If You'll Let Me
CHAPTER 2
Pairing → Jeon Wonwoo × Omega!Reader (Nabi)
Synopsis → She only wanted an alpha's signature. A law built to keep omegas dependent leaves Nabi with one impossible choice: marry a stranger Alpha so she can chase the career She'd dreamed of her entire life. It was supposed to be temporary. No courting. No love. Just paperwork. But somewhere between shared breakfasts, midnight talks and borrowed shirts that smell like home... pretending becomes the hardest part.
Tags → Omegaverse, Arranged Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Supreme Council!Wonwoo, CEO!Wonwoo, Green Flag Alpha, Artist!Omega Reader, Slow Burn (VERY), Domestic Fluff, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Political Drama, Omega Rights, Protective Wonwoo, Caring Wonwoo, Gentle Alpha, Competent Husband, "I'll Handle It", Acts of Service as Love Language, Scenting, Nesting, Sharing Clothes, Sleeping Together (literally), Emotional Healing, they Fall in Love Before They Admit It
Total WC → (250k+ god help me)
Warnings → MDNI, Omegaverse Dynamics, Heat/Rut Discussions, Injury, Hospital Scenes, Domestic Abuse (side characters), Emotional Manipulation by Society, Misogyny/Sexist Laws, Discrimination Against Omegas, Public Harassment, Physical Assault, Blood (minor), Political Themes, Anxiety, Crying, Emotional Slow Burn, Mutual Idiots in Love, Eventual Explicit Sexual Content , Excessive Husband Material Jeon Wonwoo
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Chapter 1
They exchanged a few messages that night. Nothing meaningful, nothing loaded.
This is Wonwoo. Just making sure this is the right number. Yes. It is. This is Nabi.
A pause. Thank you for dinner.
She stared at the screen for a long second before replying. Thank you too.
That was it.
No follow-up. No lingering conversation. No awkward attempt to soften what had been said or promise what hadn’t. The silence afterward felt deliberate, almost respectful nd it unsettled her more than if he’d pushed.
The next few days slipped back into routine with deceptive ease.
Classes. Studio hours. Coffee that tasted burnt no matter where she got it. Group critiques that left her buzzing with ideas and frustration in equal measure. On the surface, everything was normal. Underneath, her thoughts kept circling back to the same thing, like a tongue pressing against a sore tooth.
The internship. The authorization clause.
Him.
Her phone stayed face-down most of the time. She told herself she didn’t want to seem eager. That she refused to chase an alpha, any alpha, even one she’d approached first. That if this was really just a weak moment, she should let it fade.
Still, every night, she caught herself opening their message thread, rereading those three lines like they might rearrange themselves into meaning.
She didn’t text him.
Her rebellious streak, stubborn, prideful and deeply ingrained refused to let her be the one to reach out.
Then it happened on a Wednesday.
She was sitting with Seungkwan and two other omegas in the campus courtyard, half-listening as they complained about a professor who insisted on separating alphas and omegas during presentations “to minimize distractions.” A group a few tables away was louder, their conversation drifting easily across the space.
“…the Supreme Council has been doing so well lately,” someone said, reverent. “Especially with the tech sector reforms.”
“Did you hear about the youngest member?” another voice chimed in. “Jeong Wonwoo. He’s brilliant. An alpha from two alpha parents, too. They say he’s practically flawless.”
Nabi froze. Her fingers stilled around her cup.
“He’s so composed,” an omega continued dreamily. “Not like the others. Cold, but in a dignified way. And his company’s valuation? Insane. Honestly, if I were chosen by an alpha like that-”
The world narrowed.
Narrowed.
Jeong. Wonwoo.
Her heart began to pound, loud enough she was sure the people around her could hear it.
Slowly, she pulled out her phone and typed his name into the search bar.
Jeong Wonwoo Supreme Council.
The results loaded instantly.
The photo hit her first.
Same dark hair. Same unreadable eyes. Same calm, distant expression. Dressed impeccably, seated among older alphas who looked suddenly very small beside him. Youngest member in history, the headline read. Tech prodigy. Rising pillar of tradition and reform.
