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Jake was born in the quietest corner of the estate the one with moss-covered brick walls, rusted laundry poles, and sun faded curtains swaying outside cramped dorm windows.
It was the corner where polished shoes never stepped, where whispers replaced orders, and where the smell of soap and ironed linen never quite left the air.
Jake didn’t mind. He grew up knowing little else, raised by soft hands that smelled of dishwater and warmth.
The small house the maids were given weren’t luxurious, but they were alive filled with laughter, woven lullabies, and shared dinners on the floor. He never lacked affection; in fact, he often had too much of it.
Auntie Min would pinch his cheeks every morning, Madam Lin smuggled sweet bread from the kitchen, and Yuna, the youngest maid, taught him how to braid her hair using old ribbons.
Still, even as a child, Jake could sense he didn’t fully belong. Not to the estate. Not to the world on the other side of the garden fence.
Minji had once belonged to that world—if only as a shadow. At eighteen, trembling and wide-eyed, she had stood in the grand marble foyer in front of an alpha, Heeseung’s father, pregnant and desperate.
“I’ll work,” she had begged him. “For free. Just… let me keep him. Please.”
Mr. Lee didn’t raise his voice. He never needed to. He simply stared down at her, lips curling as if the idea of a maid’s child entering his bloodline was a personal insult.
“You want to live here, raise your bastard son under my roof?”
Minji nodded, tears blurring her vision. “I’ll never ask for anything. He doesn’t have to be a Lee. He can stay with me in the dorms. Just… don’t take him away.”
The offer was insulting—but Minji’s quiet resolve was intriguing. And so, with a smirk, Mr. Lee agreed. On the condition that she worked without salary. Forever.
Jake didn’t know this story until much later. As a child, all he knew was that his mother smiled even when her hands were cracked from scrubbing.
That she kissed him goodnight even when her back ached.
That sometimes, she stood at the dorm window, staring at the moon with a sadness Jake didn’t understand.
Even before anyone told him what he was, Jake’s body knew.
He was soft in ways the world didn’t reward—skin that bruised easily, eyes that glistened too quickly, and a scent like milk and morning sunlight that clung to pillowcases and made even the grumpiest auntie sigh.
The other maids who were omegas in the dorm called it blooming—that quiet shift that happened during adolescence when his voice stayed soft while others cracked, when his wrists thinned out and his scent deepened with sugar and lavender.
No one needed to tell Jake he was an omega. The world told him every day, in its own quiet ways.
The head maid would make him stay indoors during his heats, pushing bowls of soup through the door like he was made of glass.
The betas in the laundry line would lift the heavier baskets for him without asking.
Even the butler alphas who rarely looked at the maids’ quarters at all would sometimes pause near the fence, noses twitching faintly, before shaking it off and walking faster.
Jake never used his designation like a weapon. If anything, he tried to fold it into the corners of his life, tidy and tucked like hospital corners on bedsheets.
He helped sew buttons onto old uniforms with careful, nimble fingers.
He had a way of sensing tension before it broke, smoothing it down with his presence alone.
It wasn’t just instinct. It was survival.
He moved gently, spoke gently, smiled even when he didn’t want to.
But even in his gentleness, there was no shame. Jake didn’t wish to be anything other than what he was.
An omega, yes—but one who still climbed trees to hang laundry faster, who raced barefoot through the estate when it rained, who had dreams folded under his pillow like letters never sent.
And sometimes—when the wind blew just right—he would look over the garden fence toward the manor.
Where Heeseung lived.
And Jake would wonder if anyone had ever told the golden heir of the estate that his scent, too, had started to linger.
His world was small but golden.
There were gardens to explore, ants to follow, and when he was lucky-Heeseung.
The older boy had eyes like sunlight through honey, a laugh that made the maids pause just to listen.
He lived in the main house, wore shoes Jake wasn't allowed to touch, and had a name everyone whispered with respect.
*
Even at five years old, he carried himself like he owned the garden he played in. Polished shoes, buttoned-up shirts, nannies trailing behind him.
Heeseung had always been an alpha, even as a child. He never needed to raise his voice to be heard—his presence alone commanded attention. Teachers praised his quiet confidence, and classmates naturally gravitated toward him, trusting his instincts without question.
There was a maturity in his gaze, a quiet strength in his actions. He didn’t dominate through force, but through certainty an unshakable presence as an alpha.
But to Jake, he was just the boy who pulled him behind hedges and whispered, “Let’s play treasure hunt.”
It was Heeseung who had taught him how to climb trees without scraping his knees.
