch-black abyss.

It was destroying you. You couldn't eat. You barely slept, waking up drenched in cold sweat, the phantom smell of gunpowder clogging your throat. You had wanted revenge, you had wanted justice for your mother, but no one prepares you for the hollow, rotting guilt that comes with actually pulling the trigger.

On the fourth evening, a soft, hesitant knock sounded at your door.

Before you could answer, the door creaked open a few inches. Riki stood in the hallway, carrying a tray with a bowl of warm soup and a glass of water. His leg was heavily bandaged under his dark sweatpants, making him lean slightly against the doorframe.

He didn't have his usual cold mask on. He looked tired, his dark hair messy, his eyes searching yours with a quiet, profound worry.

"I brought you something to eat," he said softly, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. He stepped inside, setting the tray down on the nightstand before turning to look at you, curled tightly under the blankets. He didn't force you to sit up. Instead, he carefully sat on the very edge of the mattress, leaving a respectful distance between you.

He looked down at your pale face, taking in the dark circles under your eyes.

"The first time is the hardest," Riki murmured, his voice laced with a raw, heavy understanding. He stared at his own hands, his knuckles still scraped from the fight. "The mind doesn't know how to process taking a life, even when it's a monster who deserved it. I still see the face of the first man I killed. He haunts me every time it gets dark."

He looked back up, his intense gaze locking onto yours, filled with a gentle sincerity you hadn't known he was capable of.

"But you aren't alone in the dark anymore," he whispered, reaching out to gently trace the edge of the blanket near your shoulder. "You carried a heavy burden for your mom, and you carried one for Heeseung. Let us help you carry this one."

A broken, watery smile finally cracked through your exhaustion, the faint glimmer of your old spirit cutting through the heavy grief in the room.

"See," you whispered, your voice raspy from days of silence and crying. "When you fix your attitude, you actually have potential."

Riki froze for a fraction of a second, completely caught off guard. Then, the tense line of his shoulders dropped, and a low, genuine chuckle escaped his lips—the first real laugh you’d heard from him since you were brought here. It was a beautiful, rough sound that seemed to chase away some of the oppressive shadows clinging to the corners of the bedroom.

"Even when you're falling apart, you're still a brat," he murmured, a fond, amused glint returning to his dark eyes.

He reached over and grabbed the glass of water from the tray, handing it to you. "Drink. You look like a ghost, princess. And I didn't save you from your father just to let you starve to death in my house."

You sat up slowly, wrapping the plush blanket around your shoulders like a shield as you took the glass. The water cooled your parched throat, grounding you in the present moment. The memory of the pier was still there, a heavy ache in your chest, but looking at Riki sitting on the edge of your bed, the crushing weight of the guilt didn't feel entirely unbearable anymore.

"The guys are worried about you," Riki said softly, watching you pull the bowl of soup closer. "Sunoo tried to bake something yesterday to cheer you up. It burnt, and Sunghoon almost threw him out the window, but... the thought was there."

You let out a small, breathless laugh, the image easing the tight knot in your stomach.

you watched as he got up to leave, you took his wrist to stop him "thank you" you muttered "I wouldn't have been able to do this for my mom if it weren't for you"

Riki stopped in his tracks, his back pausing for a beat before he slowly turned around. Your fingers were still wrapped around his wrist, feeling the steady, rhythmic pulse beneath his skin.

He looked down at your hand, then up to your eyes. The moonlight filtered through the window, catching the soft, sincere curve of your lips. The fierce, untouchable mafia leader was entirely gone, replaced by a young man who looked deeply moved by your words.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over, sliding his long fingers between yours to give your hand a firm, grounding squeeze.

"You did the hard part," Riki murmured, his voice dropping into that low, velvet register that always made your heart skip a beat. "We just gave you the map. You had the courage to finish it."

He stepped a fraction closer to the bed, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that burned away the remaining chills in the room.

"Your mother got her justice tonight," he whispered, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. "And Heeseung got his peace. Don't ever forget that."

He gave your hand one last, lingering squeeze before gently letting go. He walked toward the door, but just before stepping out into the hallway, he paused, looking back over his shoulder with a faint, genuine smile—the kind he usually hid from the world.

"Eat the soup before it gets cold, princess," he said softly.

With a quiet click, the door shut, leaving you alone in the warm room. But for the first time in days, the silence didn't feel suffocating. The ghosts of the pier were still there, but as you took a warm spoonful of soup, you knew you had a pack of wolves downstairs ready to help you fight them off.

The cool water of the pool lapped gently against your ankles, a soothing contrast to the warm summer air. You leaned back on your hands, staring up at the sprawling canopy of stars blanketing the night sky. For the first time in what felt like forever, the flashing imagery of the pier was quieted, replaced by the vast, peaceful emptiness of the universe.

You were so lost in the silver light that you didn't even hear the soft padding of footsteps across the concrete.

"The stars are pretty today, aren't they?"

You blinked, snapping out of your daze to find Sora sitting right next to you on the edge of the pool. Her small legs dangled over the water, splashing slightly. She looked so much smaller out here, stripped of the terrifying shadows of the docks, wearing an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to Riki.

Before you could answer, she reached over and slid her small hand into yours, squeezing it tight. She didn't look at you right away; she just kept her eyes fixed on the sky, a soft, resilient smile on her face.

"You saved my brother's life," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that no sixteen-year-old should ever have to understand. "Heck, you saved mine. Thank you."

The sincerity in her voice caught in your throat. You looked down at your intertwined hands. You had spent the last few days drowning in the guilt of what you had taken, but looking at Sora—whole, safe, and breathing right next to you—the reality of what you had saved finally began to break through the armor of your grief.

"You don't have to thank me, Sora," you murmured, your voice thick with a sudden rush of emotion. You squeezed her hand back. "I... I just did what I had to do."

"No, you did what nobody else could," she corrected gently, finally turning her head to look at you. Her eyes looked exactly like Riki's, but without the sharp, dangerous edge. They were just warm. "Riki pretends he’s made of stone because he thinks he has to be Heeseung now. But he’s not. He was going to let himself die on that pier if it meant keeping me safe. If it weren't for you, I’d be alone."

She leaned her head against your shoulder, a gesture of pure, unprompted trust that made your heart swell.

"You gave me my brother back," Sora whispered against your sleeve. "And you gave this house a chance to actually be a home again. I think... I think Heeseung sent you to us."

A single, quiet tear slipped down your cheek, but this time, it didn't feel bitter. As the two of you sat there with your feet in the water under the watch of a thousand stars, the cold, hollow void inside you finally started to fill with something new: a sense of belonging.

"My brother's really nice, actually," she continued, her voice drifting like the ripples in the water beneath your feet. "He just finds it difficult to love someone, because being in such a dangerous world means you can't trust anyone."

She pulled her head back from your shoulder, turning to look at you fully. The silver starlight caught the genuine, knowing look in her eyes—an expression that seemed far too wise for her age.

"You're the first girl I've seen him go soft for," Sora said, her smile widening just a fraction, a teasing but incredibly sweet edge to her tone. "And in such a short time, too."

A sudden, intense warmth flooded your cheeks, completely unrelated to the summer air. You looked away, staring down at where your feet disturbed the reflection of the stars in the pool. Go soft? Riki? The boy who had threatened you in an alley, who masked his grief in cold authority, who commanded a room with a single glance?

But then you remembered the way he had adjusted your tactical vest, the lingering touch of his hand on your shoulder, and the raw, unyielding way he had held your face in his hands just days ago, forcing the panic out of your mind.

"I don't know about that," you managed to mutter, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips. "He still calls me a brat."

"Because he doesn't know what else to do with himself," Sora countered instantly with a soft giggle. She squeezed your hand one last time before pulling her feet out of the water, shaking the droplets off. "He’s been a shield for everyone else for three months. With you... I think he finally feels like he can just be Riki."

She stood up, smoothing down her oversized hoodie. "Don't stay out here too long, okay? The boys are making a terrible mess of dinner downstairs, and Riki’s already yelled at Sunghoon twice for burning the garlic bread."

With a playful wave, she padded back across the concrete, leaving you alone with the stars once more. You looked back up at the sky, your fingers touching your lips where a real, genuine smile was finally forming. The guilt of the past few days hadn't vanished completely, but for the first time, the future ahead of you didn't look dark. It looked bright, fierce, and undeniably intertwined with a certain young leader who was waiting for you downstairs.

The heavy glass door slid shut behind you, cutting off the cool night air and plunging you instantly into a chaotic wave of warmth, laughter, and the rich scent of burning garlic.

It was exactly the disaster Sora had promised.

Over by the island, Jungwon and Jay were completely covered in white dust, playfully tossing fistfuls of flour at each other while laughing so hard Jungwon was practically doubled over. Sunoo was aggressively tapping his phone screen, muttering about recipes, while Jake stood entirely frozen in the center of the kitchen, looking like a confused golden retriever caught in a crossfire. Near the oven, Sunghoon was gesturing wildly with a spatula, passionately mansplaining to Riki that he was following the instructions perfectly—despite the faint trail of black smoke curling out of the toaster oven.

But the moment your feet crossed the threshold, the noise faded into a dull, distant hum.

The frantic clatter of pans and the boys' shouting seemed to drift away as your eyes locked onto Riki. It felt as if a sudden, heavy weight had shifted the room, slowing everything down into a breathtaking, cinematic crawl.

You watched him. He had his dark sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the sharp lines of his forearms. A faint smudge of flour was dusted across his jawline, and his brow was furrowed in sheer, exasperated stress as he rubbed the bridge of his nose at Sunghoon's antics. He looked entirely human. Not the untouchable mob boss who ruled the city’s underground, and not the grieving boy bleeding out on a foggy pier. Just Riki.

The overhead kitchen lights caught the sharp angles of his face, casting a soft, golden glow around him. In that split second, as you watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest, a strange, profound quiet settled over your entire soul. The violent, crashing images of your father, the blood, and the smoking gun that had been torturing your mind for days suddenly withered away into nothingness.

Maybe it was love. Maybe it was the sudden, shattering realization of what you had saved. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that in a world full of monsters and ghosts, he was the only thing that made you feel alive. Whatever it was, the truth struck you with the force of a physical blow: you didn't ever want to leave his side.

As if feeling the weight of your gaze, Riki abruptly stopped listening to Sunghoon. His head turned, his dark, intense eyes cutting through the chaotic kitchen until they landed squarely on you standing by the door.

The exasperated, stressed look on his face instantly vanished. The corners of his lips twitched upward into that quiet, private smirk meant only for you, and the intense warmth in his eyes made your heart do a violent, erratic flip.

"Look who finally decided to join the living," Riki murmured, his voice cutting through the noise of the room effortlessly as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Come here, princess. Help me before Sunghoon burns the entire estate down."

That single word hung in the air between you, slicing right through the kitchen's chaotic noise. Your heart skipped a violent, erratic beat, a sudden jolt of electricity waking up your chest for the first time all day.

You tried to keep your face completely neutral, but the sudden heat rushing to your cheeks gave you away instantly.

"I'm not a princess," you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite as you finally crossed the room, stepping into the warm light of the kitchen.

"Could've fooled me," Riki teased, his voice dropping into a lower, private register as you came to a stop beside him. He didn't move away. In fact, he leaned just a fraction closer, his shoulder brushing against yours—a small, grounding touch that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "You spent four days hiding out upstairs like royalty."

"Hey! Don't let her distract you, Riki!" Sunghoon interrupted, completely oblivious to the shift in the air as he aggressively waved his spatula again. "I am telling you, the garlic bread is supposed to have a rustic char. It's French."

"It's burnt, Sunghoon," Riki sighed, though he didn't take his eyes off you. The sharp, guarded look he usually wore was completely gone, replaced by a soft, relaxed ease that made him look younger, happier.

Jungwon suddenly let out a loud laugh as a stray handful of flour from Jay caught Jake square in the face. Jake blinked through the white dust, looking completely betrayed, which only made Sunoo join in on the giggling.

Standing there in the middle of the mess, surrounded by the loud, ridiculous warmth of the boys, you felt the last lingering chill of the docks finally melt away. You glanced up at Riki, catching the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he watched his friends.

You didn't know what the future held, or how long it would take for the nightmares to stop completely. But looking at him, you knew you were exactly where you belonged.

The next few months were a blur of golden light and quiet healing. The boys took you far away from the city, traveling down the coastline to an isolated villa where the air smelled of salt and pine, not smoke and gunpowder. There were long, lazy afternoons by the water, midnight runs for junk food with Jake and Sunoo, and quiet mornings on the porch where Jungwon and Jay would argue over who made the better coffee.

For the first time in your life, you breathed. And through it all, there was Riki.

He was always just there—a steady, silent shadow at your perimeter. It was the way he’d silently slide his jacket over your shoulders when the ocean breeze picked up, or how his hand would instinctively find the small of your back to guide you through crowded markets. You didn't talk about the pier. You didn't have to. The way his dark eyes followed you around every room whispered everything his lips wouldn't. By the time the autumn leaves started to fall, you didn’t have to guess anymore: you were deeply, irrevocably in love with him.

But peace in their world is always borrowed time.

Eventually, the burner phones started ringing again. The calm, domestic bubble shattered the morning Jay walked into the kitchen, his expression deadpan as he dropped a thick manila folder onto the table. The syndicate your father had left behind was fracturing, and new enemies were rising to claim the vacuum. The missions were starting up again.

The atmosphere in the estate shifted overnight. The laughter died down, replaced by the clean, rhythmic sound of weapons being stripped and reassembled.

Watching Riki slide back into his tailored black suits and strap a holster to his shoulder broke something inside you. The soft, relaxed boy who had laughed with you under the stars was locked away again, replaced by the cold, unyielding leader who had to carry the lives of six people on his back.

One evening, you found him in the study, illuminated only by the green glow of a desk lamp as he went over blueprints for a high-risk warehouse raid scheduled for the morning.

The urge to tell him rose up in your throat so violently it almost choked you. You wanted to cross the room, wrap your arms around his neck, and bury your face in his chest. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that he didn't have to be stone, that you needed him to come back alive because your heart was entirely in his hands.

But you froze at the edge of the desk.

The brutal reality of their world crashed back over you. In a life where a single second of distraction meant a bullet to the brain, love wasn't a sanctuary—it was a liability. If you told him now, would he hesitate on the battlefield? Would he make a reckless call to protect you instead of his crew, just like he had three months ago before Heeseung saved him?

"You're staring," Riki murmured, not lifting his eyes from the map. He circled a perimeter point with a red marker, his jaw tight. "If you're here to tell me I'm stressing out, save your breath, princess."

You forced a small, hollow laugh, swallowing down the confession that tasted like lead in your mouth.

"Just making sure you aren't planning on burning anything down like Sunghoon's garlic bread," you whispered, keeping your voice light despite the ache in your chest.

Riki paused, his pen hovering over the paper. He slowly raised his head, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto yours. For a fleeting second, the cold mask cracked, and you saw the profound, exhausted longing hiding underneath. He looked like he wanted to say something—like he could read the unspoken words hanging heavily in the space between you.

But he just shook his head, a ghost of a smirk appearing on his face. "Go to sleep. It’s going to be a long night."

"how am i supposed to sleep if you're on my mind all the time?" you say suddenly, making him freeze

The words left your lips before your brain could stop them. They hung in the heavy, shadowed air of the study, loud and undeniable.

Riki froze. The red marker in his hand stopped a millimeter above the blueprint, his entire body locking up as if he had just been hit by a sniper’s laser. The quiet in the room became so absolute you could hear the frantic, uneven thud of your own pulse.

For three long seconds, he didn't move. He didn't breathe.

Then, slowly, he set the marker down. He didn't look up at you right away. He kept his eyes on the map, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a deep, shaky breath that seemed to tear through his chest. When he finally lifted his head, the cold, calculating mafia leader was completely shattered. His dark eyes were wide, burning with a mixture of raw shock, intense longing, and a profound, terrifying vulnerability.

"What did you just say?" he whispered, his voice dangerously low, rough around the edges.

You swallowed hard, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the doorframe. The fear of his world was still screaming at you to run, to take it back, to laugh it off as a joke. But looking at the sheer intensity in his gaze, you knew you couldn't lie to him anymore. Not after everything.

"You heard me," you said, your voice trembling but resolute. You stepped back into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft, definitive click. "You tell me to go to sleep like it's that easy. But every time I close my eyes, I'm worried about tomorrow. I'm worried about you. How am I supposed to sleep when you're all I think about, Riki?"

Riki pushed himself up from the desk so fast his chair rolled backward, slamming against the bookshelf. In three long, predatory strides, he crossed the room, completely erasing the distance between you.

Before you could even gasp, his large, warm hands clamped onto your waist, his grip fierce and desperate as he pressed you back against the closed door. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Riki growled softly, his voice thick with a dark, suffocating emotion. His dark eyes searched yours, frantic and wild. "I have spent months trying to keep my distance. I have spent every single night reminding myself that I'm dangerous, that my life is a curse, and that the best thing I can do for you is keep you out of it."

He leaned closer, his forehead dropping heavily against yours, his grip on your waist tightening until it almost hurt—but you didn't care. You could feel the violent, chaotic hammering of his heart against your chest.

"But I can't do it anymore," he whispered, a broken, breathless confession spilling into the space between your lips. "You think you're the only one? I sit at that desk for hours staring at these maps, and all I see is your face. I go into these fights, and the only target I care about is making it back to this house alive because you're in it."

He pulled back just enough to look you dead in the eye, his thumbs digging into your hips with an overwhelming, possessive reverence.

"If you tell me this now," Riki whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifyingly beautiful certainty, "I am never letting you go. Dangerous or not, you're mine. Do you understand?"

"I've been yours since I decided to take my dad's life just to save yours," you whisper.

The words leave your lips in a breathless rush, and for a fraction of a second, the entire universe seems to grind to a halt. Riki goes utterly rigid. The cold, calculating composure he wears like armor shatters into pieces, leaving his dark eyes wide, frantic, and completely undone. The sheer weight of what you’ve confessed—the raw, bleeding truth of it—hangs heavily in the space between you.

Then, a low, rough growl escapes his throat, and the fuse is lit.

Riki doesn’t hesitate. He closes the final fraction of an inch between you, his large hands clamping onto your waist with a fierce, possessive grip. Before you can even gasp, he lifts you effortlessly, pressing your back firmly against the heavy wood of the study door. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips to stay anchored, the sudden friction sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight down your spine.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he mutters, his voice a gravelly, breathless whisper against your skin.

His lips travel up your jawline, trailing a path of pure fire until they find yours. This time, the kiss isn't just a promise—it’s an all-consuming demand. It is deep, heavy, and thick with months of starved, suffocating desire. His tongue parts your lips with a slow, agonizing precision, tasting you completely, destroying any remaining thoughts of the dangerous world outside this room.

You gasp into his mouth, your fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair, pulling him closer until there isn't a single millimeter of air left between your chests. You can feel the hard, rigid muscles of his torso pressing against you, his intense heat seeping right through your clothes.

Riki groans, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he slides one hand down your thigh. His long, warm fingers grip your skin, shifting you slightly higher against the door, anchoring you to him. Every touch is deliberate, heavy with a raw, unspoken hunger that makes your head spin. He kisses you harder, as if he’s trying to pour his entire soul into you, replacing every nightmare you've ever had with the feeling of his mouth on yours.

Slowly, without breaking the kiss, his hand migrates from your thigh up to the hem of your shirt, his calloused palms slipping underneath to find your bare skin. The contrast of his burning, rough hands against your soft waist makes your back arch against the door, a quiet whimpering sigh escaping your throat. He drinks the sound in greedily, his thumb tracing the curve of your ribs, memorizing the frantic, erratic beat of your heart beneath his palm.

He pulls back just an inch, his lips swollen and his breath coming in ragged hitches against yours. His dark eyes sweep over your flushed face, his gaze dripping with a fierce, heavy intensity. "I'm going to make sure you forget every single thing in this world but me."

He doesn't wait for your answer. He eases you down just enough to let your feet touch the floor, but before you can lose the warmth of his body, he takes your hand, his fingers locking tightly with yours. He guides you out of the shadows of the study and toward his bedroom, his gaze never leaving yours, promising a night where the only thing that matters is the two of you.

The heavy door to his bedroom clicks shut, and the rest of the world instantly ceases to exist.

Riki doesn’t waste another second. He presses you back against the wood, his body crowding over yours with a desperate, heavy heat that leaves you completely breathless. The moonlight filters through the sheer curtains, painting the room in silver shadows and illuminating the raw, unbridled desire burning in his eyes.

"You're mine," he growls softly against your lips, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that shudders straight through you. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you breathe out, the confession melting into a gasp as his mouth comes down on yours again.

This time, the kiss is intoxicatingly deep, thick with a possessive rhythm that makes your knees go weak. His hands are everywhere—sliding up your waist, tangling into your hair, gripping your hips to pull you impossibly closer until you can feel the hard, unyielding line of his thighs pressing against yours. The heat between you builds rapidly, heavy and undeniable.

Slowly, his calloused hands find the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath the fabric to map the bare skin of your waist. You shiver as his rough palms slide upward, his thumbs tracing the curve of your ribs and brushing against the soft skin just beneath your bra. A soft, needy whimper escapes your throat, and Riki groans into your mouth at the sound, the last vestige of his restraint snapping.

He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged and hot as his lips trail down your jawline, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He sucks gently at the sensitive skin just above your collarbone, marking you, making you arch into him as your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt to stay grounded.

"Riki..." your voice is a breathless plea, your head tilting back against the door as his hands slide lower, pulling your hips flush against his.

He responds by hooking his hands under the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, anchoring yourself to his heat as he carries you across the room, never breaking the searing contact of his lips against your skin. When your back hits the plush mattress, he follows you down, his heavy frame pinning you into the soft sheets, shadowing you completely.

Hovering over you, Riki slides his hands to the hem of your shirt again, pulling it up and over your head in one fluid motion, leaving you in just your underwear beneath his dark, burning gaze. His eyes darken significantly as he takes you in, his chest rising and falling heavily.

He reaches down, his fingers unbuttoning his own shirt and discarding it, exposing the lean, muscled lines of his torso. When he settles back down between your thighs, the friction of his bare skin against yours sends a violent rush of heat straight to your core.

"Every nightmare you've had," Riki whispers, his voice dropping into a dangerously soft, velvety register as his fingers slide down to your hips, his thumbs dipping beneath the waistband of your underwear with a slow, agonizing promise. "Let me take them away. Tonight, there is only this."

He leans down, capturing your lips again, his body pressing heavily, intimately into yours as he drags you under a wave of pure, exquisite sensation that makes everything else fade to black.

The soft, rhythmic hiss of the shower running against the tile is what finally wakes you.

Sunlight filters through the heavy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the messy bedsheets. As you shift to sit up, a subtle, deep ache blossoms through your lower back and thighs—a sweet, heavy reminder of exactly how thoroughly Riki kept his promise last night. A small smile tugs at your lips as you pull his discarded button-down shirt off the floor, slipping it over your shoulders. It hangs halfway down your thighs, smelling purely of him—rich cedar, rain, and a lingering trace of warmth.

Your bare feet pad quietly across the cold hardwood toward the bathroom. Steam pours out of the cracked door, carrying the scent of his cologne.

Pushing the door open, you find the glass shower stall completely fogged up. Through the blurred glass, you can see the sharp, muscular silhouette of his back under the cascading water. Without a word, you slide the glass door open, stepping inside the spacious stall. The sudden wave of hot water and steam envelops you instantly.

Riki turns around, pushing his wet, dark hair back from his forehead. Water droplets track down the sharp lines of his face, chest, and the lean muscles of his stomach.

The moment his dark eyes land on you—wearing nothing but his oversized shirt, your skin still flushed from sleep—the usual cold, guarded wall he keeps up for the world vanishes completely. A soft, breathtakingly genuine smile breaks across his face, lighting up his eyes in a way very few people ever get to see.

"Look who finally woke up," he murmurs, his voice deep and raspy from the morning.

Before you can answer, he reaches out, his large, wet hand wrapping gently around your waist to pull you directly into his space under the warm spray. The soaked fabric of his shirt clings instantly to your skin, making you gasp softly against his chest. He cradles the back of your head, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your wet lips, tasting of clean water and mint.

"How are you feeling?" he whispers against your mouth, his thumb gently caressing your hip, his gaze dropping to notice the faint, dark marks he left on your skin the night before. "Did I break you, princess?"

"Shut up" you say, lifting your hand to smack him

Riki lets out a low, rough laugh, the sound vibrating deeply against your chest as he catches your wrist mid-air. He doesn't pull away; instead, he wraps his long fingers gently around your hand, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss right against your knuckles.

"Make me," he murmurs, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners with a playful, dangerous spark that makes your stomach do a familiar, violent flip.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a witty comeback. Instead, you hook your fingers into his wet hair, pull his head down, and kiss him.

