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filmbyjy · 10 months ago

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MISUNDERSTANDING

— the mafia series

PAIRING: nishimura riki x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you were never curious about people's lives but ni-ki's one has you intrigued. why weren't the teachers scolding him? getting mad at him for leaving in the middle class. it was just weird. that is until you find the very reason as to why the teachers were not doing anything. one thing led to another and somehow, you were roped into this mess.

WARNING: blood mentioned, fights and mafia, stabbing. if you remember the dark blood fight scene with sunghoon and ni-ki, you can imagine that but way more gory and also actually stabbing the person with an actual katana (not to sunghoon though, but to an actual bad guy)

WORD COUNT: 9.3K (I BEAT JAKE'S ONE?? WTH)

NOTE: lord have mercy, this took too much procrastination, sweat and tears to do finish this. like no joke. plus with the edition of me either forgetting to do it or me just having no mood to write. I FUCKING FINISHED IT!!! BE PROUD OF ME 🫵🏼🫵🏼🫵🏼🫵🏼

ONE

being a kid exposed to crimes at a young age wasn’t a peculiar thing. however, it was the life of a young boy who went by ni-ki. you see, ni-ki was one of the seven successful young billionaires in the world. his family name was already plastered to every billboard. the Nishimura Cooperation, they were one of the pillars to korea’s and japan’s success. any normal person would just look at them and acknowledge their power but what they didn’t know was…how did they get their power?

the nishimura family built their entire empire by doing dirty work which led to a huge money income. they bought their way up to the top and managed to gain countless of loyal followers. Eventually collaborating with the Park Corp. which was jay’s family company. Many were surprised to see that ni-ki was dabbling in a little of his family business because at the age of 18, nobody would willingly want to participate in business. The Nishimura Corp was mainly stationed in Japan so ni-ki handled the work done in Korea since he was already here.

as usual, as a teenager, ni-ki would be in school. however, he never studied nor did he care about his scores. why should he when is already a millionaire/billionaire at 18? he could easily buy his way through the system but his parents didn’t allow him. they wanted their son to get his certificate the right way. the same way his 2 other sisters were going through in Japan. ni-ki could only obey his parents’ words, they knew what was best for him. which leads into the female protagonist of his life story, you being his classmate.

ni-ki was like any normal teen boy. angsty, hates school and a little jokester who is always on the verge of getting detention. you had never understood why the teachers never actually sent the boy to detention, it was…weird.

“(name) and ni-ki.” the teacher announces. there was this project that you had for an English class, something about literature and poetry. you had to find some classical romance novel that fits the criteria. which you didn’t fully understand. honestly, you never even liked English class, the teacher just rubs you the wrong way. either way, ni-ki was now your project partner. you were already plotting different ways to approach him and actually get him to do his work. you weren’t oblivious to the fact that ni-ki rarely ever participates in school work.

“hi, we have to do a project together.” you timidly say after you approached him. The boy before you looked bored, seems like he doesn’t fancy English class too.

ni-ki sighs, “yeah, listen. I don’t really like English class so we should get this stupid project done and over with. i also have other important things to do.”

well, at least he was honest. you hummed at his words, “seems like we have something in common. let’s get this project done quickly then let’s meet in the library at 3pm?”

ni-ki shrugs, “alright then. if i’m late, don’t bother waiting for me. I have a pretty busy schedule and life so school and this project is the least of my worries.”

“no problem, just let me know if you can participate in this project. If you can't, I'll just do it by myself and slap your name somewhere on the paper.” you say. ni-ki tilts his head but he didn’t protest your suggestion.

“that will be great. Now, I need to run some errands.” he leaves the classroom, the teacher not even bothering to even ask where he was going. clearly, they were too used to him leaving the class in the middle of nowhere or maybe they knew something you didn’t.

“he is weird…” you mutter under your breath.

as expected, ni-ki did not show up at the library. you sighed and just continued working on the project. you weren’t exactly surprised he wouldn’t show up but you still hope he’d at least have some manners and actually show up. It was 5pm, you were finishing up on your part of the project. You still had to do his part and then come up with a short little poem because your teacher wanted to make it more sentimental or whatever she wanted.

ni-ki shows up, busted and bruised up. his hair was dishevelled, blood at the corner of his lips, he looked rough. something an 18 year old boy shouldn’t be having, you confused. just as he draws nearer, you notice there was a cut on his cheeks, small drips of blood slowly falling down. you gasp.

“sorry, had some business to attend to.” he says sheepishly.

“this is your business to attend to? why are you so bloodied and bruised up? who did you have a fight with?”

“just some group.” he shrugs. “don’t worry, my older friends were there to help me out. well, it’s not like they really helped.” he mutters the last part.

“uh, well this can’t be some sort of tiny thing. you’re bleeding.”

he reaches to touch his cheek and swipes the blood away. he winces a little and shrugs, “nothing too bad. been through worse. anyways, what’s the part I have to do? feeling a little bad if I don’t help you out a little at least.” you sighed when you noticed the blood he swiped away continued to flow.

“come here.” he tilts his head at your words but still goes over to you.

you made him sit next to you and you took out some antiseptic from your bag. you had one because you usually volunteered at the orphanage and the kids there played quite rough.

“this might sting a little.” you told ni-ki. he sighs and just lets you do whatever it is. you wiped the blood with a wet tissue and then placed the antiseptic on the cut. ni-ki winces.

“while i am curious as to how you got this since it looks like you had a huge fight, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” you placed a bandage on the cut. “there it’s better now. here take this and wipe the other blood that’s dried up on your face.”

ni-ki thanked you quietly. he quickly wipes the blood that you had previously pointed at. “so which part am I supposed to do? also, didn’t the teacher say we have to do a romance novel?” he grimaces at the thought of having to read a romance novel. he was never a fan of romantic things. Sure, he liked cheesy things like matching clothes or matching items but he was too single for that (and still young).

“yeah, it’s some romance novel. from the synopsis, i can tell it’s really similar to ‘Twilight’.” you could hear ni-ki sighing.

“so some vampire romantic novel thing?”

“basically. have you watched ‘Twilight’?”

“no. i don’t have time for movies or series or dramas. i have a busy schedule.”

“sounds…boring but i understand if you have a job and it’s more important than watching a basic show.”

“i-” ni-ki sighs. “we can watch it. well, i can watch it on my own and then read the novel the teacher suggested us to read.”

“alright, we can split it and then summarise the novel with our own thoughts. makes it more sentimental.”

ni-ki nods, “uhh send me a link to the ‘Twilight’ story or something.”

“i don’t have your number.”

ni-ki holds his hand out and you gave him your phone. he quickly types in his number and sends a text.

“there, now i need to go. i have work.” ni-ki doesn’t even bother to wait until you uttered a word, he just leaves. you huffed and looked down at your laptop. maybe you should just stay and complete some work.

TWO

ni-ki entered the Decelis Resort and clicked on the elevator button to the top floor. he was met with his 6 other older friends. each of them huffing and sighing, it seems like they found out something.

“uh, what’s wrong?”

“this.” jungwon shows off the screen on their database. a warning which was basically telling jake about his brother. ni-ki tilts his head.

“isn’t your brother dead a long time ago, hyung?” ni-ki asks jake.

“yeah.” nabi says. her arms were wrapped around jake as she comforts him. right, he forgot they got together already and they aren’t blindly being stupid and not confessing to each other (read: please save ni-ki, he already witnessed two of his hyungs kissing their girlfriend/wife).

ni-ki scrunches his face at the affection that jake’s girlfriend was giving him. just as he looks to look over in the other direction, he witnesses heeseung giving his wife heart eyes. ni-ki has had enough of it, he rolls his eyes.

“why did you call me in, i had a project to do with my partner.” he says.

“oooo project with a partner, who is this partner. is it a girl~” sunghoon teases. ah, the ever so annoying thing sunghoon loved to do with ni-ki, tease him. sunghoon should be thankful that ni-ki could hold back his anger. or else, ni-ki would’ve initiated a war crime on him.

“none.” ni-ki simply says. he folds his arm.

“none what?” sunghoon tilts his head, slightly confused at the short answer.

“none of your business.” ni-ki fires back. sunghoon clenches his jaw and gets ready to swing when jay holds him back. sunghoon practically hisses like a cat as he scrambles to get out of jay’s grip.

“okay okay. calm down.” heeseung claps his hand to get their attention. “we called you back here because while jungwon and jake fix the database, you, sunghoon, jay and sunoo are going out to find the target.”

“old school style?” sunoo asks.

“yeah. since our database is fucked up right now.”

“so…how are we going to do that without the database?” sunghoon asks.

“stakeout. you guys should know what he looks like after i send the photo of him. sunoo and jay will be in charge of ground level. ni-ki and sunghoon take high ground.” heeseung explains.

“what about you, hyung?” jay says.

heeseung turns to look over at his wife and the older boys instantly knew. ni-ki was still clueless until he realised…

“OH MY GOD EWWWW. can’t you leave the baby making for another time? we are literally on a mission.” ni-ki fake gags.

“you guys are on a mission. i can stay back.” heeseung reasons.

“you can fight too, hyung??”

“yeah, no. I wanna stick with my wife, thank you very much.”

“whatever, let’s just start this mission. I’ll just take charge as usual.” jungwon says.

THREE

ni-ki and sunghoon stayed up above while jay and sunoo stuck below. each of them had their own disguises since they were going in old school style. even if it sounded ridiculous but at least nobody would know it’s them.

“you guys going in now?” sunghoon asks.

“yeah, me and sunoo are going in separately to avoid any suspicions.”

“jake hyung says that they are working on getting the app online. if we find the guy without the app then we just strike and kidnap.” sunoo says.

“hyungs, you two are the only ones who have eyes inside. let us know if you need more help, me and sunghoon hyung will come down and help you.” ni-ki says.

“mmm, will do. you guys watch out from upstairs if the client left the building.” jay says.

“got it.”

both ni-ki and sunghoon watched from above the building. what they didn’t expect was for someone to come up behind them and shove them off the side. ni-ki grabbed sunghoon and pushed him closer towards the side of the building’s wall so that sunghoon could catch himself. ni-ki grabs his grappling hook and throws it so sunghoon can catch it. Both of them were eventually ‘safe’ on the side of the building.

“shit, they’re onto us.” sunghoon curses. “you good, ni-ki?”

“yeah, sure. dangling about 656 ft above the ground is totally fine, hyung.” ni-ki sarcastically says. sunghoon rolls his eyes.

“i can just let go of the rope and let you fall, you know?”

“you wouldn’t, hyung. you love me too much in a brotherly way.” ni-ki says.

sunghoon sighs, “yeah whatever.”

“we should find a way back up. those assholes decided to shove us off.” ni-ki says.

“yeah, we should.”

sunghoon taps on his spy earpiece, “heads up guys, I think they’re onto to us. Me and ni-ki just got shoved off the rooftop.”

“so you guys are just dangling at the side of the building?” jay asks.

“yeah, we need to clear the way. sunoo, could you find a way to floor 76? we’re currently dangling beside one of those hotel rooms on that floor. i think someone is occupying this room though.” sunghoon says.

“don’t worry, i’m on my way right now. they don’t call me sneaky sunoo for no reason.”

“nobody calls you that, hyung.”

“shut up, ni-ki.”

“i’ll keep a look out for the mafia leader. he’s probably in the party they have in the small casino of the hotel.” jay says.

“alright, seems like this is the plan we have for now. we’ll meet up after sunoo saves us.” sunghoon adds.

“roger.”

the wind blew onto their hair, ni-ki sighs.

“is it too late to tell my project partner that i won’t be coming to school tomorrow.” ni-ki asks.

“you’re still worried about your project?! we’re dangling off the side of like one of the tallest skyscrapers right now and you’re worried about that?!” sunghoon says as he is bewildered by ni-ki’s words.

“well, i’m still a high school student. i don’t want to fail my classes.”

“when have you ever cared about school.” sunghoon deadpans. ni-ki was about to counter but ultimately shut his mouth.

“you’re right. i hate school.” ni-ki huffs.

“no no wait. we’re not stopping there, tell me why are you suddenly thinking about this? is this about your project partner? because this is my first time hearing you actually want to go to school.”

“no.” ni-ki simply replies.

“don’t just say ‘no’. there is something more to that. are you falling for your project partner?”

“you’re crazy, why would i fall for my project partner. i’m only a high school senior, i’m too young to be falling in love. i’d rather focus on our mission than her.”

“ah, so it’s a her.” sunghoon egged further. though ni-ki couldn’t see sunghoon face, he knew the older was smirking at him, seemingly amused that ni-ki was actually showing some slight unknown feelings.

“the teacher assigned us together, we’re forced to do it. it’s not like i wanted to do this project with her.”

“okay but is this girl at least cute to you?”

“hyung, can we not talk about this?”

“no no. we have time. there are at least 10 rooms on this floor, sunoo will take a long time. tell me if this girl is your type.”

“i am not telling you and also, i don’t have a type.” ni-ki grumbles.

“so, it’s a yes?”

“i’m just talking to her because i am forced to.”

“does she intrigue you in any way?”

“hyung-”

“yo, i am here to save the day.” sunoo opens up the window just enough so that sunghoon and ni-ki could slid through.

both sunghoon and ni-ki climbed through the window quietly.

“how did you get inside the room?” sunghoon whispers.

“simple, the room was occupied by some girls so i just used my sunoo charms and boom they let me in. i told them i’ll be back soon but i’m gonna bolt out of this room after grabbing you guys.”

“the girls don’t appeal to you?”

“oh no, they are just…how do i put this in a nicer term?” sunoo thinks for a split second, “they are way older than me, about 40 years old?”

“ayo?” ni-ki says.

“anyways, we need to get out of here chop chop. i was informed that the system and database is back so we don’t need to stakeout. we can just find and capture the guy with a simple call for backup.” sunoo says.

“great. now, let’s get out of here.”

sunghoon, sunoo and ni-ki snuck out of the hotel room and went to find jay. jay gestures for them to come closer and they went over to him.

he nudges his head to point where the guy stood, “our target is being surrounded by some other innocent people and his bodyguards. we need to find a way to bring them around and away from these people.”

“did you call for backup?” sunghoon asks.

“yeah, they are on the way now. they’ll just clean up whatever mess we’ve done.” jay explains.

“hey umm, guys.” jake says.

“what’s wrong?” sunghoon asks.

“we can see from the security cameras some bodyguards walking to the casino hall. jungwon had eavesdropped into their convo from their walkie talkie. it seems like they’re going to report about sunghoon and ni-ki.”

“shit, we really need to take them down. jay, how about you proceed with sunoo and play a round with our target while me and ni-ki take down those guards.”

“yeah, that works.” jay says.

“perfect, we’ll watch over the security cameras. we’ll report if there is anything else. jay, your men are about 10 minutes away from the location, they’ll come closer after the deal is done.” jake says.

“got it.”

“so? can we go now?” ni-ki asks.

“yeah, let’s go.” sunghoon says.

about 1 hour later, they managed to kick down their bodyguards with no suspicions from other bypassers. both ni-ki and sunghoon locked their unconscious bodies inside the bathroom stall and went to find jay and sunoo. jay flips the coin and it lands on heads, he smirks. he cracks his knuckles and neck.

“showtime.” he mutters.

chaos quickly ensues. everyone was running out of the casino, jay flips his gun and shoots. sunoo slides towards the entrance of the casino and allows all the innocent people out before cooly shutting the doors for all the bad guys. he puts his hands up once he turns around when the henchmen were holding up their guns at him.

“ehem, i suppose you guys have me cornered.” he innocently says. “i suggest you turn around though.” he smirks.

before the henchmen could even turn around, their necks were snapped and they fell to the ground. sunghoon and ni-ki managed to run in time just to help them fight off with jay’s men. ni-ki corners their target in one spot.

“hand over what we want and we’ll let you free.”

the guy laughs maniacally and ni-ki laughs along with him, “no.”

ni-ki stops laughing, “okay then.” with one simple shot, the guy falls to the ground, blood surrounding him. sunghoon winces.

“i can never get over this scene. you’re so brutal and direct with it like no hesitation. at least jay waits for the guy to say something.”

“we don’t wait for people like him and besides, what good is he going to bring us when all he has done is sell personal information, drugs and solicit women.” ni-ki says.

“ni-ki is right though.” jay shrugs. he turns to his men, “anyways, let’s clean this up before police get here. which should be in 15 minutes.”

“10 minutes.” jake corrects them.

“okay thanks.” jay says.

jay pats one of his men's backs, “there isn’t much people this time so it should be easier.”

“there are a few unconscious people in the bathroom. maybe we can use them and turn them into our men.” sunghoon suggests.