Her stomach dropped.
“Nabi?”
She blinked, realizing Seungkwan was staring at her. “You’ve been zoning out for, like, a full minute. Are you okay?”
She swallowed. “Yeah. Just- sorry. Got distracted.”
But she wasn’t okay.
Not even close.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. Lectures blurred together. Critique comments floated past her ears without sticking. All she could think about was the way she’d spoken that night, how casually, how sharply she’d criticized the Supreme Council. How she’d blamed them outright for systemic oppression. How she’d assumed the man across from her table was just another alpha playing by rules written in his favor.
She remembered his face then. Not offended. Not cold. Just… attentive.
Oh my god, she thought miserably. You didn’t just walk up to a random alpha. You walked up to him.
Shame curled tight in her chest.
He’d probably wanted a quiet dinner. Privacy. Distance from the very institution people projected onto him. And she had crashed into his space, dumped her grievances on the table, and then had the audacity to propose a marriage of convenience.
Twice now, she thought. You’ve embarrassed yourself twice.
Questions spiraled.
Why hadn’t he shut her down? Why hadn’t he corrected her? Why hadn’t he even hinted at who he was?
And worse, why hadn’t he used it?
A Supreme Council alpha could have silenced her with a sentence. Could have made her feel small, ignorant, inappropriate. He hadn’t even bristled.
By the time she returned to her dorm, her nerves were frayed raw.
Her phone chimed.
She stared at the screen for a long, unmoving minute.
Wonwoo: Hello, Nabi. I hope your week is going well. A pause. Wonwoo: I wanted to ask when you might be available to meet again. No pressure, only if you’re still comfortable.
No implications.
She exhaled slowly.
Nabi: This weekend works. Saturday or Sunday.
Wonwoo: Saturday then, if that suits you. I’ll send you the details.
That was it.
She locked her phone and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling of her dorm room. Her heart wasn’t racing. She wasn’t excited. She told herself that firmly. This was logistical, this was temporary.
She wasn’t dressing up for him.
Saturday came faster than she expected.
This time, Nabi didn’t overthink it.
She skipped the carefully curated outfits she’d agonized over last time and reached for what felt like herself: a short skirt, heels she loved because they made her legs ache in a satisfying way, and a loose hoodie that slipped off one shoulder no matter how many times she tugged it back up.
It earned her looks on the street, older women clicking their tongues softly, a few alphas glancing too long.
If this offended him, so be it.
She arrived early out of habit, only to find that he was already there.
Wonwoo stood when he saw her.
He was dressed much like the first time, an elegant suit, dark and impeccably tailored, posture straight without looking rigid. The contrast between them was stark: her casual defiance against his quiet polish.
He stepped forward and pulled out her chair before she could protest.
“Thank you,” she said reflexively, sitting.
He handed her a bouquet.
Nabi blinked.
Soft colors, muted blues and pale whites, something wild-looking woven through the arrangement.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he said calmly. “So I chose what reminded me of you.”
She stared down at the flowers, throat tightening unexpectedly.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
She hated the way the omega inside her preened, pleased and warm, and shoved the feeling aside as best she could.
They ordered. He didn’t even glance at prices, and she pointedly didn’t comment on that either.
For a moment, they simply ate.
Then he spoke.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Busy,” she replied honestly. “Final year does that to you.”
“Art deadlines?” he asked.
She glanced up, a little surprised he remembered. “Always.”
He nodded. “I imagine it requires discipline.”
That caught her off guard.
Most people said passion when they talked about art. Or emotion. Discipline felt… accurate.
The conversation unfolded easily after that. He asked about her projects. She asked, tentatively, about his company, not the Council. He answered without embellishment, speaking more about systems and business.
At some point, he set his fork down.
“Have you thought about how you want this to proceed?” he asked gently. “The marriage. The process.”
Her hand stilled.
A frown creased her brow.
“Before that,” she said carefully, “I need to ask something.”