The sound of his teasing laugh is instantly swallowed into your mouth. Riki goes entirely rigid for a fraction of a second, caught completely off guard by your sudden boldness, before a low, deep groan rumbles in his chest. His restraint shatters all over again.

His large, wet hands slam against the tile on either side of your head, pinning you against the wall as he takes control of the kiss, deepening it with a fierce, possessive hunger. The hot shower water cascades over both of you, completely soaking the oversized shirt you’re wearing until it clings to every curve like a second skin, but neither of you cares.

You arch your back against the warm tile, your fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair as you drink him in. His mouth is hot and demanding, tasting of clean water and a desperate, intoxicating devotion.

Slowly, Riki breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, his forehead resting heavily against yours. His breath comes in ragged hitches, his eyes burning with a dark, intense heat as he looks down at your flushed face and swollen lips.

"God, princess," he whispers, his voice rough and breathless against your skin as his hands slide down the wall to grip your waist, pulling your hips flush against his bare, burning skin. "You really don't know how to play nice, do you?"

"I assumed thats what you like about me hm?"

A slow, wicked smirk pulls at the corner of Riki's lips, his dark eyes darkening until they look almost black beneath the wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead.

"Smart mouth," he growls softly, the vibration traveling straight through his chest into yours.

He doesn't deny it. Instead, he slides his large, calloused hands down from your waist, his palms tracing the smooth curve of your hips before hooking firmly under the back of your thighs. With a single, effortless lift, he hoists you up against the wet tile wall. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, anchoring you to him as the soaked fabric of his shirt bunches up between your bodies, leaving your bare skin pressing directly against his burning heat.

You let out a breathless gasp, your hands flying to his slick shoulders to stabilize yourself as he crowds impossibly closer, pinning you securely.

"I like everything about you," Riki whispers, his voice dangerously low, rough with an intensity that makes your head spin. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sending a violent rush of electricity straight to your core. "Especially when you think you're in control."

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a maddeningly slow tease, his breath hot against your mouth.

"But let me remind you who you belong to," he murmurs against your lips before burying his face in your neck, his teeth gently nipping the sensitive skin just below your ear. A soft, helpless whine escapes your throat, and Riki drinks it in greedily, his grip tightening on your thighs as he deepens the kiss, thoroughly erasing the rest of the world once again.

By the time you and Riki finally head downstairs, the heavy, high-stakes tension of the upcoming mission has completely settled over the kitchen. But the second your feet hit the bottom step, the atmosphere shifts into something much more familiar.

The boys are scattered around the space, looking entirely exhausted. Sunoo is nursing a mug of coffee like his life depends on it, Sunghoon is aggressively rubbing his temples over a map, and Jay is quietly cleaning a blade at the island.

Jungwon is the first to look up. His eyes dart from you—wearing one of Riki's clean, oversized hoodies—to Riki, who looks remarkably relaxed, a faint, rare trace of a smirk still lingering on his lips.

"The lovebirds finally decided to make it down?" Jungwon says, a knowing, amused glint in his eyes as he takes a slow sip from his mug.

"Shut up, Jungwon," Riki mutters, though there's absolutely no weight behind it. He instinctively slides a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side as if declaring his territory to the entire room.

Across the table, Jake suddenly drops his head flat onto the wood with a dramatic, echoing thud.

"How the fuck did the youngest get a girlfriend before we did?" Jake whines into the table, his voice muffled and full of pure, unadulterated betrayal. "I'm older. I'm nicer. I don't threaten people for a living! It's statistically incorrect."

"Because you act like a golden retriever, Jake," Sunghoon chimes in without looking up from his blueprints, a dry smirk playing on his lips. "Women don't want a puppy, they want someone who can actually carry the groceries without getting distracted by a squirrel."

"Hey! I am incredibly focused!" Jake snaps, lifting his head to glare at Sunghoon, though a stray piece of hair sticking straight up ruins the effect entirely.

Riki just lets out a low, quiet chuckle, his grip tightening protectively around your hip. The warmth of his body beside you is a solid, grounding anchor, and despite the heavy mission looming over them, the ridiculous, loud bickering of the boys makes the estate feel exactly like what it has become.

Home.

Jake pauses, his dramatic pout freezing on his face as he actually processes your advice. He sits up straight, running a hand through his messy hair, his eyes widening as if you’ve just handed him the secret blueprints to the universe.

"Mysterious..." Jake echoes, his voice dropping an octave as he tries to narrow his eyes in what he clearly thinks is a smoldering, enigmatic look. "Like... 'I have secrets, but I'll only tell you if you survive the night' mysterious?"

"You look like you're having an allergic reaction, Jake," Sunoo chimes in from behind his coffee mug, not even blinking.

The entire kitchen erupts into chuckles, and you can't help but laugh against Riki’s chest. Even Jay looks up from his blade, a rare, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Don't encourage him, princess," Riki murmurs over your head. His voice is a low, rumbling purr, and you feel his arm tighten around your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear so only you can hear him. "The last thing we need is Jake trying to corner a girl at a bar looking like he forgot his own name."

You stifle another laugh, nudging Riki playfully with your elbow, but he just traps your hand in his, his long fingers locking securely with yours.

"Hey, I could be mysterious!" Jake defends himself, pointing a finger at Riki. "Just because you have the whole 'brooding, silent assassin' thing down naturally doesn't mean I can't adapt. Watch me."

Jake grabs a piece of toast, takes a bite while staring intensely at a blank spot on the wall, and tries to slowly back out of the kitchen. Except he immediately stumbles over a stray chair legs, nearly dropping his food.

"Very mysterious," Jungwon sighs, shaking his head and sliding a fresh plate of breakfast toward you and Riki. "Sit down and eat before Sunghoon loses his patience."

The entire kitchen drops into a dead, ringing silence as there's a knock on the door. The easy laughter evaporates instantly, replaced by the rigid, hyper-vigilant instincts of seven trained killers.

Jay’s hand subtly slides over his blade, concealing it beneath a dish towel. Jungwon gently nudges you behind his shoulder, while Riki’s grip on your waist tightens to a vice-like hold, his body shifting seamlessly to shield yours from the line of sight.

Jake doesn't hesitate. His playful golden-retriever energy vanishes, replaced by a cold, cautious gravity as he glides silently toward the grand front foyer. The rest of the boys follow in a loose, coordinated sweep, weapons concealed but ready, keeping you safely in the center of the perimeter.

Jake reaches the massive oak door. He rests his hand on the handle, takes a breath, and quietly pulls it open.

Standing on the porch isn't a hitman or a rival syndicate enforcer.

It’s a girl.

She's wearing a slightly oversized denim jacket, her hair a bit messy from the coastal breeze, and she looks thoroughly intimidated by the sheer size of the estate.

"Um... does a Jake Sim live here?" she asks, her voice a little breathless as she holds up a small, plastic rectangle.

It's Jake's driver's license. He must have dropped it at the local convenience store during one of his midnight junk-food runs.

The entire universe seems to laugh at the timing. Jake stares at her, his jaw slightly slack. The lethal mafia soldier who could take down three men in a dark alley completely evaporates. His brain shorts out, all his social skills flying right out the window as he looks from his ID to her face, utterly struck dumb.

Sunghoon, standing just a step behind him, takes one look at Jake’s frozen, useless expression and can’t help but seize the opportunity. He steps forward with a smooth, effortless charm, flashing a dazzling smile.

"Yes! Sorry, he's a little shy," Sunghoon says, his voice dripping with playful warmth as he gently nudges Jake out of the way with his elbow.

Behind them, in the hallway, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into a loud laugh. Riki relaxes his posture just a fraction, a dark, highly amused glint returning to his eyes as he leans down, his breath tickling your ear.

"Look at that," Riki whispers, his lips brushing your hair as he watches Jake turn a vivid shade of crimson. "Your advice worked sooner than you thought, princess."

The girl offers a small, slightly awkward smile, adjusting her grip on her purse strap. "I saw it on the floor when I left the convenience store," she explains, her voice soft against the quiet morning air. "The address on the back led me here."

Jake is still completely paralyzed. The world around him has slowed to an absolute crawl, the tough mafia enforcer entirely replaced by a guy experiencing love at first sight. He’s staring at her like she just handed him a winning lottery ticket, his cheeks a brilliant, burning shade of red.

Sensing the lingering, heavy silence from the massive house behind Sunghoon, the girl clears her throat nervously. "Anyway... I'll uh... head out now. Glad I could get it back to you."

She shifts on her feet, turning to take a step down the grand stone porch.

That movement finally shocks Jake's brain back online. Panic flaring in his eyes, he blurts out, "Wait!"

He steps right past Sunghoon, his hand reaching out instinctively before he catches himself. The girl stops, blinking in surprise as she turns back to look at him.

Jake swallows hard, trying to channel every single ounce of the "mysterious, intriguing" energy you had just been teasing him about inside. He squares his shoulders, but the sheer nervousness in his eyes gives him away completely.

"Could I maybe... get your number?" Jake asks, his voice cracking just a tiny bit before he clears his throat to deepen it. "It'd be nice to take you out somewhere. As a thank you. For, you know, not identity-theft-ing me."

Behind him in the foyer, a collective, silent gasp ripples through the boys. Sunoo quickly covers his mouth to muffle a squeal, Jungwon closes his eyes in mock prayer, and Riki hides his face directly in the crook of your neck, his shoulders shaking with silent, breathless laughter.

The girl stares at Jake for one agonizing second, two seconds—and then a genuinely pretty, amused smile breaks across her face.

"Sure," she says softly, pulling her phone from her jacket pocket. "I guess a thank-you coffee wouldn't hurt."

Jake types his number into her phone with hands that are visibly shaking, handing it back to her like it’s a fragile piece of glass. She gives him one last sweet, lingering smile before turning to walk down the driveway, leaving him standing on the porch like a man who has just seen a vision.

He watches her until she clears the gates, then slowly turns around, closing the heavy oak door behind him. The moment the lock clicks, Jake slides his back down the wood until he’s sitting flat on the floor, a completely dazed, goofy grin plastered across his face.

He holds his phone up to his chest like a prized trophy.

The boys immediately swarm him, dropping the tactical guard completely. Sunoo is the first to cross his arms, a brilliant, teasing smirk on his face as he looks down at Jake’s pathetic, love-struck form.

"Wow, Jake," Sunoo says, his voice dripping with playful mockery. "Maybe you'll also get a girlfriend sooner or later."

"Shut up, Sunoo, I'm having a moment," Jake groans from the floor, hiding his burning red face in his hands. "She smelled like vanilla. Did you guys smell that? She’s an angel."

"She’s a civilian who almost saw Jay's combat knife, you idiot," Jungwon sighs, though a fond smile cracks through his leader persona.

Riki guides you back toward the kitchen island, his arm still firmly hooked around your waist. He looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with amusement as he leans his chin right on your shoulder.

"you gave him hope" Riki says, as he caresses your hip

"Well no—I gave him a little nudge of confidence, there's a difference," you correct him, leaning back slightly into his solid frame to watch the chaos unfold.

Riki hums, a low, vibrating sound that rumbles pleasantly against your spine. His long fingers trace lazy, possessive circles against your hip bone, the heat of his touch bleeding right through the thick fabric of the hoodie.

"A nudge," Riki repeats, his voice laced with a dark, velvet amusement. "Princess, the guy looked like he was about to propose right there on the porch. He's practically planning the wedding."

As if on cue, Jake suddenly scrambles up from the floor, clutching his phone like it's a live grenade. "I should text her. I need to text her right now so she has my number. Wait—what do I say? Is 'Hey' too eager? Should I use a period to look serious? An exclamation mark?!"

Sunghoon groans loudly, stepping forward to snatch the phone right out of Jake's trembling hands. "Give me that before you ruin it. If you use a period, she's going to think you're a serial killer."

"Give it back!" Jake yelps, lunging for the device while Sunoo happily steps in to block him, laughing hysterically as the three of them start wrestling for the phone in the middle of the grand foyer.

Jay just sighs, rubbing his temples as he heads back toward the kitchen to pour himself a much-needed cup of coffee, muttering under his breath about dealing with children.

Through it all, Riki simply shakes his head. He turns his attention entirely back to you, completely unfazed by the noise of his syndicate brothers turning into a bunch of high schoolers. He drops his forehead against your shoulder, his nose brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw.

"Let them deal with that," Riki murmurs, his tone dropping back into that heavy, intoxicating register meant only for you. His hand slides from your hip to wrap securely around your waist, slowly turning you in his arms until you're facing him.

His dark eyes sweep over your face, the playful amusement fading into something much hungrier, much more deliberate.

"I have much better things to do with my morning than watch Jake forget how to speak English," he whispers, his thumb gently tilting your chin up as he backs you slowly into the edge of the kitchen counter. "Now... where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

End

maybe jakes little crush is the next part.. hope you liked it, i rushed a little and didn't know what to do halfway so it's a little fast paced. This wasn't proofread so please call out any mistakes!

Enhypen Fics Masterlist

Started: 10/08/25

Last Updated: 7/4/26

Total Works: 36

Paloma (Enhypen Yandere)

~Book 1~

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6.1

Chapter 6.2 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14.1

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*

Paloma (Side Post)

How the Members View Each Other

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Actors AU

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Sunghoon

ཐིཋྀSunghoon's moodboard

Sunoo

ཐིཋྀSunoo's moodboard

Jungwon

ཐིཋྀJungwon's moodboard

Jay

ཐིཋྀ Jay's moodboard

Jake

ཐིཋྀJake's moodboard

Heeseung

ཐིཋྀHeeseung's moodboard

Ni-ki

ཐིཋྀNi-ki's moodboard

Mya

ཐིཋྀMya's moodboard

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･

Lion's Den (Enhypen Yandere) -Coming Soon

~Book 1~

Chapter 1

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ

Make Me Look Good (OT7 x reader) -Discontinued

Character Intro

Main Story

LEE HEESEUNG

hard thought #1 #2

lawyer husband heeseung

perv loser heeseung

jealous heeseung

PARK JONGSEONG

shoe designer jay x chaebol reader

thigh obsessed jay

big dick jay

pussy obsessed jay

boyfriend's dad! jay

SIM JAEYUN

perv jake part 2

dumbification

pregnancy kink

husband jake

munch bff jake

PARK SUNGHOON

demon sunghoon

gym boyfriend sunghoon

mean dom sunghoon

corruption kink

undercut sunghoon

pussy drunk sub! sunghoon 2

sunghoon with bratty reader

face sitting 2

big dick sunghoon

creampie + fingering

making you cum for the first time

shower sex

thigh fucking

KIM SUNOO

hard thought based on a live

mean fwb! sunghoon

mean dom sunoo #2

perv sunoo

soft dom sunoo fucking your stress away

best friend sunoo

YANG JUNGWON

dom jungwon

cheetah hybrid jungwon

mean younger bf jungwon 2

possesive catboy jungwon

tease! jungwon

panty fucking

hard thought inspired by that one live

heavy makeout + dry humping

perv jungwon masturbating

can't stand you, can't stop you

sub! jungwon

riding jungwon

jungwon + noona who has a bf

ALL

breeding kink

jealous enhypen

head pusher enhypen

pussy slapper enhypen

The Denial Game Series

MISC (multiple members)

perv jake + sunghoon

jakehoon sharing reader

tit obsessed perv jakewon

video call sex with jakewon

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: @won1yoiz

You were playing near the community center, digging for worms in the mud, when the old station wagon rolled in. It sputtered and died right in front of the intake office.

Two adults stepped out first. They were quiet, unassuming people. They kept their heads lowered, their shoulders hunched—universal body language for we mean no harm. They smelled like nothing. Just soap and nervousness. Betas.

Then, the back door opened.

A boy climbed out.

He looked to be about your age. He was wearing a yellow raincoat that was two sizes too big, the sleeves swallowing his hands. But it was his face that stopped you mid-dig.

He was the prettiest thing you had ever seen.

He had a mop of soft, dark hair that fell into his eyes. And those eyes... they were enormous. They were dark pools, wide and shimmering with a mixture of terror and wonder. When he blinked, you swore you could see galaxies swirling in them.

He looked around, clutching a stuffed puppy to his chest. He looked at the towering pine trees. He looked at the gruff Alpha guards standing by the gate. And then, he looked at you.

You stood up, wiping your muddy hands on your overalls. You marched over to him.

The boy flinched, taking a half-step behind his mother’s leg. He peeked out at you with those big, sparkly doe eyes.

"Hi," you announced, your voice loud in the quiet clearing.

"Hello," he whispered. His voice was soft, like wind chimes.

"I'm Y/N," you said. "My dad is the boss. Who are you?"

"Jake," he said, hugging the stuffed puppy tighter.

"You have mud on your face," he pointed out, pointing a tiny finger at your cheek.

You scrubbed at it, probably making it worse. "I was hunting worms. Do you like worms?"

Jake wrinkled his nose. It was an adorable motion, scrunching up his entire face. "No. They're slimy."

"That's the best part!" You grinned, showing off a gap-toothed smile. "You want to see?"

He hesitated, looking up at his mom. She gave him a gentle nod.

Jake stepped away from her leg. He walked toward you, his yellow raincoat swishing. "Okay. But if they touch me, I'm going to scream."

"Deal," you said.

That was the beginning. It wasn't an explosion; it was a seed taking root.

Pack dynamics are brutal, even for children. Wolves value strength, lineage, and scent. Even before presentation, children mimic their parents.

Jake was an anomaly. His parents were Betas, "drifters" who had joined the pack late in life. They didn't have the rich history of the founding families. They didn't have status.

And Jake... Jake was soft.

He didn't like roughhousing. He didn't like play-fighting. While the other boys were tackling each other in the dirt, growling with their baby teeth, Jake preferred to sit on the swings and look at the clouds. He liked to collect shiny rocks. He liked to hum to himself.

This made him a target.

It happened on a Tuesday. You were six.

You were looking for Jake during recess. You found him behind the equipment shed.

Three older boys—Marcus, Tyler, and Sam—had him cornered. Marcus was eight, big for his age, and already smelling faintly of his Alpha father’s aggression.

"What's wrong, stray?" Marcus sneered, kicking dust onto Jake’s shoes. "Cat got your tongue?"

Jake was pressed against the wooden wall. His big eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill over. He wasn't fighting back. He was trembling, his lower lip wobbling.

"Leave me alone," Jake whispered.

"My dad says your parents are useless," Marcus laughed cruelly. "Just worker bees. You're going to be a useless worker bee too. You don't even smell like a wolf. You smell like air."

"I am a wolf!" Jake cried, his voice cracking.

"Prove it," Tyler taunted. "Growl. Come on. Let's hear it."

Jake opened his mouth, but only a small, choked sob came out.

The boys laughed. It was a mean, sharp sound.

You felt a heat rise in your belly. It wasn't the hormonal rage of an adult; it was the pure, righteous indignation of a best friend.

You dropped the pinecone you were holding. You didn't think. You just ran.

"HEY!" you screamed.

You barreled into the circle, shoving Marcus with all your might. He wasn't expecting it, and he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and landing on his butt.

"Leave him alone!" you yelled, standing in front of Jake. You spread your arms wide, making yourself a shield.

Marcus scrambled up, his face red. "Move, Y/N. This isn't your business."

"He's my friend!" you shouted back. "And if you touch him, I'm telling my dad!"

The ultimate threat. The Head Alpha.Marcus paled. He looked at you, fierce and muddy, and then at Jake, who was peeking out from behind your shoulder with wide, terrified eyes."Whatever," Marcus muttered, trying to save face. "He's just a crybaby anyway. Come on, guys."

They ran off, hooting and hollering.You turned around immediately.

"Jake?" He was crying now, silent tears tracking down his soft cheeks. He looked so small. So fragile.

"Are you okay?" You reached out, wiping a tear from his chin.

Jake sniffled, looking at you like you were Superwoman. "They said... they said I'm not a real wolf."

"They're stupid," you declared firmly. "You are a real wolf. You're just... a nice wolf. You're not mean like them."

"You saved me," Jake whispered. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your middle, burying his face in your shirt. He smelled like baby shampoo and rain.

"I'll always save you," you said, patting his back. "That's what friends do."

Jake pulled back, his eyes sparkling again, the fear replaced by adoration. "I want to be strong like you, Y/N."

"You will be," you promised, having no idea what you were talking about.

By the time you were eight, you were inseparable. The pack elders called you "The Shadow and the Shield." Where you went, Jake followed. He was clingy. It was the only word for it. He didn't like being alone. If you were watching TV, he had to be sitting next to you, his shoulder pressed against yours. If you were walking to the bus stop, he was holding your hand. If you were eating lunch, he was stealing food off your plate just to have an excuse to lean close.He was tactile in a way that defied his gender. Usually, boys at that age were going through the "cooties" phase. Jake didn't care about cooties. He only cared about you. One rainy Saturday, you were having a sleepover at his house. His parents, sweet Betas who baked excellent cookies, had built you a fort in the living room out of couch cushions and blankets.You were lying inside the fort, flashlight on, reading comic books."Y/N?" Jake asked. He was lying on his stomach, his chin resting on his folded arms. His eyes were reflecting the flashlight beam, making them look like pools of honey.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'll be a Beta?"

The question hung in the air.

"My mom and dad are Betas," he continued softly. "So I'll probably be one too. Right?"

You looked at him. He was so delicate. His eyelashes were long and dark against his pale skin. He was soft-spoken and kind. He rescued spiders instead of squishing them. He cried during sad movies. "Probably," you said honestly. "But being a Beta is cool. My uncle is a Beta and he flies airplanes."

"I don't want to fly airplanes," Jake said, rolling onto his back. "I want to be an Alpha."

You giggled. "You? An Alpha?"

"Hey!" He kicked your shin gently. "I could be! I'm growing! Look at my muscles!"

He flexed his arm. It was a noodle. A very cute noodle.

"Wow," you teased, poking his bicep. "So scary. Marcus better watch out."

"I'm serious," Jake said, his face growing solemn. "If I'm an Alpha, I can be the boss. And if I'm the boss, I can make a rule that no one is allowed to be mean to you. Ever." Your heart did a funny little flip.

"I don't need rules, Jake. I can take care of myself."

"I know," he sighed, shimmying closer until his head was resting on your shoulder. "But I want to take care of you, too. You always protect me. I want to take a turn."

"Okay," you whispered, turning off the flashlight so the room was plunged into darkness. "When we grow up, you can take a turn."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He fell asleep like that, breathing softly against your neck, his hand clutching the sleeve of your pajamas.

Fifth grade at age 10 brought the dreaded "Pack Biology" unit in health class.

The teacher, Mrs. Gable, pulled down a chart showing the three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alphas: The leaders, the protectors, the ones with the ruts and the knots. Strong, aggressive, dominant. Betas: The backbone, the stabilizers, standard biology. Calm, steady. Omegas: The nurturers, the heart of the pack, the ones with heats and slicks. Rare, precious, submissive. You sat next to Jake. He was staring at the chart with intense focus.

"Statistically," Mrs. Gable droned, "Two Beta parents have a 95% chance of producing a Beta offspring. There is a 4% chance of an Alpha, and a less than 1% chance of an Omega."

Jake slumped in his chair. After class, you found him sitting on the swing set, dragging his feet in the woodchips.

"What's wrong?" you asked, swinging next to him.

"95 percent," he grumbled. "That's basically 100 percent."

"So? What's so bad about being a Beta?"

"Betas are... boring," Jake said, kicking a rock. "And they can't mate bond. Not really. They don't have the bite."

"The bite sounds painful anyway," you shrugged.

"It's not about the pain," Jake looked at you with those big, earnest eyes. "It's about the connection. My dad says Alphas and Omegas are tied together by their souls. Like... magic. Betas just... like each other."

"Well, I like you," you said. "That's enough, isn't it?"

Jake looked at you. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over his face. He looked otherworldly pretty and handsome. "I guess," he murmured. "But I want the magic."

"Maybe you'll get lucky," you said. "Maybe you're the 4 percent."

"And you?" he asked. "What do you think you are?"

You thought about your parents. Your father was a massive, commanding Head Alpha. Your mother was a beautiful, elegant Omega.

"I think I'll be an Omega," you said confidently. "Like my mom. I like taking care of people. And I like soft blankets. And I hate fighting."

"You fought Marcus," Jake pointed out.

"That was different. That was for you."

Jake smiled, swinging a little higher. "Okay. So, if you're an Omega... and I'm the Alpha... then we're a perfect match."

"We're best friends, Jake. That's already a perfect match."

"Yeah," he said, looking at the sky. "Best friends."

The summer you turned twelve was the last summer of true childhood innocence. Puberty was knocking on the door, but it hadn't kicked it down yet.You spent every day in the treehouse your dad had built in the backyard. It was your sanctuary. No parents allowed. No bullies allowed. Just you and Jake. It was a hot August afternoon. You were lying on the wooden floorboards, drinking juice boxes and sweating. Jake was sketching in a notebook. He was getting really good at drawing. He was drawing you. "Stop moving," he mumbled, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

"It's hot," you complained, fanning yourself.