“good idea, you heard sunghoon.” jay says. jay’s men nod, they get to work and went to clean up everything while sunghoon, jay, sunoo and ni-ki went back to the Decelis Resort.

FOUR

ni-ki went to school the next day after not getting much sleep. he was barely awake during the whole class, almost dozing off. it’s not like the teachers cared anyways. well, except for you. you had whacked the table to get ni-ki to wake up. he groans and wakes up.

“nishimura, we need to finish up the last bit of the project.”

“do we have to? i’m tired.”

“yes, we do.”

he sighs, “fine but can we do it after school?”

“we have consultations with the teacher right now and we barely have any work done other than my part.” you told ni-ki.

ni-ki deadpans. “and? look, i barely got any sleep last night due to some things in my life and i want to sleep right now.”

ni-ki almost looked too pitiful, you could see the dark circles under his eyes. the way his eyes were slowly about to shut. the slow blinking. which made you feel bad and so you sighed.

“fine, just sleep. i’ll find a way to cover you from the teacher if he asks.” you say.

ni-ki tilts his head. he was surprised to even hear that you’d cover for him. it’s not like the teacher cared so why did you care? either ways, at least he could sleep so he lays his head onto the desk and falls asleep. you sighed and turned away from looking at him. you still had to do something with the project hence you just continued to work on it without him.

about 2 hours later, the class ends. something was off, really eerie. you had went to the bathroom because you know, you had some business to attend to. you were about to turn the corner to the classroom when all of a sudden, someone bumped into you. you apologise but something was weird about them. they didn’t look like a high school student so why were they here?

ni-ki spots this and so he runs over and grabs your wrist. he doesn’t even mention anything, just grabs your wrist and walks. it leaves you confused as to who that guy was. ni-ki turns the corner and stops.

“get to class,” he says.

“umm, who was that?”

“just get to class. i need to settle something. don’t leave and make sure everyone stays inside.” he warns.

“okay?” you say a little confused. ni-ki grabs your shoulder and turns you around before pushing you a little to direct you to go inside the class. he runs off after. you were still confused.

after school, you still hadn’t seen ni-ki and so you were a little worried. of course, any sane person would be worried for their classmate after they disappeared without a trace. which led to you looking for him. not a very smart idea but what could an 18 year old boy do? he may or not be strong enough to fight some people.

there was an alleyway behind the school. dark and scary. you had to pass by it every time you went home. maybe, they were hurting him behind there. it was possible. you had turned to the corner and ducked behind the wall. there ni-ki was with a foot on top of the guy, it seemed like he was on the phone with someone.

“hyung, can you get here quick? this guy called for some backup.” ni-ki sighs. “you want me to settle with possibly 10 more men coming over? wow, for once you aren’t doubting my skills? i’m surprised.”

“no seriously though, find out why they went to find me at my school. this place is filled with innocent people and it would not be great for them to be caught in the middle.”

“no, the guy is knocked out. may want to interview him or something. he seems like he knows some useful info.” he pauses. “i am not carrying him, i’ll look too suspicious and besides, i have a project to work on with my partner.”

your heart races as you hear his words. wait. that makes no sense, you can’t like ni-ki. you shook your head. it was probably just the adrenaline, there were other things that were more important. who was ni-ki calling and why did he sound like he was on some creepy team. what do they call those people.

“what? obviously! we’re the mafia!” ni-ki says.

ah, right. the mafia. that thought flies over your head until you kept repeating it, you froze. ni-ki was part of the mafia? that explains the cuts and bruises he constantly has. why he rarely gets any sleep. why the teacher does not care. he was part of the mafia and the teachers knew about it. this new found knowledge changes your whole perspective of ni-ki. he was not weird, he was in fact a dangerous person who was living a very wild life.

“okay, get here quick.” ni-ki says before ending the call. you had ran away from there. your legs were dragging you somewhere where you had to process everything and maybe get your mind off it. how do you continue working on your project knowing your partner was part of the mafia?

you had finally sat down in the school library. you were trying to comprehend everything. all you knew was that you can’t let anyone know about this and ni-ki can’t know that you know about him. what if you get hunted down? or what if ni-ki tries to hurt you? you could feel a cold shiver run down your spine, your life may be mundane but there was no way this was real. it felt surreal, this was real life and not a spy movie.

there were footsteps approaching you, a deep voice followed by it.

“hey, we still have to complete our project. we should get it done and over with. i have about.” he checks his watch. “30 minutes or so to spend.”

“we don’t have to do it. if you’re busy, we can just text.” you say. ni-ki tilts his head, he grabs the chair in front of you and sits.

“why do you look so scared to talk to me?” his eyes narrowed. you visibly gulped.

“what do you mean? why would i be scared to talk to you.”

ni-ki didn’t believe you, he leans forward. your breath hitches. his face up close, a strand of his brown hair falling right on his face. he once again tilts his head. “tell me.”

you felt the air being knocked out of you. you can’t look at him in the eyes. your face was heating up, this wasn’t good. “no. i’m really fine.”

ni-ki cocks his eyebrows and clicks his tongue, “then you should have time to do this project. we wasted too much time already.” he finally sits back in his seat, leaving you to able to breathe. his phone rings and rolls his eyes, he doesn’t pick it up.

“so what do we have so far?” ni-ki says.

30 minutes turned into 4 hours where you were working on the project with ni-ki. he cooperated really easily. he does the research and everything you ask him to do with ease.

“nishimura riki.” an unfamiliar voice says. you had looked up a guy with silver hair was standing there.

“hyung, what are you doing here?” ni-ki says not bothering to look behind him as he continues to work on the project.

“we called you hundreds of times and you’re here in the fucking library doing school work?”

“it’s a project. it’s due soon.”

“last i heard, it was due in a week.”

“and? me and my partner haven’t done much.”

“oh my god, this is the first time you’re acting like this. is it because you like her?” the silver haired guy points over at you. you blushed. ni-ki looks up at you and then behind him.

“no. sunghoon hyung, you always assume it’s something else.”

“yeah but you hate school.”

“i’ll go back in a bit. just leave.”

the man named sunghoon glares at ni-ki and then looks over at you.

“you have to be careful, remember. they watch our every move.” sunghoon warns.

“yes, i know hyung.”

“i’ll wait in the parking lot. finish this up because we have somewhere to be.” sunghoon says before he walks away. ni-ki sighs.

“is he your guardian?”

“one of them. my parents live abroad, i have 6 other ‘brothers’ who take care of me.” ni-ki nonchalantly says.

“oh.” you would’ve said more but you didn’t want to mention ni-ki's secret life. it was scary.

“i’ll just complete this last part and then we’re done. i believe that’s what we have to do for the project.” you hummed at his words.

ni-ki does as he said he would, finish up the last part and then packs his stuff. he gets up and pauses. “get home safe.” he says before quickly leaving. your heart races.

FIVE

2 weeks passed by quickly. it was just like any typical day at school, lessons for the day and then walking back home. you had walked past that dark creepy alleyway when suddenly, a few people had grabbed you. you were struggling in their grasp, fighting your way out of their arms. you kicked and bit their hands, finally they let go and so you did what was best, you had bolted away from them.

you grabbed your phone and dialed for ni-ki. the phone rings and rings as you ran but he wasn’t picking up. frustrated tears fell down your face. you hated feeling helpless, you weren’t strong enough and these people were fully grown adults. you needed help. out of nowhere, someone grabs your wrist. it was sunghoon, he pulls you over to one of the stores at the side of the road and then went through the staff room before going through the back door.

a van was waiting there. sunghoon opens the door and pushes you inside, he shuts the door and the driver starts driving away. you were panting heavily, you were also sure you’d get a bruise on your legs from being pushed into the van. ni-ki pulls you up so you could sit down properly. he places a jacket on your lap to cover your legs since you were wearing your school skirt. he also unintentionally brings your face closer so he could further inspect you for any bruises on your face.

“are you really sure you don’t have feelings for her?” sunghoon says. ni-ki rolls his eyes before dropping his hands to his side.

“can’t i just be concerned for a classmate who literally got chased by some bad guys? any normal person wouldn’t have to go through this if they didn’t interact with us.”

“yeah, whatever but there is something laced under your actions. what normal guy will hold her face like that? you look like you’re going to kiss her.” sunghoon mentions.

ni-ki’s face was stone cold, he definitely did not like that statement.

“do you really have to say that? I’m seriously just showing concern for a classmate.” ni-ki deadpans. you were staring in between both sunghoon and ni-ki, you didn’t even notice the other guys that were staring at you in confusion.

“so, what are going to do now? it seems like those guys think ni-ki has a love interest which means it’s only going to get worse from here on out.” a blond hair guy comments.

ni-ki sighs, “we need a way to distract them, i am sure her parents are going to be targeted next.”

“my parents…they umm aren’t present in my life…” it went dead silent.

“well, that’s good at least. we don’t have to worry about more people getting hurt-” sunghoon gets whacked by a guy with blond streaks in his hair.

“do you have any sense of awareness? she’s only 18 with no parents and you are thankful we don’t have extra people to get hurt??” the guy with blond streaks in his hair comments.

“it’s alright. i don’t exactly remember my parents much. i was really young.”

“so you’ve been living with your grandparents or something?” the guy blond hair adds.

“yeah. pretty much my whole life- hey, wait how did you know?” you had pointed out.

“idiots.” the guy with blond streak mutters under his breath. he holds out his hand for you to shake. “i’m jay. that idiot over there is jake.” he points to sunghoon, “the other idiot is sunghoon. i’m sorry for their stupidity. they clearly don’t know how to empathise with people.”

“it’s alright.”

“we’re here.”

“oh, right. that’s sunoo.” jay pats sunoo’s shoulder. sunoo playfully rolls his eyes before turning to look at you.

he gives you a smile, “nice to meet you, ni-ki’s girlfriend.”

his words fluster you, you didn’t expect to be addressed like that.

ni-ki shoves sunoo. “could you not call her that? she could be uncomfortable for all you know.”

“she isn’t saying anything or looking too disgusted so it is true. she’s your girlfriend.” sunoo shrugs. ni-ki rolls his eyes as he finds sunoo’s judgement of yours and his relationship to be something completely untrue. sunoo snickers before putting up a straight face.

“annoying fucks.” the one with the cat-like eyes sighs. he holds out his hand for you to shake and you took it. “i’m jungwon. the leader of this little…” he looks towards the others and then back at you, “boy group.” he says, dragging out the last part.

“BOY GROUP!?! we aren’t those pretty fuckers who dance and sing.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. “if anything, i’m stronger than them. they probably can’t lift up a gun if they wanted to. scaredy cats.”

“jeez, what’s gotten you so spicy with the topic of ‘boy groups’.” jay says.

“probably cause they get more bitches screaming their names than he ever has.” jake shrugs.

“damn.” heeseung adds.

sunghoon could only sit there and huff.

“okay, that’s enough.” jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose. “sunghoon, you know how to make plans last minute, what should we do?”

“can’t think of anything right now. all the plans i have in my head involve abandoning her.” sunghoon points to you. ni-ki smacks his hand.

“we can’t leave her.”

“and why?”

“because there could be other ways.”

“like what?” sunghoon folds his arms. “how about you suggest other ways, nishimura.”

all eyes were on ni-ki before he sighs, “since they already think, (name) is my girlfriend. we can take advantage of that and find a way to actually infiltrate their base or at least find out who is responsible for all of this.”

“so…you wanna fake date…her.” jay points to you.

“i-” ni-ki could feel his face heat up. “if you put it that way, sure. i guess.” he looks away so you and the other boys don’t notice the colour of his face change.

“i thought you were the one who said that you didn’t want to you call her your girlfriend? what happened to that?” sunoo deadpans.

“it’s just for the mission.”

“uh huh, the mission…ni-ki you like her don’t you?”

“no. i don’t, i just-” he groans. “i’m only 18, i have never fallen for anyone. why are you expecting me to know what feelings are?”

“he is definitely in love.” jake declares.

“uh, guys…i’m still here.” you say.

just as you opened your mouth to utter another word, the driver stops and announces that they had arrived their destination. you had zero clue where they had brought you to. however, the exterior of the place amazes you. it was huge, beautiful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. there were greenery all over the place.

“welcome to our hotel.” jay says.

“woah. you guys built this place?”

“instructed and led the project. we obviously aren’t made to construct the place because that isn’t our job but yeah, for the most part.”

“it’s pretty.” your eyes trailed around the exterior and beauty of the decor. ni-ki stares at you, you truly looked pretty whenever your eyes twinkled at things you really liked looking at. a smile creeps up but he holds himself back. he couldn’t let anyone see him like this.

“anyways, here are the card to your room.” jay hands you a card. “since the mobsters seem to think ni-ki is your boyfriend, you won’t be able to get home.”

“right but what do i do? i don’t have any of my clothes and other stuff. most of my textbooks are still at home.”

“oh don’t worry about that. i’ll get some people to grab your stuff and we’ll clear it so that you can stay in this hotel safely with our men around.” jay smiles.

you turned to look at the other boys and they didn’t make a single face.

“i get to stay here for free? that’s not possible right? i mean, staying at this luxurious hotel for free doesn’t seem exactly right.”

“you’re right. there is a catch.” jay gets close. ni-ki nearly reaches out to stop him but he stops himself. “help us out.”

“oh, umm. look, i don’t know much about your little scheme. i just know these people you work with just do shady stuff.”

“you’re right, we do shady stuff but it’s not all legal. just…maybe illegal to a certain extent. after all, we do help good people. we don’t kill people unless they’re bad. which is why, you’re safest in our hands.” jay explains.

“alright. what do i have to do?” jay points to ni-ki as soon as you’re done speaking.

“be his girlfriend.” jay simply says.

“WHAT?”

“HYUNG!” ni-ki says. he could feel his ears heating up.

“don’t pretend i didn’t see how jealous you got when i got close to her. plus, it’s for a greater cause. we can use her and bait out those people and then find their boss.”

“but jay hyung.”

“do the others agree with me?” jay asks. the others nodded.

“sorry ni-ki, we just have to use this method. for some odd reason, they wanna use this ‘weakness’ of you having a girlfriend so we can take advantage of that and find out who is behind this.” jungwon says.

ni-ki’s eyes met with yours before he turn to the other boys, “fine but (name) has to also agree. this plan won’t work if she disagrees, i am not forcing her.”

“wow, the ever so gentleman.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. “(name), what do you say?”

you looked in between the boys and ni-ki. there was honestly no other choice, you were already roped into their life and it would only be harder for you if you just disagree. “yeah, i’ll do it. i’ll be…ni-ki’s girlfriend.” you could feel the heat rush to your cheeks as quickly as possible after those words left your mouth.

“ayyy.” jake smacks ni-ki. “ni-ki’s first girlfriend. now lead her to her room, she doesn’t know the place as great as you.” he shoves ni-ki to you.

“you guys know the place as well as me, why do i have to do it?”

“because she’s your girlfriend now, so be a gentleman and do it. besides, you’ll get jealous if we send her to her room.” jake continues to tease ni-ki.

“very funny. i am not jealous.” ni-ki deadpans.

“yeah and i’m ugly.” jake says.

“you are.” ni-ki yells as he grabs your hand and brings you over to the elevator. you could hear jake yelling a string of curses to ni-ki but he only ignores it. he taps the card on the elevator and clicks on the floor. the elevator closes and you were now in a confined space with just ni-ki.

“we have to make our relationship believable to those bad guys.” he turns to meet your eyes. “any suggestions?”

“uh, why are you asking me? I don’t know anything about dating.”

“considering we worked together during the past project, I think you should know more about love than I do. you did finish your part quicker than me.” ni-ki explains.

“yeah but that doesn’t mean I know much about datin-”

“romance is part of dating so, you should know.”

“well, too bad I don’t.” you say. ni-ki sighs.

“fine, I guess I have to follow my hyungs method.” ni-ki walks closer to you and you can’t help but step back. he corners you in the elevator. “we have to make it believable so you better play your role well or else, we won’t be able to get information we need.”

you meekly nodded. ni-ki was towering over you and it couldn’t help but feel small and helpless. after all, who's to say ni-ki couldn’t just i don’t know take out a knife and stab you. then leave you dead in the elevator. finally, the elevator reaches the floor. ni-ki steps back and grabs onto your hand. he easily interlaces it and drags you over to your hotel room.

it was one of the executive lounges so there were only 2 per floor. Hence, ni-ki was assigned to the room that was nearby yours. he stops in front of the large double door.