Who shared his imported chocolate bars under the bench where they knew no one could see.
Who once gave him a band-aid with cartoon bears on it and said, “You don’t need to cry. You’re braver than me.”
No one knew about those afternoons. No one was supposed to. The rules were unspoken but firm—children of maids do not play with heirs. They do not sit on the same swings, do not share food, do not laugh like equals.
But Heeseung didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he didn’t understand what his last name as a Lee meant. At least, not yet.
Jake remembered one golden afternoon when the sun filtered through the leaves just right, and the two of them lay side by side in the grass, cheeks flushed from running.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Heeseung had asked, chin propped on his palm.
Jake had shouted a little too enthusiastically“I wanna be a vet!”
Heeseung laughed. “Why?”
Jake grinned. “So I can live with dogs and no people.”
Heeseung didn’t laugh at that. He turned to him instead and said, “Then I’ll be your first customer if I had a dog.”
They didn’t know then that childhood was temporary, and the world was waiting to remind them of it.
The first shift came when Heeseung’s father noticed Jake playing too often in the garden.
Minji was reprimanded. The dorm’s boundaries were reinforced. Jake was told—gently at first, then with cold finality—not to enter the main house. Not to talk to the family. Not to wander where he didn’t belong.
Heeseung stopped appearing in the garden. Or if he did, it was only briefly, surrounded by tutors or chauffeurs. Jake would catch glimpses—his friend in a crisp blazer now, hair combed, eyes sharper, less free. They never made eye contact again.
Jake learned to live with absence. He poured his energy into books, study, chores. He never asked his mother about Heeseung. He didn’t need to. The silence told him everything.
Years Later
By the time Jake turned sixteen, the dorms felt smaller, the laughter quieter. His mother’s health had begun to fade—nothing dramatic, just the wear of years spent kneeling, scrubbing, lifting more than her frame could carry.
Jake didn’t run barefoot anymore. His shoes were always clean, his shirts always neat. He kept his hair short and his voice softer in hallways. He studied in the corners where no one could see, sitting beside laundry baskets with a tattered textbook on his lap.
He was invisible by choice now. Polite, careful, just like what a omega was expected to be.
His only omega friends were Sunoo and Jungwon, both from upper-middle class, like most from the school.
Sunoo with his bright smile and too-loud laugh, Jungwon quiet and watchful like a cat waiting for danger. They were safe. They didn’t belong to the house that once gave him sunlight and then took it away.
And Heeseung?
He was everything Jake wasn’t. The alpha was tall, athletic, handsome and untouchable. He moved through the school corridors like a prince, always surrounded by his group of alphas - Jay and Sunghoon. His laughter echoed like a reminder of a past that never belonged to Jake in the first place.
They hadn’t spoken in years.
Jake didn’t expect they ever would again.
*
Until one quiet evening—broom in hand, dust swaying in the orange dusk—he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Hey, Jake,” it said. “Long time no see.”
Jake froze, the broom slipping from his hands. He turned slowly.
And there he was—Heeseung, older now, taller, sharper. But those same eyes. That same smile.
Jake opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Only a breath.
And something in his chest, long buried, began to stir.
They didn’t speak long that first evening. Just a few awkward lines.
Heeseung asked if Jake still liked books, and Jake, flustered, muttered something about having no time to read.
Then Heeseung had laughed quietly, gently as if nothing had changed at all.
The conversation lasted barely five minutes as Jake scurried away afraid someone would see them and he would be doomed.
Jake went to bed that night staring at the ceiling, wondering if he had imagined the whole thing.
But the next evening, Heeseung showed up again.
Same place near the back garden, where the concrete path met the line of wilted hedges. Jake was sweeping up leaves when he heard that familiar voice.
“You missed a spot.”
Heeseung leaned against the wall like he belonged there, like this was routine.
Jake blinked. “You’re here again?”
“I forgot how peaceful it is back here,” Heeseung replied, kicking at a fallen petal.
“No noise. No expectations.”
Jake didn’t answer. But he didn’t leave either.
And then it happened again.
And again.
Evenings bled into one another, and what started as coincidence became a quiet ritual.
Heeseung always found a reason to be near the garden around dusk. Jake always happened to still be cleaning
Somehow, their conversations hesitant and stilted at first began to stretch longer.
From simple updates on school to half-whispered stories about childhood, dreams, regrets.
Jake was cautious. Every part of him told him not to get too comfortable. That this wasn’t real. That boys like Heeseung didn’t return to the gardens of their youth.