Jake put the pencil down. He crawled over to you.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"What happens if we present and... things change?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like... what if I become an Alpha and the pack tells me I have to find an Omega? A stranger?"

"You just say no," you said simply.

"Can you do that?"

"You can do whatever you want, Jake. It's your life."

He looked unconvinced. He picked at a loose thread on his shorts. "I don't want a stranger. I want to stay with you."

"We're neighbors, Jake. We're going to the same middle school. We're not going anywhere."

"No, I mean..." He struggled for the words. He was twelve, and the feelings were too big for his vocabulary. He just knew that the idea of being separated from you, of having a life that didn't revolve around you, made his stomach hurt. He lay down next to you, his head resting near yours. He turned so he was facing you.

His eyes were so close. You could see the flecks of gold in the brown. They were sparkly, innocent, and full of a blind trust that terrified you sometimes.

"Promise me something," he whispered.

"What?"

"Promise that no matter what we present as—Alpha, Beta, Omega, alien—we stick together. Two peas in a pod."

"Obviously," you rolled your eyes, reaching out to flick his forehead.

"No, say it. Promise."

"I promise, Jake. Me and you against the world."

"And..." he hesitated. "If you turn out to be an Omega... promise you won't let any big, mean Alphas take you away. Unless I say they're okay."

You laughed. "You want to approve my boyfriends?"

"Yes," he said deadly serious. "I have to vet them. If they can't beat me in Mario Kart, they can't have you."

"Deal," you giggled. "And if you turn out to be a big, scary Alpha... I promise to make sure you don't turn into a jerk like Marcus."

"I could never be a jerk to you," Jake said softly. He reached out and took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His palm was clammy.

"I love you, Y/N," he said. It was the platonic, intense love of a child.

"Love you too, Jakey."

You lay there in the heat, holding hands, listening to the cicadas buzz. You didn't know then that biology was already writing a different script. You didn't know that the soft, sweet boy with the sparkly eyes who wanted to be your protector was carrying the genetics of a rare, high-level Omega. And you didn't know that you, the girl who wanted to be soft like her mother, had a beast sleeping in her chest that would one day wake up and burn the world down for him.For now, you were just two kids in a treehouse. Two peas in a pod. Waiting for the rest of your lives to start.

Age 14 Puberty hit Jake Sim like a freight train, but instead of awkwardness and acne, it brought angles and height.

It happened over the summer before freshman year. You went away to a leadership camp for three weeks. When you came back, the boy waiting for you on your front porch wasn't the boy you left. He stood up as your dad’s car pulled into the driveway. He was taller—at least three inches taller. His shoulders, once bony and narrow, had broadened out, filling his t-shirt in a way that made your mouth go dry for a split second before your brain caught up. His jawline had sharpened, cutting a striking silhouette against the afternoon sun.But then he smiled, and the "Hot Stranger" vanished, replaced instantly by Jake. "You're back!" he yelled, bounding down the porch steps with the same puppy energy he’d had at five. He engulfed you in a hug, lifting you off your feet. He smelled different, too. Not the pheromones of a presented wolf yet—you were both still technically "pups"—but he smelled like deodorant, laundry detergent, and something distinctly warm and masculine.

"Put me down, you giant!" you laughed, slapping his back.

He set you down, grinning. "Did you shrink? Or did I just win the genetic lottery?"

"You grew," you accused, looking up at him. "It's unfair." He leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. And there they were. The eyes. Despite the sharp jaw and the new height, his eyes were exactly the same. Dark, shimmering, and impossibly round. Boba eyes, you called them. They still held that galaxy of innocence, that wet, shiny look that made it impossible to say no to him.

"Missed you," he whispered, the playfulness dropping for a second to reveal the clingy attachment underneath.

"Missed you too," you admitted.

Age 15 High school was a strange ecosystem. As everyone waited for their secondary genders to manifest, hormones were running rampant. Jake became popular by accident. He was quiet, he was athletic (soccer star), and he was devastatingly handsome. Girls—and some boys—would whisper when he walked down the hallway. 

“Is he an Alpha? Look at those shoulders.”

“He has to be. He’s too hot to be a Beta.”

Notes appeared in his locker. Girls would "accidentally" bump into him. Jake didn't just reject them; he didn't even notice them.You were at your locker one morning, struggling with a jammed zipper on your backpack. "Here," Jake appeared out of nowhere, his chest pressing against your shoulder as he reached over to fix it. He was always in your personal space. He treated your personal bubble like it was his vacation home.

"Thanks," you muttered.

A girl from your math class, Sarah, walked by. She stopped, twirling her hair, looking at Jake with hungry eyes. "Hi, Jake. I like your sweater."

Jake didn't look up. He was focused on your zipper. "Thanks."

"Are you going to the pep rally?" Sarah pressed, stepping closer.

"I'm going with Y/N," Jake said, finally freeing the zipper. He zipped your bag up and patted it. "Done."

"Oh," Sarah’s face fell. She looked at you with a mix of confusion and jealousy. "You guys are... always together."

"Yep," Jake smiled, draping his arm heavily over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Two peas in a pod."

He turned you around and walked you to class, leaving Sarah standing there.

"You're rude," you whispered, though you leaned into his side.

"I'm not rude," he said, bewildered. "I answered her question."

"She was flirting with you, Jake."

"I don't care," he shrugged, resting his chin on the top of your head as you walked. "I'm busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Hanging out with you."

It wasn't a grand romantic gesture. It wasn't in the rain. It was in his bedroom, on a Tuesday afternoon, while playing video games.

You were sitting on the floor, leaning back against the edge of his bed. Jake was sitting between your legs, his back resting against your chest. It was a tangle of limbs that would have looked scandalous to anyone else, but for you two, it was just Tuesday.

You were both sixteen. The pressure of "Firsts" was heavy in the air at school. First dates. First kisses. First presentations.

"Jacob kissed Jessica under the bleachers today," Jake said, his eyes glued to the TV screen as he mashed buttons on the controller. "Gross," you commented, braiding a small section of his hair. "Was it sloppy?"

"He said it was... wet. And electric." Jake paused the game.

The silence in the room shifted. It became heavy, charged with the curiosity of two teenagers who were too close for their own good.

Jake turned his head. Because he was leaning back against you, his face was upside down from your perspective. "Do you think it's electric for Betas?" he asked softly. "Or is that just an Alpha/Omega thing?"

"I don't know," you whispered. You stopped braiding his hair. Your fingers were resting on his scalp. "We could check," Jake said. It wasn't a proposition. It was a scientific inquiry. Or at least, that's what he pretended.

"Check?"

"Kiss," he clarified. "To see if it's electric. Since we haven't presented yet. We're the control group."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You knew, logically, this was a bad idea. Friends didn't test-drive kisses. "Okay," you breathed out.

Jake shifted, turning his body so he was facing you. He sat cross-legged, his knees bumping yours. His boba eyes were wide, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. "Just a test," he whispered.

He leaned in.

His lips were soft. That was your first thought. They were chapped from the cold, but soft.He pressed his mouth to yours tentatively. Closed mouth. Innocent.

But then, he sighed. And you sighed. And the kiss deepened. Jake’s hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. You instinctively grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. It was electric. It wasn't the biological spark of a mate bond—not yet—but it was the terrifying, white-hot electricity of realizing that the person you loved most in the world tasted really, really good. Jake made a low sound in his throat, a tiny whimper that sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head, his nose brushing against yours, and pressed harder. For ten seconds, the world dissolved. There was only Jake. Jake’s warmth. Jake’s smell (still just laundry detergent, but somehow intoxicating). Jake’s lips moving against yours with a clumsy, desperate hunger.

Then, he pulled back. You were both panting slightly. His lips were red. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated. He looked at you with a terrifying amount of hope.

"That was..." he started. Panic set in. If you acknowledged what just happened—that you liked it, that you wanted to do it again—everything would change. The friendship, the safety, the "peas in a pod." What if you presented as something incompatible? What if he met his fated mate later and you were just a mistake?

"Scientific," you blurted out, your voice cracking. Jake’s face fell. The light in his eyes dimmed just a fraction. "Right," he swallowed, pulling his hand away from your face. "Scientific. No electricity."

"Nope," you lied, your heart breaking a little. "Just... lips."

"Okay." He turned back around, picking up the controller. But his hands were shaking. "Level four?"

"Yeah. Level four."

You didn't talk about it. But the air between you had changed. It was thicker now. Heavy with things unsaid.

Age 17 The kiss haunted you. To escape it, you did what any confused, panicked teenager would do: you tried to find "normal." You started dating Caleb. Caleb was safe. He was a year older, a newly presented Beta. He was nice enough. He played guitar. He smelled like cedar chips (a standard Beta scent).

Jake didn't take it well. When you told him, he went quiet. His face went blank, shutting down in a way you rarely saw.

"Oh," was all he said. "Okay."

He didn't make a scene. He didn't fight for you. He just... retreated. He stopped coming over every night. He stopped touching you constantly. He still sat with you at lunch, but he sat across from you, not next to you. The loss of his physical presence felt like phantom limb pain. The relationship with Caleb lasted three months. And it was terrible.Caleb was insecure. He didn't like how close you were with Jake.

"Why does he look at you like that?" Caleb asked one night while you were watching a movie.

"Like what?"

"Like he owns you."

"He's my best friend, Caleb."

"He's a guy. And he's not presented yet. He could be an Alpha waiting to happen. I don't like it."

You tried to make it work. You created distance with Jake to appease Caleb. You ignored Jake’s texts. You stopped going to the treehouse. And then, Caleb cheated. You found him at a party, making out with a girl from the drama club. The breakup was messy. Caleb was defensive, calling you "frigid" and blaming your obsession with your "little pet Jake." You walked out of the party, tears streaming down your face, feeling hollowed out. You didn't call your mom. You didn't call your dad.

You walked three miles in the dark to Jake’s house.

It was 1:00 AM. The Sim house was dark. You threw a pebble at Jake’s window.

He opened it almost instantly, as if he had been waiting. He was shirtless, wearing pajama pants, his hair tousled from sleep. He looked down, saw you crying on his lawn, and didn't hesitate.

"I'm coming down."

He met you at the back door. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask why you were there. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and opened his arms.

You collapsed into him. "He... he..." you sobbed, unable to get the words out.

"Shh," Jake whispered. He pulled you into the living room, onto the big plush sofa.

He sat down and pulled you into his lap. You were seventeen, almost fully grown, but he held you like you were five. He wrapped his legs around yours, his arms banding around your waist, burying his face in your neck. "He's an idiot," Jake murmured into your skin. The vibration of his voice soothed the ache in your chest. "Whatever he did, he's an idiot."

"He cheated," you choked out. "And he said... he said I was cold."

Jake stiffened. His arms tightened around you, his grip bordering on painful. "You're not cold," he growled. It was a low sound, surprising for an unpresented boy. "You're warm. You're the warmest thing I know."

He rocked you back and forth. He used his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.

"I hate him," Jake said quietly. "I want to punch him."

"Don't," you sniffled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "He's not worth it."

"He made you cry. That makes him worth hurting."

Jake looked at you then. The moonlight was filtering in through the window, illuminating his face. He had grown into his features so well. He was beautiful. But his eyes... those boba eyes were shiny with unshed tears of his own. He was crying because you were crying.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm sorry I pushed you away."

"Don't do it again," Jake said, his voice cracking. He pressed his forehead against yours. "Please. I can't... I can't function when you're not there. It's like trying to breathe underwater."

"I won't," you promised. "No more boyfriends. Just us."

"Just us," he agreed. He didn't kiss you. He could have—you were vulnerable, you were close—but he didn't. Instead, he just held you. He ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp until your breathing evened out.

"Sleep," he commanded softly. "I've got you."

You fell asleep on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. You woke up the next morning in his bed (he had carried you upstairs). He was asleep next to you, his hand gripping your waist even in his sleep. You looked at him and realized that Caleb was right about one thing. Jake did look at you like he owned you.

But as you watched him sleep, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, you realized something else. You wanted to be owned.

Your eighteenth birthday was supposed to be the start of your life. In the Silver River Collective, eighteen is when the biological clock strikes midnight. It’s the unveiling.

You spent the weeks leading up to it terrified and excited. Would you be a regal Omega like your mother? A commanding Alpha like your father?

The day came. You woke up. You checked the mirror.

You looked exactly the same. You smelled exactly the same.

You waited a week. Then a month.

Nothing. The pack doctors ran tests. "Late bloomer," they shrugged, marking your chart with the clinical code for Unpresented/Presumed Beta. "It happens. Not everyone gets a wolf." You watched the light in your father’s eyes dim just a fraction. He didn't love you less, but the expectation of a legacy had evaporated. You were just... Y/N. Normal. Boring. Invisible. Then came November. Then came Jake.

Jake Sim turned eighteen and the universe didn't just knock; it kicked the door down.

His presentation was violent and immediate. One day he was the beta boy next door; the next, he was one of the Pack’s Crown Jewel.

He presented as a Male Omega.

In your pack, Male Omegas were unicorns. They were prized for their high fertility, their potent scents, and their rarity. When Jake returned to school after his first heat week, the atmosphere shifted gravitationally. He walked down the hallway, and heads turned. Alphas stopped mid-sentence, nostrils flaring, tracking the scent of peaches and fresh rain that trailed behind him like a royal cape. He had filled out. His skin glowed with that distinct Omega luster. His lips looked softer, redder. He was undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

And you? You were the shadow walking beside the sun.

People stopped seeing you. They looked right through you to get to him.

"Jake, want to sit with us?"

"Jake, did you finish the calc homework?"

"Jake, you smell amazing."

You expected him to drift away. It would have been natural. He belonged to the elite now, the hierarchy of scents and instincts. You belonged to the background.

But Jake didn't drift. He anchored. If anything, his presentation made him more obsessed with you. "They're so loud," he complained one day at lunch, pressing his face into your shoulder to hide from a group of staring Alphas. "Can we go to the library? I need to smell your detergent. It quiets my brain."

"I'm boring, Jake," you muttered, stabbing at your salad. "Go sit with Sunghoon and Jennie. They're Alphas. They're your crowd now."

"They smell like warm body spray and ego," Jake mumbled, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. "I'd rather sit with you."

Sophomore year of college. The dynamic was set in stone. Jake was the campus idol—the Music Production major with the face of a model and the scent of heaven. You were his "friend." The Beta bodyguard. It was a Friday night in October. Jay, a popular Alpha and friend of Jake’s, was throwing a massive house party. "I don't want to go," you groaned, lying on your bed.

"Please?" Jake pleaded. He was standing in your doorway, dressed in a black band tee, and ripped jeans. He looked dangerous. He looked edible. "Jay invited me, and he said I could bring a plus one. I'm not going without you. If I go alone, I'll get eaten alive."

"You love the attention," you accused, though you were already reaching for your shoes. "I hate the attention," he corrected. "I only want attention from one person."

He gave you that look—his eyes, wide and shimmering—and you crumbled. You always crumbled. Jay’s house was a sensory nightmare. The bass was shaking the floorboards. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and a cocktail of pheromones. You stuck to the wall, nursing a red solo cup. Jake was seated on the main sofa, a king in his court. He was laughing at something Jay said, throwing his head back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat. He looked radiant.

You watched him, a familiar ache settling in your chest. You loved him. God, you loved him. But you were a dud. A non-entity. You couldn't give him what he needed. He needed a mate. He needed a bite. He needed an Alpha.

"Hey."

You looked up. A girl was standing next to you. A Beta you recognized from History class. "You're Y/N, right? Jake Sim's... friend?"

"Yeah."

"Is he single?" she asked, shouting over the music. "My roommate is dying to ask him out, but she's scared of you."

"Scared of me?" You let out a bitter laugh. "Why? I'm nobody."

"You have a vibe," she shrugged. "Like a guard dog."

You looked back at the sofa. The mood had shifted. A woman had sat down next to Jake. You knew her. Kim Minji. A senior. A Female Alpha. She was stunning—tall, sharp-featured, radiating a scent of crushed mint and leather that cut through the room. She was everything you weren't. Powerful. Presented. Compatible. She was leaning into Jake’s space. Her hand was resting on the back of the sofa, fingers inches from his neck. She whispered something in his ear. Jake smiled. It was a polite smile, tight at the corners, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. Social etiquette for an Omega dictated he be polite to high-ranking Alphas. Then, Minji moved. Her hand slid from the sofa to Jake’s knee. A red haze dropped over your vision.

It wasn't rational. It wasn't logical. It was primal. The sound of your plastic cup crushing in your hand was lost in the music.You felt a growl vibrating in your throat, low and dangerous. Get your hands off him.But you were just a Beta. You had no right.

"I'm leaving," you snapped at the girl next to you.

You turned and shoved your way through the crowd, heading for the door. You couldn't watch it. You couldn't watch him be claimed by someone worthy.The night air was cold, biting at your heated skin. You marched down the sidewalk, angry tears stinging your eyes.

"Y/N! Wait!"

Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind you.

You didn't stop. "Go back to the party, Jake. Minji was just getting started."

"I don't care about Minji!"

Jake caught up to you, grabbing your arm. He spun you around.

He was out of breath, his chest heaving. His band shirt was slipping off one shoulder. He looked frantic. "Why did you leave?" he demanded.

"Because I don't belong there!" you shouted, ripping your arm from his grip. "I'm not part of your world, Jake! I'm just the background character holding your bags while you get flirted with by real Alphas!"

"Real Alphas?" Jake scoffed, stepping closer. "You think she's a real Alpha? She smells like mouthwash and desperation. She touched my knee and I wanted to vomit."

"She can give you a bond!" you yelled, the truth finally spilling out. "She can knot you! She can bite you! I can't do anything! I'm just Y/N! I just have... this." You gestured vaguely to your body. "It's not enough for an Omega."

Jake went silent. He stared at you, his eyes searching your face in the streetlights. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Is that what you think?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "That I want a knot? That I need some biological lock to feel safe?"

"It's what you're built for."

"I'm built for you," Jake hissed.

He stepped into your space, eliminating the distance. He grabbed the lapels of your jacket and yanked you close.

He kissed you. It wasn't the innocent, scientific kiss from when you were sixteen. This was desperate. It was angry. It was hungry.

He tasted like beer and peaches. He kissed you like he was trying to breathe you in, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you. You froze for a second, then you broke. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hauling him flush against you. You kissed him back with all the pent-up frustration of the last year.

"My place," Jake gasped against your lips. "Now."

Once yo reached his place you stumbled into his room, lips locked, hands roaming.

The door slammed shut, locking out the world.The room smelled like him—concentrated, sweet, safe. But tonight, the air was crackling with a different kind of energy. Jake broke the kiss, shoving you gently towards the bed. He looked frantic, his eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.

"Take it off," he ordered, his voice shaking. He was pulling at his own band tee shirt, ripping it over his head. You stripped quickly, your hands trembling. When you were both bare, the silence in the room was deafening. You stood there, feeling exposed, feeling inadequate.

"Jake," you started, "I don't know if I can—"

"Shh," he silenced you, stepping forward. He placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you around. You faced the wall, your heart hammering against your ribs. You felt the mattress press against your knees as he guided you down.

"I want to show you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to show you that I don't need a knot. I need to be inside you. I need to feel you."

He pushed you forward until you were on your hands and knees. It was a submissive position, one usually reserved for Omegas, but tonight, he was flipping the script. He wanted to claim you.

You felt him move behind you. He was shaking. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the sweet, cloying scent of an aroused Omega filling your lungs.

"Y/N," he whined, a high, needy sound that made your toes curl. He pressed himself against your back. His skin was soft, burning hot. He wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging to you like a lifeline. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his wet eyelashes fluttering against your skin.

"Please," he whimpered. "Let me."

You nodded, unable to speak. He guided himself to your entrance. He was trembling so hard it took him a moment to find the rhythm. But when he pushed inside, a sob tore from his throat. "Oh god," he cried, the sound muffled against your shoulder. "You're so warm. You're so warm."

He didn't take control like an Alpha would. He didn't dominate. He moved with a desperate, clingy need. He kept his chest pressed to your back, his arms locked around your waist as if he was terrified you would disappear if he let go.

He began to move. It wasn't a power play. It was a plea.

With every thrust, he made a sound—a soft, broken whine that was pure Omega. He was the one penetrating you, but he was the one unraveling.

"Do you feel me?" he sobbed, biting gently on your shoulder to ground himself. "I'm right here. I'm connected to you. No knot can do this. Only us."

You gripped the sheets, your head falling forward. The sensation was overwhelming—not just the physical pleasure, which was sharp and blinding, but the emotional weight of it. He was literally pouring himself into you.

"Jake," you gasped.

"I love you," he cried, his hips snapping forward, driving deeper. "I love you so much it hurts. Don't make me find an Alpha. I don't want them. I hate them. I only want you."

He was crying openly now, his tears dripping onto your bare back. He sounded so pathetic, so needy, and yet he was the one holding you down, the one filling you up.

"I'm yours," you whispered, the truth finally slipping out.

"Say it again," he begged, his pace quickening, his breath hitching. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, Jake. I'm yours."

That was it. That was the trigger. Jake let out a long, high-pitched wail, his body tensing. He thrust into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and collapsed against your back. He held you with a crushing grip, shaking violently as he came.

You felt him pulse inside you, and you shattered with him, your own climax hitting you in a wave of white light. He didn't pull away. He couldn't. He stayed there, slumped over your back, his face buried in your neck, sobbing quietly. He was heavy, warm, and smelled like peaches and salt. "Don't leave," he mumbled into your skin, his voice thick with sleep and exhaustion. "Stay inside. Stay close."

You reached back, running your hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

The morning sun was cruel. It illuminated the dust motes and the reality of the situation.You woke up with Jake’s limbs tangled in yours. He was the big spoon, curled around your back, his arm heavy over your waist. He was still asleep, his breath hitching every now and then like a child who had cried themselves to sleep.

Panic set in. Cold and sharp.

What have I done?

You had crossed the line. You had slept with the pack’s most eligible Omega. You, the unpresented nobody. You had taken something that should have been saved for a real Alpha who could take care of him properly.

Jake stirred. He tightened his grip on your waist, nuzzling your shoulder.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice raspy and content.

You carefully untangled yourself from him and sat up. You pulled the sheet around your body, creating a barrier.

The smile froze on Jake’s face as he felt the loss of your warmth. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Y/N?"

"We... we shouldn't have done that," you whispered, staring at the floor.

Jake looked like you had slapped him. "What? Why? It was... it was perfect. You felt it."

"It was a mistake, Jake. I got jealous. I let my emotions get the better of me."

"So?" Jake asked, his voice rising, panic creeping in. "I wanted you to! I've been waiting for you to get jealous! Does this mean we're... are we together now?"

He looked so hopeful. His eyes were wide, pleading. It killed you.

"No," you said, forcing your voice to be steady, even though your heart was breaking. "We can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because look at you, Jake! You're an Omega! A high-level Omega! And I'm... I'm nothing. I'm a dud. I can't knot you. I can't bite you. Last night... last night was great, but eventually, your biology is going to demand those things. Eventually, you're going to meet your fated mate."

"I don't want a fated mate!" Jake yelled, grabbing your hand. "I want you! I don't care about the knot! Didn't I prove that?"

"You say that now," you said, pulling your hand away. "But you're eighteen. You don't know what's out there. I won't be the reason you miss out on your true mate."

You took a breath, steeling yourself to offer the only compromise you could live with. The only way to keep him without ruining his future. "But... if you want... we can keep doing this. Until you find someone else."

Jake went still. He stared at you, his eyes welling with fresh tears. "You want to be... friends with benefits?"

"It's better than nothing, isn't it?" you said, hating yourself. "I can take care of your needs. I can keep the Alphas away. But no labels. No promises. Because I can't promise you a future I can't give."

It was a cowardly offer. You were terrified of losing him, so you built a cage of "no strings" to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

Jake looked down at his hands. He looked at the empty space in the bed where you used to be.He knew he should say no. He knew he deserved a mate who would claim him proudly in the streets. He knew he was worth more than a secret.

But he looked at you—his best friend, his protector, the person who let him cry while he fucked her because he was so overwhelmed with love.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice small.

"Okay?"

"If that's all you can give me," Jake looked up, a single tear tracking down his cheek. "I'll take it."

He crawled to the edge of the bed, reaching out to grab your hand again. He pressed his cheek against your palm, submitting to your terms, even though it broke his heart.

"Just don't leave me," he begged. "Please don't leave me alone."

"I won't," you promised, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

That was a year ago.

Now, you are both twenty. The "situationship" has become a lifestyle. To the outside world, you are best friends. To the walls of Jake’s apartment, you are everything.