“this is your room and since you have no clothes. I’ll just lend you some of mine until the hyungs grab your stuff from your house.” he points to the other door on the other side of the hallway. “that is my room. considering I stay here most of the times, that room is off-limits to other people from booking it. if you need anything, just go over. for now, go in and just rest up. i’ll bring my clothes to you so you change into them and not wear our school uniform.”

you nodded. ni-ki hands you the card to your room and he keeps the other card so he could go in easily and possibly protect you if anything happens. he quickly goes to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants before coming back and handing them to you.

“we have some ball, party thing tomorrow night and so you’ll be going as my plus one. there are a bunch of big media people going there to create a publicity stunt. it will make this whole thing even more believable since you’re with me.”

“okay, what am i supposed to do in the day though.”

“as it’s the weekends, you can just stay here or around the hotel until the party. there is room service just make your order, you won’t need to pay for it.”

“oh-” you hesitated, “but like isn’t it too much…this hotel is fancy looking and high-end…i am sure the food is expensive too.”

he leans down to your height, “it’s free since you are my girlfriend. the staff at the front desk know you’re my girl. you don’t have to worry.”

you felt your face heat up. his girl. a sentence you thought you’d never hear ni-ki say to you. it almost sounded too real, however you knew this wasn’t real. you were only a victim and ni-ki was your protector.

“r-right, it’s late. have a goodnight!” you quickly swiped the card and bolted into your room. leaving the door to shut quite hard. ni-ki snickers.

‘how cute’ he thought. he catches himself and so he shakes off the thought. it was only for a little while, he can’t fall for you. after all, he was a dangerous guy. it would put your life at risk if there was ever anything going on between you and him. that thought kinda made him sad, he frowns before turning around and walking over to his own room.

SIX

at around, 6pm someone comes knocking at your door. you went to peek through the peephole and realised that it was just a hotel staff. you opened the door and they entered with a rack of clothing and a present.

“these are the clothes that Mr.Nishimura hand picked for you.” the staff points to the rack. they hand you the present. “Mr.Nishimura also prepared this for you and told you to wear it for tonight. We will have a makeup artist coming soon to help with the makeup and hair.”

you nodded and the staff left the room. you had opened up the box and pulled out the dress from inside. it falls down perfectly as you hold it up, a beautiful long black dress with ruffles that cuffs around your arm until it reaches just below your shoulder. it was beautiful and it was also paired with a masquerade mask to hide your identity at the ball. the makeup and hairstylist arrives and quickly does your hair and makeup. just as they spun you around to let you look at yourself in the mirror, you were in shock. that was not you. they had tied your hair up in a half up and half down, along with curling the ends in loose curls and even making your curtain bangs look nice.

the doorbell rings, the staff letting ni-ki in. he walks over to you and he pauses in his step when he sees you. you looked beautiful. his heart races, was this love? the boy was completely speechless.

“umm, how do i look?” you had asked ni-ki. his eyes scanned you from head to toe and you blushed under his gaze.

“beautiful. you look beautiful.” he mutters. “let’s go. the older guys are waiting for us. they’re also looking out for the bad guys. security is tight today so you don’t have to worry about getting harmed.”

you nod. “that’s good.” ni-ki holds out his hand for you to take and you do so. he intertwines your hand with his and brings you over to the ball.

just as you entered, cameras start flashing. most likely capturing every part of yours and ni-ki’s arrival because it was it big thing. another member of the Decelis Boys was taken. there were whispers, mumbles and gossips all over the ballroom but ni-ki paid no attention to it as you leads you to where the other boys were.

“nice, the media is going crazy ni-ki. you’ve done it.” jake says.

“now, they’ll probably attack later on so make sure to bring (name) somewhere safe.” jay adds. ni-ki nods.

“you can enjoy your little couple time now. just keep a watch out.” sunoo teases.

“hyung.” ni-ki says. sunoo laughs, he pats ni-ki’s back and the other went their separate way as they split up to cover the ballroom. ni-ki turns to you, “want something to eat? or drink?”

“umm, is there only wine here?”

“i suppose so. hmm, maybe we can eat some nacho chips. i’ll request the waiters to prepare some for us and of course some plain water.” you nod at ni-ki’s words. “I’ll be back in a short while. you’re okay with being alone for a bit right? i need to find the waiter.”

“i don’t mind.”

“that’s good. wait here.” you hummed once more at his words.

right as ni-ki left, someone comes up to you and strikes a conversation. it felt off though, definitely not right like something was about to happen. the guy smirks and hands you a drink that he apparently grabbed from the waiter that had passed by previously. you shook your head and politely rejected it since it was wine and you were still technically a minor here in Korea.

the rejection doesn’t sit well with this guy, he frowns and shoves the glass into your hands and tells you to drink it. thankfully, ni-ki came back on time and shoves the guy away.

“what are you doing to my girlfriend?” ni-ki’s deep voice resonates. the guy wasn’t fazed by it and so ni-ki grabs the glass in your hands before splashing it on the guy’s face. he turns to you and whispers, “run. get to the elevator and click on the penthouse button.” he hands you a card.

you do as he says and left the ballroom. ni-ki taps the bracelet on his wrist. it sends notifications to the other boys. jake and heeseung’s significant other quickly left the place too. jungwon smacks the button on the wall for emergencies. a siren blasts the whole room and it sends everyone in a frenzy. everyone except for the bad guys, ran towards the exit. they stayed and took out their guns, aiming at the boys.

jay and sunoo pulled out their guns and so the battle begins. the bad guys ran towards each of them, but the two boys ducked and shot twice without looking back. jay eyebrows furrowed, this certainly wasn’t going to be a simple fight like back at the hotel.

“they’re stronger now, it seems like whoever is behind this has finally start to slowly show their power and skills.” jay says. sunoo looks down at the weapons and outfit that the guys they shot wore.

“this person is definitely smart.”

“but not smart enough.”

“he could be toying with us, hyung. we need to watch out.” just as sunoo says so, someone tries to attack him. ni-ki slashes his katana right on the guy’s back, saving sunoo and jay. the body falls right beside them.

“i think they’re going to get up to the penthouse. me, sunghoon and jake are going up there. jay hyung, we need more people to get up here.”

“on it. i’ll get some backup.” jay runs off. sunoo nods at ni-ki before he goes to shoot more people. sunghoon, jake and ni-ki went up to the penthouse by a different and secret entrance. once they arrived, it was eerily quiet.

“this definitely does not feel right.” sunghoon says. suddenly, a loud shriek was heard. the 3 of them ran over, only to see you, nabi and eun crouched on the ground with 3 guys cornering the 3 of you.

you had made eye contact with ni-ki, fear evident in your eyes and it makes ni-ki mad. something switched inside him and all that was left was anger. the red vision covering his eyes. he spins his 2 katanas and charges forward easily slashing two of the people. the last guy tries to fight him but couldn’t as ni-ki easily stabs the guy right in the middle. the guy falls to the ground. jake and sunghoon the whole thing with their jaw dropped.

ni-ki turns back to them, the blood right all over his shirt and some on his face.

“guard the elevators and get more people here. check up with the others downstairs. we may need to move. they found our little hiding spot here. i’ll move the girls to the garage since they have no idea where it is.”

with not a single word uttered, jake and sunghoon quickly left. they’ve never seen this side of ni-ki before and honestly, it scared them quite a bit. after they left, ni-ki checks up on you. his eyes softened.

“are you okay?” he asks.

“yeah, just startled. i didn’t expect this to happen. i thought, i was going to die.” ni-ki pulls you into a hug.

“don’t worry, you have me. i’ll protect you…always.”

it was quite a romantic moment, even nabi and eun were shocked to hear this come out from ni-ki. they didn’t expect him to be so kind-hearted towards a girl. after pulling back from the hug, “we should get going.we don’t have much time before they send more people up here.”

ni-ki leads you, nabi and eun to the secret elevator which led to the garage. it was definitely safer around here and there even was backup. there was a loud slam to the door after the rest of the boys poured in. jake and heeseung ran up to their significant other and hugged them. there were small whispers of sorry’s amongst the both of them as they tried to calm down their girls.

“well, this resort is fucked. we have to move somewhere else.” jay says.

“we could move to this resort near the airport. whoever is charge most probably won’t know that we own it.” sunoo suggests.

“we should move there. if don’t move there now, the innocent people staying here will be hurt.” heeseung adds.

“that means we need to divert the attention of the reporters right now.”

“but what could we possibly use to divert their attention from?”

“i think we could use a distraction of love. like ni-ki and (name).” nabi says.

“but everyone already knows (name) is my girlfriend.”

“oh, no hesitation-” jay whacks sunghoon.

ni-ki wraps his arm around your waist, “yeah, no hesitation because she is my girlfriend.”

“holy shit.” jungwon’s jaw drops.

“i’ll give the reporters some scoop about mine and (name)’s relationship details.” ni-ki says.

“but we- aren’t we fake dating?” you looked up at him.

“not anymore.” he simply says.

you could feel your face warm up at ni-ki’s words.

“i’ll tell them that you’re mine and i like you a lot.” ni-ki says.

“damn, ni-ki with the rizz?” jake says.

jake and jungwon gets notified of the police cars and reporters driving to the resort.

“you have to get ready quickly, ni-ki change your clothes and then we need to delete their memories of the fight that happen and organise the place quickly. hurry!”

all of them had quickly done their parts. with one large bright flash of light in the resort, everyone forgets the fight that happened. jay’s men quickly cleans up the place and pretends to escort the affluent towards the hall as if nothing happened before. the place was lively again.

when the police and reporters arrived, it was strange. someone filed a report that there had been a gang trying to tear Decelis Resort apart but the police didn’t see anyone fleeing in terror. they tried to look for the very person who filed the report but when they did, the person seemed confused and didn’t know what they were talking about. they simply just brushed it off and left. of course, the reporters were more nosy then the police they had to figure out what was going on.

that is exactly when ni-ki and you walked towards them, giving them free information about your newfound relationship. the reporters left happily as they could use this huge scoop for their headlines. just as ni-ki got ready to leave with you to meet up with the others. someone taps his shoulder and hands him something.

“this fell out from somewhere i think that waiter over there dropped it. you should really discipline your staff from throwing litter on the ground.”

it was a strange object, something a waiter should not be harbouring.

“thank you for the feedback but mind your language when you’re speaking to one of the founders and this resort.” ni-ki’s tone was laced with venom. the guy nods.

he carefully makes his way to the garage again and hands the item to jake. it cracks open the moment jake touches it.

‘kinda pathetic to wipe their memories don’t you think? it’s a one in a lifetime for those elites to experience such a scare. they should think twice when pushing around people who aren’t rich.’ - a voice recorded message.

“whoever this is definitely doesn’t like rich people.”

“and they used a voice modulator. it’s not their voice. we should run a test at the other resort.” jungwon says.

“yeah, whoever this is…we have to find them. our families are in danger.” sunghoon says.

ni-ki turns to look at you, “are you coming with us?”

“of course, i have to but you have to teach me how to fight. i want to help you guys out. this person will probably take more precautions now.” ni-ki holds your hand and squeezes it.

“that means we will have to miss some of school.”

“is school really our priorities right now when we are being chased by some evil dude?”

“she makes it a point there.” jungwon says.

“alright, we’ll be a team. my girlfriend.” ni-ki shyly says.

this emits groans from the rest of them with how cheesy it was.

“we will, boyfriend.” you could only smile up at him.

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mygnolia · 6 months ago

Text

the last days of our youthful summer | TEASER

synopsis -› it takes riki nishimura coming back for you to remember the hurt his absence causes you. it takes him desparately trying to rekindle your friendship to realize some things will possibly have no resolution, but what will it take that stupid stupid boy to make you want him again?

pair -› idol!riki nishimura/ni-ki x reader

genre -› erm angst…but fluff and happy ending!

trope -› childhood friends to enemies to lovers

wc -› girl we haven’t even started.

cw -› pent up anger, will be added when done!

a/n -› leaving this here because i need to put this out there. i need this for my mental 🤗 i have never written childhood friends to enemies to lovers #wishmeluck also no taglist sorrey :(

——

“You’re back.” you whisper. Whether it grounds you or Riki into reality that he’s here, you’re not sure. It replays in your head, the image of him now, almost twice the height he was before, standing in front of you.

You’re not sure what you expected when you’d see him again, the vision of your friend grown up becoming more and more faded the longer you spent away from him. You refused the media- refused to see what had become of him, afraid that somehow, it’d taint the image you’d see of him in the distant memories you had.

“You’re back.” You say, again, but Riki Nishimura is no fool. He hears the petulance piled up upon years of separation. He can tell-sickeningly so, how much you hate that he’s back, and he hates that he still sees the way your eyes become glossy and the way you blink your tears away so quick.

But what Riki hates most is that he pretends to look up in confusion at you when you mumble one last thing, your quick footsteps turning the corner and away.

“Don’t bother being friends.” You had said, and it breaks his heart to pretend he’s unaffected.

——

a/n: EEEEKKKKK ive never written a niki fic but hes been looking SOOOOO good recently especially with the oreo tips i had to I HADDDDD TEWWWWWWW!!!!

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hayves1 · 12 days ago

Text

MEANT TO BE ★. ݁˖

synopsis : You've liked Riki since freshman year. At first it was a silly little crush but now you're for sure that you are in love with him. But you know he doesn't love you back. He likes Eunchae, the cheer captain of the cheer team at school.

warnings : reader is referred to as y/n, angst, fluff, insecurity, crying, poor sense of humor. This is my first fiction so i apologize if it's bad 😭 (if i missed anything pls let me know!)

featuring : Haneul (kiss of life) and Eunchae (le sserafim)

wc: 1.8k

feedback is appreciated! ♡

————————————————————————

You stood by your locker with your best friend, Haneul. Talking about random things as usual. "So, y/n, are you gonna talk to Riki yet?" you slapped her shoulder harshly but also gently at the same time. "I told you I'll talk to him soon!"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes "Come on, y/n, you've been saying the name crap since FRESHMAN YEAR! We're seniors now and you might not see him again after we graduate." you huffed in frustration and looked away. "I don't know, Haneul. You know he likes Eunchae! She's pretty, she's smart, she's nice, she's the captain of the cheer team, and I...l'm none of those things so why would he like me?"

You said, doubting yourself and any chance there was that Riki would like you back. Haneul groaned

"You can't keep thinking like this, y/n. I know how much you love him and how much you care about him. If you don't at least try, you'll probably lose something that could’ve been…Plus, you're pretty, smart, nice so don't doubt yourself." she patted your shoulder and smiled at you while all you could do is sigh. You didn't know if taking her advice was a good idea but you knew she was right. You have to do something…

————————————————————————

You sat at your usual table with Haneul while she yaps and rants about the chemistry teacher. You weren't even listening to her or paying attention to your food. You just kept staring at Riki. You couldn't look away, you didn't want to look away.

Every time you look at him, even a glance, your heart starts racing. If you don't do something now, you will get hurt... "y/n are you even listening?" you snapped out of your thoughts and looked away from wherever you were looking. "H-huh? oh! what were you saying" Haneul just shook her head and chuckled a bit

"I see who you were just looking at. You were staring at Riki, weren't you?" she smirked teasingly and you immediately flushed red "Haneul stop!" you whined. Obviously you were embarrassed and didn't want to admit you were staring at him. "y/n just go talk to him already!" she silently shouted. You groaned and slowly got up from the table and walked over to where Riki and his friends were sitting.

"Uh h-hi Riki...im y/n. I was wondering if we could be friends?" You mentally slapped yourself for stuttering and greeting him like that. Him and his friends faced you, making you flush red and stiffen. You just stood there like a stick, not moving one tiny bit. After a while of silence, Riki finally spoke up "Sure. We can be friends. Pretty name by the way" ‘WHAT?' you thought.

————————————————————————

School was finally dismissed and you and Haneul were walking back home. She was excitedly talking about how you finally, after 3 years, decided to talk to Riki. “y/n this is a great start! He even said your name is pretty?! I’m happy for you” she said.

“Don’t cheer just yet, Haneul. He probably just said that to be nice because there is no way he would like me at first sight.” she rolled her eyes and stopped walking “Have hope, y/n” you looked at her then looked back at the ground. “I don’t know…maybe I'm too late? You know the way he looks at Eunchae, the way he talks about her…you’re right. I should’ve talked to him sooner”

You whispered the last sentence with slight pain in your voice. “Hey hey hey! y/n you need to have hope. There’s still a chance, okay? I know you really like him so don’t lose hope.” You just sighed, kind of doubting her words but you just nodded anyway.

————————————————————————

A few days have passed, and you've been having small conversations with Riki lately. Haneul says it’s a good thing and that you’re slowly making progress but you still don’t have the courage to even believe her.