He waited.
“Do you actually want a marriage?”
He tilted his head slightly. Clearly curious.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked.
“No,” she said quickly. “I just-” She paused, choosing her words. “I don’t have any guarantee that you’d still sign the papers after. Or that this wouldn’t become something else.”
She met his eyes, steady despite the tension in her chest.
“Every situation needs to be a win-win. And this…” She gestured vaguely between them. “This benefits me. I know that. You don’t really gain anything.”
He studied her for a long moment.
“What about your parents?” he asked instead. “If you’re comfortable sharing.”
She was startled, but not offended.
“That’s okay,” she said. “My dad died when I was sixteen. Illness. He was a beta.” Her voice softened slightly. “My mom died giving birth to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly.
She nodded once, then continued, more firmly.
“I want this to be on paper only. I won’t be bossed around. I don’t follow customs that belittle me. If others do by choice, that’s fine, but it’s not for me.”
She didn’t let herself hesitate.
“You’d be free to share your rut with whoever you want. If you ever wanted to mate someone else, we’d end it immediately. No drama. No claims.”
Silence.
“I like your honesty,” Wonwoo said.
She blinked.
“We can take this at your rhythm,” he continued. “Nothing more than what you agree to.”
Before she could stop herself, the question slipped out.
“Won’t the Supreme Council have an issue with one of their members skipping the courting process?”
His brow lifted.
A small smile tugged at his lips. “I thought you didn’t care what the Council thought.”
She rolled her eyes “I don’t.”
His quiet laugh surprised her.
It was soft. She had to fight the urge to smile back. Didn’t know why the urge was there at all.
He looked at her then, something gentler settled into his expression.
“Is there anything specific you want?” he asked. “Any preparations you’ve thought about?”
“I just want it quick,” she said. “Simple.”
“If you change your mind,” he replied, “you can call me.”
The word felt strange. Call. Not message. Not submit a request. Call.
She noticed it. Didn’t comment.
By the time dessert came, the weight in her chest had eased into something steadier.
“Do you need more time to think?” he asked as they stood.
“No,” she said. “I’m okay.”
“Then we’ll be moving in together,” he said, matter-of-fact.
She nodded. “That’s… probably the most normal part of this.”
“Would that accommodate you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, then paused. “Would it accommodate you?”
He smiled. “Of course.”
“Where would we live?” he asked.
She stared at him.
Oh. Right.
This man was loaded.
“I- uh,” she cleared her throat. “Anywhere is fine. As long as I have my own room.”
“If we’re doing this,” he said evenly, “I want you to be comfortable. It should feel like your space too.”
That strange feeling stirred again, warm, confusing, unwelcome.
She shrugged it off.
“I’ll tell you if anything comes to mind,” she said.
He nodded, content with that.
And as they parted ways, Nabi found herself thinking -against her will-that this arrangement felt far more dangerous than desperation ever had.
Nabi chose the park because it was anonymous. In the way public spaces could be when no one there knew your name, your face, or the shape of your life. It sat a few blocks away from campus, far enough that no familiar laughter or passing classmates would catch her in this moment. She didn’t know why that mattered so much, only that it did.
When Wonwoo texted her
When should I pick you up?
She stared at the message longer than necessary before replying.
I’ll be ready by 1 pm. I’ll send you my location.
She sent the pin for the park.
Now she sat on a wooden bench beneath a leafless tree, the cold seeping faintly through the fabric of her coat. She’d dressed carefully, though she told herself she hadn’t. A white dress, simple, clean lines, nothing ceremonial. A black, structured coat draped over her shoulders. Her hair curled softly, resting mid-back in loose waves she hadn’t bothered to pin up.
The big brown bag at her side ruined the image completely.
She didn’t care.
Inside it was her life, her sketchbook, pens, phone charger, lip balm... The sketchbook was already open on her lap, charcoal smudging the edge of the page as she absentmindedly drew the swings across from her.
They moved in the wind. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Her hand moved automatically, but her mind wasn’t there.