But the alpha was patient. He never pushed. He just kept showing up.
“I forgot how funny you are,” Heeseung had said one night, grinning after Jake made a sarcastic remark about their school principal’s toupee.
Jake ducked his head. “You forgot a lot of things, huh?”
“Not everything,” Heeseung replied softly.
“Not you.”
Heeseung’s presence became a rhythm Jake couldn’t stop noticing. He had memorized the sound of Heeseung’s steps on gravel, the subtle rasp in his voice when he said his name. And it was always his real name now. Not “Jake.”
“Jaeyun.”
Heeseung said it like it belonged to him, slow and reverent, like it was something fragile he didn’t want to break. Jake didn’t correct him.
He never would.
On one particularly quiet night, Jake was kneeling beside a flower bed, trying to straighten a row of marigolds. His hands were covered in soil, his back ached, and his head throbbed slightly from forgetting to eat.
Heeseung arrived, watching from the garden steps with that usual unreadable expression.
“You shouldn’t be doing that alone,” he said.
Jake huffed softly, brushing hair out of his face. “Who else would?”
“You’re an omega,” Heeseung said without thinking. “You should be resting. You should have someone else to help you these soil bags are heavy,”
Heeseung reached out—slowly, carefully—and brushed a smudge of dirt from Jake’s cheek with his thumb.
Jake flinched, not from fear, but from something more dangerous: how badly he didn’t want to move away.
Heeseung’s scent lingered—warm, clean, and unmistakably alpha. Jake inhaled before he could stop himself, and his lashes fluttered.
It was the first time in a long while that someone had been close enough for his instincts to respond.
Heeseung noticed.
Something in his eyes softened. “You’re not alone, Jaeyun.”
Jake pulled back then, just a little, blinking fast. “Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.”
Heeseung didn’t.
He meant them more than anything.
*
The next few evenings passed with a new kind of tension between them not uncomfortable, but charged.
Every brush of their arms felt heavier.
Every silence crackled with things unsaid.
One night, Heeseung brought him warm buns from the main house kitchen.
“They’re fresh. I told the chef you were craving them.”
Jake’s cheeks flushed. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Heeseung leaned against the wall beside him.
“You looked like you needed something sweet.”
Jake stared at the buns, then back at him.
“Why are you doing this?”
Heeseung shrugged, gaze fixed on the night sky. “I don’t know how to say it without it sounding… too much.”
“Try.”
Heeseung turned, eyes dark and steady.
“Because when I see you, something in me settles. Like it’s right. Like it’s always been right.”
Jake’s throat tightened. His omega instincts responded before his mind did—heart racing, scent spiking slightly with warmth and confusion.
Heeseung’s nostrils flared. He caught it.
Jake backed up instantly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize,” Heeseung said gently, stepping forward just enough to close the space again. “I liked it.”
*
School was a different universe.
In the mornings, Jake kept his head down. Sat in the back row.
He shared most of his time with Sunoo and Jungwon, the only two people who didn’t treat him like wallpaper.
They ate lunch by the old lockers behind the music room, a quiet spot hidden from the popular crowd. Jake never said it aloud, but he liked it there—the way the wind rustled through the vents, the way Sunoo’s laugh drowned out his thoughts.
“Heeseung looked at you today,” Sunoo said one afternoon, voice sing-songy around a spoonful of strawberry yogurt.
Jake, chewing slowly on his rice, nearly choked.
“No, he didn’t.”
“He did,” Jungwon confirmed, flipping a page in his physics workbook.
“Twice, actually. Once in the hallway. Once during roll call.”
Sunoo wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe he likes you jakie,”
Jake went still.
He hadn’t told them about the late-night talks. The garden. The bread buns.
He didn’t know how. Heeseung at school was different—polished, surrounded, untouchable. And Jake? Jake was just… Jake.
“He was probably looking at someone behind me,” he muttered, poking at his egg.
“Or thinking about something else.”
Sunoo pouted.
“You’re too humble”
Jake tried to smile. But the truth was, he didn’t know what Heeseung was doing.
Because at school, Heeseung never approached him. Never said his name.
Never looked too long.
But Jake could feel it.
The glances. The pauses. The way Heeseung lingered by the classroom door just a moment too long before leaving.
How he sometimes trailed behind when Jake walked alone down the hall, close enough to feel but never close enough to touch.
It was a Thursday when everything tilted again.
Jake was helping the school librarian sort books—an extra task he picked up for pocket money—when Heeseung appeared in the doorway. Alone.
Jake stiffened, clutching a stack of novels to his chest. “Are you lost?”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Do I look lost?”