You walked out of the classroom after the first period ended and saw everyone was looking at Eunchae and her friends. You admired her but you also felt a pang of jealousy in your heart. How was she so pretty, talented, and nice to everyone? You’re nowhere on her level…It hurts your heart a bit if you’re being honest.

You looked around the crowded hallway, and saw Riki looking at Eunchae with hearts in his eyes. Just pure love and nothing else. That was like true love in your book…it shattered your heart into pieces and before you knew it, tears started stinging your eyes.

You heard Haneul walk up to you, talking about how much she hated chemistry “He gave us like one-hundred assignments and-“ She immediately stopped when she saw the tears running down your cheeks. She knew why you were crying, she knew better than anyone else. “y/n…”

You wiped your tears when you heard her call your name. “What? I'm fine! Let’s go to lunch now!” you completely brushed off whatever was happening and acted like you were fine when you really weren’t. “y/n, stop pretending…” she said softly. You just sighed and felt the tears blurring your vision again. She pulled you into a more empty hallway.

“Are you crying?” Hanuel asked. “I just…I feel so insecure! Eunchae is so perfect! Perfect in everything! Grades, personality, looks, everything! And I'm just a nobody, a loser! No wonder Riki likes her…It hurts…” You ranted and felt the tears rolling down nonstop.

Haneul just listened to you pour your feelings out, a frown on her face. “You’re not a loser. You’re my best friend. You’re gorgeous and talented. You’re just your own person and that’s what’s special about you. Don’t doubt yourself, okay? I can’t see my bestest friend crying over a boy. It hurts seeing you like that…” you wiped your remaining tears away with your hand and whispered a ‘Thank you’.

———————��————————————————

It’s been a few weeks since that happened and you still felt a little insecure but you’re definitely starting to love yourself. You and Riki have been great friends and you two have been talking a lot more!

You and Haneul were talking to Riki at your locker. “You coming to our basketball game tonight?” he asked you “Yea” you answer with a smile.

God, that smile of yours made Riki feel different. Almost like there were butterflies in his stomach. That sweet, sweet smile of yours made him feel things he’s never felt before. He didn’t feel like this around Eunchae. He questioned himself, ‘Why do I feel this way?’

————————————————————————

It’s now night and the gymnasium was filled with students who were watching the game. You didn’t really shout like how Haneul and others were doing but you were silently cheering for Riki. Currently your school was in the lead and it was coming down to the last few minutes. “WOOOO” Haneul shouted right in your ear, causing you to wince in pain. “Owww! Why are you shouting so loud? Since when were you so invested in basketball?” You said “I’m just cheering for our school, y/n! WOOOO” you just chuckled and went back to watching.

Your school ended up winning and loud cheers filled the gym. You suddenly saw Riki running up to you. You were so confused…why was he coming to you and not Eunchae? “Congrats!” You say and smile.

That again…Oh how much he enjoyed seeing the sight of your smile. Especially when it was directed towards him. Riki still didn’t understand this feeling for you but he didn’t care right now, he just wanted to hug you, and so he did.

You widen your eyes, completely surprised by the sudden hug. You hesitantly hugged him back. It brought a sense of calmness and security to you…and to him…

————————————————————————

(i’m too lazy to detail this next part im so sorry 😭😭)

One day, Eunchae got confessed to and she gladly and happily accepted it. Riki thought that he’d be upset and hurt over it but no, not at all. He didn’t feel hurt or pain. But why? He turned towards you and felt that feeling again…why? Why was he feeling this way towards his friend? He studied your side profile for a moment. His heart swelled with love…he then looked back ahead of him. ‘Have I liked her all along?’ he said to himself.

————————————————————————

You were at your house doing your homework. Your parents were out and about so you were home alone for a bit. You heard the doorbell ring, which kinda freaked you out a bit but you got up to answer it anyway.

You opened the door and saw Riki standing there, a little tense. “Riki? What are you doing here?” you asked confusedly. “y/n…I really had to come and see you…” you frowned in confusion once again. “Why?” you asked. “Can I come in?” “Sure…”

After he entered your house you closed and locked the door behind you. “Are your parents home?” you shake your head and he nods. “Listen, y/n. I know I've made it clear that I like Eunchae but lately it’s been different. I don’t feel anything towards her anymore. When she got confessed to a few weeks ago I didn’t even feel a tiny bit of pain. But with you…with you it’s different. I feel things that I never have before. Your smile, your laugh, everything. y/n, I really, really, like you. I should’ve realized it sooner…”

You were in shock. He likes you? You couldn’t believe anything he was saying and it took you a while to process his words. “Wow.” was all you said, too shocked and flustered to think of anything to say. “Wow…I-…this is unexpected…” he frowned “Do you not feel the same…?” You shake your head “No! No! I like you, a lot. I have for a long time. That’s why I asked to be friends. I wanted to get closer to you…” you confessed your feelings to him. “Yeah?” you nodded in response. You both looked at each other for a while before he smiled and pulled you into a hug. You sighed in relief and hugged him back as you smiled too.

After a few seconds you both pulled back but his arms were still around you. He didn’t want to let go, not yet. It didn’t take him too long to finally kiss you softly and passionately and you kissed him back with just as much affection as him.

Who would’ve thought you two were meant to be?

————————————————————————

Authors note - This is my first fanfic! I hope yall enjoy it and sorry if it’s bad 😞 I also kinda rushed this 😭 i’ll do better next time. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated:)

#𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒂’𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 ── ⋆ ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ 🍎🪡#ni ki x reader #enhypen niki #niki x you #enhypen ff #nishimura riki #riki x reader #ni ki enhypen #ni ki fluff #enhypen #niki fic #riki nishimura x reader #ni-ki imagine #niki imagines #enha

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tyunni · 6 months ago

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just us, and your brother... (masterlist)

genre: brother's best friend! riki x reader , fluff , kinda strangers to lovers , smau ! warnings: cursing , kys jokes , sexual jokes here n there but nothing suggestive at all , heeseung is that overprotective brother , riki is INSANELY awkward but that's the whole point...

𝒜uthors note — this is for @boyfhee 's wheel of fortune event, super fun! i had nothing else to post, sorry, but I'll be getting more done after my exams 😭🤗 being a senior is HARD...

©tyunni please don't copy, translate or repost any of my work!

taglist: @geombyu @junityy @uygmoeb @sunghun @eternallyhyucks @pshjae @marknaeroni @feyregels @neos127 @koishua @echo-of-a-writer @w3bqrl @duolingofanaccount @goldenhypen @sungniverse @hittoki @acciomylove @soobin-chois @anik-4 @yjwfav @ja4hyvn @ddeonubaby @deafeningballoonnacho @squiishymeow @odxrilove @iyeonjuni @nyaforniki @kittyeji @pinkyyyujin @addictedtothesummernights @love-4-keum @luveill @enhastolemyheart @kpop-kitkat @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @str4b3rizz @solvgume @nishislcve @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @letmein2urheart (bold means i can’t mention you, if you want to be a part of my taglist fill this out!!)

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rose-petles · 2 months ago

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니키 - ruined make-out sessions -> N.NK

Warning → Kissing / Making out.

Paring → Clingbf!Niki x SoftieGfFem!Reader

Synopsis → Its been two months since he has kissed your lips.

You jumped when you placed your toothbrush back in the holder and looked into the mirror, only to find niki standing there behind you.

He giggled as he put his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest before he laid her chin on your shoulder.

"You scared me."

Your eyes locked in the mirror and he pouted sadly.

"Sorry. I just couldn't stand being away from you for another minute."

You turned around and looped your arms around his neck to pull him closer if that was even possible now.

"It's been two months since I last saw you. Two months without your arms around me, without being able to kiss you." He whispered the last part against your lips as he leaned in to steal another lingering kiss from your lips.

"I love being on tour. Don't get me wrong. You know being on tour. Don't get me wrong. You know how much I love it. But it's not easy being so far away from my girl."

You hooked your fingers under his chin, already craving the taste of his lips again. He breathed out a soft sigh as he gently laid his hand on your cheek, wanting to feel your soft and warm skin against his fingertips.

"I've missed you too, nini. So much."

You quickly melted into his kisses and hid touch as he let his hands roam along your body. He suddenly started to walk backward until he led you out of the bathroom and into the hotel room where you fell onto the mattress, fingers intertwined.

He pulled away to stare at you adoringly for a moment. You were wearing his shirt. It was nothing new. You find yourself stealing them all the time.

He even left his favorites behind for you, spraying his perfume on the fabric to let his smell linger until the day you reunited; which came much sooner than he expected, thanks to your wonderful surprise visit today.

He dropped his forehead onto yours and pecked your lips as he kept his eyes locked with yours.

You looked pulchritudinous, just laying there all smiles while you stared at his endearingly and eagerly awaited the next brush of her lips on your own.

"I'm so happy you're here." He whispered before trailing kisses to your neck.

"Me too, niki. I missed you lots." You mumbled as you tilted your head back and closed your eyes to let more of your skin be kissed lovingly by the sweet brush of his lips.

He put his fingers under your chin a moment later because as much as he loves kissing your neck and hearing those sighs fall from your lips, he loves the taste of your lips and the way they move against his own.

He deepened the kiss and brushed his fingers along your skin. You jumped when he lifted up his shirt you had on and his warm fingers fell to your skin.

But his touch was so calming, so doting, and after two long months without feeling his passionate touch, you basked in every second of his concupiscent caresses.

You held him close, so close that you could feel every swift beat of his heart against your own.

You couldn't help the soft sigh that fell from your lips as he pulled away from your lips once more to kiss and gently bite at your skin.

He’s missed you an inexpressable amount and he planned on showing you just how much; by loving on you and holding you as tight as she could.

But just as his lips brushed against that one special spot on your neck, the door of the hotel room was opening and you both jumped in shock.

Jake stood wide-eyed, looking just as shocked as you and Niki.

Niki cleared her throat awkwardly while you buried your face in his neck. Your cheeks were redder than ever before and niki would usually tease you for that, but his ears were just as red.

"Jake? What's up?"

"Uh," Jake mumbled and shook his head, trying to think of why he walked into the room in the first place.

"You didn't knock?" Niki wondered.

"No, I did. And Sunoo and Heeseung called before that. But neither of you answered and now we know why." He tried to crack a joke, but you were all too shocked and too awkward to laugh.

"Sunghoon wanted to know if you wanted to go out?Y/n's here, it's her first night, and we thought we'd do something fun to celebrate but... I think you found other ways to celebrate." You whined in embarrassment and niki shook his head.

"We'll be down in a few minutes."

Jake never left a room so fast before, simply nodding and slamming the hotel door behind him.

You and Niki stared at each other for a moment before he climbed off of you.

"Well. the next week should be fun. Having to look Jake in the eyes after that."

Niki chuckled and reached for your hand.

"Yeah. But I'll take the teasing. At least I've got you here and that's all that matters to me."

You laid your head on his shoulder and she kissed your head lingeringly.

"I feel the same way, nini."

He turned your cheek and leaned in for another kiss. But you pulled away quickly, taking him by the hand and leading her to the bathroom.

"Come on, we gotta get ready. The boys are waiting for us."

He whined as you dragged him into the bathroom to get ready, already craving your kisses again.

Back to -> | Navagation | Masterlist

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leaderwon · 6 months ago

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Maybe in another universe !?

enhypen members texts after you pass away

warnings : angst left and right, depression, sadness, mentions of death, cursing

(my other angst work, pls give it some love. Link)

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thatfeelinwhenyou · 9 days ago

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THE TATTOO ON MY RING FINGER — sim jaeyun

His neglect wasn’t an accident—it was a choice, one you kept excusing as “busy” while swallowing your hurt and waiting for him to care enough to show up. The harsh truth? He simply didn't care enough to make the effort. Remember this, ladies: if he truly wanted to, he would. "Busy" is just another word for “asshole.” And “asshole” is another word for the man you’re married to.

word count: 22k

pairing: ceo!jake x fem!reader

featuring: enhypen, wonyoung from ive

genre: marriage of convenience, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers (kinda), second chance romance, angst

warnings: this story contains dynamics of a toxic relationship, angst and miscommunication at its peak, sensitive power dynamics, mild depictions of violence, themes of loneliness and low self-worth, implications of infidelity (no actual cheating), rich people drama, jake is kind of an asshole, sunghoon and wonyoung are married in this fic for plot purpose.

disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. If any context is similar to any other stories, it's either inspired (in which credit will be given) or just a coincidence. the characters' personalities, words, actions and thoughts do not represent them in real life. any resemblance to any real life events or person, present or past, are purely coincidental. i apologise in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. characters are aged up for plot purpose.

notes from nat: inspired by when the phone rings cause i love the colour red /hj. highly recommended to read with the playlist i curated in order! without further ado, enjoy!

tags: #tfwy thetattooonmyringfinger #tfwy au

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle

taglist. @heeheeyeoiizz01 @heeweenie @ritahyelee @catlicense @sumzysworld @heartheejake @httpenhoon @dreamiestay @baedreamverse @arusio @ywrens @tinycatharsis @blockbusterhee @xocandypoo @jaengwon @yvnempire @enhaverse713586 @bamguetismee @renaishun @yunhoswrldddd @zyvlxqht @jaems-left-toe

They say if he’s not calling, it’s because you’re not on his mind. The first time you heard it, you shrugged it off. Of course, it wasn’t true. He was busy, wasn’t he? Busy with work, with meetings, with people who needed his attention more than you did in that moment. You told yourself it wasn't personal when the texts became shorter, when the phone calls grew less frequent, when the hours between hearing from him stretched into days.

But over time, the silence becomes heavier. The excuses, sharper. If he promised to be home by eight and didn’t show until eleven, it was work. If he forgot to call when he said he would, it was exhaustion.

You let these small disappointments settle into the cracks of your relationship, a habit you didn’t even notice forming until you could barely remember what it felt like to be a priority.

You tell yourself he’s under pressure, that he’s got a lot on his plate. But deep down, there’s a gnawing thought that won’t leave you alone: If he wanted to, he would. If he cared, he’d show up. Not just in the big moments, but in the small, forgettable ones—the ones that don’t require much but say everything. A text to check in, a call to ask how your day went. Something to remind you that you matter, that you still have a place in the life he leads without you.

But the truth settles in like a bitter cold creeping under your skin: he doesn’t think about you the way you think about him.

When he’s late, when he misses promises, when he leaves you waiting—it’s not a fluke. It’s a choice. And the more you excuse it, the more he learns that it’s okay to disappoint you, that your needs can always wait. He’s fine with it because he doesn’t have to feel the weight of your frustration, your sadness, your growing resentment.

"Busy" has become his favourite shield, his go-to excuse for everything. But “busy” is just another way of saying, "I don’t care enough." “Busy” is what he hides behind when he doesn’t want to confront the fact that he’s letting you down, over and over again.

And each time, you forgive him. Each time, you swallow your hurt, tell yourself it’s not a big deal, and convince yourself to wait a little longer for him to make the effort you’re aching for.

But deep down, you know. "Busy" is another word for “asshole.” And “asshole” is another word for the man you’re married to.

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

A marriage of convenience—that’s what you call this arrangement with Sim Jaeyun. It’s the only thing you can call it. Nothing about it feels real. No feelings. No chemistry. No intimacy. Just labels and the sweet, sweet promise of partnership, sweetened further by the monetary incentive that comes with it.

A deal dressed up as love.

At least, that’s how Jaeyun sees it. For you, it wasn’t always so simple.

You entered this marriage with no great love for him, true enough. Just a sense of duty and loyalty to your parents, to the company, to everything you’ve been raised to uphold as the eldest daughter of your family.

Jaeyun’s aloofness during your first meeting confirmed your suspicions that he felt the same. He was another child born with a silver spoon, another soul sacrificed to family ambition. Like you, he couldn’t complain about marrying someone he didn’t love because his parents had done it before him.

Putting aside the whole nature of your marriage, Jaeyun wasn’t a bad man.

In fact, he was decent. Polished. Accomplished. Sim Jaeyun had graduated summa cum laude from an Ivy League and, at twenty-eight, was already a legend in business circles.

They called him The Prodigy—a nickname that reverberated in the boardrooms of the elite. Women flocked to him, drawn by his sharp intellect, his undeniable charm, and, of course, his devastating good looks.

You’d rather bite your tongue than admit it, but he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Sim Jaeyun could make anyone’s heart race with just a glance. If you had to be forced into this sham of a marriage, at least you could say you were tied to someone who didn’t make you cringe every time you looked at him.

In the beginning, you played your roles so well that even you almost believed it.

To the press, to the public, you were the Dreamlike Couple. The perfect pair. You—poised and graceful, the epitome of elegance. Him—driven and magnetic, a man at the pinnacle of success. Together, you seemed untouchable, the kind of pairing that only existed in fairy tales.