You sleep together almost every night. You know every inch of his body. You know that he likes to be the one in control, but he needs to be praised while he does it. You know that he cries when it’s too good. You know that he needs to be held for exactly twenty minutes afterward before he can speak. He is still the talk of the campus. Alphas still bring him gifts. He politely declines them all. "I'm busy," he tells them.

He comes home to you. He crawls into your lap, smelling of other people's perfumes and colognes, and scrubs his face against your neck until he smells like you again.

"You're mine," he whispers in the dark, when he thinks you're asleep. "Even if you won't say it. You're mine."

And you? You hold him tighter, consumed by the guilt and the pleasure, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the day the universe corrects its mistake and takes him away.But for now, in the dark, he is yours. And you are his loser, his unpresented mistake, his secret keeper.

The lie began on a Thursday afternoon in the lecture hall of the Science Building.

Jake was sitting in his usual spot, third row, tapping his pen against his notebook. He was tired. His cycle was approaching—he could feel the pre-heat itch under his skin—but the calendar said he had at least another week. He was managing it. He was fine.Then, the door opened.A girl walked in. She was late. She was a transfer student, someone Jake hadn’t seen before. She was tall, with sharp eyes and a confident stride.She walked right past Jake’s desk to get to an empty seat.

As she passed, the air shifted. It hit Jake like a physical blow. Cinnamon . Leather. Woodsmoke. It was the scent of a dominant Female Alpha. And not just any Alpha—a compatible one. Jake’s biology betrayed him instantly. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His mouth watered. A sharp, cramping heat coiled low in his stomach, seizing his insides. His Omega instincts, usually dormant and suppressed by blockers, woke up and screamed: Pack. Protection. Mate.

He gasped, dropping his pen. The girl paused. She turned, looking down at him. Her eyes flashed red for a microsecond—her Alpha recognizing a distressed Omega.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low and rumbling.

That voice. It vibrated in Jake’s bones. It told him to bare his neck. It told him to submit.

And Jake hated it.

He hated the lack of control. He hated that his body wanted to bow to a stranger just because she had the right hormones. He hated that for a split second, he forgot about you. "I'm fine," Jake choked out, grabbing his bag. "I have to go."

He scrambled out of his seat, ignoring the Alpha’s confused look, ignoring the professor calling his name. He ran out of the building, bursting into the cold autumn air. He leaned against the brick wall, hyperventilating. The heat was already rising. The encounter had triggered a biological override. His heat wasn't a week away anymore. It was coming now. He pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely type.

Y/N.

He needed you. He needed your scent—your neutral, detergent scent. He needed your hands. But he couldn't tell you the truth. If he told you that a Female Alpha had triggered his heat, you would do the "noble" thing. You would tell him to go to her. You would push him away, convinced that biology knew better than love. You would leave him. The thought made his chest ache more than the heat did. He swallowed the bile in his throat and typed the lie.

Jake: I think my suppressants failed. It's starting early. Can you come over? Please

You got the text while you were in line at the campus bookstore.

Panic, cold and familiar, washed over you. Early? You abandoned your place in line. You called your boss at the library and told him you had a family emergency. You emailed your professors that you were sick.

Then, you went to the grocery store. You moved through the aisles with robotic efficiency, playing the role you had carved out for yourself: The Beta Caretaker.

Items:

 Gatorade (Blue, his favorite).

  Protein bars (he wouldn't want to cook).

  Soft blankets (he liked new textures when he was nesting).

  Peaches (canned, in syrup—comfort food).

  Painkillers.

You arrived at his apartment twenty minutes later. The hallway already smelled faintly of him—a sweet, rising dough scent that warned of the storm to come.

You unlocked the door.

"Jake?"

The apartment was dark. The blinds were drawn.

"Bedroom," a voice croaked. You walked in. Jake was buried under a pile of blankets on his bed. Only his eyes were visible—those big, shiny boba eyes, now glassy with fever. "You're here," he whimpered.

He scrambled out of the blankets. He was wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. His skin was flushed a deep, rosy pink.

He practically tackled you. "Whoa, easy," you said, dropping the grocery bags as his weight hit you. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. He made a frustrated sound.

"You smell like the bookstore," he complained, rubbing his cheek aggressively against your collarbone. "I need you."

"I'm here, Jake. I'm right here."

You walked him back to the bed, though he clung to you like a koala. You sat down, and he immediately straddled your lap, wrapping his arms around your neck. "It hurts," he whispered, pressing his hot forehead against yours. "It feels heavier this time."

You ran your hands up and down his bare back, trying to soothe the tremors running through him. You felt the guilt rise in your throat.

"Jake," you said softly. "The books say the second heat is more intense. The body is... demanding a mate."

He stiffened in your arms.

"So?" he challenged, pulling back to look at you. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated.

"So... maybe we should call someone. Not a stranger. But maybe... Jennie? Or Jay? Someone safe. Someone who can help you properly."

It tore your heart out to say it. The thought of Jake with anyone else made you want to vomit. But you were a dud. A placeholder. If his heat was this bad, could you really satisfy him?

Jake’s expression shifted from pain to pure, unadulterated anger.

"No," he growled.

"Jake, be reasonable. I can't knot you. I can't—"

"Shut up!" he shouted, his hands gripping your shoulders hard enough to bruise. "Stop trying to give me away! I don't want them! I don't want an Alpha! I want you!"

"But why?" you cried, frustration leaking out. "I can't give you what your body is screaming for!"

"You don't know what my body is screaming for!" he yelled back, tears spilling over. "It's screaming for safety! It's screaming for Y/N! If you bring an Alpha in here, I will bite them. I swear to god, I will hurt them."

He collapsed against you again, sobbing into your shoulder.

"Don't leave me," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please don't make me be with them. They smell wrong. They feel wrong."

The lie hung in the air between you, unspoken. He wasn't just rejecting Alphas; he was rejecting the memory of the girl in the lecture hall. He was fighting his own biology to keep you.

You sighed, wrapping your arms tight around him. You were weak. You should be stronger. You should force him to do what was right for his health. But you couldn't deny him."Okay," you whispered into his hair. "Okay, Jake. No Alphas. Just us."

"Just us," he echoed, his grip tightening. "Promise."

"I promise."

The evening passed in a haze of tension.

Jake was unbearable. The pre-heat hormones stripped away his filters. He was needy, demanding, and incredibly sensitive.

He wouldn't let you leave the bed.

"I need water," you said, trying to untangle yourself from his limbs.

"No," he whined, pinning your leg down with his own. "Stay."

"I'm thirsty, Jake."

"I have spit," he offered, completely serious.

You laughed, despite the heaviness in the room. "You're gross."

"I'm dying," he corrected dramatically. "I'm dying of need and you want water."

Eventually, you managed to get the water and the snacks. You fed him peach slices in bed while he watched you with predatory, hazy eyes.

"You know," he murmured, licking syrup off his thumb. "You smell better than them."

"I don't smell like anything."

"To me you do," he insisted. "You smell like... stillness. Like the eye of the storm. Alphas smell like noise. You're quiet."

He crawled over to you, pushing the bowl of peaches away. He pushed you down onto the mattress.

"Sleep with me," he commanded.

"I am sleeping with you. I'm right here."

"No. Sleep." He emphasized the word. "I need to wake up with you. If I wake up alone..." He shuddered. "Don't make me wake up alone."

"I won't."

You lay down. Jake curled himself around your back—usually he liked to be the big spoon, claiming you, but tonight he wanted to be held. He backed into your chest, grabbing your arms and wrapping them around his waist.

"Hold me tight," he whispered. "Like a seatbelt."

You squeezed him. His skin was radiating heat like a furnace. The scent of peaches was thickening, turning from fresh fruit to something darker, heavier. Like fruit left in the sun too long. Intoxicating and overwhelming.

You fell asleep with your nose buried in his hair, breathing in the scent of your best friend, your lover, your forbidden Omega.

You didn't wake up to sunlight. You woke up to movement.

It was the gray hour of the morning, just before dawn. The room was heavy. The air felt thick, humid, and tasted of sugar and salt.

Jake was moving.

You were lying on your stomach—you must have rolled over in the night. And Jake... Jake was on top of you.

But not in the usual way.He was straddling your thighs, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He was panting, short, sharp breaths that sounded wet in the quiet room. "Jake?" you mumbled, sleep still clouding your brain.

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

The heat had hit. He was in the throes of it. His logic was gone. His human inhibitions were gone. He was pure instinct now. And his instinct was confused, beautiful, and desperate. Usually, an Omega in heat would be submissive, presenting, waiting to be taken. But Jake... Jake had always been a little different with you. He felt safe enough to take what he needed. You felt him shifting, his hips grinding against your lower back. He was slick—so slick. You could feel the wetness soaking through your pajama pants. "Y/N," he whined. It was a high, broken sound. "Need. Need."

He fumbled with your waistband, his hands clumsy and shaking. He shoved your pants down, exposing your skin to the cool air, which was immediately replaced by the searing heat of his body.

"Jake, wait," you tried to push up, but he shoved your shoulders down.

"Mine," he growled. It wasn't an Alpha growl—it didn't have the bass. It was a possessive, desperate snarl. "Don't move. Please. Don't move."

He wasn't asking for permission to top you. He was asking for permission to use you as his anchor. He positioned himself. You felt the tip of him—hard, weeping pre-cum, hot as a branding iron—press against your entrance.

"I love you," he sobbed.

And then, he sank into you. He entered you from behind, collapsing forward so his chest was pressed against your back.

"Oh god," you gasped into the pillow.

He was so hot. Inside and out. It felt like being filled with lava.

He didn't wait. He began to move immediately. It wasn't the rhythmic, controlled lovemaking of your usual nights. This was frantic. This was survival.

He was humping you, his hips snapping forward with a violence that shook the bedframe. But the sounds he was making... they broke you.

He was crying. He was whining. He was babbling nonsense into your skin.

"Right there. Good. So good. You're so warm. My Beta. My Y/N."

He reached around, his arms wrapping under your chest, locking his hands together to hold on for dear life. He was clinging to you like a sailor to a mast in a hurricane.

You reached back, grabbing his hair, trying to give him some resistance, something to ground him."I've got you, Jake," you gritted out, the friction building rapidly. "I'm here."

"Don't let go," he pleaded, his thrusts becoming erratic, shallow then deep. "I feel empty. Fill me. No, let me fill you. I don't know. I don't know."

The confusion of his biology—needing to be filled but needing to claim you—was making him delirious. He solved it by trying to merge with you completely.

Then, you felt it.

His teeth. He turned his head, finding the sensitive curve of your neck.

He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate.He bit down.

"Ah!" you cried out.

It wasn't the mating bite. He didn't have the Alpha fangs to pierce deep enough for the soul-bond, and you didn't have the gland to receive it. But it was hard. It was primal.

He clamped his teeth onto the muscle of your shoulder/neck junction. It was a hold. A scruffing. He was holding you in place, grounding himself through the taste of your skin, the texture of your flesh. The pain was sharp, but the pleasure was sharper.

Feeling him claim you like that—like an animal, like he had every right to leave a mark on you—sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core.

"Jake," you moaned, pushing back against him.

The bite seemed to trigger him. The taste of you, the submission of you lying there letting him use you... it pushed him over the edge.

He let go of your neck with a gasp, his head falling back.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

He slammed into you, once, twice, three times—deep, ruinous thrusts that hit your deepest spot. He came with a shout. It was a raw, shattering sound. You felt him pulsing inside you, twitching wildly as his heat-fueled orgasm ripped through him.

He collapsed completely.

He was dead weight on top of you. He was panting, his breath hot and wet against your ear. He was trembling so hard his teeth were chattering. You lay there, pinned beneath him, your own body throbbing with the aftershocks of his intensity. The room was silent for a moment, save for the harsh breathing. And then, the scent hit.

It exploded.

Before, he smelled like peaches. Now?

The room smelled like a peach orchard that had been set on fire. It was thick, sugary, smoky, and heavy. It was the scent of a satisfied Omega in the peak of his heat.

It was so strong you could taste it on your tongue. If you were an Alpha, you would have gone into a rut instantly. If you were an Alpha, you would have lost your mind.

But you were Y/N. You were a Beta. So instead of a rut, you just felt... love. And an overwhelming, protective fieriness. Jake shifted. He didn't pull out. He stayed inside you, keeping the connection. He nuzzled his face into your messy hair.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered, his voice wrecked. You reached up, touching the stinging spot on your neck. It was definitely going to bruise.

"No," you lied softly. "You didn't."

"I bit you," he confessed, sounding horrified. "I tasted you. I'm sorry. I just... I needed to make sure you were real. I needed to hold you."

"I'm real, Jake. I'm not going anywhere."

"You smell like me now," he murmured, sounding pleased, almost drunk on the hormones. "You smell like my heat. No Alpha will come near you. They'll smell me all over you."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes," he hissed, tightening his arms around you again. "I want everyone to know. You're taken. You're the Omega's. You're mine."

He kissed your shoulder, right over the bite mark, soothing the skin he had just abused. "Round two," he mumbled, his body already reacting again, defying the laws of exhaustion. "Please. Don't make me move."

"I'm not moving," you promised, closing your eyes and letting the heavy, sweet scent of him lull you into submission. "Do whatever you need."

And he did.

The seventh day of an Omega’s heat is not a slope; it is a cliff. It is the biological finale, the "Crest," where the body stops asking for a mate and begins to demand one with a ferocity that overrides logic, dignity, and sanity.

For six days, you had been enough. You had been his anchor, his cool washcloth, his hydration, his comfort. You had held him through the tremors and the fever dreams.

But on the morning of the seventh day, the atmosphere in the apartment shifted from heavy to suffocating. Jake woke up not with a soft nuzzle, but with a frantic, jerky movement. He was thrashing in the sheets, his skin burning so hot it felt dangerous to touch, like a fever that had spiked past the safety zone. His scent—usually peaches and rain—had soured. It didn't smell like fruit anymore. It smelled like burnt sugar and ozone. It smelled like distress.

"Jake?" You sat up, reaching for him. "Jake, look at me."

He opened his eyes.

They were swimming. The dark, warm brown you loved was swallowed by a dilated pupil, rimmed with a hazy, golden desperation. He looked through you, not at you. His wolf was at the surface, scratching at the controls.

"Hurts," he whimpered, a broken, reedy sound that tore at your chest. "It hurts. Inside. Everywhere."

He clawed at his own neck, his nails digging into the sensitive skin over his scent gland. The gland was swollen, pulsing visibly beneath the pale skin, desperate for the release of a claiming bite.

"Don't do that," you said, grabbing his wrists to stop him from hurting himself.

"Need," he sobbed, his body arching off the mattress. "Need... tight. Need to be held. Need... Alpha."

The word hung in the air, sharp and cruel.

He didn't mean to say it. He didn't even know he was saying it. But his biology knew what was missing. He looked at you then, his eyes focusing for a split second. He saw you—his Y/N, his safe place. And he lunged.

He didn't attack you. He collapsed onto you. He pushed you back against the pillows, his weight heavy and feverish. He wasn't trying to dominate you in the way an Alpha would; he was trying to merge with you. He was trying to climb inside your skin because his own was too painful to inhabit. "Help me," he cried, his hands fumbling blindly with the waistband of your pajama shorts. "Please. Help me. Fill the empty. Make it stop."

You helped him. You always helped him. You shimmied out of your clothes, your heart hammering against your ribs. You lay back, opening your legs for him, offering the only thing you had: your body. Your Beta body.

Jake didn't wait. He couldn't. He positioned himself between your legs, his movements erratic and clumsy with heat-shakes. He was trembling so violently that his teeth chattered.When he entered you, he didn't thrust with power. He sank into you with a sob.

"Oh god," he wept, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Y/N. Y/N."

He felt huge, hot, and desperate. He filled you completely, but the physical connection wasn't enough to quell the storm in his blood.

He began to move.It was heartbreaking. He wasn't fucking you for pleasure; he was fucking you for survival. He ground his hips against yours, seeking friction, seeking depth. He wrapped his arms around your torso, locking his hands together under your back, clinging to you as if the bed was a raft in the middle of the ocean.

He didn't scream. He didn't roar.

He whimpered. With every thrust, a soft, high-pitched cry escaped his throat. It was the sound of an animal in a trap.

"Please," he babbled into your skin, his tears wetting your collarbone. "Please, please, please."

"I've got you," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer, running your hands down his sweat-slicked back. "I'm right here, Jake. I'm holding you."

"Not enough," he moaned, the truth slipping out in his delirium. "It's not... it's not locking. Why won't it lock?"

He was searching for the knot. The biological mechanism that Alphas had (and he needed) to lock inside him or, in rare cases, the reaction that would lock him inside a Female Alpha. But you were a Beta. Your body was soft, welcoming, and warm, but it didn't have the clamp. It didn't have the biological key to his lock.

He picked up the pace, his desperation mounting. He was chasing a horizon he couldn't reach.

Then, he turned his head.

His nose brushed your neck. He inhaled deeply, searching for the pheromones that would trigger his release. He found only your detergent and your fear.

"Bite," he begged, nuzzling your pulse point frantically. "Mark me. Claim me. Please, Y/N. Bite me."

Your heart shattered. You knew it wouldn't work. You knew your teeth were flat. You knew your saliva lacked the enzyme. But hearing him beg, feeling him throb inside you, knowing he was in pain... you couldn't say no.

"Okay," you choked out. "Okay, Jake."

You turned your head. You found the swollen, pulsing gland on the curve of his neck.

You opened your mouth and bit down. You bit hard. Harder than you ever had. You put all your frustration, all your love, all your desperate desire to be enough into your jaw. Jake gasped, his back arching.

"Yes!" he moaned, a long, shaky sound. "Yes, yes, there. Take it."

For a moment, the sharp pressure was enough. It tricked his brain. He felt teeth on his gland, he felt you inside him (or rather, him inside you), and he felt the pain spike. He drove into you, his hips snapping forward in a frantic rhythm. He was chasing that sensation, trying to force the bond to snap into place. "Harder," he whined, tears streaming down his face. "Break the skin. Make it stay. Don't let go."

You bit harder. Your jaw ached. You tasted the salt of his sweat. You felt the skin under your teeth yield slightly, but it didn't puncture. It didn't tear. It just bruised. You were gnawing on him like a dog with a bone, but you couldn't break the seal. You couldn't give him the chemical rush of a mate claim.

Jake’s whimpers turned into sobs. "Why?" he cried, his voice wrecking. "Why isn't it working? Alpha... where is Alpha?"

He wasn't calling you Alpha anymore. He was calling for an Alpha. Any Alpha. The abstract concept of the thing that could save him.

The realization made you loosen your jaw. You pulled back, gasping for air.

You looked at his neck. It was a mess. A purple, angry welt was forming where you had bitten him. It looked painful. It looked ugly. It wasn't a claim; it was an injury.

"No," Jake whined, feeling you pull away. "Don't stop. Don't leave me."

"I can't," you whispered, tears blinding you. "I can't do it, Jake."

"You have to!" he cried. He slammed his hips into you one last time, his body seizing.

The orgasm hit him, but it wasn't the wave of relief he needed. It was a crash.

He cried out—a sharp, keening wail of overstimulation. He stiffened, pouring himself into you, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. But instead of the relaxation that should follow, he kept shaking. He was overwhelmed. His system was flooded with heat hormones that had nowhere to go because the bond hadn't grounded them.

He slumped forward, collapsing onto your chest. He was dead weight.

He didn't drift into a peaceful sleep. He passed out. It was a blackout induced by exhaustion and biological frustration. His brain simply pulled the plug because the body couldn't handle the stress anymore.

"Jake?"

You touched his cheek. He was burning up. His breathing was ragged and shallow. He was unconscious, but even in sleep, his brow was furrowed in pain.

You lay there, pinned beneath him, feeling his seed inside you and his tears drying on your chest. You looked at the bruise on his neck. It was a brand of your failure.

You carefully, slowly pushed him off you. He rolled onto his side with a soft groan, curling into a fetal position instantly, seeking warmth.You sat up. You were shivering. The room was cold now that the heat of the moment had passed.

You looked at him. He was beautiful. Even now, messy and exhausted and bruised, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

And you were killing him. It wasn't a metaphor anymore. You were physically hurting him. By keeping him in this situationship, by pretending that your love could override millions of years of evolution, you were denying him the one thing his body needed to be healthy: a true mate.

If he had been with an Alpha—Jay, Jennie, even that girl Minji—they could have bitten him. They could have knotted him. He would be asleep right now with a smile on his face, the bond humming in his blood, the heat broken and satisfied.

Instead, he was passed out from trauma, sporting a bruise instead of a bite.

"I'm sorry," you whispered into the silent room. "I was so selfish."

You thought you were protecting him from Alphas who might treat him like a trophy. But in reality, you were the one treating him like a possession. You were keeping him for yourself because you needed him, ignoring the fact that he needed something else.You stood up. Your legs were shaky. You felt liquid running down your thighs—a stark reminder of the intimacy you had just shared, and how futile it was.

You walked to the bathroom.You showered. You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash off the scent of burnt sugar and failure. You watched the water swirl down the drain, taking your hopes with it.

You dressed in the clothes you had arrived in a week ago. Jeans. Hoodie. Sneakers. They felt like armor. You went to the kitchen. It was quiet. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound. You opened the pantry. You needed to do one last thing for him. You couldn't leave him to wake up hungry. You pulled out the ingredients for Kimchi stew. It was his comfort food. You moved automatically. Chopping the kimchi, slicing the tofu, measuring the water. You stood over the stove, stirring the pot, letting the steam warm your face. You poured your love into the food because you couldn't pour it into a bond.When it was done, you ladled it into a glass container. You placed it on the top shelf of the fridge, right at eye level. You grabbed a sticky note.

You held the pen, your hand trembling. What could you say? I love you? No. That would make him chase you. I'm sorry? Not enough.

You wrote:

Jake,

Stew is in the fridge. Drink the Gatorade.

- Y/N

It was cold. It was practical. It was the note of a friend, not a lover. It was a wall.

You walked back into the bedroom.

The air was still thick with his scent. It made your wolf—the tiny, dormant thing inside you—whine in protest. Mate, it whispered. Don't leave mate.

"Shut up," you told yourself. "He's not ours."

You placed a fresh glass of water and two painkillers on the nightstand next to his head.You looked at him one last time. You memorized the curve of his eyelashes, the slope of his nose, the way his lips parted slightly in sleep. You memorized the ugly purple bruise on his neck so you would never, ever forget why you had to leave.

You bent down. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss the bruise and apologize.

But you didn't. If you touched him, you wouldn't leave.

You straightened up. "You need an Alpha, Jake," you whispered, your voice cracking. "Not a Beta who plays pretend."

You grabbed your bag. You walked to the door. You stepped out into the hallway. The click of the lock sliding home sounded like a gunshot.

The walk back to your apartment was a blur.

It was late. The campus was quiet. The streetlights blurred into streaks of light as your eyes filled with tears you refused to shed.

You made it to your building. You made it up the stairs. You made it into your apartment.You locked the door.And then, you collapsed.You slid down the door until you hit the floor. You pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your arms.The tears came then. Not quiet, polite tears. Ugly, heaving sobs that shook your entire body. You wailed into your knees, the sound muffled by the fabric of your jeans.

You cried for the boy you loved.

You cried for the biology that hated you.

You cried for the bite you couldn't give.

You decided then and there. No more situationship. No more "friends with benefits." No more holding him while he cried for someone else.You had to be the villain. You had to be the one to cut the cord.He would hate you. He would scream. He would cry.

But eventually, the pain would fade. Eventually, his heat would come again. And without you there to enable him, he would be forced to seek out an Alpha. He would find someone who could truly claim him. He would be happy.

And you?You would be the Beta in the background. The guard dog who finally opened the gate and let the wolf run free.You sat there on the floor of your dark apartment, crying until your throat was raw, mourning a relationship that was doomed before it ever began.

The Next Morning Jake woke up to silence.

The sun was streaming through the blinds, hitting him right in the face. He groaned, shielding his eyes. His body felt like he had been hit by a truck. Every muscle ached. His head was pounding. His neck...

He reached up. His neck throbbed with a dull, bruised pain.

Memory washed over him in fragments.The heat. The desperation. The biting. The failure. "Y/N?" he rasped.

He rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty. The sheets were cool.

"Y/N?" he called louder, panic starting to prickle in his chest.

He sat up, ignoring the dizziness.

"Y/N!"

Silence. He saw the water on the nightstand. The painkillers.

He scrambled out of bed, his legs weak. He stumbled into the kitchen.

Empty.He saw the note on the counter. He picked it up.

Jake,

Stew is in the fridge. Drink the Gatorade.

- Y/N

He stared at the handwriting. It was neat. Steady.

He crumpled the note in his fist.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."

He ran to the front door. He yanked it open and looked out into the hallway, as if hoping you were just standing there.

Empty. She was gone. She had packed her bag. She had cooked him food. She had medicated him. And she had left.

Jake slid down the doorframe, clutching the crumpled note to his chest.