She felt… strange. Displaced. Like she’d stepped slightly outside herself and hadn’t quite figured out how to step back in. This was just paperwork, she reminded herself. A legal procedure. No bond. No promises she hadn’t already set boundaries around.
Still, her chest felt tight.
She was so focused on the page that she didn’t notice him at first, only the sudden presence of polished shoes entering her line of sight. Black. Shiny. Familiar in a way she hadn’t expected to feel so quickly.
She lifted her gaze.
Wonwoo stood there, close enough that she could see the faint crease between his brows, the calm set of his mouth. He didn’t wait for her to stand. Instead, he quietly sat beside her, close but not crowding, the bench dipping slightly under his weight.
“Hello, Nabi,” he said softly.
“Hi,” she replied, startled despite herself.
He was dressed impeccably, as always. A dark suit, tailored to perfection, coat buttoned neatly. He looked… steady. Grounded. Like this was just another part of his day.
He handed her a bouquet.
Again.
This one was different—pale whites and soft greens, delicate but full, the kind of arrangement that looked intentional without being ostentatious.
She stared at it for a second, then took it. “You didn’t have to.”
“I hope they're to your liking” he said.
They sat in silence for a moment. The swings creaked faintly in the distance.
“Should we… go?” she asked eventually, fingers tightening slightly around the sketchbook.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he replied.
She turned toward him then, really looked at him and her gaze caught on his hand.
The ring.
Simple. Elegant. Silver band. Already there.
“Oh,” she murmured before she could stop herself. “I- I don’t have one yet.”
She flushed faintly, embarrassed. “Is it okay if I get it later? I completely forgot.”
His composure cracked, just a little. A smile tugged at his lips, not mocking, not amused in a cruel way. Almost… fond.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Opened it. Inside lay a diamond ring. A brilliant stone set in a delicate band, light catching in its facets even under the muted winter sun.
Her breath hitched.
“I hoped you’d like it,” he said simply.
Warmth bloomed in her chest sudden, unexpected and unwelcome in its intensity. She didn’t trust her voice, so she didn’t say anything. Just reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and slipped the ring onto her hand.
It fit perfectly.
She looked away from him.
“It’ll be all right,” Wonwoo said quietly.
She glanced back.
His expression had changed. His gaze lingered on her face, like he was checking for cracks she hadn’t voiced.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.”
He stood, offering her space rather than a hand, and fell into step beside her as they walked toward the waiting car. He matched her pace effortlessly, not rushing, not slowing.
The drive was quiet.
The place they arrived at was discreet, no crowds, no ceremony halls. Just a private office, understated and clean, tucked away from the noise of the city.
Inside, a single man waited.
An older Beta. His presence was calm and grounding.
The papers were laid out. Signatures exchanged. Names written in ink that felt heavier than it should have.
Then the elder stepped closer.
Though this was a marriage without courting, without bond, tradition still brushed its fingers against the moment. The man placed one hand gently atop Wonwoo’s head, then Nabi’s, his touch warm and grounding.
He murmured prayers, soft words about unity, about shared paths, about peace.
Then he turned to Wonwoo.
“As the alpha,” he said, voice steady, “do you vow to protect, to care for, and to stand beside your omega?”
Wonwoo nodded once. “I do.”
He was facing Nabi when he said it.
She kept her gaze lowered, hands folded in her lap, bracing for the part she dreaded, the vows that reduced omegas to obedience and submission.
They never came.
Instead, the elder smiled.
“You are blessed,” he said. “You are husband and wife. May your mating be full of love and joy.”
Her head snapped up.
Wonwoo was already looking at her.
Not at the ring. Not at the papers.
At her.
His eyes searched her face, then settled, steady and sure, meeting her gaze without expectation or demand.
He reached for her hand, the one with the ring, and lifted it gently.
He didn’t kiss her lips.
He kissed her knuckles instead.
Soft. And Oh so respectful.
And for the first time since she’d sat on that park bench, Nabi felt the world shift, just enough to make her wonder what she’d truly stepped into.