It was a dream. For a time.

Marrying into the Sim family meant becoming the perfect housewife, a shadow to Jaeyun’s brilliance. Your days revolved around him—ensuring his comfort, supporting his exhausting nine-to-five (more like nine-to-midnight) grind.

And in return, Jaeyun played his part too. He brought you flowers, sat across from you at candlelit dinners, and whisked you away for picture-perfect dates on the rare weekends he wasn’t buried in work.

It wasn’t love, but it was enough. And slowly, against all your better instincts, you fell for him.

You fell for him—not all at once, but slowly, like the steady drip of a leaking faucet, each drop carving its way into your heart.

It was in the small, unexpected moments: the way his eyes softened when he asked if you were settling in well, the rare, fleeting smile that lit up his otherwise composed face, the quiet patience with which he listened when you nervously rambled about your day.

He was kind in ways that felt almost invisible, offering you a coat when you forgot yours, leaving your favourite coffee on the counter without a word, defending you in meetings with his parents when they criticised your choices. It wasn’t the grand gestures that pulled you in, but the subtleties—the way he seemed to remember the little things about you, like the books you loved or the songs that made you hum along absentmindedly.

You started to believe, naively perhaps, that behind the formalities and the distance, there was something real. Something that could grow.

And in those moments, you let your guard down, foolishly allowing hope to slip through the cracks of your carefully constructed defences.

But what started as a dream turned into a slow-brewing nightmare.

It took a year.

Just one year for the cracks in Jaeyun’s performance to show. Maybe he got tired of pretending. Maybe the strain of coming home to a wife he didn’t love became too much. Whatever it was, the distance between you started to grow.

The flowers stopped coming. The dinners grew silent, then ceased altogether. Dates became a thing of the past. The man who once made you feel like you were part of his world now barely acknowledged your existence.

You tried to rationalise it at first. He was busy, wasn’t he? Work was demanding. Meetings ran late. Deadlines piled up. Days would pass without a word from him.

But the excuses only held for so long. Because deep down, you knew. If Jaeyun wanted to, he would. If he cared, he’d find the time. He wouldn’t leave you sitting alone at the dinner table or waiting for a call that never came. He wouldn’t let the silence stretch until it swallowed what little connection you had left.

And yet, you forgave him. Over and over again. Each missed promise. Each broken gesture. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you could bear it. But with every disappointment you let slide, Jaeyun learned he could let you down without consequence.

Now, as you lie awake in the vast emptiness of your bed—yes, your bed, in your room, the one he rarely steps foot in anymore—you can’t help but wonder: Was it ever real? Did he ever try, even for a moment? Or had he always been this indifferent, just more skilled at masking it in the beginning?

Sim Jaeyun—the prodigy, the golden boy, the man you once dared to believe you could build a life with—has become little more than a stranger. A stranger who wears a ring that matches yours, yet feels worlds apart. And here you are, left holding the shattered pieces of a marriage that, in truth, was never whole to begin with.

You should’ve known, from the moment he slipped that ring onto your finger—a ring just a fraction too tight—that you were always going to feel suffocated. It was a perfect metaphor, really.

Now, every time you return home—whether it’s from mingling with the polished wives of his business partners, or from a solitary stroll in the park—you make a ritual of sliding the ring off, desperate to feel untethered, if only for a little while.

But no matter how many times you remove it, you can never truly escape him. Because the ring, with the way it pressed into your skin, leaves its imprint—a faint indentation that lingers long after it’s gone, marking you not as a partner but as a possession of the Sim family.

It feels like a cruel irony, that even without the ring, Sim Jaeyun’s grasp remains, his mark on you inerasable, etched into your skin and your soul like a tattoo.

The clock on the wall ticks steadily, mocking you with its rhythmic precision as the evening stretches into night. The once-flickering hope you’d clung to—that Jaeyun might remember this day—has long since withered, replaced by a familiar, hollow ache.

The dining table is set, the soft glow of candles casting shadows across the untouched plates. You’d debated with yourself earlier, wondering if it was worth the effort. But some stubborn part of you refused to let the day pass unnoticed.

After all, it’s your wedding anniversary. Even if Jaeyun doesn’t care, you do.

By the time the clock strikes eleven, the candles have burned low, the food long gone cold. You sit in the dim light, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, willing yourself not to cry.

When the front door finally opens, the faint sound of Jaeyun’s footsteps echoes through the house. He steps into the living room, his tie loosened and his hair slightly disheveled.

He looks tired—no, careless. He doesn’t even notice the table or the candles.

"You’re still awake?" he asks, his tone neutral, almost surprised.

You rise slowly, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "It’s our anniversary, Jaeyun."

He freezes, his brows knitting together as if trying to recall something important. The blank look on his face confirms what you already knew. He forgot.

"Shit," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m sorry. Work was crazy today. I didn’t—"

"Don’t," you cut him off, your voice trembling. "Don’t tell me it was work. Don’t make another excuse."

He looks at you, clearly unprepared for the edge in your tone. "It’s not an excuse. I was genuinely busy."

"Busy," you repeat, the word dripping with bitterness. "You’re always busy, Jaeyun. Too busy to call, too busy to show up, too busy to even remember the day we got married. Do you even care at all?"

His expression hardens, and he steps closer, his tone defensive. "Of course I care. But I have responsibilities, and I can’t just drop everything—"

"Responsibilities?" you snap, your voice rising. "What about your responsibility to me? To this marriage? Or does that come last, after work and meetings and everything else that apparently matters more than I do?"

"You act like I don’t try," he snaps, his tone sharper now. "I work my ass off to give us a good life, to make sure you have everything you need."

"I don’t need your money, Jaeyun!" you shout, your anger finally spilling over. "I need you! I need a husband who shows up, who cares, who remembers things that matter. But instead, I get this—this stranger who walks through the door whenever he feels like it and expects me to be okay with it."

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re overreacting."

The words hit you like a slap. "Overreacting?" you echo, incredulous. "You think I’m overreacting because I’m upset that you forgot our anniversary? Because I’m tired of being the only one who gives a damn about this marriage?"

His eyes darken, and his frustration boils over. "That’s because it isn’t real!" he snaps, his words slicing through the air like a blade.

You freeze, the weight of his admission sinking into your chest.

"This marriage," he continues, his tone sharp and unrelenting, "was never about love. It was a deal. You knew that going in. So don’t stand there acting like I owe you something I never promised."

His words hit you like a sledgehammer to the face, leaving you momentarily breathless.

"I knew what it was," you say, your voice shaking but steadying as the anger flares in your chest. "But I didn’t sign up to be treated like I’m invisible. I didn’t agree to be an afterthought, Jaeyun. I’ve been trying—trying—to make this work. And what have you done? You’ve shut me out. You’ve made it clear, over and over, that I don’t matter."

Jaeyun exhales harshly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t mean it like that," he mutters.

"Yes, you did," you say, your voice soft but cold. "And that’s the worst part. You meant every word."

The silence between you is deafening. Jaeyun doesn’t apologise, doesn’t take back what he said. He just stands there, his expression unreadable, as if waiting for the conversation to end.

Finally, Jaeyun exhales, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don’t know what you want me to say," he mutters.

"I don’t want you to say anything," you reply, your voice quieter now but no less firm. "I want you to do something. But I don’t think you’re capable of that, are you?"

He doesn’t answer, and the silence feels like confirmation.

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. "I don’t know why I keep hoping for more from you," you whisper. "You’ve made it clear that I’ll never get it."

Without waiting for his response, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the living room. The weight in your chest grows heavier with each step, but you don’t look back. Once inside your room, you close the door softly behind you, the sound somehow softer than the silence that follows.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let out a shaky breath and yank the ring off your finger as if it’s searing your skin. It’s almost instinctual, the need to rid yourself of the weight of it—the reminder of promises that were never real. You clutch the ring tightly in your palm for a moment before tossing it onto the nightstand with a dull clink.

You stare down at your hand, at the faint imprint left behind, the tattoo burned into your ring finger. No matter how many times you take the ring off, the mark remains, mocking you with its permanence.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips as tears prick your eyes, the ache in your chest impossible to ignore. You press your hands to your face, trying to smother the sob threatening to break free.

Back in the living room, the faint crackle of dying candles echoes in the stillness. Jaeyun doesn’t follow. He doesn’t knock on the door, doesn’t call your name. He stays where you left him, as he always does, letting the silence speak for him.

The last candle sputters out, plunging the house into darkness. You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest hollow but your mind racing.

The ring is now firmly back on your finger, snug against the faint tattoo that refuses to fade.

You sit outside the café you frequent so often that the barista doesn’t even ask for your order anymore, simply bringing your tea the way you like it. The faint clink of ceramic against the table pulls you from your thoughts, and you wrap your hands around the warm cup, as if it can somehow melt the cold ache inside you.

You stir your tea aimlessly, watching the steam spiral into the cool autumn air. Across from you, Wonyoung sits with her usual effortless grace, her beige trench coat draped neatly over her chair, her gold earrings catching the soft light.

"Alright," Wonyoung begins, placing her cup down with a decisive clink. "Spill. You’ve had that look on your face all morning. What’s going on?"

You sigh, leaning back in your chair as the weight of her gaze settles on you. Wonyoung isn’t just your best friend—she’s family now, married to your brother, Sunghoon. That makes her one of the few people who can truly see through you, no matter how much you try to hide.

"It’s nothing," you mutter, though your voice betrays you.

"That’s a terrible lie, and you know it," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Is it Jaeyun again?"

The mention of his name sends a pang through your chest, and you glance away, focusing on the street outside. "It’s always Jaeyun," you admit quietly. "I feel like… I’m stuck. He doesn’t care, Wonyoung. About me, about us, about anything that isn’t his work or his image. Yesterday was the three year anniversary of our marriage. He forgot, and I don’t even know why I’m still trying."

Her jaw tightens, her usually soft expression hardening in a way you rarely see. "That bastard," she mutters under her breath, leaning forward. "You know, I’ve been keeping my mouth shut for months because I didn’t want to overstep, but I’m this close to calling him out. He doesn’t deserve you. Not even a little."

You try to smile, but it’s weak, and the ache in your chest doesn’t ease. "It’s not that simple," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I signed up for this. I knew what it was. And he’s not awful, you know? He’s just… distant. Cold."

Wonyoung reaches across the table, her hand warm as it wraps around yours. Her grip is firm, grounding. "Listen to me," she says, her voice steady and fierce. "You deserve more than 'not awful.' You deserve someone who looks at you the way Sunghoon looks at me when I burn toast. Like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them, no matter how messy or imperfect things get."

Her words bring a faint smile to your lips. You’ve always envied the dynamic between Wonyoung and Sunghoon—how they somehow balance each other perfectly. "You and Sunghoon," you say softly, "you make it look so easy."

Wonyoung chuckles, leaning back in her chair. "It wasn’t always like that. Do you remember how we met?"

You nod vaguely, but she doesn’t wait for an answer.

"It was at one of those insufferable charity galas," she says, rolling her eyes. "I was cornered by some overzealous CEO trying to pitch his latest venture, and Sunghoon swooped in out of nowhere, pretending we were old friends to rescue me."

A small laugh escapes you as you picture it. "Classic Sunghoon."

"Right?" Wonyoung grins. "I thought he was just being polite, but then he started showing up at every event I attended. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but your brother isn’t exactly subtle."

"He’s not," you agree with a smile.

"One day, he asked me to dinner—no pretense, no excuse. Just, ‘Wonyoung, let’s go out.’ And… I don’t know. He wasn’t like the other guys. He didn’t treat me like some prize to win or a business deal to close. He just wanted me."

The warmth in her voice tugs at something in your chest, a bittersweet ache. "And the rest is history," you say softly.

"Not quite." Wonyoung smirks. "Do you know he proposed to me on the ice rink? He can barely skate, but he insisted on doing it there because I mentioned once how much I loved skating as a kid. He spent more time falling than kneeling."

The image of your brother—stoic, composed Sunghoon—fumbling on the ice (LOL) makes you laugh, the sound spilling out unexpectedly.

"That’s Sunghoon for you," you say, shaking your head. "Always dramatic."

"But always sincere," Wonyoung says, her expression softening. "And that’s my point. Love isn’t about grand gestures or perfection. It’s about showing up, every day, even when it’s hard. Jaeyun doesn’t do that for you, and it breaks my heart to see you settling for so little when you deserve so much more.

Her analogy draws a laugh from you, even if it’s faint. "It’s not like I can just leave," you say softly. "You know how our families are. It would be a scandal. And, honestly, what would I even do? This marriage is all I have right now."

"No," Wonyoung says sharply, her voice cutting through your doubt. "You are so much more than this marriage. And if Jaeyun or your family can’t see that, then screw them."

Her conviction startles you, and you blink at her, taken aback. Wonyoung is always poised, diplomatic, rarely letting her emotions boil over. But now her eyes burn with a protectiveness that makes your throat tighten.

"You know what you need?" she says, her tone softening slightly. "A break. Come stay with Sunghoon and me for a while. I’ll make him cook for us—he owes me after shrinking my favourite sweater last week."

You chuckle despite yourself, the image of Sunghoon fumbling in the kitchen almost absurd. "Sunghoon? Cooking? Are you trying to punish me?"

Wonyoung grins, mischief flickering in her eyes. "Okay, fine, I’ll cook. But seriously, think about it. You don’t have to keep carrying this weight on your own. I’m here. Always."

Her words settle over you like a blanket, warm and reassuring. Wonyoung has always been your safe haven, her loyalty a reminder that not everyone in your life sees you as a means to an end.

"Thanks, Wony," you say softly, giving her hand a small squeeze.

"Anytime," she replies, her smile warm and genuine. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she leans back in her chair. "Now, let’s talk about something that doesn’t make me want to hunt Jaeyun down and throttle him. Did you see the dress Jennie wore to that gala last week? Gorgeous, but the heels—ugh, pure torture."

You laugh, grateful for the change in topic. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest feels lighter. Wonyoung chats animatedly, her presence a rare moment of warmth in the cold, suffocating reality of your life.

The house is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. You sit curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, though the words blur together as your thoughts wander. The faint scent of candles lingers in the air, remnants of a night spent trying to make this house feel like a home.

When the front door opens, you don’t look up immediately. Jaeyun steps inside, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor. You can hear him shrug off his coat and place his bag on the console table, his movements measured. He doesn’t call out for you, and you wonder if he assumes you’re already asleep.

It isn’t until he steps into the living room that you glance up. His tie is loosened, and his shirt is slightly wrinkled—a rare imperfection in the man who always seems so put-together.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice hesitant.

You close your book, setting it aside as you nod. "Hi."

Jaeyun stands there for a moment, his hands in his pockets, as if unsure how to proceed. The silence stretches, the weight of your last argument hanging between you like an unwelcome guest.

"Can we talk?" he finally asks, his tone tentative.

You sit up straighter, your heart tightening. "What about?"

He exhales, running a hand through his hair as he sits down on the armchair across from you. "About us," he says, his gaze flickering to yours. "About everything."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, hope flutters in your chest. Maybe he’s ready to finally have the conversation you’ve been waiting for.

"Okay," you say quietly, folding your hands in your lap.

"I know I’ve been… distant," Jaeyun begins, his voice low. "And I know it’s been hard for you. For us. But I’m trying, I really am."

You nod, though the words feel empty, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. "What does ‘trying’ mean to you, Jaeyun?"

He hesitates, his brow furrowing. "It means I’m doing everything I can to balance everything. Work, this marriage—"

"Work," you cut in, your tone sharper than you intended. "It always comes back to work, doesn’t it?"

Jaeyun frowns, leaning forward slightly. "It’s not just about work. You know how demanding my job is. It’s not like I can just drop everything."

"I’m not asking you to drop everything," you say, your voice trembling with frustration. "I’m asking you to show up. To put me first, just once. To prove that this marriage means something to you beyond a contract."

"I do care," he insists, his voice rising slightly. "Why do you think I work so hard? I’m doing this for us—for you."

"No, Jaeyun," you reply, shaking your head. "You’re doing this for you. For your image, for your career. Don’t pretend this is about us when you can’t even remember the last time you asked me how I’m doing."

He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, his jaw tightening. "I’m trying," he says again, but it sounds more like a defense than a promise.

You lean back against the couch, the faint hope you felt earlier slipping through your fingers. "Trying isn’t enough," you say softly.

The words hang in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Jaeyun looks at you, his expression conflicted, as if he’s searching for something to say that will fix this. But instead, he leans back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests.