He felt the bruise on his neck throb. It wasn't a claim. It was a goodbye kiss.

Tears welled in his eyes, hot and fast.

"You idiot," he sobbed into the empty apartment. "You think you're saving me? You're just breaking me." But he was too weak to chase you. His heat was broken, but his body was exhausted. He curled up on the doormat, holding the note, and cried for the Alpha he didn't want and the Beta he couldn't keep.

The silence between two people who have shared a soul since childhood is not empty; it is heavy. It is a physical weight that presses down on your chest, making every breath a conscious effort.

For the first two weeks after you walked out of his apartment, Jake didn't let you go easily. He was Jake. He was the boy who had clung to your leg on the first day of kindergarten. He didn't understand the concept of giving up on you.

His name lit up your phone screen constantly.

Jake (8:02 AM): Y/N, please. Just talk to me.

Jake (12:30 PM): I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said during the heat. I was out of my mind. It wasn’t real.

Jake (7:45 PM): I’m outside your door. I know you’re in there. I can hear you walking. Please open up.

Jake (11:00 PM): Did I hurt you? Is that why? I’ll never ask for a bite again. I promise. Just come back.

You read every single one. You read them sitting on the floor of your living room, your back pressed against the door he was knocking on.

You listened to his knuckles rap against the wood.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Then a pause.

"Y/N?" his voice muffled, thick with unshed tears. "Please."

It took every ounce of willpower you possessed not to rip the door open. Your body screamed at you to go to him. Your heart ached with a physical sharpness that felt like a heart attack. But then you would remember the bruise. You would remember the way he looked at you with golden, delirious eyes and screamed for an Alpha. You would remember the way your teeth had failed to break his skin, leaving him sobbing in frustration. You weren't saving yourself. You were saving him. So you stayed silent. You let the tears stream down your face in the dark, biting your own hand to keep from sobbing aloud, until his footsteps finally retreated down the hall.

By the third week, the knocking stopped. The texts slowed down to a trickle, then ceased.

Jake Sim was sweet. He was kind. He was the type of boy who rescued spiders and apologized to inanimate objects when he bumped into them. He wasn't the type to harass someone who clearly wanted to be left alone.

He respected your decision, even though it was killing him.

But the campus was small, and the pack was smaller. You couldn't avoid seeing him.

The first time you saw him after the "breakup" (if you could call it that), it was in the cafeteria. You walked in, tray in hand, head down, trying to be invisible.

You looked up and froze. Jake was sitting at a large round table in the center of the room. He was surrounded. Jay was there, laughing loudly. Sunghoon was leaning in, saying something that made Jake smile—a small, polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. There were other Omegas there too, giggling and preening.

Jake was the sun. He had always been the sun. Even when he was an unpresented, shy kid, people were drawn to his warmth. Now that he was a presented Omega with a scent like heaven, he was a gravitational singularity.

And you? You stood by the condiment station, alone. You realized, with a crushing wave of clarity, just how much of your social life had been Jake.

People didn't talk to you because you were Y/N. They talked to you because you were the gatekeeper to Jake. You were the Shield. Without the person to protect, you were just... a Beta. A background extra in the movie of his life.

You took your tray to a small table in the far corner, near the trash cans. You sat with your back to the room. You didn't see it, but across the cafeteria, Jake had stopped eating. He was staring at the back of your head. His hand was gripping his fork so hard his knuckles were white.

"Jake?" Jay asked, touching his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jake whispered, tearing his eyes away from your lonely figure. "I'm fine."

Pack Nights were mandatory for the Silver River Collective. It was a time for community, for reinforcing the bonds that kept the wolves together.

Usually, Pack Night was your favorite. You and Jake would sit on a blanket near the fire, roasting marshmallows, making fun of Marcus, and sharing earbuds. You were a unit. A two-person pack within the pack.

This month, you went alone. You arrived late, slipping into the shadows at the edge of the clearing. The fire was roaring, casting long, dancing shadows against the pine trees. The air smelled of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and the intermingled scents of a hundred wolves. You sat on a cold log, pulling your knees to your chest.

You scanned the crowd. You found him instantly. It was impossible not to.

He was sitting near the Elders, a place of honor for high-ranking wolves. He was wearing a thick cream-colored sweater that looked soft enough to melt into. He was flanked by Heeseung and Sunghoon—two powerful Alphas who looked like his personal bodyguards. Heeseung was peeling an orange for him. Sunghoon was draping a blanket over his shoulders. They were taking care of him. They were doing your job. And they were doing it better. They were Alphas. They could offer him protection you couldn't.

A lump formed in your throat, hot and choking. You felt a wave of jealousy so potent it made your vision swim. That's my spot, you wanted to scream. That's my blanket. That's my Omega. As if he heard your thoughts, Jake turned his head.

He looked past the fire, past the Alphas, past the crowd. His eyes locked onto yours in the darkness. Even from fifty feet away, you could see the devastation on his face. He didn't look happy to be pampered. He looked lonely. He looked like a kid who had lost his mom in the grocery store. He made a movement to stand up. He placed his hands on the ground, ready to push himself up and come to you.

You panicked. If he came over here... if he looked at you with those sad, wide eyes... you would break. You would beg him to take you back, and the cycle would start all over again. The heat. The failure. The pain. You stood up abruptly. You turned and walked away, disappearing into the tree line. You didn't see Jake sink back down onto the blanket, his shoulders slumping in defeat. You didn't see him push the orange away, his appetite gone.

Three more weeks passed.

You were approaching your twenty-first birthday. The cutoff. The day you would officially, medically be declared a Beta for life.

But instead of settling into acceptance, your body was revolting.

It started subtly. You were in your dorm room, trying to study for a Business Law exam. Your roommate, Sarah, was chewing gum.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Usually, you could tune it out. Today, it sounded like a gunshot next to your ear.

"Can you stop?" you snapped, your voice harsh in the quiet room.

Sarah jumped, looking at you with wide eyes. "Whoa. Sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you gritted out, rubbing your temples. "It's just loud."

"It's gum, Y/N."

"Just stop!" you slammed your book shut.

The anger was sudden and white-hot. It felt like a physical thing living in your chest, a caged animal throwing itself against your ribs. You stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving Sarah bewildered. Then came the nights. You couldn't sleep. You would toss and turn, kicking off the blankets because you were burning up, then pulling them back on because you were freezing. You woke up every morning soaking wet. Your sheets were damp with sweat. You showered three times a day, scrubbing your skin raw, but you never felt clean. You felt... sticky. Heavy. Like your skin was too tight for your body. "You look terrible," your reflection told you in the mirror. You had dark circles under your eyes. You looked pale, gaunt. But your eyes... there was something strange about your eyes. They looked brighter. Sharper.

"Stress," you told yourself. "It's just stress. Heartbreak is a physical illness."

You were starving. Always.

You ate four meals a day and were still ravenous. You craved meat. Rare meat. You found yourself ordering steaks at the campus diner and eating them like you hadn't seen food in weeks. "Growth spurt?" the waitress joked as she cleared your third plate. "Something like that," you muttered, feeling shameful. You stopped going to lectures.The lecture halls were too loud. Too smelly. That was the worst part—the smell. Suddenly, your nose was a superpower you didn't want. You could smell everyone. You could smell the Alpha in the front row who hadn't showered. You could smell the Omega three rows back who was wearing cherry blossom perfume. You could smell the fear on the students before a test. It was overwhelming. It was a sensory assault.So you stayed in your apartment. You drew the blinds. You sat in the dark. You were convinced you were having a nervous breakdown. You were convinced the grief of losing Jake had finally snapped your mind.

Jake noticed.

He noticed you weren't in your usual seat in Business Law. He noticed you weren't in the cafeteria. He noticed you hadn't been to the library in a week.

He was terrified.

He sat in his Music Theory class, staring at his phone. He typed out a text.

Are you okay? (Deleted)

I haven't seen you. (Deleted)

Please just tell me you're alive. (Deleted)

He respected your space because you asked him to. He loved you enough to let you go. But the silence was driving him insane. He started walking past your apartment building at night. He would stand on the sidewalk across the street, looking up at your window. The lights were always off.

"Where are you?" he whispered to the cold wind. "Y/N, where are you?"

He didn't know you were right there, sitting on the floor in the dark, clutching a pillow that smelled faintly like him, shivering through another wave of cold sweat.

The agitation became aggression.

You went to the corner store to buy water (you were so thirsty, all the time).

A guy bumped into you in the aisle. A tall, burly Alpha.

"Watch it," he grunted, not looking at you. Usually, you would have mumbled an apology and moved on. You were a Beta. You stepped aside for Alphas.

Not today. A low, vibrating sound started in your chest. It wasn't a word. It was a growl. The Alpha stopped. He turned slowly, looking at you. He looked confused. He was looking for the source of the sound, but he was looking right over your head. He didn't register you as the threat.

"Did you say something?" he sneered. You looked up at him. You felt a strange, cold calm wash over you. You looked at his neck. You visualized exactly where the jugular vein was.

"I said," you spoke, your voice dropping an octave, sounding rough and unrecognizable, "You're in my way."

The Alpha blinked. He took a step back. He looked unsettled. He couldn't explain why—you were just a small girl—but his instincts were telling him to move.

"Whatever, freak," he muttered, hurrying away.

You stood there, shaking.

What is happening to me?

You ran home. You locked the door. You curled up in your bed and cried.

Jake couldn't take it anymore. He had heard rumors. People were saying you looked sick. People were saying you had snapped at a professor. He bought a birthday gift. It was a small box. Inside was a silver bracelet with a charm shaped like a pea pod. Two little peas inside. He walked to your apartment. He stood outside your door. He could hear movement inside. Heavy, pacing footsteps. Like a caged animal.

He raised his hand to knock. But then, he smelled it. Through the crack in the door, a scent was leaking out. It wasn't your usual detergent scent. It wasn't the smell of illness. It was faint, but it was there.

Burnt Cedar. Honey. Dark Rum. It was the scent of a dominant Alpha. Jake froze. His heart hammered.

Is she with someone?

The thought nearly brought him to his knees. Had you moved on already? Was there an Alpha in there with you? Was that why you were missing classes? Were you... nesting? Tears pricked his eyes. He lowered his hand.

He couldn't interrupt. If you were with a mate, if you had found happiness... he had to let you have it. That was the deal. He placed the small box on the doormat. "Happy Birthday, Y/N," he whispered, his voice cracking. He turned and walked away, leaving you alone with a monster you didn't know you were becoming.

You were dying.

That was the only explanation. It was 11:00 PM. One hour until you turned twenty-one.Your apartment was a wreck. You had ripped the sheets off the bed because they were too rough. You had thrown a lamp across the room because the light was too bright. You were pacing the living room, naked, sweating profusely.

Your skin felt like it was splitting open. Your bones felt like they were lengthening, cracking, reshaping. The pain was blinding. You fell to your knees on the rug.

"Jake," you groaned. You didn't want to say it. You had promised to let him go. But in the face of this agony, your brain reverted to its default setting.

Jake. Jake. Jake. You needed him. You didn't know why. You just knew that if you didn't smell peaches and rain right now, you were going to shatter.

You crawled toward your phone, which was lying on the floor where you had dropped it hours ago.

You picked it up. Your vision was blurry, red around the edges.

You dialed his number. It rang once.

"Y/N?"

His voice was breathless, panicked. He picked up on the first ring.

"Jake," you rasped. Your voice sounded terrifying. It sounded like gravel grinding together.

"Y/N? What's wrong? You sound... are you sick?"

"Help," you choked out. "Hurts. Dying."

"I'm coming," he said instantly. No hesitation. No questions. "I'm coming right now. Don't move."

The line went dead. You dropped the phone. You curled into a ball on the rug, shivering violently. The clock on the wall ticked.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

11:58 PM.

11:59 PM.

The heat inside you hit a crescendo. It wasn't a fever anymore. It was an explosion.

A wave of energy ripped through your body, starting at the base of your spine and shooting out to your fingertips. You screamed, your back arching.

And then, the dam broke. The scent exploded out of you.

Thick. Heavy. Dominant.

Cedar forests burning in the night. The sharp tang of lightning (ozone). The deep, intoxicating warmth of spiced rum. It filled the room instantly. It saturated the furniture, the walls, the air.

12:30 AM.

You weren't dying. You were arriving.

The door burst open. The door didn't just open; it slammed against the wall, the handle punching a hole in the plaster.

Jake stood in the threshold, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat from his sprint across campus. He had burst in expecting a tragedy. He expected to find you sick, dying, or worse—nesting with the Alpha whose scent he had smelled outside.

"Y/N!" he screamed, scanning the dark room.

Then, the air hit him. It wasn't a drift of scent anymore. It was a tsunami.

It rolled over him in a physical wave—thick, suffocating, and terrifyingly potent. Burnt Cedar. Honey, dark Rum. It was the scent of a Prime Alpha, a dominant force of nature entering a Presentation Rut.

And it was coming from you. You were on the floor in the center of the rug, curled into a ball, shaking violently. You were naked, your skin glowing with a feverish, supernatural sheen. Jake froze. His brain short-circuited. There is no other Alpha, his mind whispered, the realization shattering his reality. It’s her. It’s always been her. And then, his biology answered.Jake’s suppressants, which he had been taking religiously since you left, evaporated instantly. The sheer force of your pheromones reached into his genetic code and flipped a switch.

His knees buckled. He gasped, clutching the doorframe, as a bolt of liquid fire shot through his veins. It wasn't the slow build of a normal heat. It was a flash flood. His scent glands flared open, dumping a concentrated cloud of Ripe Peaches and Heavy Cream into the room to meet your Cedar.

"Y/N," he groaned, the sound wrecked and wet.

You lifted your head. Jake stopped breathing.

Your eyes were no longer the soft, familiar color he had known since kindergarten. They were glowing. A deep, burning, bioluminescent red. The color of embers in a dying fire. The color of a predator.

You looked at him, and for a second, he saw the animal inside you assess him.

He stared back. His own irises flooded with gold, the pupil blowing wide until his eyes were pools of molten honey.

"Jake," you growled.

It wasn't your voice. It was a command that vibrated in the floorboards.

"It's you," Jake whimpered, stumbling forward, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. He didn't lock it; he didn't care. "It was you all along." You didn't answer. You couldn't speak human words anymore. Your brain was entirely offline, replaced by the singular, driving need of a rutting Alpha who had just found her mate.

You uncoiled from the floor with terrifying speed. You didn't stand; you launched yourself at him. Jake met you halfway. You collided in the center of the living room with the force of two planets crashing. You grabbed him, your hands searing hot against his cold leather jacket. You slammed him back against the wall, the impact knocking a picture frame to the floor."Mine," you snarled, burying your face in his neck. You inhaled violently, dragging the scent of him into your lungs like oxygen.

"Yours," Jake sobbed, grabbing your face, forcing you to look at him. "I'm yours, Alpha. I'm yours."

You kissed him. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was a devouring.

Your mouths clashed, teeth grazing lips, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate war for dominance. He tasted like salt and desperation. You tasted like fire.

Jake made a noise against your mouth—a high, needy whine that drove you insane. He wrapped his legs around your waist, jumping into your arms, trusting your new Alpha strength to hold him up.

You caught him easily. You felt powerful. You felt limitless.

You carried him to the bedroom, not breaking the kiss. You kicked the door open and stumbled toward the bed, which was stripped bare to the mattress.

You threw him down. He bounced on the mattress, looking up at you with those wide, golden eyes. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He reached for the zipper of his jacket, his hands shaking so hard he couldn't grasp the metal.

"Help me," he begged, his voice cracking. "Take it off. Please. I need skin. I need you."

You didn't have patience for zippers. You ripped the jacket open, popping the mechanism. You tore his t-shirt over his head. You shoved his jeans down his hips.

He helped you, kicking wildly to rid himself of the fabric.

When he was finally naked, sprawled out on your mattress under the moonlight filtering through the blinds, he looked like an offering. His skin was flushed pink, his nipples hard, his scent gland pulsing on his neck.

You crawled over him. The visual of you—a Female Alpha, powerful, muscles defined by the tension of the rut, eyes glowing red—hovering over him broke Jake completely. "Alpha," he whined, reaching up to trace the line of your jaw. "You're so beautiful. You're so strong."

You didn't wait. You couldn't. You settled between his legs. The heat radiating from him was intense, scorching your inner thighs. He was slick—his body producing the natural lubricant of an Omega in distress.

"Fill me," Jake pleaded, his hips bucking upward, seeking contact. "Fix me. You're the only one who can fix it."

You aligned yourself with him. This was different from before. Before, you were two friends trying to make biology work. Now, you were lock and key.

You guided him to your entrance. He was hard, weeping, desperate.

You sank down. "Oh, god!" Jake screamed, throwing his head back into the pillow.

The sensation was blinding.

Because you were presenting, because you were in a rut, your internal anatomy had shifted. You were tighter, hotter, your muscles gripping him with a possessive intensity that felt completely different.

You took him all the way in, until your pelvis ground against his.

"Y/N," he babbled, his eyes rolling back. "So hot. You're so hot."

You began to move.It was primal. You grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the mattress above his head. You dominated him completely. You set the pace—a punishing, grinding rhythm that forced cries out of him with every thrust.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with his wet, broken moans and your low, guttural growls. You leaned down, capturing his mouth again. You kissed him deeply, your tongue sweeping his mouth, tasting him, owning him. You swallowed his cries, drinking them down like wine.

Jake was a mess beneath you. He was thrashing, his hips snapping up to meet yours, trying to get deeper, trying to fuse his body to yours.

"Deep," he mumbled against your lips. "Deeper. Don't leave any space."

"I'm right here," you growled against his neck. "I'm inside you. I'm keeping you."

Your wolf was singing. Mate. Mate. Perfect Mate. He smelled right. He felt right. The way he submitted to you, baring his throat, hands around your waist to pull you closer—it was exactly what your Alpha instincts needed.

The tension built rapidly. This wasn't a marathon; it was a sprint to the claim.

You felt the pressure in your lower abdomen spike. It was a cramping sensation, heavy and inevitable. Your body was preparing the trap. "Jake," you panted, looking down at him. Your red eyes bore into his golden ones. "I'm going to lock."

Fear flickered in his eyes for a microsecond—the fear of the unknown—but it was instantly drowned out by longing.

"Do it," he commanded, his voice raw. "Trap me. Don't let me go. Never let me go."

He thrust up, burying himself as deep as he could go, and held it there.

You let go. You cried out, a roar tearing from your throat as your orgasm hit.

And then, it happened.

Deep inside you, the Alpha muscles—the mechanism you didn't know you had until today—slammed shut. It was a violent, powerful contraction. Your internal walls rippled and clamped down around the base of him, creating a vacuum seal. It was tighter than anything you had ever felt. It was a vice grip.

Jake screamed.

"Y/N! Y/N! Oh my god!"

The sensation of being gripped that tightly, of being literally milked by your body, sent him over the edge instantly. He shattered. He convulsed in your arms, his body bowing off the mattress. He poured himself into you, his release unending, triggered and sustained by the crushing pressure of your lock.

"I can't—it's too much—Alpha!" he sobbed, shaking violently.

But you couldn't stop. You were locked. Your body had him. You were holding him prisoner in the most intimate way possible. You collapsed forward, your chest heaving against his. You were fused together.

But the ritual wasn't done. The heat was broken, the rut was satisfied, but the bond needed the seal. The scent in the room was now a perfect, swirling nebula of your combined essences. Burnt Cedar and Peaches and Cream.

You lifted your head. Jake was panting, his face wet with tears and sweat. He looked wrecked. He looked divine. He saw where you were looking. He saw your eyes fixate on his neck. He didn't flinch this time. He didn't cry out for a stranger. He tilted his head back, exposing the gland. The bruise you had left weeks ago had faded to a faint yellow shadow. It was ready.

"Please," he whispered, his golden eyes locking onto yours. "Make it permanent. I don't want to be anyone else's. I only want you."

You lowered your head. You licked the skin first, tasting the salt, tasting the pulse that fluttered frantically beneath the surface.

Then, you opened your mouth. Your canines—longer now, sharper, designed for this exact moment—grazed his skin.

You bit down.

Crunch.

It was a sickening, beautiful sound. Your teeth pierced the tough skin of the scent gland, sinking deep into the muscle. Jake cried out—a sharp, high sound of pain—but he immediately grabbed the back of your head and shoved you closer.

"Yes!" he hissed through his teeth. You clamped down. You felt the connection snap into place like a physical tether. It wasn't just blood you tasted; it was his soul. A flood of emotions that weren't yours crashed into your brain. Relief. Safety. Overwhelming love. Belonging. You pushed your own feelings back down the bond.

Possession. Adoration. Protection. Forever. You held the bite, your jaw locked, marking him, changing his biology, writing your name on his very DNA.

After what felt like an eternity, you slowly released the pressure. You licked the wound, your saliva sealing the puncture marks, leaving behind the jagged, raised scar of a Mated Omega. You pulled back to look at him. Jake was limp beneath you. His eyes were rolling back in his head, a look of pure, drugged bliss on his face. He was floating in the endorphin rush of the bite. "Mine," you growled, your voice rough.

Jake blinked, focusing on you slowly. He reached up, touching the fresh mark on his neck. He smiled—a messy, tear-stained, radiant smile.

"Yours," he whispered. "Finally."

The lock didn't release for twenty minutes.

You stayed there, joined, breathing the same air. The red faded from your eyes, settling into a warm, dark brown. The gold in Jake's eyes softened back to his deep doe-eyed color. He ran his hands up and down your back, tracing the muscles that had emerged during your presentation. "I knew it," he murmured, his voice raspy.

"You knew what?" you asked, kissing the tip of his nose.

"I knew you weren't a Beta. I knew you were special." He chuckled, a weak sound. "Though I didn't expect... this." He gestured to the intensity of the room. "You're a powerhouse, Y/N."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, resting your forehead against his. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I made you wait."

"Shh," he silenced you with a soft kiss. "You didn't make me wait. You were cooking. You needed to bake until you were ready."

He shifted his hips, wincing slightly as the knot finally began to loosen.

"Besides," he smirked, a flash of his old playful self returning. "The stew you left was really good."

You laughed, a sound of pure relief. "You ate the stew?"

"Of course I ate the stew. It was made with love. And guilt. But mostly love."

The knot released. You pulled away slowly, the separation leaving a phantom ache. You rolled off him, collapsing onto the mattress beside him. Jake immediately rolled over, draping his arm and leg over you, burying his face in your neck. He took a deep breath of your new scent.

"Cedar," he hummed happily. "I love cedar now."

"I love peaches," you replied, wrapping your arm around him.

The sun came up, but you didn't move.

You were in a nest. Sometime during the night, instinct had taken over. You had pulled every blanket, pillow, and piece of clothing within reach onto the bed.

Jake was asleep on your chest, drooling slightly. The bite mark on his neck was angry and red, but it was healing. It was real.

You traced the line of his spine. You felt different. The anxiety that had plagued you for years—the feeling of being invisible, of being a "dud"—was gone. You felt grounded. You felt heavy in a good way. You knew exactly who you were.

You were Y/N. The Alpha. Jake’s Mate. Jake stirred. He lifted his head, blinking sleepily. He looked at you, then at the bite mark on his reflection in the mirror across the room.

He grinned.

"Happy Birthday, Alpha," he whispered.

"Best birthday ever," you agreed.

"So," he traced circles on your chest. "Since we're mated now... and since you're in a rut... and since I'm in heat..."

"Yeah?"

"We have about four days of lost time to make up for."

He climbed on top of you, his eyes darkening with intent.

"Can you handle it?" he teased.

You grabbed his hips, flipping him over so you were hovering above him again. You flashed your eyes—just a flicker of red—and saw him shiver with delight.

"I can handle you, Jake Sim," you promised. "I was made to handle you."

"Two peas in a pod," he breathed, pulling you down for a kiss.

"Two peas in a pod."

Hope you enjoyed this Drabble Please support me by Liking, Commenting and Re-blogging!