“Yes,” Jake muttered. “You’ve never been in here before.”
Heeseung stepped inside, the wood floor creaking beneath his expensive shoes. “I wanted to return this.” He held up a dog-eared poetry book.
“I borrowed it a while ago. Thought you’d approve.”
Jake blinked. “You read poetry?”
“I do now.”
Heeseung placed the book gently on the counter. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Jake kept his gaze lowered. His omega instincts prickled uneasily—something about being alone in this quiet room, with Heeseung’s scent brushing the edges of his control, felt dangerously intimate.
“Why do you pretend not to know me at school?” he asked quietly.
Heeseung exhaled. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Jake looked up, startled.
“You don’t exactly look thrilled when I get close,” Heeseung said, softer now. “I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”
Jake swallowed. “It’s not that I don’t want it. I just… I don’t know how to want it.”
That made Heeseung pause.
“I know what people think of me,” Jake added, voice thin. “I know what they think of omegas who try to reach above their level.”
Heeseung stepped closer, close enough that Jake had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes.
“Let them think what they want,”
Heeseung said. “I’m not afraid of their whispers.”
Jake’s fingers tightened around the books in his arms. “Maybe I am.”
That night, in the garden again, Jake said barely three words before Heeseung reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear.
Jake froze.
Heeseung didn’t withdraw.
“You’ve always looked better in the moonlight,” he said simply.
And that was the moment Jake realized his feelings weren’t just growing.
They were already in bloom—full and fragile, and far too dangerous to ignore.
*
After that moment in the library, everything changed—even though neither of them said so.
Jake noticed it first in the little things.
The way Heeseung began arriving at the garden earlier, just so Jake wouldn’t be alone in the dusk.
The way he started walking behind him after school—not close enough to draw attention, but near enough that Jake could feel his presence, like a quiet shield.
Heeseung never rushed him. Never asked for more than Jake could give.
He just showed up.
And for someone like Jake—an omega who had only ever been told to shrink, to endure, to stay out of the way—that kind of patience was disarming.
One evening, Jake sat cross-legged in the garden, a blanket spread beneath him. It was cooler now, the breeze tugging gently at his sleeves.
Heeseung had brought them hot milk tea from the estate kitchen, and Jake held his cup carefully, fingers brushing warmth into his palms.
“Do you ever wish we were born somewhere else?” Jake asked quietly.
Heeseung looked over, eyes thoughtful.
“Where?”
“Somewhere without all this.” Jake gestured vaguely. “No estates. No dorms. No titles. Maybe just boys next door,”
Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “Would I still get to know you?”
Jake blinked, startled. “What?”
“If we were just boys next door,” Heeseung said softly, “would you still let me in?”
Jake felt heat rise to his cheeks. He looked away. “You say things like that too easily.”
“Only to you.”
Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that held questions too fragile to speak aloud.
Jake clutched his cup tighter. “You shouldn’t want this,” he said eventually.
“You shouldn’t want me.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’ll ruin you.”
Heeseung turned, voice steady. “Then let it ruin me.”
Jake was shaking when he placed his cup down. Not visibly—but inside, everything trembled.
He hated how much he wanted this. Hated how much he wanted Heeseung to fight for him. To prove that this wasn’t just a passing infatuation. That Jake wasn’t just a fleeting softness in the middle of a chaotic life.
“Jaeyun,” Heeseung murmured, shifting closer, “I think about you all the time.”
Jake bit his lip.
“When I wake up. When I walk through the halls. When I sit in class pretending to care about math. You’re there.”
“Heeseung—”
“Even when I try not to think about you,” he went on, voice raw, “it doesn’t work. I’m already too far gone.”
Jake looked up sharply, eyes wide, lip trembling.
And that was when Heeseung reached for him. Slowly. Gently.
One hand touched Jake’s cheek, warm and careful, fingers brushing the faintest edge of a tear that had slipped down without permission.
Heeseung paused, eyes searching. Giving him time to pull away.
Jake didn’t.
He tilted his face into Heeseung’s hand, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for years.
Their foreheads pressed together first—hesitant, trembling.
And then, softly, almost questioningly—
Heeseung kissed him.
The kiss started off slow, until it turned into desparation, hunger
Heeseung grabbed the omega by the waist and pulled him close as Jake felt his hard cock rubbing against his ass.
He slowly kissed down Jake’s neck, and as he got down to the bottom, he used his tongue to lick his way back up.