"I have a big meeting tomorrow," he says finally, his tone almost apologetic. "But we can talk more after. Okay?"

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you look away. "Of course," you murmur. "After work."

Jaeyun flinches at the sarcasm in your voice but doesn’t argue. Instead, he stands, running a hand through his hair as he glances toward the hallway. "I’ll see you in the morning," he says quietly before walking away.

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed on the flickering candle on the coffee table. The room feels emptier than it did before he arrived, the silence colder, more suffocating.

The sound of his footsteps fades as he retreats to his office, leaving you alone with the oppressive quiet of the house. The weight of his absence feels heavier than the space he occupied just moments ago, pressing down on your chest.

You’re angry. Furious, even. The kind of anger that comes not from one isolated hurt but from countless small disappointments piling up into something unbearable. You feel wronged, neglected, like a ghost haunting a house that was never really yours to begin with.

To make matters worse, his words from yesterday night echo in your mind, sharp and cutting: "This marriage isn’t real."

And you’re reminded—again—of what you shouldn’t need reminding of. Jaeyun wasn’t wrong. This marriage, with its polished façade and perfect pretenses, was built on nothing but a deal. A contract. A partnership that never promised love, only convenience.

You shouldn’t be holding him to the vows he read off a script prepared by his secretary, each word meticulously chosen for the press release that followed your wedding. You shouldn’t be expecting more from him when you went into this deal without any expectations.

He’s right, as always. He always is.

You just hate to admit it.

You hate that you’ve let yourself forget the terms. Hate that you’ve let hope slip through the cracks and take root where it was never meant to grow. You hate that his indifference, while expected, still feels like rejection. And you hate that despite everything—despite the truth you’ve known from the beginning—you still feel like you’ve been betrayed.

Jaeyun didn’t lie to you. He didn’t promise anything he hasn’t delivered. You’re the one who strayed from the script, letting feelings creep in where they had no business being.

But even knowing that, the ache doesn’t fade. It settles deeper, rooting itself in your chest like a splinter you can’t quite remove.

It’s fake, you tell yourself again. But no matter how many times you repeat it, it doesn’t feel any less real to you.

The house feels colder now, the weight of Jaeyun’s indifference wrapping around you like a heavy fog. In the distance, you can faintly hear Jaeyun moving around in his office, his presence more distant than the sound of wind outside your window.

You sit on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, your thoughts circling back to the offer Wonyoung extended to you at the café.

It hits you like a revelation, though it shouldn’t. Some time away from Jaeyun, from this house, from the constant ache of trying and failing, might be exactly what you need. You exhale sharply, almost laughing at yourself. Geez, what took you so long to figure that out?

Before you can second-guess the idea, you pick up your phone and dial Wonyoung’s number. She answers on the first ring.

"Hey," she says brightly, as if she’s been waiting for your call.

"Is your offer still open?" you ask hesitantly, gripping the phone tighter.

"Of course it is," she replies without missing a beat. "When do you want me to pick you up?"

"Now?" you say, wincing slightly at how desperate you sound.

"Perfect," she chirps. "Give me ten minutes."

And she delivers, just as she always does. Not even ten minutes later, you hear the low purr of a car engine outside your gate. You peek out the window to see Wonyoung and her bright pink Porsche, the car gleaming under the streetlights. She’s leaning against the driver’s side door, sunglasses perched softly atop her nose, her effortless glamour making her look like she’s stepped out of a magazine shoot.

She waves when she spots you. "Come on!" she calls, her voice light but filled with purpose. "Grab your things and get in."

You hesitate for a moment, glancing back at the house. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, oppressive. You don’t even know if Jaeyun has noticed you’re still sitting out here, much less that you’re about to leave.

Shaking off the thought, you grab an overnight bag you’d hastily packed and head out. As you reach the car, Wonyoung slides her sunglasses down slightly to look at you, her expression softening.

"You don’t have to explain anything right now," she says, opening the passenger door for you. "Just get in."

You slip into the car, the plush leather seats a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality you’ve been living. As soon as you’re buckled in, Wonyoung cranks up the music—a pop song you vaguely recognise—and pulls away from the gate with a flourish.

"You did the right thing," she says after a moment, glancing over at you. "Sometimes, you just need space to see things clearly."

You nod, though the knot in your chest hasn’t quite loosened. Still, as the familiar streets blur past and Wonyoung’s confident energy fills the car, you feel the faintest flicker of relief.

The soft hum of the kettle fills Wonyoung and Sunghoon’s kitchen, blending with the faint sound of rain tapping against the window. Wonyoung hums as she busies herself making tea, while you sit at the counter, wrapped in a blanket she insisted you take the moment you arrived. It’s warm here—not just from the heater, but from the unmistakable feeling of being cared for, a sensation you’ve been starved of for far too long.

"I swear, this house is the only place where I don’t feel like I’m suffocating," you admit softly, watching the steam curl up from your cup.

"You’re always welcome here," Wonyoung says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Even if Sunghoon pretends to be annoyed, you know he loves having you around."

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs interrupts her, and Sunghoon appears in the doorway, his hair damp from a shower. His sharp features are set in an expression of irritation that immediately reminds you of how he looked when you were both kids and he’d caught someone picking on you.

"You’re staying the weekend, right?" Sunghoon asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe.

You hesitate, fiddling with the edge of your blanket. "If it’s okay. I don’t want to impose—"

"Impose?" Sunghoon cuts you off, his voice firm. "You think you’re imposing by needing space from that asshole? Please. Stay as long as you want."

You wince slightly at his tone. Sunghoon rarely speaks about Jaeyun directly, but you know he’s never approved of how distant your marriage has become. And now, with you physically seeking refuge in his home, it seems his patience has run out.

"Sunghoon," Wonyoung warns gently, though she’s clearly on your side.

"No, babe, she needs to hear this," Sunghoon says, stepping closer. His dark eyes meet yours, softening just slightly. "You deserve so much better than how he treats you. I’ve kept quiet because I thought maybe he’d figure it out, but he hasn’t. And I don’t know what it’ll take for you to realise that you’re too good for him."

"Sunghoon," you mumble, feeling a lump rise in your throat.

"You’ve given him everything," he continues, his voice tight with anger, "and what has he done? He keeps you at arm’s length, barely puts in the effort, and makes you question your own worth. If he can’t see how incredible you are, then screw him."

"Sunghoon, that’s enough," Wonyoung says firmly, though her eyes flick to you with concern.

Sunghoon exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry," he mutters, his tone softening. "I just… I hate seeing you like this. You’re my sister. I’m supposed to protect you."

You blink rapidly, fighting back tears. "I know," you whisper. "And I appreciate it. But it’s complicated."

"It doesn’t have to be," he replies, his voice low.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes on the counter. The screen lights up with a notification, and your stomach twists when you see the name: Jaeyun.

Wonyoung leans over, glancing at the screen. "Let me guess," she says dryly. "He’s just now noticing you’re not home."

You bite your lip, hesitating before picking up the phone. The message is short, as always.

Jaeyun: Where are you?

It’s not the words that make your chest tighten, but the tone you imagine as you read them—detached, almost transactional. There’s no concern, no affection. Just a question, as if you’re a misplaced item he needs to locate.

Sunghoon notices your reaction immediately. "What did he say?" he asks, his voice sharp again.

You hold up the phone, showing him the message. His expression darkens, and Wonyoung sighs, placing a hand on his arm.

"Don’t," she says softly.

"I’m not going to text him," Sunghoon snaps. "But if he thinks he can just demand to know where she is after everything—"

"Sunghoon, please," you interject, your voice shaky. "It’s fine. I’ll… I’ll handle it."

"No, it’s not fine," he says firmly. "But I get it. Just don’t let him guilt you into going back before you’re ready, okay?"

You nod, though your fingers tremble as you type out a response.

You: I’m staying at Sunghoon’s for the weekend.

It feels like a small act of defiance, but even hitting send makes your heart race. You place the phone face down on the counter, half-expecting an immediate reply.

"Good," Wonyoung says, her voice gentle. "Let him sit with that. He needs to know you’re not going to drop everything for him anymore."

"She’s right," Sunghoon adds. "And if he tries anything, you know I’ll handle it."

"If our parents finds out you’re always trying to start shit with Jaeyun, they’d be furious," you half-joke, swirling the tea in your cup. There’s a thin thread of humour in your voice, but it’s tied to a hard truth you both know too well. Your parents owe their entire business to the Sim family.

At the edge of bankruptcy, your marriage to Sim Jaeyun had been the final card they could play, a lifeline they clung to when everything else was crumbling. It worked, of course. The Sims, with their wealth and power, lifted your family’s business from ruin.

And in this, as in so many other things, you lose to Sim Jaeyun.

Be it in this sham of a marriage, in the tenuous stability of your family’s finances, you know the Sims don’t need you. Not really. Not as much as you need them.

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, his expression darkening. "You know I never agreed to marrying you off to that family, despite the consequences," he says, his voice low but resolute.

"I know," you reply softly, your gaze falling to your cup. "You got into a huge fight with Father over it. But you also know I’d do it anyway, even if you tried to stop me."

"Unfortunately, you’re as stubborn as a mule," he mutters, though his tone is fond. He exhales sharply, his brow furrowing. "But I hope you know you’re not tied down to this marriage anymore. Our family’s doing significantly better than it was three years ago, with or without the Sim backing us up. You can divorce him, if you want to."

The words hit you harder than you expect. Divorce. You’ve thought about it in the quiet corners of your mind, but hearing Sunghoon say it aloud feels different. It feels real.

"I’ll… sit on it," you say after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon studies you carefully, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. He knows you too well, knows that even though Jaeyun pretends you don’t exist most of the time, you’re still hanging onto that faint, stubborn hope that things might go back to how they were in the beginning. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.

He doesn’t push. He simply nods, leaning forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. "Just remember, you’re not alone in this," he says firmly. "Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back."

You manage a small smile, the lump in your throat easing slightly. For the first time in a long while, you feel supported—truly supported.

As the rain continues to patter against the windows, Wonyoung pulls you into a conversation about dinner plans, her voice light and teasing as she asks Sunghoon to attempt making something edible for once. The tension in the room softens, and for a brief moment, you let yourself breathe.

Your phone buzzes faintly on the table, and your heart skips when you see Jaeyun’s name. The message isn’t anything special—nothing more than a curt reply to the one you sent earlier. It’s impersonal, distant, but you tell yourself it’s enough.

At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The house is eerily quiet when you step inside, the echo of your keys hitting the console table filling the space. You kick off your shoes and glance around, expecting the usual stillness of a house that’s more empty than lived-in. Jaeyun should already be at work. It’s Monday morning, and his schedule is usually airtight at the start of the week.

You place your weekend bag by the stairs, your chest feeling lighter than it has in months. The time with Wonyoung and Sunghoon had been a breath of fresh air, a reprieve from the weight of this house and everything it represents.

But as you make your way toward the kitchen, something feels… off.

The air is heavy, and there’s no sign of the usual orderliness Jaeyun insists on. A mug sits abandoned on the counter, and his shoes are still by the door—things that wouldn’t be there if he’d left for the office.

Curious, you make your way upstairs, the faintest sense of unease prickling at your skin. The door to Jaeyun’s room is slightly ajar, and when you push it open, your breath catches.

He’s there, lying in bed, his usually impeccable appearance replaced by disheveled hair and a pale complexion. The blanket is pulled up to his chin, and the faint flush on his cheeks tells you everything you need to know.

He’s sick.

"Jaeyun?" you say softly, stepping into the room.

He stirs at the sound of your voice, his eyelids fluttering open. His usual sharp gaze is dulled, clouded by fever. "You’re back," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

"I thought you’d be at work," you say, approaching the bed cautiously.

He lets out a weak chuckle that quickly dissolves into a cough. "I tried," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Made it as far as the shower before I gave up."

For a moment, you’re not sure what to do. This is new territory for both of you. But then something shifts inside you, something instinctive. You sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to press the back of your hand to his forehead.

"You’re burning up," you say, frowning. "Why didn’t you call someone?"

"I didn’t think it was that bad," he mutters, closing his eyes again.

You sigh, standing up and glancing around the room. "Stay here. I’ll be back."

His lips twitch, almost as if he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you leave, his usually stoic expression softening ever so slightly.

You return a few minutes later with a damp cloth, a glass of water, and the medicine you keep stocked in the kitchen. Jaeyun doesn’t protest as you sit beside him again, carefully pressing the cloth to his forehead.

"You don’t have to do this," he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

"I know," you reply simply.

He watches you for a moment, his gaze softer than you’re used to. "Thank you," he murmurs.

You nod, focusing on your task. There’s a quiet intimacy in the moment, the kind you haven’t felt in a long time.

As you help him sit up to take the medicine, his hand brushes against yours, and for a second, neither of you moves. It’s such a small, fleeting thing, but it feels monumental in the stillness of the room.

"You’ve done this before," he says suddenly, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You raise an eyebrow. "Taken care of someone who’s sick? Of course."

"No," he says, shaking his head slightly. "You. You’re… good at this. Gentle."

The comment catches you off guard, and you glance away, busying yourself with adjusting the blanket. "It’s nothing," you say quietly.

But Jaeyun doesn’t let it drop. "It’s not nothing," he says, his voice softer now. "I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that about you before."

The words hang between you, and for the first time in years, you see something in his expression that isn’t indifference or frustration. It’s gratitude.

"Rest," you say, deflecting the moment as you stand. "I’ll check on you later."

"Wait," he says, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turn, surprised. "What?"

"Will you… keep me company?" he asks, his tone hesitant. "Just for a little while."

Your heart clenches, and despite everything, you nod. "Okay."

You sit back down, leaning against the headboard as Jaeyun closes his eyes, his breathing evening out. For a while, you watch him, the tension in his face melting away as sleep takes over.

And in that quiet moment, with the soft hum of the rain outside and the warmth of his presence beside you, something shifts.

You open your eyes to find yourself tucked into the comforter of a bed you never thought you’d ever lie in again. The unfamiliar weight of the blankets is warm against your skin, but it takes a moment for you to orient yourself. The room is dim now, the last traces of sunlight gone, replaced by the faint glow of the bedside lamp.

The house is silent, and most notably, Jaeyun is no longer where you left him.

A faint pang of concern rises in your chest as you sit up, running a hand through your hair. He was feverish just hours ago, barely coherent. The fact that he’s no longer in bed is enough to pull you out of the comfort of his room.

You step into the hallway, glancing around. The living room is just as still and empty as it was when you first returned this morning, the silence almost oppressive.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot it: the familiar glow spilling out from under the door to Jaeyun’s office.

You narrow your eyes. Don’t tell me…

You walk toward the door, heart sinking with every step. Pushing it open slightly, you find him perched over his laptop, his face illuminated by the screen. His fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, his focus unbroken. He didn’t even bother changing out of the clothes he slept in, the faint flush on his cheeks a reminder that he’s still sick.

"Jaeyun," you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

He startles slightly, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, he looks almost guilty, but the expression is fleeting. His face hardens, and he’s back to his usual self—detached, dismissive.

"What are you doing?" you demand, stepping into the room. "You should be resting."

"I’m fine," he replies curtly, his attention already shifting back to the screen.

"You’re not fine," you retort, your frustration bubbling over. "You had a fever this morning. You could barely sit up. And now you’re here, working as if nothing happened?"

He doesn’t answer, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" you ask, your tone softening despite your anger. "Why can’t you just take a break for once?"

"Because I don’t have the luxury of taking a break," he snaps, his voice sharp. He glances at you briefly, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. "Not everyone can afford to stop when things get difficult."

You flinch at his words, but you refuse to back down. "You’re not invincible, Jaeyun. You’re sick. Pushing yourself like this is only going to make it worse."

For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a heavy sigh, he closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. His face is pale, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced in the harsh light of the office.

"Why do you care?" he asks quietly, his voice devoid of its usual edge.

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. Why do you care? After everything, after the distance and the arguments, why do you still feel this pull toward him?

"Because someone has to," you say finally, your voice steady. "And whether you like it or not, that someone is me."

He blinks, clearly not expecting your answer. His expression softens, the usual mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man he used to be—or maybe the man he still is, buried under all the walls he’s built.

"Come on," you say gently, nodding toward the door. "You need to lie down."

To your surprise, he doesn’t argue. He stands slowly, wincing slightly as he stretches. As he follows you out of the office, the silence between you feels less heavy, less hostile.

Back in his room, you watch as he climbs into bed, his movements sluggish. You adjust the blankets around him, your hand brushing against his briefly.

"You’re stubborn," you say softly, a faint attempt at teasing.

He lets out a weak chuckle, closing his eyes. "Takes one to know one."