➤ volume 3 ☆ jake sim — the first love trope | you, a quiet girl who is the introvert of all introverts, never thought you would befriend the most popular boy in school by having the same music taste. what songs are you going to show him next? [ first love trope ]

➤ two peas in a pod | You love Jake, but believing you are a Beta who can never truly satisfy his Omega nature, you push him away only to realize during a dramatic twenty-first birthday presentation that you were his fated Alpha all along [ friends to lovers ]

➤ a real man | Jake Sim, son of one of the most wealthiest CEOs in Australia. Who also happens to be the man your parents set you to marry at 20 years old, and now—five years later, the father of your child. You and Jake have a..rocky relationship to say the least. The real question is, who’s going to be the first to break? [ arranged marriage ]

➤ the bet , bonus | Jake sim, one of the most popular boys in school makes it his goal to have you fall for him, a simple bet with his friends. Little does he know, he’ll be the one falling to his knees for you [ bet au ]

➤ the summer i got horny | nerdy sim jaeyun is sweating buckets when the baddie he's been crushing on sits in his lap on a two-hour road trip. [ friends sister ]

➤ AW SHIT, HERE WE GO AGAIN | IN WHICH jake keeps telling himself he’s fine with whatever this thing between you is, so he decides that a friends with benefits situation with his best friend's girlfriend's best friend, who also happens to be his other best friend's older sister, is a completely reasonable idea. until he wakes up alone for the nth time and realizes that this friends with benefits situation is not benefiting him at all. [ friends with benefits ]

➤ eat me up | in which jake knows you’re bad for him, but he just can’t help himself. after all, in the end, the answer is always you. nobody else matters. not even the guy you’re seeing, his friend, sunghoon [ friends with benefits ]

➤ give me tough love | Jake's always liked pretty things, and you're the prettiest he's ever seen. Another thing about Jake? He always gets what he wants [ omegaverse ]

➤ tension theory | You were just Heeseung’s girlfriend’s cousin—quiet, polite, a little too naive for your own good. Then you met his friends. Now you’re in the middle of a spiraling mess of jealousy, bad decisions, emotional whiplash and two boys who treat boundaries like suggestions. Oops. [ love triangle ]

➤ friction principle | You thought things would calm down after the confessions, the crying, the sex. After fists were thrown and secrets dragged out into the open. But Jake is still mean, Sunghoon is still quiet, and now you're still stuck somewhere in the middle—aching for something that feels like love but tastes like possession. [ love triangle ]

➤ preacher's daughter | in the early 2000s, in some small, rural town, your religious and restrained life collides with jake sim, who makes you doubt everything you know and want to explore more of the world [ outsider!jake x preachersdaughter!reader ]

➤ the fifth floor theory , part two | in which jake sim, the campus golden boy and star soccer captain, isn't supposed to find anything on the fifth floor of the library except a quiet place to study. but instead? he finds you, the wallflower who refuses to treat him like everyone else does. [ soccer captain!jake x wallflower fem!reader ]

➤ of all the people in the world | You know you should be ecstatic about the invitation to Chaewon’s and Jaemin’s wedding in your mailbox, but you can’t help the nerves gnawing away at your stomach. There are too many things you’ve left unresolved after moving to Seoul—your aunt, your friends, and most of all Sim Jaeyun, the boy you’ve never let yourself love. [ childhood friends to lovers ]

➤ sunflower | You have lived in apartment 3B for two years. You know your neighbors the way you know background characters — familiar, unremarkable, just part of the scenery. Which is why it’s strange that you’ve never properly noticed the man in 3A. Until 6:58 on a Tuesday morning when someone knocks on your door and you open it to find not him, but her. Small. Round-cheeked. Duck pajamas. Absolutely certain of herself. You fall for his daughter first. Jake is just the complication that comes after. But god, what a complication [ single dad au ]

➤ things i know that i can't have | jake's life was hard enough before he fell for you—balancing uni, football, and being a good christian son. in some cruel twist of fate, sleeping with you has only made things harder—and, according to sunghoon (and scripture), damned him to hell the first time he thought about it. [ fwb to lovers ]

➤ under the table | you and sim jaeyun have been academic rivals for as long as you can remember, competing intensely to beat the other in every class you've ever shared. for years, you've hidden your feelings for him, burying them deep down where jake can't find them, and you're hellbent on ensuring he never discovers your secret [ academic rivals to fwb to lovers ]

➤ bruises [ strangers to implied lovers ]

➤ manchild | you’re trouble, and jake sim knows it. you flirt like it’s your job, wear sin like perfume, and make men beg without even trying. he’s the only cowboy who doesn’t chase you. so naturally, he’s the only one you want. [ cowboy jake ] this fic changed the trajectory of my life no cap 🤞🤤

➤ RULE NUMBER 1: DON'T FALL IN LOVE | your ex getting a girlfriend after just two weeks of breakup was enough to infuriate you to the point where you had to step up and make him regret breaking your heart. solution? fake date his best friend and make him jealous! [ fake dating ]

➤ Love, Lies, and Sim Jake, part two | You were the quiet girl with the not-so-quiet crush on Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, smooth talker, and everything you should’ve stayed away from. But when a bet turns your name into a game, the rules change fast. He didn’t expect to fall for you… and you didn’t expect to find out. Now it’s your move—and this time, you’re not playing nice. [ campus heartbreaker ]

➤ call me when you hate me less | Jake Sim was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect lips. But between late night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout, and honestly, it could go either way. [ enemies to lovers ]

➤ off limits, part two, part three, epilogue | your older brother has always told you “no boys” and his friends “sister is off limits”, which always worked until everyone comes back home from college and you see how grown up his best friend has become [ brothers best friend ] this was soo fucking good, read this in one sitting , peak 🔛🔝

➤ just one more taste | Jake considers himself the luckiest man alive. After turning his deepest breeding fantasies into reality, filling you raw night after night until you were pregnant again and again, he built the big, perfect family he always dreamed of. With the family complete, he finally slips a ring on your finger vowing forever to keep you happy, adored, and being the man who’d give you the world just to see you smile. [ impregnator jake ] just smut

➤ the great valentines heist , part two | jake sim has been your best friend your entire life–even longer if you count the months spent in your mothers’ wombs. your moms (also best friends) have been hoping, praying, and not-so-discreetly begging for you and jake to be a couple for as long as you can remember. after eighteen years of dealing with it, you’ve had enough. you pitch your solution to jake: pretend you finally are a couple, only to prove the point of how you’re better off as friends. but as the line between what’s real and what’s fake blurs, you start to wonder… are you really? [ friends to lovers ]

➤ frenzy , part two | Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect. 

➤ loyal puppy | Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought you’d never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the “lowkey” relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities. [ secret!relationship au ] anothee one of my favs , im going to re read it :p

➤ no doubts | struggling to balance a world tour, endless responsibilities, and...well, the sting of getting dumped by his girlfriend, jake finds peace & comfort confiding in you—one of his closest friends. what begins as lighthearted late-night phone calls while he's away on tour deepens into something more, quickly pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. as your connection with jake intensifies, so does your inner turmoil—torn between the comfort of your easy relationship with him and the terrifying possibility of falling for someone you're not even sure you can have in the first place. but jake? jake has absolutely no doubt of what he wants—and spoiler alert? it's you. [ idol jake ]

Two months have passed. You've gotten into your groove with your job and Jungwon, and now your friends.

It was perfect. 

Jungwon came over to your small apartment and had sleepovers. Sometimes they'd consist of sex for hours, and other times it was a nice movie and some snacks.

Your most cherished times were his comfortable silence. You loved how you two could sit together without speaking for hours. But it was because you didn't need to.

"W-wait, we were supposed to be watching t-the movie Wonnie."

Jungwon worked his dick into your pussy. He wasn't worried about whatever was happening on that dumbass TV.

His girl needed him. His girl touched his thigh in that needy way she does. Jungwon loved to give you what you wanted.

He kissed your neck, sucking down until it left a purple stain.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist. 

You trapped him between your legs. You didn't want the pleasure to stop. Fuck, he felt so good. 

Then, a long groan left his chest. You were close, but that sound brought you to the edge.

You clenched around him, sending him overboard. He came inside of you, leaving you to squeeze your eyes shut from pleasure. You came right after him.

Jungwon kept jerking into you, liking the quick shots of pleasure that went through his body. He stopped and rolled over. "Our sex life will never fail to be amazing." You laughed, panting for your last breath.

You two were lying in bed, happy as can be. You two went about four rounds.

You cuddled in silence, happily caressing each other as you drifted to sleep. However, your phone rang. You pulled it out, answering it frantically.

"Hello?" Alyssa said, "Hey, girl. Romeo can't make it to my doctor's visit. He has an important work meeting. Is it okay if you come with me tomorrow? I just don't want to go alone. It's at 3 PM."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Work meeting? He can't postpone it?" Alyssa huffed, "It's with his demanding editor. He told him about the doctor's visit two weeks ago, and he still told him to come in."

You looked at Jungwon. He was cutely listening to you on the phone. "I'm coming. I'll tell Maddie to clear my schedule. We can go to the spa to help you relax. Stress isn't good for the baby."

Jungwon smiled, loving to hear you go maternal. The phone call ended shortly after, and you cuddled back into Jungwon. He asked, "What was that about?" His tone came out nosy.

You said, "Romeo bailed on Alyssa for her doctor's visit. She's three months pregnant right now. She needed someone to be there for her. She's been hella stressed with finding a new house, and preparing her work leave for her pregnancy."

Jungwon asked, "Was it really important that he had to leave her behind?" You said, "I know, right! Not to bash my childhood friend, but that's fucked up. Leaving your pregnant girlfriend to drive herself to the doctor's appointment."

Jungwon huffed, cupping your face, "I'd never do that." You laughed, "Well, I'm not pregnant, so you won't have to worry about that."

Jungwon quirked an eyebrow at you. Your tone sounded like you never even considered him a father. He asked, “Would you like to have kids?” 

You turned on your back, genuinely thinking about it. You two were young, and yes, you’ve only been in a relationship for two months, but you haven’t even let an I love you slip through your lips yet.

Jungwon waited patiently, not daring to touch you. He wanted you to fully process his question so you’d answer genuinely.

You said, “I think it’s time for me to leave my adrenaline rush behind me. I’ve never thought of having a kid. Especially with the kind of childhood I’ve had. But if you’d like kids, I’d want to do it with you.”

Jungwon smiled, “You’d make a great Mom. You’re nothing like the mother you’ve described to me.” He grabbed your hand and gently said, “I want you to know that.”

Your eyes softened, and you lifted out of bed. “Okay, I’m getting up. Work is calling my name.” 

Jungwon grabbed you, wrapping his entire body around you. “Five more minutes.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek.

You awkwardly pulled down your jeans as you stood in the elevator.

Maddie was on the phone. She saw you, and her smile appeared in an instant. She waved at you and mouthed, “Hey!” 

You waved back at her and made your way to your office. You typed your password into your computer to check your emails.

There was an email from Maddie. She was on the phone, but she managed to type an email to you.

She wrote, Any deets on the hottie from two months ago? How’s it going????

You laughed, typing your response back.

It was instructions for her to come to your office for the details.

Maddie finished her phone call and walked in. “I have a buyer named Maria. She wants the home in Yorkshire.” Your eyebrows raised. 

“Seriously? Is she like a celebrity? Her name sounds familiar.” Maddie shrugged, “I think her Dad is just super rich. Now, tell me how you are doing with this Jungwon guy!?”

You laughed, “He’s been such a saint. He really takes care of me and spoils me. And the sex is amazing.”

Maddie wiggled her eyebrows, “Ooh! SHARE!”

You looked around as if someone would be around.

“Well, for starters, he’s super big. And-” Your door opened, and in walked Alyssa. She waddled in, “Hey Maddie! Y/N.” 

You said, “Wow, you’re super pregnant.”

She stuck the middle finger up at you. “I just finished cursing out Meo. Don’t make me curse you out, too.”

She sat next to Maddie and huffed. “This baby is taking the life out of me.” Maddie snacked on your mints as she said,“Y’know, I heard when you have girls, they suck all the beauty from the mom.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pushing your blue-light glasses up, “Where the hell did you hear that from?”

You read an email in passing, Maddie said: “Kim Kardashian- but she had a point.”

Alyssa laughed, “Please. Maddie, you’re so funny.”

Maddie asked, “You came to hang?” Alyssa pointed at you. “I came to meet Y/N for my doctor’s appointment.” 

Your eyes widened, “Right! Shit, I forgot that quick.”

Alyssa joked, “Pregnancy brain.” Maddie and Alyssa snickered. You said, “Don’t joke like that! I’m serious. I am not in the prime for pregnancy.”

Alyssa crossed her arms, “Said the same thing two months ago.”

Maddie laughed, “Imagine she was actually pregnant? That’d be so fucking funny.”

You stared back at the pregnancy test. Your heart was beating fast. You were scared. Terrified.

How were you going to tell Jungwon? You didn’t want to tell Alyssa. Then, it’d be too real.

Tears started to roll down your cheeks. Jungwon hasn’t even told you he loved you yet. You weren’t ready for this. A knock echoed on your bathroom door, and you quickly wiped your tears, voice cracking, "Yeah?"

Romeo was on the other side, "Are you shitting your brains out? We need help with the houses you listed."

You frantically hid the test. You didn't want anyone to know. You walked out, wiping tears from your face, desperate to hide the red eyes. 

Romeo sat on your couch with your laptop on his lap. At least he looked comfortable. "I liked the one you showed in Queens. But are you sure the neighborhood is safe enough?"

You sat next to him, "Yeah. It's close to the police station. Alyssa will be there most of the time."

Romeo sighed, "I can't believe I'm going to be a stay-at-home dad. That's so crazy to me. You think I could do it?"

You smiled, wondering the same question. Could you be a Mom? A stay-at-home mom? You don't have to go to the office. Push comes to shove, the baby can come with you to work. It wouldn't be much of a hassle. Maddie loves babies.

Your brain was going a mile a minute. You wanted to keep the baby. But you were just so scared to bring something so vulnerable into Jungwon's world. 

You were already a liability to him. A weakness. Now, adding a baby. You weren't sure if it'd be a boy or a girl. The thought was terrifying to you.

Jungwon likes you a lot, but you weren't sure about how long he'd stay before he got bored with you.

Romeo snapped in front of your face, "Hello? Earth to Y/N?"

You smiled, "Right, hi. Yes, the house is going up for 25,000. That's pretty cheap for a four-bedroom home with three full baths and a half bathroom."

Romeo's eyes lingered on you for a moment before he said something. "You alright? Your face is kind of puffy, and your eyes are red. Are you getting enough sleep? Sick?"

You laughed, "Nope, must be the allergies."

Romeo said, "It's winter." You huffed, "Just leave it. I'm fine, okay?"

Romeo backed up, "Alright. But you know you can tell me anything." Your voice softened, "I know."

You two continued to talk about the houses you were listing. You were trying to give him the best options.

Later that night, Jungwon came over with Chinese takeout. He placed it on your counter and kissed you while walking by. "How's your day, honey?"

You wanted to tell him how horrible it was. How scared you were. How your thoughts kept replaying how you were carrying his baby. And only two months of having sex with him.

You didn't even get to enjoy it. Now you'd have to get your tubes tied. Or maybe you could convince him to get the surgery.

You weren't sure about which route you wanted to go.

Jungwon saw your hard thinking. He said, "Something's wrong." He didn't even care to ask; instead, he told you. Because he knew you.

You shook your head, "Nah, work was a little stressful. That Maria girl is super annoying. I swear I've heard her voice somewhere, though."

Jungwon smiled, "Let's eat then." You quietly sat next to him, eating your food. Junwon noticed you spacing off. He was obviously seeing the stress on your eyebrows. But he knew you'd tell him eventually.

He let it go, opting to take your mind off of things.

Jungwon kissed your ear as you two lay together in bed. Now, you were fully showered and ready to sleep. Jungwon was kissing your neck, and you huffed. "Not tonight. I'm tired." Jungwon quirked his eyebrows, "You're always in the mood. Like more than me. What's going on?"

You looked at him, and his fierce look weakened. You looked terrifying. Angry even. His girlfriend is always funny, happy, and energetic. But right now, you looked pissed off.

Jungwon pulled away, "I'll leave it."

You two went to bed, but there was this weird energy surrounding you.

Jungwon was careful with you; he didn't want to hold you and piss you off. Or talk, or move at all. He just laid in bed, stiff like a board.

He woke up when he felt you leave the bed. 

He peeked his eyes open to see the sun barely up. You were running for the bathroom. You must've had to pee extremely badly.

But when the bathroom slammed, he heard you gag and throw up.

He stood up in an instant. He ran to the bathroom and opened the door. "Honey?! What's wrong?"

You pushed him away, not wanting to talk to him. 

Jungwon confusedly stood back, letting you throw up by yourself. Out of fear, but also from a lack of understanding.

When you finished throwing up, you lied. "I think the chicken wasn't cooked all the way."

Jungwon reminisced about the food last night and huffed, "You think? I feel fine."

He said, "We should get you to the doctor if you're throwing up."

You panicked. If you go to the doctor with him, they'd tell you both you're pregnant for sure.

Jungwon saw the panic in your eyes, "Are you scared of the doctor?"

You shook your head, "No doctor! I'm fine. I feel better after throwing up."

Jungwon was staring. Not the usual stare he gives when he’s so in love with you. He gave you the stare that let you know he knew something was wrong.

Jungwon sighed, deciding to drop it. He knew you wouldn’t budge anyway.

He helped you out of the bathroom, hugging you tightly. He said, “My mom wants to see you today.”

You pulled away, “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

Jungwon shrugged, “Just wants to spend time with her only daughter.”

Over the past months, you’ve grown close to Jungwon’s Mom.

That was because you never knew what it was like to be loved by a mother figure. She loved you so harshly, and it made you so happy. You felt appreciated.

Jungwon kissed your forehead and asked, “You want me to come with you today?”

You sighed, “You’ve avoided your job all week, baby. Go to work.”

Jungwon smiled, “Avoided it so we could do other things… not my fault you keep me up all night.”

You pushed him away, “Stop that.”

He smiled lovingly at you, and you two went your separate ways in the morning.

Jungwon told him he’ll see you later and left for work. Meanwhile, you stared at the hidden pregnancy test in your cabinet.

You were so scared. You didn’t know what to do about it. Should you even keep the baby? 

Jungwon would be even more pissed if you did something like that behind his back. Instead, you huffed and pushed it aside.

You stopped by the office to do some quick work, caught up with Maddie, and went straight to Jungwon’s house.

He’s spent so much time at your place that you’ve only come here twice since you started dating.

No wonder Jungwon’s mother requested to see you.

You stepped into her room, plopping on the bed next to her. She let her head fall to your shoulder and sighed.

“You’re glowing today.”

You looked at her, “Really? Maddie told me the same thing this morning.”

She smiled, “Hm. How are things with my son?”

You nodded, “Perfect. We’ve been going on lots of dates lately.”

She sighed, “I know. One of our company shareholders complained about his recent absences from the meetings.”

You laughed, “I’ve told him to go to them multiple times.”

She glanced at you quickly like she had picked up on something. “You gotta pee or something? Why are you shaking your leg like that?”

You laughed, “One second!”

You ran to the bathroom to piss your brains out while Jungwon’s mother sat on the other side patiently.

You walked out, saying, “Phew, been drinking a lot of water lately.”

Jungwon’s mother quirked an eyebrow at you. She looked at you and said, “You might be able to hide things from Jungwon, but you can’t hide things from me.

Your eyes widened. Holy shit, how did she know?

“Are you pregnant? Y/N?” 

You nodded defeatedly. Like you’ve been caught.

She said, “He doesn’t track your spending on the credit cards, but I do. Saw you bought a pregnancy test.”

You looked to the side, still embarrassed.

She asked, “Have you told him?” You shook your head, “I’m so scared to.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “Why would you be scared? He’s not going to hurt you. I know my son will stay for you and that baby.”

You said, “It’s just not the right time.”

She repeated, “Right time?”

She smiled brightly, “Do you think he won’t be happy to hear he’s having a baby? You’re making me a grandmother at 42. I am eccentric right now.”

You laughed at your mother-in-law.

She smiled at you, “I’ll plan the baby shower. Ugh, gives me something to do for once. Pass me my laptop.”

You passed it to her and asked, “Did you ask to see me because you knew?”

She nodded, “Of course I wanted to see my daughter, but that’s an added bonus.”

You smiled, “Thanks, Mom.”

Suddenly, tears were leaving your eyes. She laughed, “Uh oh. You’ve got pregnancy hormones.”

She opened her arms to invite you in a hug. She hugged you tightly, and you sobbed. 

Evie knocked on the door and asked, “Bad time?”

You confessed, “I’m pregnant!”

Evie’s eyes widened, “Oh my god.”

She hugged you, too. They just listened to you sob for another twenty minutes.

You left the house feeling a little better. You felt better knowing you wouldn’t hold it all in by yourself.

You sighed, sitting in your car. Jungwon was calling you, and you answered. "Hey, baby. What's up?"

Jungwon said coolly, "Hey, I just wanted to know if you were free tonight for a date? Sushi?"

You loved sushi, but you're pretty sure you can't eat raw fish while pregnant. "Nice try. I talked to your mother, and she told me to tell you to go to your meetings." Jungwon groaned, "I don't wanna!"

You laughed at his childishness. He only lets it out occasionally. It was really cute.

Jungwon asked, "You not in the mood for sushi? What about cheesy corn dogs you love?"

The thought of cheese made you want to gag, "EW NO. I don't want that. I want some pasta, though. But A LOT of beef."

Jungwon said, "Usually, you hate the beef." You smiled, loving that he knew that about you. "You remembered..."

He laughed, "Yeah. You're my girlfriend. So pasta tonight?" You smiled, "Yeah, see you at 9?" He agreed, "Sounds great."

You drove to the office, ready to work on selling this new house. 

Maddie sat down. "Okay, Maria wants to meet you in person to talk about the house. You up for a meeting tomorrow at 10 AM?"

You huffed, "Yeah, that's fine. I'll just make sure to dress up for it." Maddie smiled, "Fire, I'll email her."

Maddie walked out to her computer to type up an email. You went back to working while chewing on your pen. You didn't even notice how quickly time went by. It was six already.

You decided to wrap everything up to go home for the night. Plus, you wanted to get dolled up for your date. Maddie walked into the office, "I finished up for the night. Heading out. You want me to do anything for you before I go?" You shook your head, "Nah. Oh, I approved your vacation for next month." She smiled, "Thank you ~ I'm gonna have so much fun in the Bahamas. You should take a vacation too!"

You huffed, "Might happen sooner than you think." You made that comment out loud by accident. 

Maddie quirked an eyebrow, "Why? Leaving me?"

You shook your head, "Not at all." You laughed, pretending you were joking. Maddie asked, "Hey, what's been going on with you? You've been kind of distant. I noticed that you were crying before you came in again today."

You waved off her attempts to console you, "No way. I'm perfect as usual." 

She asked, "Really? Because I think you're hiding something."

You shook your head. Maddie was staring you down. She doesn't play about you. She never does. 

You were her ride or die, and she was willing to fight for you. So when you started to get tired or down, she'd force you to go home early and insist on holding everything down.

Maddie knows what she's doing. She's probably more qualified for your job than you, but she's happy where she is.

You sighed, "I am going through something, but I'm just not ready to say anything yet. I don't want it to be real."

She asked, "Does it involve Jungwon?"

You laughed, "More than you know." Maddie nodded, her lips going into a thin line. You knew she was holding back from asking. You said, "Go home, get some rest. You can come in late tomorrow if you want. Nothing much will happen."

She smiled, "You treat me so good." She skipped out of your office, holding her bag to her side, "See ya tomorrow."

She waved, and you finished up for the night. You got home, peeling off your clothes to shower for your date tonight. Jungwon showed up earlier than usual to meet you. He had flowers in his hands, smiling at you from the front door. "Hey, you brought me flowers." He smiled, "Just felt like I needed to put a little more effort into us today."

You smiled, "Why? We've been perfect."

Jungwon looked at you like you knew what he was thinking. It was almost like he was saying, 'c'mon, you've noticed we've been different.'

You pouted, thinking about the baby that was growing inside your belly. You were so scared to ruin yourself. 

Jungwon kissed you softly, "You okay? You kind of wavered for a moment."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, "Mm, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about."

Jungwon kissed you again, laughing. He pulled away and said, "It's crazy that I still think you're beautiful even when you have setting powder all over your face."

You snorted, pulling back to sashay to your bathroom. "I'll be ready in 20 minutes."

Jungwon said, "Okay, I'll be waiting."

His hands were shoved in his front pockets as he sat on your living room couch.

He saw the deck of Uno cards on your coffee table. You mentioned Meo and Alyssa coming over for a fun game night. You were still reluctant about Alyssa and Jungwon being together in the same room. You didn't want her in trouble.

Though she told you he wasn't convicted of known crimes.

Jungwon's eyes traveled to the grocery bag on the couch next to him. He thought, 'Hm, what'd she get from Walmart?'

He opened the bag to see a jar of pickles, Nutella, and cookie butter. He furrowed his eyebrows. She hates pickles.

He looked at the receipt and saw the list. 

Pickels, cookie butter, Nutella, clear blue... hm, what's that? Pasta noodles, 20-ounce steak?! Jesus, if she wanted meat, she should've just told me that.

You walked out of her room and smiled, "I'm ready." He asked, "Pickles?" Your eyes widened, "Ah! I forgot to put that in the fridge! I've been forgetting so much these days! Holy shit."

Jungwon watched you carefully, "Yeah? Gotta play those memory games to keep your mind sharp. My mom used to lock me in the sauna room with nothing but a Rubik's Cube to keep me focused."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "I didn't have a sauna room growing up... wait... YOU HAVE A SAUNA ROOM?! I wanna go!"