The sudden bite near Jake’s scent gland sent shivers of pleasure down his spine and Jake pushed his hips into Heeseung a little more, grinding his ass against him with a soft moan.
"Good omega," Heeseung whispered
as he starts to reach up into the omega’s shirt and grabbed his small tits tightly for a second
"Take off all of your clothes . I want to see my omega completely naked."
He had a wicked grin across his face as he says this, knowing that Jake would feel humiliated to undress in public.
“B-but alpha we’re in public, w-what if someone sees,” Jake tried to argue but his actions were counterintuitive as he started removing his clothes in front of the watchful eyes of the alpha.
Heeseung was practically licking his lips at the sight before him, as his breathing got heavier as Jake removed his panties to reveal his pussy.
"Good omega. I know that was embarrassing, you did so well, I think you deserve a reward."
Jake could feel himself practically dripping from being so wet, as he whispered "Please, alpha please fuck me," which results in a pleased chuckle from Heeseung.
He pushed the omega onto the hard floor roughly and grabbed his legs, throwing them over his shoulders and starting to kiss up and down his pussy lips.
Jake was so sensitive and turned on at that point that it's almost torture to be teasing teased like that
He whimper at him a little but Heeseung doesn't respond with anything more than a grin.
Slowly he sticks out his tongue, going from the bottom of Jake’s slit up, up, up to the very top of his clit.
Over and over, so slowly and torturously .
Jake grabbed his hair and moaned out in frustration, following his lead, Heeseung wrapped his clit in his lips and started sucking.
Rolling his tongue and sucking at the omega’s clit, lightly at first as he slips two of his fingers inside Jake.
The second his fingers were fully inside his tongue started going faster and faster, as his fingers curl towards Jake’s g-spot.
Jake let out a small squeal and gripped his fingers into the alpha’s hair, trying not to squeeze his head too tightly between his legs.
With the intensity of his tongue and fingers rising, Jake could feel an orgasm climbing quickly. In between moans, he struggled to get the words out, “Hee, c-can I cum? I need to cum,”
As soon as he asked the question, the tongue inside him rolled faster and the fingers inside quickened.
Heeseung let out a “Mhmm” as a sign of approval.
It was a good thing he responded so fast too, because right after he said yes, Jake started squirting, hard.
Jake try not to moan out too loud as it was late at night, afraid to awake the other maids in the dorm nearby.
But what Jake didn’t know was that Heeseung doesn't stop once Jake’s orgasm hits, he keeps going even though he had hit the over-sensitive point.
Jake couldn’t help but cry out as the alpha continues ravaging his pussy, moving his hands grab at Heeseung’s hair. Within seconds, another orgasm had build up and he didn’t even have the time to ask for permission before cumming again, moaning out a loud and choked "A-alpha, please!"
"Jaeyunie is such a good omega, you came so hard."
Jake flushed with embarrassment, as he chewed on his lower lip.
Swiftly, Heeseung flipped Jake over onto his belly as he removed his clothes.
Leaning down over Jake as he slowly slips his cock inside, he whispered "You're my good little omega, aren't you?"
The feeling of his cock stretching and filling Jake up, mixed with what he said made his knees weak.
Every thrust inside goes a little bit harder, and as an orgasm builds up, Jake’s pussy tighten. "Rub your clit," Heeseung growled into his ear, pulling Jake’s head back by his hair.
As a complaint omega, Jake reached down and start rubbing his clit as the alpha fucked him faster.
"That's my good omega."
As Jake’s orgasm got closer his moans got louder as he tried to muffle them with his hands. Seeing this, Heeseung pulled his hands behind bis back, pinning them behind fucking Jake hard and fast.
After a few more thrusts like this, he finally pulled out cumming onto the omega’s back, sighing with content at the sight.
"You look like such a hot little mess for me. omega. God, I love that you're all fucking mine."
Heeseung fell onto Jake’s side on the floor, both of them breathing in and out deeply.
“I didn’t expect you to be so kinky,” Jake teased coming down from his post orgasm high.
“Only for my omega,” Heeseung said as he stood up, putting on his clothes and helping the omega who was unable to stand straight.
Afterwards, he carried Jake bridal style towards his room in the main house.
Tired, Jake’s eyes begged to shut close as his fingers clutched the edge of Heeseung’s bicep like he needed something to hold onto.
Being a gentleman, Heeseung cleaned a half-awake Jake up and before Jake knew it they were already cuddling in Heeseung’s bed.
“Is this a mistake?” he whispered.
Heeseung held him tighter. “No. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense.”
Jake felt a light peck on his temple before he drifted to sleep.