You smile despite yourself, stepping back toward the door to give him space. But before you can leave, his voice stops you.

"Stay," he says quietly.

You freeze, your hand still on the doorframe. “So I can find you missing again when I wake up?” You joke, but you know it got lost on him when you spot the hint of guilt that colour his face.

"Just… stay," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes open, and for a fleeting moment, you see something vulnerable in his gaze.

You hesitate, your mind racing. Despite the years of being his wife, despite all the public pretenses and shared spaces, Jaeyun has never asked you to stay—not like this.

"Okay," you say finally, your voice soft. You move back toward the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge, unsure of what to expect.

Jaeyun shifts slightly, making space for you. "Lie down," he murmurs, his tone almost… tender.

You blink at him, stunned, but something in his expression—tired, open—compels you to obey. Slowly, you lie down beside him, careful to keep a polite distance. The room is quiet, the sound of your breaths the only thing breaking the stillness.

But then you feel it.

His arm snakes around your waist, tentative at first but firm as it settles. You inhale sharply, your body stiffening under his touch. Despite being his lawfully wedded wife, whose only purpose, it seems, is to sit there and look pretty, Jaeyun has never once touched you—not like this. Not in an intimate setting. Not at all.

"Jaeyun," you whisper, your voice catching.

"Don’t," he interrupts softly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "Just… let me. Just for a moment."

You don’t move, your heart racing as the weight of his arm presses against you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. His warmth seeps into you, a stark contrast to the cold distance you’ve grown so accustomed to.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it feels like something fragile and unspoken is passing between you, an unsteady bridge forming where there had only been a chasm before.

"Thank you," he murmurs finally, his breath warm against your neck.

"For what?" you ask, your voice barely audible.

"For being here," he replies simply.

You close your eyes, your hand hovering uncertainly before resting lightly on top of his. "Get some rest, Jaeyun," you say softly.

His hold on you tightens ever so slightly, and for the first time, you let yourself lean into his touch. As Jaeyun’s breathing evens out and the warmth of his presence lulls you into stillness, you feel something unexpected stir in your chest.

Not hope, not yet.

You tell yourself not to expect too much. This could just be a one-off thing, and it’ll go away just as quickly as it came, disappearing like so many other fragile glimpses of something more in your marriage.

Still, you stay still, letting the warmth of his touch seep into you, even as your mind tries to brace itself for the inevitable return to indifference. You tell yourself this means nothing—it’s just circumstance. He’s disoriented, caught off guard by his own vulnerability.

But then your gaze drifts downward, and you find yourself puzzled. His left hand covers your own, his touch firm yet gentle, and you’re struck by the sight of his wedding ring etched tightly around his finger. The gold band catches the faint glow of the moonlight outside, its presence so sure, so constant, as if it’s always belonged there.

Your eyes drop to your own hand. The ring you once wore is absent, likely discarded at some point when you returned home earlier, leaving only the faint tattoo etched into your skin.

His fingers shift slightly, and you feel the rough edge of his thumb trace over the spot where your ring used to sit. The action is subtle, almost unconscious, but it makes your heart race.

Does he realise what he’s doing? Is it just a fever-driven habit, a thoughtless gesture? Or is there something more to the way his touch lingers there, his warmth seeping into the empty space where a symbol of your bond once rested?

You glance at his face, but his eyes are closed, his breathing soft and steady. He looks peaceful, almost childlike, so far removed from the sharp, composed man you know him to be.

You let out a slow breath, your heart conflicted. This moment feels too fragile, too fleeting, to hold onto. And yet, the weight of his hand over yours, the brush of his thumb against your tattooed ring finger, lingers in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

Don’t expect too much, you remind yourself, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the pillow. But even as sleep pulls you under, the thought remains, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind.

The soft glow of morning light filters through the curtains, and you stir, slowly coming back to consciousness. Your first thought is that the bed feels strangely warm, a comforting weight anchoring you to the mattress.

Your second thought is that Jaeyun is surely gone by now.

But when you blink your eyes open, you’re surprised to find him still there, lying beside you. His head is propped up on one hand, his eyes watching you with an unusual softness. He’s awake, fully present, and for a moment, you think you might still be dreaming.

"You’re still here?" you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

He smirks faintly, though there’s a gentleness in his expression that you can’t quite place. "Good morning to you too," he says, his tone light.

You push yourself up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows. "I thought you’d be gone by now. Off to work or something."

He chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. "I figured you’d think that," he says, his gaze steady on yours.

"Am I wrong?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, his lips twitch into the faintest smile, and he says, "I wanted to prove you wrong."

You blink, caught off guard by his words. "Prove me wrong about what?"

"That I’d be gone when you woke up," he says simply. "I know that’s what you expected. I wanted to stay… just this once."

His honesty takes the air from your lungs, and you find yourself staring at him, searching his face for some kind of ulterior motive. But all you see is sincerity, an openness that feels so unlike him it almost makes you uncomfortable.

"Why?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, his expression faltering slightly. "No reason.”

The words hang between you, fragile but significant. You don’t know how to respond, your heart warring with a mix of emotions—hope, skepticism, confusion.

"Jaeyun," you begin, your voice uncertain, "are you—"

"Don’t read too much into it," he interrupts gently, his gaze shifting away for a moment. "I just… wanted to be here. It’s the least I can do in return for taking care of me last night. That’s all."

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say. It feels like there’s more he isn’t saying, but for now, you let it be.

"Well," you say, clearing your throat to break the tension, "you succeeded. I didn’t think you’d still be here, but you are."

He smiles faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to make your chest tighten. "Good," he says, his tone soft.

The two of you lapse into silence, the morning light growing brighter as it fills the room. Strangely, the quiet between you isn’t heavy or suffocating—it’s almost comfortable.

And that scares you.

The late morning sun filters through the curtains, casting soft streaks of light across the living room. You’re perched on the couch, a mug of tea warming your hands, and for once, the house doesn’t feel so empty. It’s quiet, but not the cold, distant kind of quiet you’ve grown used to. This quiet feels… peaceful.

Jaeyun is in the kitchen, rummaging through drawers in search of something. The sound of clinking silverware drifts into the living room, and you can’t help but smile faintly at his muffled muttering.

"You’ve been in there for ten minutes," you call out. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing," he replies, his tone nonchalant, though it’s clear he’s lying.

A moment later, he emerges with a slightly triumphant expression, holding up a mismatched pair of chopsticks. "Found them."

You raise an eyebrow. "Were we missing chopsticks?"

He shrugs, sitting down beside you on the couch. "Apparently. But not anymore."

It’s such a mundane moment, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and yet it feels monumental. Jaeyun—your distant, often aloof husband—sitting beside you, chopsticks in hand as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

"So," you say, tilting your head to look at him, "you’re really not going to work today?"

He leans back against the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Called in sick," he says simply.

Your eyes widen slightly. "You did what?"

He glances at you, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You heard me. Just one day. I figured the world wouldn’t end if I wasn’t at my desk for twenty-four hours."

The admission surprises you more than you’d like to admit. "You? Calling in sick? Are you sure you’re not actually still feverish?"

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "I just… thought it might be nice to stay home. Spend the day here."

The words are casual, but they hit you with unexpected weight. He doesn’t say it outright, but you can tell he means with you.

The day unfolds in a series of small, quiet moments.

You make lunch together—or rather, you try to make lunch while Jaeyun critiques your cooking with a faint smirk that earns him a flick of flour to the face. He retaliates by stealing a bite of your eggs before it even makes it to your plate.

Later, you find yourselves sitting on the floor, a forgotten deck of cards between you. The game dissolves into laughter when Jaeyun’s competitive streak makes him accuse you of cheating, though you both know he’s just annoyed that you’re winning.

At some point, he drags you to the couch, insisting you watch an old movie he loves. The two of you sit side by side, shoulders brushing, as the black-and-white film flickers across the screen.

The golden hues of sunset stream through the kitchen windows as you both sit at the table, sipping tea after finishing the leftovers from lunch. The warmth of the day still lingers in the air, wrapping around the two of you like a cocoon.

As you lean back in your chair, savoring the moment, Jaeyun suddenly tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your hand.

"Where’s your ring?" he asks, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.

Your heart skips a beat. The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you freeze.

"My ring?" you repeat, stalling for time as your mind races.

"Yeah," he says, his gaze still fixed on your bare finger. "You’re always wearing it. Did you take it off for something?"

"I… I must’ve left it in the bathroom," you blurt out, forcing a smile you hope looks convincing. "Probably when I was washing my hands earlier."

He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "In the bathroom?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding as you avoid his gaze. "I’ll grab it later."

Jaeyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like. The air feels heavier, and you’re painfully aware of how obvious your lie probably sounds.

Finally, he leans back in his chair, shrugging slightly. "Don’t forget it," he says, his tone light but his words carrying an undertone you can’t quite place.

You nod, forcing yourself to relax. "Of course."

But as the conversation shifts and the moment passes, the weight of his question lingers. You glance down at your hand, at the faint tattoo where your ring should be, and a wave of guilt prickles at the edges of your thoughts.

It’s not like you haven’t taken it off before. In fact, you do it almost every day when you’re at home. It’s become something of a ritual—the first thing you do after stepping through the door. You slip the ring off your finger and leave it somewhere out of sight, free from its weight, if only for a little while.

The cool metal feels foreign against your skin most days, its presence a constant reminder of what your life is—or isn’t. You never think twice about leaving it behind when you’re within these walls. Here, there’s no one to see, no one to judge, no cameras waiting to catch a fleeting moment that could spiral into something scandalous.

When you’re not out and about, it feels pointless to keep it on. The ring, for all its shine, doesn’t mean much in the confines of this house. It’s more for show, a symbol of an agreement carefully constructed to protect your family’s image and his.

Not a promise. Never that.

At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself. The habit of slipping it off has become so second nature, so tied to the quiet rebellion you allow yourself in these small, insignificant moments.

And yet, when Jaeyun notices its absence today, it feels like the weight of it hasn’t truly left you. As if even without wearing it, the ring leaves its mark in more ways than one.

He’s never noticed before—or if he has, he’s never said anything. So why now? Why today, of all days, when things between you feel… different?

Unlike you, he never seems to take it off. It’s always there, snug around his finger, as if it belongs. The sight of it used to annoy you—how he could wear it so easily, without it seeming to weigh him down.

Now, you’re not sure how it makes you feel.

You run your thumb over the faint tattoo on your ring finger, and force yourself to look away. It’s just one day, you remind yourself again.

Just one day where things feel lighter, less complicated.

But you can’t help wondering if Jaeyun’s question meant more than he let on. And you can’t shake the feeling that this small, seemingly insignificant detail might mean more than either of you are ready to admit.

And like every other time you think things might start changing for the better between you and Jaeyun, you’re reminded once again why you don’t hope.

Jaeyun goes back to his old ways, the distance between you returning like a shadow that never truly left. It feels like déjà vu.

You can’t help but wonder how one person can do such a thing—be kind and leave you helplessly yearning for one day, only to completely pretend you don’t exist the next. It’s as if he’s perfected the art of making you feel like you matter, just enough to keep you tethered, before yanking it all away again.

He’s gone before you wake up, and by the time he comes home, it’s well past dinner, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the crisp air he brings in from the outside world. There’s no more lingering conversations, no more stolen glances or hesitant touches. It’s as though the day you spent together was a dream you woke from too soon.

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t hurt, but it does. Every time he brushes past you without a word, every time his focus remains glued to his phone or laptop instead of on the life you’re supposed to be sharing, it stings.

One evening, as he’s seated at the dining table with his laptop, his face illuminated by the cold, blue glow of the screen, you bring it up.

"There’s a charity gala being held by the Park family this weekend," you say, your tone light, careful. "We’re expected to attend together."

He doesn’t look up, his fingers tapping steadily at the keyboard. "Hmm," he mutters absently, his tone distant.

You suppress a sigh, leaning against the counter. "It’s important, Jaeyun. The Parks have always been close to your family, and you know how much these events matter to them—and to us."

"I’ll see if I can make it," he replies, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"See if you can make it?" you repeat, a note of irritation slipping into your voice. "It’s not a suggestion, Jaeyun. We’re supposed to go together."

He pauses for a fraction of a second before resuming his typing. "I’ll try," he says, his tone flat.

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding even though he isn’t looking. "Alright," you murmur, retreating to the safety of your room.

But deep down, you already know how it will play out. He won’t come. You’ll stand alone at the gala, wearing a practiced smile while the whispers swirl around you. And when you return home, he’ll have some excuse waiting, polished and hollow, leaving you wondering why you even bother to hope.

And yet, against your better judgment, you do. You hope.

You’d spent hours convincing yourself that he would come, that this time would be different. But as the car pulled up to the venue without him, the weight of the truth settled back onto your shoulders. Of course, he hadn’t come. You knew it was too good to be true.

The Park family’s charity gala is as dazzling as you expected. The grand ballroom is a sea of glittering gowns, tailored suits, and sparkling champagne glasses. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across the room, illuminating faces that belong to the city’s most influential.

As you make your way through the crowd, trying not to let your disappointment show, you almost immediately feel the weight of eyes on you.

People glance at the space beside you—empty, conspicuously so. The absence of Jaeyun is louder than any announcement, a glaring reminder of how alone you are in this marriage.

"She’s here alone again," someone whispers as you pass.

“Where’s Jaeyun?" one woman asks lightly, her tone laced with curiosity.

You hold your head high, your practiced smile in place, though the sting of their words burns beneath your skin. You knew this would happen. You prepared yourself for it. And still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

An hour passes, and you’ve made your way through polite conversations and obligatory greetings. You exchange small talk with acquaintances and pose for photographs, every move calculated to maintain the image of perfection.

And before you know it, you find yourself at the bar, nursing a glass of champagne as the evening drags on. The music is lively, couples twirling across the dance floor, and yet you can’t shake the gnawing feeling of being out of place.

"Mrs. Sim," a warm voice calls out. It’s smooth, familiar, and you turn to see Justin Park standing beside you. The eldest son of the Park family is the picture of charm, his tailored suit impeccable, his smile easy.

"Justin," you greet him with a smile, grateful for the familiarity. "It’s been a while."

"It has," he agrees, taking your hand briefly in his. "I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Never. The Parks throw the best events, after all."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he teases, his grin widening.

The conversation flows effortlessly, his presence offering a welcome reprieve from the otherwise stifling evening. Justin has always had a way of making people feel at ease, and for the first time tonight, you feel a small sense of relief.

But you’re not oblivious to the glances. You can feel the eyes of the room on you, hear the faint murmurs growing louder as the two of you continue talking. Justin doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he doesn’t care.

He takes the seat beside you, signaling for a drink. "No Jaeyun tonight?"

You let out a soft laugh, though there’s no real humour in it. "Work," you say, the excuse slipping off your tongue before you can stop it.

Justin raises an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "Work seems to take up a lot of his time."

You glance at him, unsure how to respond. There’s a knowing look in his eyes, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he shifts the conversation to lighter topics, asking about your family, your thoughts on the gala, your latest endeavours.

But as the conversation continues, you become more and more aware of the glances being cast your way. The whispers. The pointed stares.

It doesn’t take long to piece together what’s happening.

The perfect wife of Sim Jaeyun, left alone at a gala, seen laughing and chatting with Justin Park—eldest son of the host family, no less. The headline practically writes itself.

You excuse yourself politely, leaving Justin with a gracious smile as you slip away to the powder room. Your heart pounds as you grip the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The whispers have always followed you, but this feels different.

When you return to the ballroom, the tension is palpable. More eyes follow you now, the buzz of speculation almost tangible. You press on, keeping your head high, your composure intact.

But inside, something breaks.

You’d held onto hope, despite everything, that Jaeyun might show up, that he might stand beside you for once, silencing the whispers with his presence. Instead, his absence speaks louder than words ever could.

The night drags on, and by the time you leave, the damage is done.

When you arrive home, the house is dark, just as you expected. Jaeyun’s car is in the driveway, but the silence inside confirms what you already know—he’s here, but he’s not really here.

You find him in his office, his laptop open, his face bathed in the cold glow of the screen.

"You didn’t come," you say, your voice flat as you stand in the doorway.

He glances up briefly, his expression unreadable. "I told you I was busy."

"Busy," you repeat, bitterness creeping into your tone. "You couldn’t even spare one evening? You didn’t even try, did you?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond.

"Do you have any idea what tonight was like for me?" you ask, your voice rising. "Standing there alone while people whispered and stared? While they speculated about my marriage—and about Justin Park?"

At the mention of Justin’s name, Jaeyun’s gaze sharpens, a flicker of something—anger, perhaps—crossing his face.

"Justin?" he asks, his tone clipped.