Jungwon hooked his arm and put your purse on his shoulder. "We can go whenever you want."

You giggled, skipping out of the house. You sat in the passenger seat. Jungwon's hand naturally fell to your thigh as he backed out of his parking space. He was so attractive when his face got serious. 

The way his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his dimple seeped into his cheek.

Jungwon sped off to the restaurant. You two got out, and you pulled down your black dress. Jungwon attempted to whistle but failed pathetically. You laughed, "Stop trying to be a Playboy." You walked ahead of him.

Jungwon said, "One day, I'm going to wink so good at you, you'll drop your panties."

You said, "WOAH! Slow your horny horses, boy." You opened the door absent-mindedly. Jungwon caught up to try to open the next door, but you opened that one too.

The hostess greeted you, "Hi! How are you? For two?"

You nodded, but Jungwon peered behind you. "Reservation for Yang." Jungwon winked, and you laughed. The hostess smiled, "You two are very adorable." You smiled, "Yeah, he's been trying to be suave since we got out of the car."

She stepped away from the desk to guide you to the private room. You sat down in your chair and looked at each other. 

Jungwon burst into laughter. You laughed with him as you sighed longingly into his eyes. You asked, "How are you?"

Jungwon rolled his eyes, "We don't have those kinds of boring conversations. You've been working with a new client?"

You nodded, "Mm! Yeah, I-" You sniffed, looking around. Jungwon quirked an eyebrow, "What?" "You smell that?"

Jungwon looked around at the empty room, "What? What do you smell?"

You said, "Like a man's cologne. Someone's coming."

Just as you said that, your server came in to greet you. Jungwon caught a whiff of his strong cologne. He quirked his eyebrow at you. How'd she smell that? He was in a different room.

"Hi! My name is Bernard. I'll be taking care of you. What would you like to drink?"

Jungwon said, "The lady will have a zinfandel in a 9-ounce, and I will have Pinot Mezzacrona in 6 ounces."

You looked at Jungwon, "Uh... Actually, can I just have some water?"

Jungwon looked at you, "You sure? You don't wanna have a nice wine tonight?" You shook your head, "I just want a heap of pasta and to pass out tonight."

Bernard smiled, "I would never judge a lady." You smiled, "I like you, Bernard."

He teased, "Are you flirting with me in front of the groom, ma'am?"

You teased back, "Yes, Bernard, yes, I am." Jungwon shut the jokes down, "Absolutely not. Bernard, I will tip you 5 cents."

He said, "Hey, a tip is a tip."

You both laughed at your silly server. For such a high-end restaurant,he wasn't supposed to be so... personable.

However, Bernard was hilarious.

He left the room to get you two something to drink. Jungwon said, "What's going on with you? No wine? You love Zinfandel." You nodded, "I do. I'm just not in the mood for that."

Jungwon said, "Just like you weren't in the mood last time." You nodded, "Yes." 

It was times like these that made you realize keeping secrets from Jungwon was hard.

You said, "How's Jay doing? I haven't heard from the guy in like three weeks."

Jungwon said, "He and Jake are tracking a broker who took money before we finished the deal. Can't have that."

You asked slowly, "What are you going to do when you find him?"

Jungwon said, "Give him the lawsuit? I'm not going to torture the guy. We've talked about this. I left the violence behind us."

You nodded, "Good." Jungwon's eyes lingered on you for a moment before they went back to the door. Bernard brought bread and those two drinks.

"I'm back. You missed me?"

You nodded, "Of course we did!"

He gave you a drink you didn't ask for. You looked at him, ready to tell him you didn't order it. He smiled, "Someone accidentally made this drink. It's a mocktail."

You smiled, "Thank you, Bernard! That's really sweet." Jungwon growled, "What about me?"

Bernard winked at him, and Jungwon's jaw clenched. You laughed, "Oh, and he winks!"

Bernard took your orders and left. Jungwon looked back at you, watching you space off as you touched the bread.

Jungwon asked, "Seriously, what has been on your mind?"

You looked at Jungwon, "Me? Just work stuff. My new client, Maria, has been kind of bratty with Maddie. We have a meeting tomorrow."

He raised his eyebrow, "Maria? What does she look like?"

You shrugged, "Haven't seen her in person."

Jungwon held both your hands, "Remember Bex Wunderlin?" Your eyes widened as the flashback to the first night you met Bex Wunderlin broke through your mind.

Maria Wunderlin was his daughter's name. You remember he kept calling Jungwon "Wonnie" and flirted with him right in front of you.

She was childish, demanding, and stuck-up. 

You hated her.

Your eyes lowered as you began to seethe with hatred, "Don't tell me she's trying to buy a home from me?! Oh, that dumb bitch, I hate her."

Jungwon's eyes widened. He's never seen you like this before. You're not one to get pissed off. 

But you noticed the shift in your mood and tried to cool off. The pregnancy hormones were sending you off balance.

Jungwon's grip on your hands grew tighter as he worriedly watched you. "Babe? You've been acting a little strange these past couple of days. I know you're hiding something from me, and it's starting to worry me more than anything else."

He looked into your darting eyes. You refused to make eye contact with him. You were terrified to tell him the truth. 

Just as you were about to speak, Bernard came in with your appetizer. 

"I'm back~ Miss me?" You laughed, leaving room for him to place down your salad. You sipped on it classily as you looked at Jungwon. He was watching Bernard put his glass down.

Bernard asked, "You think you know what you want yet?" Jungwon said, "Ah, the lady-"

Bernard said, "Pasta for the lady. What would you like, sir?"

Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows. A flicker of anger crossed his face before he looked at you. When he'd get pissed, he'd always look at you as if you calmed him down. The sight of you alone could give him peace.

Jungwon said, "The 12-ounce steak, medium for me. Sounds delicious."

Bernard wrote it down and said, "Perfect. Enjoy your apps."

He waltzed out of the room. Jungwon swirled his glass of wine before taking a sip. He let out a puff of satisfaction. You asked, "Good?"

You reached for the brown bread absent-mindedly as he nodded. "Delicious."

Jungwon said, "Back to what we were talking about-"

You interrupted, "Yeah, Maria said she wanted to talk to me in person. Maybe to confront me about something?"

Jungwon's eyebrows furrowed again before a thought flashed over his face. His eyes widened, mouth relaxing. "You think she knows you shot Bex?"

You hushed him, "Don't say that out loud!"

Jungwon laughed, leaning back in the chair. "Nobody is gonna say anything to me. The police can't arrest me."

You countered, "Okay, they can arrest me!"

Jungwon said, "I wouldn't let that happen, honey. You know that. I lo- like you too much."

You caught that. 

The way his mouth formed an 'O', but his words said 'I'. You caught the search in your eyes for confirmation that you didn't notice.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing you knew what he was about to say. Instead, you poker-faced.

You scooted out your chair and said, "I have to pee." Jungwon quirked an eyebrow. You walked out to piss your life away.

You hated being pregnant because you genuinely had to pee so much. You thought it was just a myth.

Jungwon waited patiently. Bernard came out with the food and said, "Where's the little lady?"

Jungwon said, "She went potty."

Jungwon looked at your plate of steaming pasta and couldn’t help but think how odd it was.

Meat in your pasta? You hated meat in your pasta. You weren’t much of a sweets eater, but you were buying Nutella. You hate pickles, but you still bought pickles. It was so strange. 

Maybe you were having cravings. Like, pregnancy cravings.

He passed that thought off, but then he came back to it when he watched you sit down in front of him.

He asked, “Why’d you buy pickles from Walmart?” You said, “To eat them.”

You started digging into your pasta. Jungwon said, “You hate pickles.”

You looked up at him and blinked, “I was craving them, so I bought them.”

Jungwon let it go. He ate his food, and for the rest of the date, you two got a little silent.

You walked out of your house in your business attire. At your front door was a package.

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn’t buy any packages.

You ripped it open, sitting at your doorway. When you opened it, you read the note.

Hi sweetie! It's Mrs. Yang. I bought you these to encourage you to tell Jungwon. Creating life is a beautiful step in every relationship. You shouldn't be afraid of it. I love you very much, and I wish you luck. Baby shower planning is already happening. By the way, do you like red velvet cake or chocolate? I can't remember which one Jungwon said.

You laughed at the note and put it down calmly. Inside were a pair of baby shoes. You pouted as your heart swelled. This was so cute. You put a hand on your belly and sighed. 

Someone was in there, growing into a person. 

You got up, quietly putting the package away. 

The venture to work was short as usual. You opened the front door, and Maddie was sitting there typing away.

She looked up, "Hey!" You smile back, "Hey, where's Maria?"

Maddie said, "You're early."

Your eyes widened. You hadn't realized. Maddie smiled quietly as she stared at you. You quirked an eyebrow at her, "What?"

She said, "You're glowing." You pointed at her, "I started using a new setting spray." You walked to your office and sat down. 

You've got to work on your computer. You were emailing and typing up documents for a couple of minutes. But then, the door burst open. 

Maria was gorgeous. Her eyes were doe-like and innocent. Jungwon's type. Well, you've never met Jungwon's type, but you assume that Jungwon likes cuter girls because that's kind of your vibe.

However, you two were different. You were self-made and cared about people. Maria relied on family.

She ignored Maddie's greeting, walking straight to your office. She plopped into your seat and said, "That house is too expensive."

You relaxed, leaning back in the chair. You took a breath, letting her know that you weren't going to be rushed for solutions. 

"Mm, well, we gave you other options. Cheaper ones. Same style and aesthetic. You chose the most expensive home."

She furrowed her eyebrows, "I want it cheaper." You said, "You don't get everything you want, Ms. Wunderlin."

She crossed her arms, "How are you and Jungwon? Broke up yet?" You laughed, anger tingling in your throat. "No, actually. We're as perfect as can be."

She rolled her eyes, "Won't take long for him to break up with you." You don't know why she got under your skin. Why does she make you so angry?

You put a hand over your stomach and told her, "We're having a baby. So, even if we broke up, and he chose to go with the cheaper option... he'd always be my sloppy seconds."

Her jaw clenched slightly before she spoke back, "I know you shot my Dad. You should start googling how women give birth in prison."

You laughed, "You're hilarious. However, I don't think your father is going to tell the police what actually happened." You paused, leaning back into your chair, "Matter of fact, I think he's terrified of what the Yang family could do to him."

Maria scooted out her chair, huffing. "I'm going to wipe that smug smile off your face one day." You shrugged, "Guess today is just not your day." Your hands found their way behind your head. Your chair bounced lightly.

She stayed still, not moving. You cleared your throat and sarcastically said, "Oh, the doors that way if you were confused."

She laughed, "I'm not confused." You smiled, "Then get the fuck out of my office."

She stood up, storming out.

How dare she come to your job and bring up personal affairs? That was ridiculous.

You walked out of the office saying, "Can you believe that bitch?" Maddie's eyes locked onto yours. "You're pregnant?”

Your lips tightened into a thin line as you stepped back. Maddie got out of her office chair to face you. "You didn't tell me." You pouted, "Because I haven't even told Jungwon."

Maddie's eyes widened, "How long have you- H-how far along are you?"

You said, "I'm three weeks pregnant." Maddie furrowed her eyebrows, "Wh-what? Have you gone to the doctors for a visit?"

You smiled sadly, "They scheduled my first visit for next week." Your eyes began to tear up, and you quickly tried to suck it back in. However, you still cried.

Maddie pouted, pulling you into a tight hug. "Don't cry. Oh my god."

She pulled away to wipe your tears, looking at your stomach. "You're pregnant. Is the baby kicking yet?" You shook your head, "It's not moving yet."

Maddie smiled, "I'm going to be Auntie Maddie!" She clapped excitedly. "We have to throw a baby shower! I'll start planning!" You shook your head, "Jungwon's Mom is already planning like crazy. She asked me if I was allergic to flowers."

Maddie said, "How should we plan the gender reveal?! AH! Give me her number, I need a like-minded woman!"

You were on your way home. The meeting was a bust. You were tired and couldn't wait to go home. Jungwon was on his way over, too. 

You floated to your shower and plopped right on the bed.

Jungwon opened your front door, stepping inside. "I'm home, honey!" He called you.

From your bed, you yelled back, "I'm in bed." Jungwon looked at your kitchen counter to see a package. He looked closer at the shoes and picked up the note.

Hi sweetie! It's Mrs. Yang. I bought you these to encourage you to tell Jungwon. Creating life is a beautiful step in every relation-

He heard your floorboard creak, and he looked up at you in your doorway. Your eyes were big, and you looked wary.

Jungwon asked, "Tell me what? What's my mom sending you tiny shoes for?"

Your feet were glued to the floor below you as you looked at him with terror. You didn't know what to do, how to tell him.

Your feet moved quickly. You reached for the note, but he snatched it away from you.

"Aht, what's on the note?" 

You grabbed him tighter, you pulled the note from his hand, ripping it up.

Jungwon's eyes widened, "Okay, I'm getting sick of this Y/N! What the hell is going on with you?! You're pulling away again! We promised we'd communicate better after you got kidnapped."

You screamed, "I'M NOT READY TO TALK ABOUT IT!" Jungwon yelled, "WHEN WILL YOU BE READY!?" 

His eyes were wide, veins popping out from his neck. His eyebrows were in a deep furrow as his hair settled into something less precise.

You would think he was hot right now if it weren't for the horrible secret you're hiding.

He pulled you closer to his body, "It's weighing you down. My girlfriend is not the same. My girlfriend is going insane. You need to tell me."

You cried, "Let me go and I'll tell you."

Jungwon reluctantly loosened his grip around your arms. Were you crying now? He's never seen you cry before. 

You walked away from him, leaving him in silence. He wanted to follow after you, but you needed some space.

You came back with a packet. "Here." You shoved it into his chest. He jumped slightly and grabbed it from you.

He slipped the paper out, thinking it'd be something he'd have to protect you from.

But then, he saw a document of test results. Jungwon's heart beat faster. Were you dying? Sick? Hurt?

He read through the doctor's note.

You couldn't read his facial expressions. His eyes widened, and lowered, and a long sigh left his chest.

He rubbed his face in some sort of agony. This wasn't the reaction Mrs. Yang told you he'd have.

Your tears broke down your face like a dam as you looked at him. You were scared.

Jungwon finally spoke, "Why didn't you tell me?" His eyes searched yours. Your voice cracked as you confessed, "Because I'm scared to bring a baby into our lifestyle. I'm scared you'd leave. I'm scared I'd be a horrible Mom. I'm scared that the baby is going to be just as fucked up as I am and it'll be my fucking fault."

Jungwon pulled you into a tight hug. He had nothing to say. His heart was beating fast. But there was no sense of joy or excitement. 

That was until he took another deep breath, "I'm going to be a dad."

He pulled away and gave you the fattest kiss. "I- I can't believe this. I need to sit down."

He sat on the couch, genuinely smiling to himself.

You let him have a moment before he came back to you. "How far along are you?" You said, "Three weeks."

He smiled, "My mom already knows? Who else knows?" A huff left your chest. You didn't know you were holding that in. You were so terrified, and his reaction was so underwhelming.

Jungwon found your shoulder, and he looked you in the eyes. "Hey, it takes two people to have a baby. This isn't all on you."

You nodded, and he wiped the tear from your cheek.

He hugged you tightly, his arms wrapping over your neck and head. Your face was in his chest as you cried into it.

but as weeks slipped into months, the tension melted into something… cozier. late-night takeout on the couch turned into inside jokes, shared playlists for cooking dinners, long conversations that carried past midnight. you learned the way heeseung’s laugh filled the kitchen, the way his eyes softened when he listened to you talk about the smallest details of your day. he learned how you liked your coffee, that you hummed when you were focused, that you had a stubborn streak that matched his in the funniest arguments over board games.

slowly, the apartment stopped feeling like his and started feeling like yours. it was in the little things — the blanket you always left draped on the couch, his hoodie tossed over the back of your chair because you “stole” it one cold morning and never gave it back, the two of you brushing shoulders in the kitchen because you’d gotten used to moving around each other in the small space. weekends were filled with the comfort of shared silence, each of you doing your own thing but still sitting in the same room. sometimes, you’d glance up from your laptop to find him already looking at you, quickly averting his gaze with a sheepish smile.

there were moments that stuck more than others: the rainy evening you both stayed up building a pillow fort in the living room just because neither of you wanted to go outsider; the time heeseung stayed up late quizzing you for an exam, pretending to be a strict teacher but breaking into laughter every time you answered wrong; the night you came home tipsy, and he sat with you on the bathroom floor while you rambled nonsense, holding your hair back and laughing until you fell asleep against his shoulder.

the lines blurred slowly, without either of you saying anything. what had begun as convenience became comfort, and comfort began to feel suspiciously like something deeper — something neither of you were supposed to acknowledge. neither of you did. instead, you lived in the quiet, unspoken moments: the way his gaze lingered too long when you were dressed up to go out, or how your chest tightened whenever his hand brushed yours in passing.

somewhere in that blur of everyday moments, heeseung started to notice things about you he probably shouldn’t have, like how pretty you looked when the morning sun hit your face in the kitchen, how your laughter made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain. he didn’t mean to fall for you, but it happened slowly, inevitably.

it was in the quiet hours that it hit him hardest — when you padded down the hall in your slippers to say goodnight, or when he heard your soft singing drifting from the shower. even the most ordinary things began to feel extraordinary, simply because they belonged to you. he’d catch himself staring too long, memorizing the curve of your smile, the tilt of your head when you were teasing him. sometimes he’d have to go to his room just to cool down, gripping his sheets while clenching his jaw, knowing he was too far gone.

still, heeseung never said anything. you were almost his best friend now, his safe place, and risking that felt impossible. so he kept it quiet, locking away the longing every time you leaned against his chest during a movie or smiled at him like he was the only person in the room. instead, he let the feelings sit heavy in his chest, pretending they weren’t there even as they grew stronger with each passing day, waiting — hoping — for a moment when it might not feel so impossible to tell you.

and then one evening, in the middle of folding laundry together, you mentioned it casually — like it was nothing. “jay asked me out, so i think i’ll go on a date with him tomorrow.”

heeseung froze, shirt half-folded in his hands, the world tilting just slightly beneath his feet. he forced a smile, nodded, and said something supportive — he couldn’t even remember, because all he could hear was the pounding in his ears. you were going out with jay. one of his closest friends.

heeseung knew he should be happy for you, that he had no right to feel the tight coil of jealousy in his chest, but he couldn’t stop it. because the thought of you, dressed up and smiling for someone else — especially someone like jay, known for being a gentleman— made his heart ache in a way he didn’t know how to hide.

he found himself replaying your words long after the laundry was done, lying awake in bed while the image of you with jay dug under his skin. he imagined jay making you laugh the way he wanted to, jay leaning in close over dinner, jay walking you home with that easy charm he was known for. every scenario left a bitter taste in his mouth, jealousy curling in his gut.

he told himself it was selfish, that he had no claim over you. but the truth was cruelly simple: he wanted to be the one you chose. he wanted to be the reason you dressed up, the one who got to see your eyes light up, the one you said goodnight to at the door. instead, he was stuck pretending, playing the role of the supportive friend while inside, the thought of losing even a fraction of what you shared made him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

heeseung tried to go about the next day as if nothing had changed. he drank his coffee, scrolled aimlessly on his phone, even forced himself to laugh at something one of his friends sent him in the group chat. but underneath it all, there was a tension in him that wouldn’t let up, like he was holding his breath without realizing.

when the evening came, he couldn’t help but notice the way you disappeared into your room to get ready. the sound of hangers shifting in your closet, the faint hum of music, the click of your heels against the floor when you finally stepped out — every little detail made his chest tighten. you looked stunning, radiant in a way that made it impossible for him to look away. he managed a smile, told you that you looked nice, but the words felt hollow compared to what he wanted to say. you look perfect. please don’t go. stay with me instead.

hours dragged by after you left. heeseung sat on the couch with the tv playing some show he didn’t care about, his phone untouched on the coffee table. every time the door creaked in his imagination, every time he thought he heard footsteps in the hall, his heart jumped and sank all at once.

when you finally came back, it was late. heeseung heard the front door click open and his heart jumped before he could stop it. your heels clicked against the floor again, slower this time, your laughter soft as you slipped your shoes off by the door. you looked tired, a little flushed from the night, but your eyes were still bright. heeseung peeked out from the living room, pretending like he’d only just gotten up to grab some water.

“hey,” you said, voice warm, almost dreamy, as you dropped your shoes by the door. “didn’t think you’d still be up.

heeseung forced his lips into a small smile, clutching the remote tighter than necessary. “couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, eyes flicking from your face to the floor, then back again.

you crossed the room and sank down beside him on the couch, a little sigh leaving your chest. “it was fun,” you said, unprompted, leaning back against the cushions. “jay is… really easy to talk to. we went for dinner and then walked by the river for a while. i didn’t even realize how late it got until he dropped me off.”

heeseung’s stomach churned, but he nodded like it was nothing, like he wasn’t dying inside with every detail. “sounds nice,” he said, his voice steady even though his throat felt tight, the words he wanted to ask pressing at the back of it. did he make you laugh? did you like being with him? are you gonna see him again?

instead, he just gave a stiff smile and nodded. “glad you had a good time.”

you smiled at him. “yeah. i think we’re gonna go out again soon.” your tone was light, almost teasing, like you were letting him in on a secret.

heeseung’s chest ached. he wanted to ask why you were telling him this — why you looked at him with those bright eyes, why you leaned closer as if you wanted him to share in your excitement. part of him wanted to scream, to tell you not to go, to admit the jealousy eating him alive. but he couldn’t. he just hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on the tv though he couldn’t see a single thing on the screen.

you didn’t seem to notice his silence. you kept talking, recounting little details — how jay had opened doors for you, how he’d told a stupid joke that made you laugh harder than you expected. the way your eyes shined made it impossible for heeseung to look directly at you for too long. so he just listened, nodding when he had to, pretending he was fine.

you stretched your arms overhead, yawning. “i’m exhausted, though. think i’m just gonna shower and go to sleep.”

heeseung nodded again, looking away before you could notice the way his hands were clenched at his sides. “sleep well,” he murmured.

and when you finally walked outside the room, he stayed on the couch long after, staring at the screen, his heart pounding like he’d just lost something he never really had in the first place.

the week between your first and second date with jay felt like the longest of heeseung’s life. on the surface, everything looked the same — same routines, same late-night takeout, same easy talk in the kitchen while cooking dinner together. but underneath, nothing felt the same to him.

heeseung noticed it everywhere. the way your phone would light up more often than usual, and the soft smile tugging at your lips as you typed out quick replies, the way you hummed while brushing your hair in the morning, the way you seemed more restless at night, padding around the apartment with that little bounce in your step like you were carrying a secret you couldn’t wait to tell.

you weren’t flaunting it, you weren’t cruel, but heeseung noticed every single thing. he’d catch himself staring at you longer than usual, watching the way your expression softened whenever you mentioned jay’s name, and every time it felt like a small cut he couldn’t stop reopening.

inside, he was going insane. jealousy curled tight in his chest, leaving him restless. he hated how much he thought about it: you sitting across from jay again, laughing at the same kind of dumb jokes you always laughed at with him, leaning in close like you did when you wanted heeseung’s attention. he couldn’t stop picturing jay seeing the things he saw every day — the way you bit your lip when you were focused, the way your laugh spilled out, the way you looked when you first woke up.

he tried to act normal, to keep things easy between you. heeseung cracked jokes, asked about your day, shared playlists like always. but there were cracks in his façade. sometimes his replies came too short, his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes, or his laughter sounded forced. you seemed too caught up in your own quiet excitement to notice — or maybe you did, and you just didn’t press.

by the time the weekend rolled around and you mentioned casually that jay was picking you up again, heeseung felt the ground tilt beneath him just like it had the first time. he nodded, swallowed hard, and muttered something supportive. but as you disappeared into your room to get ready, he sat on the couch in silence, staring at his hands, wishing he could tell you the truth — that every day that week had been torture, that the thought of you going back out with jay again made his chest ache in ways he didn’t know how to explain.

the apartment felt unbearably quiet after you left. the click of the door shutting behind you lingered in the air, followed by the faint echo of your perfume, and then there was nothing but silence. heeseung sat there on the couch, staring at the wall, a heaviness pressing into his chest until he had to lean forward, elbows braced on his knees.

he thought about how everything had started — so small, so innocent, so… harmless. just two housemates sharing space, trading polite smiles in the kitchen, learning each other’s rhythms. he hadn’t even noticed it happening at first. he thought it was just comfort, familiarity, the natural closeness that came with living together. but somewhere along the way, that comfort shifted into something sharper, something that tugged at him every time you smiled, every time you laughed, every time you looked at him like he mattered.

heeseung closed his eyes, remembering the first moment he realized he was in trouble. it wasn’t anything dramatic — just you falling asleep on the couch during a movie, your head tipping onto his shoulder. he had frozen, too aware of the warmth of you pressed against him, too aware of how his heart was beating so hard it almost hurt. and when you stirred, murmuring his name so softly before settling back down, he’d felt something inside him tilt, like the ground shifting under his feet.

after that, it was impossible not to see it everywhere. the way you hummed while you cooked, the way you stole his clothes without asking, the way you teased him in that playful, easy way that made him grin no matter how bad his day had been. little things, all adding up until suddenly he couldn’t imagine a day without you in it.

and now you were out with jay. his friend. someone who got to see you dressed up, glowing with that spark of excitement in your eyes. someone who might reach across the table to hold your hand, who might kiss you at the end of the night. the thought made his chest tighten until it was hard to breathe.

he wanted to hate jay for it, but he couldn’t. jay was a good guy. funny, gentle, kind, thoughtful. you could do a lot worse. but that was what made it worse for heeseung, because jay wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just giving you the attention you deserved, and heeseung had no claim, no right to stop it.

his hands dragged down his face, frustration bubbling under his skin. when had he let himself get so gone for you? when had simple friendship turned into late-night yearning, into this ache that followed him everywhere?

heeseung leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. he thought about how easy it would’ve been to stop it early, to never let himself blur the line between friendship and something more. but it was too late now. he had fallen, quietly and completely, and no matter how much he told himself to move on, to bury it in the deepest place his mind could reach, the truth sat heavy in his chest.

he was in love with you.

and tonight, while you were out with jay, smiling and laughing the way he wished you only did for him, he was stuck here with the weight of it — knowing he couldn’t tell you, knowing he couldn’t stop it, and knowing it was already too late.

heeseung spent the next few days in a quiet, simmering tension. after your second date with jay, you hadn’t mentioned him again, hadn’t hinted at another date, and heeseung clung to that silence like a lifeline. he told himself it meant you weren’t interested anymore — that maybe, finally, the space between the two of you could shift into something more.

heeseung tried to be subtle at first, just little things here and there: lingering a second longer when he passed by you in the kitchen, offering to grab your coffee exactly the way you liked it, teasing you gently when you were stubborn about finishing a task. he smiled more than usual, let his jokes carry an extra warmth, a personal note meant only for you. his heart raced each time you laughed, each time your eyes lingered a second too long when he was talking.

heeseung even started leaving little notes for you in the fridge or on the table — funny reminders of things you’d said, tiny compliments about how good you looked, how incredible you were, how much he appreciated you. he called it playful encouragement, but it was more than that. every note, every joke, every small gesture was him trying to remind you of him, trying to make you feel the way he felt whenever he looked at you.

heeseung caught himself imagining scenarios in which he could steal more of your attention: movie nights on the couch, long walks through the neighborhood, lazy mornings when you both stayed in pajamas too long, and whispered conversations in the quiet of the apartment. he was building a world where it was just the two of you, carefully orchestrating little moments so that maybe, somehow, you’d notice him the way he noticed you.

but even as he schemed quietly, his chest tightened every time he thought of jay, of those dates, of the possibility that you might still want him. hope and fear tangled in a knot he couldn’t untie. heeseung told himself that he was doing this for you — that he just wanted to make you happy — but the truth he couldn’t speak even to himself was simpler and crueler: he wanted you, and he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else taking you away.

heeseung and you were sprawled across the bed, tangled in the kind of lazy, comfortable closeness that only comes from months of shared routines, laughter, and silly, private jokes. the sunlight slanting through the curtains painted soft patterns across the sheets and your skin, catching the glint in your eyes as you laughed at something dumb — something heeseung couldn’t even remember now, but that made his chest tighten.

your hair tumbled over his arm in a careless mess, and heeseung absentmindedly ran his fingers through it, feeling the strands slip between his fingertips. your hand found his chest, tracing idle patterns, fingertips ghosting over the muscles in a way that left him shivering even though the morning light was warm. for the first time in days, heeseung allowed himself to relax, letting his heartbeat slow just a little in the comfort of you pressed against him.

you rolled to face him, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead with a soft touch, and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. heeseung’s chest tightened again, a little painfully, a little beautifully, as his heart stumbled over itself.

“you’re ridiculous,” you teased, voice light and airy, full of warmth.

“you love it,” he murmured back, teasing too, though the tremor in his voice betrayed how high-strung he actually felt. you giggled.

“maybe a little,” you admitted, your head finding the curve of his shoulder again, the weight of you against him grounding him. heeseung closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself drink it in — the softness of your hair against his arm, the quiet sound of your breathing, the warmth that felt like it had been missing from his life for far too long.

he let himself imagine what it would be like if this were always how it was, if the two of you could just be like this every day: close, easy, intimate in a way that didn’t need words. he pictured lazy mornings together, quiet nights where the two of you shared headphones and playlists, whispered secrets in the kitchen, and fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms. he let himself breathe, really breathe, for the first time in days.

gathering courage, he tilted his head, eyes meeting yours, fingers threading into yours. “you know,” he whispered, voice soft, careful, “i really… i really like this. being here with you. like this.”

you smiled, squeezing his hand, and heeseung’s chest swelled with a strange, soaring kind of hope.

and then, casually, your voice cut through the room like a knife. “oh, by the way, i forgot to tell you… do you remember this italian restaurant i told you about? jay wanted to go too, so he made a reservation for us.”

heeseung froze, the hope inside him evaporating instantly, replaced with a sharp, hollow ache. his chest tightened painfully, and the air felt suddenly too thick. he could feel the blood drain from his face as he tried to process it, tried to slow the sudden racing of his heart. the bubble of comfort and warmth that had enveloped him just moments ago was gone, replaced with the bitter weight of heartbreak.

you hummed softly, unaware, brushing a hand across his arm as if nothing had happened. “but don’t worry, we’ll have our movie night today,” you added lightly, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder before shifting slightly to grab your phone from the sofa.

heeseung stayed frozen for a long moment, silent, the hurt making it hard to form words. he felt his stomach twist. he wanted to scream, to beg, to demand that you stop, that you notice how much he cared, how much he loved you, but he couldn’t. all he could do was swallow hard, his jaw tight, fingers curling around the fabric of the cushion. he felt helpless, the simple joy of your closeness now tainted by the knowledge that jay was going nowhere, that you wanted him.

heeseung’s mind raced, spinning through memories of your laughter, your soft touches, the way you leaned into him without thinking. every little thing now felt like a cruel reminder of what he couldn’t have. he clenched his fists, pressing them against his knees, forcing himself to stay still while your hand brushed against his arm.

his chest ached, and even as you leaned back against him heeseung couldn’t shake the weight of heartbreak pressing into his ribs. he had to hide it, pretend that he wasn’t burning inside, because he couldn’t risk scaring you, pushing you away, or letting you see the storm behind his eyes.

but beneath that careful exterior, the truth was undeniable. heeseung was in love with you, utterly and completely. and knowing that jay could still have a claim to your attention, even if it was small, was almost more than he could bear. he wanted to wrap you in his arms and never let go, wanted to tell you all the things he’d bottled up for months, wanted to make you see that the person you laughed with now, the person you trusted and leaned on, was the one who wanted to be by your side more than anything in the world.

heeseung let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. he stayed there as the quiet stretched on, letting the tension coil in his chest while you settled back into your comfort. and as the minutes ticked by, he realized that the ache wouldn’t fade anytime soon — not until he could tell you, not until you knew how much he cared, not until maybe, somehow, you saw him the way he saw you.

today, the apartment feels quieter than usual. sunlight streams through the blinds, casting stripes across the floor, but heeseung moves through the morning like a ghost — quiet, distant. every little sound you make — the clink of your mug, the rustle of the sheets — makes him glance up, chest tightening, as if each movement is a reminder that you’re real and not just a part of some daydream he keeps trapped in his head.

you notice it almost immediately. the way he lingers over his coffee cup, staring off into nothing, the way his shoulders slump a little more than normal, and how he avoids meeting your eyes even when you’re sitting right across from him.

“c’mon, smile a little more, it’s saturday!” you chirp, bouncing a little in your seat, hands resting on your knees. heeseung stiffens, swallowing, trying to force a casual grin, but it falters the second it reaches his lips.

you lean closer, tilting your head with a frown. “hey… seriously. what’s wrong? you’re acting weird.”

heeseung hesitates, heart hammering. he wants to tell you — wants to confess everything that’s been roiling in his chest — but the words catch in his throat. instead, he just shakes his head, forcing a smile he hopes looks convincing. “i’m fine. just… tired.”

you cross your arms, unconvinced, eyes narrowing playfully. “uh-huh. sure you are. you’re too fidgety to be tired. and you didn’t even laugh at that joke i made about the delivery guy spilling his coffee yesterday.”

heeseung swallows again, chuckling softly despite himself. “yeah, you got me. i’m… distracted, i guess.” the truth sits heavy in his chest: distracted by you, by your laugh, by how good you’ll look tonight. by the fact that jay is going to enjoy all of those things.

you lean back, brushing a strand of hair from your face, eyes studying him. “hm. you’re lying. something’s off. what is it?”

heeseung wants to speak, wants to explain that he’s jealous, that he’s aching to touch you, to keep you close, to make you see what’s in his heart — but he can’t. he just shakes his head, letting the silence fill the room instead, fingers drumming lightly against the table.

you heave a dramatic sigh, standing up from your chair. “whatever. i give up. you’re impossible sometimes,” you tease, though the frown lingers a little. “i’m going to hop in the shower before jay comes to pick me up. don’t be a stranger, okay?”

heeseung watches you move across the room, chest tightening as you disappear behind the bathroom door. the sound of running water reaches him almost immediately, and he closes his eyes, jaw tight, imagining how you’ll look, imagining the date ahead.

heeseung sits back down, silent, hands gripping his knees, heart hammering. he’s caught between wanting to tell you everything and knowing that he can’t — not yet, not ever. so instead, he waits, each splash of water a reminder that you’re out there, getting ready for someone else, while he’s stuck here, his feelings burning in his chest, unspoken, painfully real.

when he hars the click of the door, heeseung sits on the edge of the couch, trying to pretend he’s absorbed in his phone, but he can’t take his eyes off you. the moment you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around your hair, it’s like everything in the room sharpens.

“hee… heeseung?” you ask hesitantly, showing him the dress you put on. “is this too much?”

heeseung swallows, voice tight in his throat. “n-no… it looks… good.” he’s trying to be neutral, calm, but his stomach twists. good doesn’t even begin to cover it, he thinks. you’re stunning — stunning in a way that makes his chest ache, makes him want to reach out and touch you, make sure no one else does.

“really? i don’t know,” you say, twirling slowly in front of him. the short, cut-low dress clings to you in all the right places, accentuating every curve, and heeseung’s jaw tightens involuntarily. “does it… look okay?”

heeseung tries to blink, to shift focus, but the thought of jay seeing you like this sends a surge of jealousy straight through him. “it… it looks amazing,” he says finally, voice low, but he can feel heat rising to his cheeks. his hands clench into fists at his sides. amazing is still not strong enough.

you glance at him nervously, tugging at the hem, clearly seeking reassurance. “really? i don’t want it to be… too much, you know? i just want to look… nice.”

his throat tightens, heart hammering, and heeseung bites the inside of his cheek. he wants to tell you to stay, to take the dress off, to never go. he wants to grip your waist and pull you to him, to show you that you’re his — every curve, every inch, every smile belongs to him. instead, he swallows hard and nods, forcing his voice steady.

“it looks… perfect,” he says, trying to sound casual, but it comes out more strained than he intends. “you… you look incredible.”

you smile softly, clearly relieved, but heeseung sees the way you fidget slightly, tugging at your dress again. “are you sure? i mean… it’s short, and the neckline—ugh, i just want to look right.”

heeseung feels a sharp pang of jealousy, imagining jay seeing you like this. the thought makes him ache in ways he doesn’t want to admit. he wants to groan, pull you into his lap, press his hands against you, and remind you what he could do for you instead.

“hee… what’s wrong? are you… okay?” you ask gently, concern flickering across your face. your eyes are soft, worried, and heeseung wants to drown in them, wants to tell you how desperately he’s been holding himself back.

he clears his throat, voice low and rough, trying to steady himself. “i’m fine. just… don’t change. you look perfect as you are. i… i mean it.”

you nod slowly, taking a small step back, checking yourself in the mirror again. “okay… thanks. i just… i want to look nice for him, you know?”

heeseung’s chest twists painfully. for him. his hands clench again, and his jaw tightens. he wants to tell you that you don’t need to impress anyone else, that he’s been wanting you like this all along. but instead, he swallows the words, forcing a calm smile, even though inside, he’s burning, ache and lust twisting together.

“you look amazing,” he says finally, his voice just above a whisper, but firm. “he’s lucky. anyone would be.”

you smile again, finally seeming satisfied, and heeseung swallows hard, trying not to imagine anyone else touching you. the heat pooling low in his stomach is a dangerous reminder: he wants you. he wants you now. he wants to stop anyone else from seeing you the way he does.

he watches as you grab your clutch and keys, hair still damp but styled perfectly, your dress clinging just so, and every step toward the door is like a small blow to his chest. he wants to yell, to beg you to stay, to keep this beauty for himself, but he stays rooted to the couch, chest tight, hands trembling slightly.

“have fun,” he murmurs, voice low, and you wave before slipping out the door, leaving him staring after you, heart hammering, jealousy and longing clawing at him, desperate and frustrated.

heeseung drops onto his bed, chest tight, jaw aching from the effort of keeping his voice steady when he told you to have fun, of not throwing himself at you because of how good you looked. the heat between his legs is immediate, a mix of jealousy, desire, and the ache of loving you without being able to act on it.

his fingers tremble slightly as they brush against the waistband of his boxers. he hesitates, heart hammering, because this isn’t just about lust — it’s about you. every thought, every stroke is a mix of wanting you and imagining all the ways he could make you his, all the ways he could show you how much he loves you, how much he’s dreamed of having you all to himself.

heeseung presses a hand against his chest, closing his eyes for a moment, picturing you in that short cut-low dress. the curve of your legs, the way your hair fell around your face, your soft voice asking him for his opinion, completely unaware of the storm you stirred inside him. he can almost feel your skin against his, warm and soft, and his fingers move lower, the thought of being the one to touch you, to kiss every inch of you, sending shivers down his spine.

“you’d be mine,” he mutters under his breath, the words almost a prayer. “i’d make you feel so good… only you.”

his hand slides over the fabric, teasing through the thin material, imagining the way your soft skin would respond under his touch. heeseung pictures the curve of your hips pressed against him, lips on his in messy, desperate kisses, your hands clutching at him as he holds you close, his own voice rough with need.

he starts to move his hips against his hand, slow at first, teasing himself the way he wants to tease you. every thought of you — your laugh, your smile, your soft “is it too much?” — makes his movements more urgent, more desperate. he imagines whispering against your ear as he guides you through it, telling you how perfect you are, how good you make him feel just by being here, just by being his.

his chest rises and falls quickly as he imagines pressing you to the bed, soft moans spilling from your lips as he takes his time, not just fucking you but showing you what it means to be loved, to be cherished. his other hand tangles in his bed, gripping the sheets as his fantasy grows more vivid: holding you close, your chest against his, your warmth soaking into him while he whispers soft praises, promises that he’s been holding in for months.

heeseung can’t stop himself. the imagining, the desperation, it all builds until his movements grow faster, rougher, the ache between his legs almost unbearable. he hums low, throat tight, imagining your gasp, your soft cries, the way your body would respond to him, how easily he’d make you tremble under his touch.

“i want you so bad,” he whispers, almost choking on the words, fingers moving quicker, imagining slipping his hands under your dress, kissing you anywhere, everywhere, making you his in ways no one else could. “i’d take care of you… make you mine… only mine.”

heeseung leans back, face flushed, heart hammering, lost in the fantasy of having you pressed against him, soft, warm, trusting, moaning, his voice being the only one you’d hear. he imagines the quiet aftermath, holding you until you both drift into sleep, your breath soft against his skin, your fingers entwined in his.

and even as he reaches his orgasm, the thought of someone else — of jay — lingering in the same space he longs to occupy, adds a bitter edge to the pleasure. his heart aches with it, the love and the jealousy mixing so tightly that even as he comes, he feels empty, desperate for more.

heeseung collapses onto his pillow, chest heaving, flushed and messy, still imagining you there, still imagining how he would make you his, and silently promising himself that one day, he won’t have to imagine.

it’s way later than midnight and he’s staring at the ceiling, trying to convince himself to sleep, but every sound from outside makes his pulse spike. when he hears the apartment door click, he pricks up his ears. you’re home.

he’s been waiting, almost unconsciously, hoping you’d come back before he fell asleep — hoping to see you, even for a second, just to hear your laugh, your voice, to ask you how your date went. he sits up slowly, blankets pooling around his waist, heart hammering. he hears your footsteps on the hardwood, soft and tentative, the sound of you setting down your bag, maybe taking off your shoes. a small smile flickers across his face. relief washes over him for a split second as he pushes himself up slightly, about to call your name.

“hey… you’re back,” he murmurs softly, voice hoarse. he pictures your tired smile, and he feels his heart lift just imagining it.

but then—

voices. not his, not yours alone, another voice.

jay.

he freezes instantly, muscles tensing, stomach dropping. heeseung can’t see anything from the bedroom, but he can hear it clearly.

“so, can i… stay the night?” jay’s voice is smooth, casual, confident, and something about it makes a sharp pang stab through heeseung’s chest.

“i mean, i don’t know if… heeseung might be—” you start, hesitant, almost pleading.

and then a soft, unmistakable smack, a kiss. heeseung flinches, a sharp twist of jealousy shooting through him, chest tightening painfully.

“pretty please?” jay murmurs, and heeseung’s stomach knots.

heeseung sinks back into the pillows, face pressed against the sheets, heart hammering. he doesn’t move, doesn’t call out to you, doesn’t make a sound. he can’t. the ache in his chest pins him down.

soft laughter drifts into the bedroom. your voice, gentle, paired with the sound of jay leaning in, whispering something, close, intimate. heeseung feels every pang like a knife. the faint rustle of sheets reaches him too, and his chest twists tighter, imagining the worst. he’s convinced you’re in jay’s arms, that you’re kissing, that you’re probably — oh god. he shoves the thought away, but the image won’t stop, and the jealousy is sharp and raw.

heeseung’s hands curl into fists, jaw tight, knuckles pale. he wants to storm out, to confront you, to push jay out of your bedroom, of your house, but he doesn’t. he can’t. he can only lie there, feeling nauseous, imagining you pressed against someone else, wishing it was him.

he closes his eyes, chest rising and falling unevenly, trying to focus on the image of your smile, on anything that reminds him that you’re still you, that you’re still his. but even as you laugh quietly, he feels his own heart splintering. every giggle, every whisper, every soft shuffle of movement coming from your bedroom feels like a dagger.

and yet, beneath the heartbreak, beneath the jealousy, a sharp heat coils in his chest. it’s possessive, desperate, and it’s him. he wants you. he wants you here. he wants to be the one you run to, the one you trust, the one who makes you feel loved.

heeseung lies in bed, frozen between wanting to scream and wanting to pull you into his arms, wishing he could reach out, wishing he could undo the distance that’s formed between you and him tonight. the longing is burning him alive.

the sunlight slips in through the blinds when he finally drags himself out of a restless sleep. he blinks against the brightness, head heavy, chest still aching with the weight of last night. his room feels suffocating, the sheets tangled around his legs, his body tense from hours of tossing and turning.

he pulls himself up, raking a hand through his messy hair, and the apartment is already alive with faint noises — clinking in the kitchen, the muffled sound of the tv, your voice humming softly. he stops in the doorway of his room, heart clenching at the sound. you’re awake. of course you are. you always wake up earlier than him.

for a second, he almost lets himself smile, almost calls out to you the way he always does, but then it crashes back over him: jay. the memory of your whispered voice from last night, the quiet giggles, the muffled kisses. heeseung’s throat tightens, and instead of heading toward the kitchen, he drifts sluggishly, keeping his steps slow, hesitant, like if he moves too quickly, he’ll break all over again.

“morning,” you murmur when he finally appears in the doorway, spatula in hand, still in your sleep shorts and one of your oversized tees. you flash him that smile, the one that usually pulls an automatic grin out of him. but today, he can’t.

“morning,” he mutters, voice flat, and he heads straight for the fridge without looking at you.

you pause, eyebrows pulling together, watching him grab a bottle of water. “you’re up late, did you stay up gaming all night?” you tease lightly, testing the waters. usually, he’d quip something back, something stupid that makes you roll your eyes. this time, he just shrugs and leans against the counter, sipping his water without even glancing your way.

your stomach twists. “okay… what’s with you?”

“nothing,” he says too quickly, the edge in his tone sharper than he means it to be.

you blink, frowning, spatula tapping against the pan. “nothing? heeseung, you look like someone just killed your dog.”

he exhales through his nose, shoulders stiffening. “i’m just tired.”

you set the spatula down with a soft clatter and cross your arms, staring at him. “right. tired. so tired that you can’t even look at me when you talk?”

his jaw tightens, eyes fixed on the label of his water bottle. the silence stretches heavy between you, your confusion growing with each passing second.

“did i… do something?” you ask finally, irritation creeping into your voice. “because if i did, you could at least tell me instead of acting like i don’t exist.”

heeseung’s head snaps up then, guilt flashing across his face for just a moment before he shuts it down. “you didn’t do anything,” he says, softer this time, but it doesn’t feel convincing.

your patience thins, heat rising in your chest. “heeseung, you’re acting so weird. i’m standing here trying to talk to you, and you won’t even—” you cut yourself off with a frustrated huff, throwing your hands up. “ugh, fine. whatever. if you don’t wanna talk to me, then don’t.”

you turn back to the stove, your shoulders tense, your movements sharper than usual as you flip the eggs in the pan. the silence is deafening, and heeseung stands there, water bottle clutched too tightly, throat aching with words he can’t say.

he wants to tell you everything — how the thought of jay in your room all night made his chest hurt so bad he couldn’t breathe, how the idea of you smiling at someone else the way you smile at him makes him feel sick, how he’s been in love with you for months and doesn’t know how to stop.

but he doesn’t. he just stands there, distant and heavy, while you simmer with confusion and irritation, your back turned to him. it feels like the line between you two has shifted overnight, stretched thin and fragile, and he hates it. he hates himself for causing it. he hates jay for being here. he hates the ache in his chest that won’t let him act normal around you.

and still, he can’t bring himself to move closer. can’t bring himself to bridge the gap. so he stays there, silent, while you mutter under your breath and slam the spatula back down.

the morning drags. breakfast is quiet, the only sounds the scrape of your fork against the plate and the low hum of the tv in the background. you don’t look at him, and he doesn’t try to bridge the silence. his chest aches with every minute that passes, but he can’t force himself to be normal, not when the memory of jay’s laugh in your hallway still echoes in his ears.

when you finish eating, you stand abruptly and start stacking your dishes. “i’m going out for a bit,” you say flatly, not offering details like you usually do. no explanation, no soft smile. just clipped words.

heeseung glances up at you, guilt flashing in his eyes, but he only nods. “okay.”

you disappear into your room to change, and the slam of the door makes him flinch. he drops his fork onto his plate and presses his palms into his eyes, frustration bleeding through him. he knows he’s pushing you away, knows you’re angry, but what’s he supposed to say? hey, i’m acting cold because i can’t stand the thought of you with jay? because i want you so bad it hurts?

the day drifts on in fragments. heeseung spends most of it locked in his room, headphones on, trying to distract himself with music, with games, with anything that will pull his mind away from you. but he can’t help it — every time he remembers your laugh, he’s pulled right back into that ache.

when you finally come home in the afternoon, arms full of shopping bags, he peeks out of his room to see you kicking off your shoes. you look stunning, hair tousled from the wind, cheeks flushed. you glance up at him briefly, offering a small, tight smile that doesn’t reach your eyes before you head straight for your room.

he swallows hard, lingering in the hallway, wanting to knock on your door, to ask where you went, if you had fun. instead, he retreats again.

the hours drag. dinner passes the same way breakfast did — tense, quiet, your annoyance practically radiating off you. you scroll on your phone at the table, laughing softly at something on the screen, and heeseung feels a stab of jealousy twist in his chest. is it jay you’re texting? are you planning another night together?

he pushes food around his plate, appetite gone, and excuses himself early.

the evening hangs heavy. you’re sprawled on the couch, watching something on tv, when heeseung shuffles past with a glass of water. he hesitates, glances your way — your legs curled up, blanket pulled to your chest, eyes fixed on the screen. you don’t look at him. you don’t say anything.

he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. his throat closes up, and he retreats again, back to the safety of his room, back to the silence that feels like it’s crushing him from the inside.

lying in bed that night, heeseung stares at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds of the tv through the wall. he wonders if you’re waiting for a message from jay. wonders if you’re still thinking about why he is so distant.