"Yes, Justin," you snap. "He was kind enough to talk to me while my husband couldn’t even bother to show up."

Jaeyun’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might actually say something. But then he leans back in his chair, his expression closing off once more. "I’m sure people will find something else to talk about tomorrow."

The dismissal in his tone is the final blow. You shake your head, the weight of the evening crashing down on you.

"Of course," you say softly, your voice trembling. "Why would you care?"

You turn and walk away, the sound of his keyboard clicking resuming as the door closes behind you. In the quiet of your room, you slip off your gown, your hands trembling as you let it pool around your feet.

You knew it was too good to be true. Jaeyun’s warmth, his attention—it was fleeting, a momentary lapse in the distance that defines your marriage. And now, you’re left with the echoes of what might have been, wondering if it was ever real to begin with.

The days following the gala, marked by a heavy, stifling silence that seems to wrap itself around the house. You try to carry on as if nothing has changed, though it’s impossible to ignore the fact that Jaeyun is now home every day.

It’s disorienting. He’s always been someone who thrives on his demanding schedule, constantly in and out, using work as an excuse to avoid the cracks in your marriage.

But now, he’s here—present in a way that feels more like a shadow than a comfort.

You desperately try to avoid him, sticking to your routines with an almost obsessive precision. You spend longer in the kitchen, longer in the guest room you’ve claimed as your own, and shorter stretches of time in shared spaces like the living room. Yet, no matter how hard you try, it’s like his presence lingers everywhere.

In the mornings, you find him in the kitchen, sipping coffee at the island as if he’s always been there. The air is thick with unspoken words as you pour yourself tea, your movements stiff and deliberate. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge you beyond a glance, but the weight of his silence is deafening.

At night, it’s worse. You hear him moving about the house, the faint sound of his footsteps stopping and starting as though he’s unsure where to go. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to confront him, to say something—anything—but you don’t. You can’t.

One evening, as you retreat to your room, you notice the door to his office is wide open, the lights dim. You hesitate for a moment, glancing inside, only to find him sitting at his desk, staring blankly at his laptop.

He doesn’t look up, but his voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. "You’re avoiding me."

You freeze, your fingers tightening on the edge of the doorframe. "I’m not avoiding you," you lie, your voice steadier than you feel.

He lets out a dry laugh, though there’s no humour in it. "You’re not very good at lying."

You don’t respond, your pulse quickening as the weight of his gaze finally lifts from the screen and settles on you. His eyes are darker than usual, a storm brewing behind them, but you refuse to let it intimidate you.

"Why are you here all the time now?" you ask abruptly, the question tumbling out before you can stop it. "Are you not needed at the office?"

He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I realised I’ve been away too much, I’ve decided to work from home for the time being."

You scoff, shaking your head. "You’ve always been away too much. Why does it matter now?"

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His gaze lingers on you, searching, as if trying to decide how much to say. "Because you were right," he says finally, his voice quieter but firm. "About a lot of things."

The confession catches you off guard, your carefully constructed walls trembling under the weight of his words.

"And what am I supposed to do with that?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t know. But I’m trying."

You laugh bitterly, stepping back into the hallway. "Trying doesn’t undo what’s already been done, Jaeyun."

"I know," he says softly, almost to himself.

You leave before he can say anything more, retreating to your room and shutting the door behind you. The house falls silent again, but it feels more suffocating than ever.

The knock at the door is sharp, insistent, cutting through the quiet of the night like a blade. You hesitate, your book slipping from your hands onto the couch.

It’s late—too late for anyone to show up unannounced. The second knock is harder, more aggressive, and the urgency in it sends a chill down your spine.

Jaeyun’s office light is still on, but the house is otherwise silent. You glance down the hallway, half-expecting him to emerge and handle it, but when he doesn’t, you steel yourself and head for the door.

Justin Park stands on your doorstep, his usually composed face marred by a split lip and a bruise darkening his cheek. His suit jacket is gone, his shirt wrinkled and bloodied, and his eyes burn with a fury you’ve never seen before.

You swing the door open, your voice trembling. "Justin? What happened to you?"

He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his movements stiff and pained. "Where’s your husband?" he snaps, his voice low and dangerous.

"What—what are you talking about?" you stammer, closing the door behind him as he staggers into the living room.

"Get Jaeyun on a leash," he growls, turning to face you. His eyes are blazing, his anger palpable. "Because if this is how he handles things, you’re going to have bigger problems than rumors about us."

You stare at him, your mind struggling to catch up. "Jaeyun? What does he have to do with this?"

Justin lets out a harsh laugh, though there’s no humor in it. He presses a hand to his side, wincing as he moves. "You really don’t know, do you?"

"Your husband sent his men after me," he growls, his voice dripping with anger. "Three of them cornered me at the bar tonight. Told me I needed to stay away from you. When I didn’t back down, they made sure I 'got the message.'"

The blood drains from your face as you take in his bruised cheek, the torn fabric of his shirt. "Jaeyun… he wouldn’t—"

"Wouldn’t he?" Justin snaps, his eyes blazing. "You think he didn’t know exactly what he was doing? He made it very clear who was behind it."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. This couldn’t be true, could it? Jaeyun, who has spent years pretending you don’t exist, who didn’t even bother to show up at the gala, suddenly cared enough to orchestrate this?

You swallow hard, your hands trembling as you step closer. "Justin, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—"

"Don’t apologise for him," Justin interrupts sharply, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at you. "This isn’t your fault. But you need to talk to him. Make him understand that this isn’t how you fix things."

You nod slowly, your mind spinning. "Let me get you some ice," you say, moving toward the kitchen.

"Don’t bother," Justin says, shaking his head. "I just came to let you know what happened. Whatever you do with this information is up to you."

"Justin—"

"Take care of yourself," he says, cutting you off as he heads toward the door. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and glances back at you. "You deserve better than this."

The sound of the door shutting behind Justin reverberates through the house like a final gavel in a court sentencing. You stand frozen, trying to collect yourself, when you hear it—the unmistakable sound of Jaeyun’s footsteps behind you.

"Who was that?" Jaeyun’s voice is calm, almost indifferent, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that makes your skin crawl.

You turn slowly to face him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You already know who it was."

His gaze darkens, his expression unreadable. "And why was he here?"

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Why do you think? He came to show me the bruises your men left on him. Did you send them, Jaeyun?"

Jaeyun doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "He needed to understand his place," he says flatly.

"His place?" you echo, your voice rising. "You sent your men to beat him up over a conversation? What’s wrong with you?"

Jaeyun straightens, his eyes flashing. "He was disrespecting our marriage."

You stare at him, stunned for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "Disrespecting our marriage? What marriage, Jaeyun? The one you’ve ignored for years? The one you couldn’t even show up to defend at the gala?"

He steps closer, his voice sharp. "Don’t twist this. You were out there talking to him, laughing with him, while people whispered about you. About us."

"Why does it matter to you anyway?" you snap, your anger spilling over. "You don’t see this arrangement as anything more than a convenience. Why do you care if I was talking to Justin or not?"

"Because it reflects on me," he fires back, his voice hard. "On my family. On my name."

You flinch at the bluntness of his words, your chest tightening. "So that’s all this is to you? Image? Reputation?"

He clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You don’t understand."

"No," you shoot back, your voice breaking slightly. "I don’t understand. Because you don’t let me. You don’t let me in, Jaeyun. And then you act like you have the right to control me when I’m just trying to survive this sham of a marriage."

His expression falters for a moment, something flickering in his eyes—guilt, regret, anger—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

"You don’t know Justin Park," he says, his tone cold. "Not like I do. It’s best you stay away from him."

"And you think I know you?" you ask, your voice trembling with fury. "Maybe it’s you I should be staying away from."

The words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, he’s silent. The tension between you is suffocating, the weight of everything left unsaid crushing down on both of you.

Finally, he exhales, his voice quieter but no less sharp. "This isn’t about me."

"It’s always about you, Jaeyun," you reply, shaking your head. "Your name. Your image. Your pride. But what about me? What about what I want? Or do I not even factor into this equation anymore?"

His silence is answer enough.

You turn on your heel, your chest tight as you storm down the hallway, leaving him standing there in the suffocating silence. Your footsteps echo through the house, but his don’t follow.

In your room, you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling as you press them against your temples. Justin’s words replay in your mind: You deserve better than this.

And for a moment, you wonder if he’s right.

The thought comes to you slowly, quietly, like the first ripples of a tide that eventually swallows the shore. Divorce. You roll the word around in your mind, tasting its finality, its promise of freedom, and the bitter pang of everything it would mean.

For so long, it felt like an impossible idea, a step too drastic to even consider. You told yourself it wasn’t an option—not with the intertwined fates of your family and Jaeyun’s. Not with the whispers that would follow you for years, the headlines that would smear your name.

But now, as you sit alone in the dim light of your room, the faint murmur of Jaeyun’s movements down the hall a constant reminder of how broken things are, it doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

It feels inevitable.

Your mind drifts back to the last few months, to the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. For every fleeting moment of warmth from Jaeyun, there’s a cold wall waiting to slam back down, leaving you questioning your worth, your sanity.

You deserve better than this.

Do you?

The idea both frightens and exhilarates you. To walk away, to sever the ties that have bound you for so long, feels like a leap into the unknown. What would your life look like without Jaeyun? Without the expectations and pretenses that have consumed you?

Your thoughts turn to your family. You know the sacrifices they made, the desperation that led to this marriage in the first place. For so long, you told yourself you couldn’t leave because they needed you to stay. But now, with their business stable and the weight of the Sim family’s influence less critical than it once was, you wonder if you’ve been clinging to that excuse simply because it’s easier than facing the truth.

The truth is, you’ve been afraid. Afraid of the fallout, of the shame, of the unknown. Afraid that walking away would mean admitting failure—not just to your family or society, but to yourself.

But as you sit there, the faint hum of the world outside filtering through the window, you realise something else: staying is its own kind of failure.

You press your hands to your face, breathing deeply as you let the thought settle over you. Divorce. It feels heavy, like a word too big for your chest to hold, but also strangely freeing.

You don’t make the decision tonight. But for the first time, you allow yourself to think about it, to imagine a life where the weight of this marriage is lifted, where you can breathe freely again.

But while the thought of it doesn’t feel impossible, it doesn’t feel like hope either.

Not the kind of hope you would feel when the coldness between you and Jaeyun would melt for a day or two, his rare gestures of warmth thawing the ice between you before it inevitably froze over again. Not the kind of hope you would feel when you allowed yourself to dream of a happy marriage with him, only to wake up to the nightmare of its absence.

This doesn’t feel like hope.

It feels like resignation. A quiet acceptance of the reality you’ve been avoiding for years. But even as the word divorce lingers in your mind, whispering promises of freedom and relief, there’s something else that you can’t seem to ignore.

Even after everything—after the indifference, the distance, the way he treats you like an afterthought—you can’t deny the feeling that has rooted itself so stubbornly in your chest.

You love him.

It feels absurd, almost laughable, to admit it even to yourself. How could you love someone who has hurt you so thoroughly, someone who has made you feel invisible in a marriage that he vowed to protect? And yet, the truth is undeniable.

You love him.

You love him in the quiet moments when his mask slips, and he shows glimpses of the man you thought he could be. You love him in the memories of the rare times he made you feel seen, however fleeting they were. You even love him in the ache of longing, in the endless hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll come back to you in the way you’ve always wanted him to.

It’s maddening. It’s painful. And it’s real.

The thought makes your chest tighten, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. How can you even think of divorce when your heart refuses to let go? When a part of you still clings to the idea that something salvageable remains between you?

You press your fingers to your temple, willing the thoughts to quiet, but they don’t. Instead, they linger, heavy and unrelenting, as the faint sounds of Jaeyun moving about the house reach your ears.

You love him. Despite everything. And maybe that’s the worst part of all.

You decide that you’ll never be able to come to a conclusion as long as you’re stuck in this house, surrounded by everything that reminds you of him. The walls feel like they’re closing in, every corner holding fragments of a life you’re not sure you can continue living. His cologne lingering in the hallways, the faint indent of his weight on the sofa, the silent hum of his presence—all of it suffocates you.

So, you do the only thing you can think of. You pack your bags.

You don’t give yourself time to overthink it. A small overnight bag is enough; you don’t even care if you’ve forgotten something. The urgency to leave, to breathe, to escape the weight of him, pushes you forward.

You don’t bother texting or calling Wonyoung or Sunghoon first. She’s your best friend and he’s your brother. You trust that they’ll understand. Frankly, you don’t care if you’re interrupting something. You just want out of this house.

When you step out into the cool evening air, the weight on your chest lifts ever so slightly. You pull your coat tighter around you and get into the car, gripping the steering wheel as if it’s the only thing anchoring you.

The drive to Wonyoung’s is a blur, the city lights flashing past your windows like fleeting memories. You don’t know what you’re going to say when you arrive, but you trust that she’ll take one look at you and know. She always does.

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles white as you try to focus on the road and not the storm brewing inside your mind. But as you take a glance at your rear-view mirror, a flicker of unease slithers into your chest.

The car behind you has been following you for far too long.

At first, you brush it off as coincidence. It’s a city, after all, and traffic can be unpredictable. But the longer you drive, the more you notice the pattern. Every turn you make, every lane change—it mirrors your moves with eerie precision.

Your chest tightens, and your breath comes a little faster. You test the waters, making an abrupt turn onto a side street. The car behind you follows.

Panic starts to creep in, and your mind races with possibilities. Who would follow you? And why?

Your foot presses harder on the accelerator, your heart pounding as the car behind you matches your speed. You weave through the streets, your mind screaming for clarity, for an explanation. But none comes. The only thing that matters is the need to escape.

As you merge onto a less busy road, the car behind you inches closer, its headlights glaring in your rear-view mirror like eyes boring into your soul. You push the accelerator to the floor, the speedometer climbing as your car barrels down the road.

The high-speed chase feels endless, your pulse a deafening roar in your ears. You barely register the turns you’re making, the streets blurring together as you fight to stay ahead. But in your desperation, you take a corner too sharply.

The car swerves, tires screeching against the asphalt. The world tilts as your vehicle careens off the road, smashing into a lamppost with a bone-jarring impact.

Everything goes quiet.

Your head throbs, the airbag deflating in front of you. Smoke wafts from the crumpled hood, and your vision swims as you try to make sense of what’s happening. Before you can gather your thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps snaps you to attention.

You fumble with your seatbelt, panic surging as the car door wrenches open. A figure looms over you, silhouetted against the harsh glow of the headlights.

"Let’s go," a voice growls, low and urgent.

Before you can react, strong hands grip your arm, dragging you from the wreckage. You kick and thrash, your protests muffled by the haze of adrenaline and the ache radiating through your body.

"Stop fighting," the voice snaps, and you freeze, recognition dawning.

"Justin?" you rasp, your voice hoarse and disbelieving.

He doesn’t answer, his grip on your arm tightening as he pulls you toward a waiting car parked just behind yours.

"What are you doing?" you demand, trying to resist despite the pounding in your head.

"Saving you," he bites out, his tone cold and unrelenting. "From yourself and from him."

The words send a chill down your spine, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. "What are you talking about? Let me go!"

But Justin doesn’t falter. He opens the car door and all but shoves you inside before sliding into the driver’s seat and locking the doors.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. "You’re a pawn in his game, and he’s not going to let you go. Not unless someone forces his hand."

The engine roars to life, and the car speeds off, leaving the wreckage—and your sense of safety—far behind.

"Justin, what are you doing?" you whisper, your voice trembling as the weight of the situation presses down on you.

He glances at you briefly, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Making sure you don’t go back to him."

Panic bubbles up in your chest, and you realise this night is far from over.

The warehouse is cold, damp, and utterly silent except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Your wrists ache from where Justin had bound them to the chair, though he’d been careful not to make it too tight—almost as if he wanted to justify this madness to himself.

He paces in front of you, his movements restless, his face a storm of emotions. His disheveled appearance is a far cry from the polished, composed man you’d spoken to at the gala. Now, he looks unhinged, his sharp gaze flickering between intensity and something softer that makes your stomach churn.

"Why are you doing this, Justin?" you demand, your voice trembling but resolute. "What do you want from me?"

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. His lips twitch into a faint, humourless smile. "This isn’t about what I want," he says quietly. "This is about what’s right."

You scoff, your anger surging despite the fear gnawing at you. "Right? You call kidnapping me right? You’re delusional."

He doesn’t flinch at your words, instead crouching down to your level, his eyes boring into yours. "You don’t understand, do you?" he says softly, almost pityingly. "You’re a pawn in a much bigger game. Jaeyun’s game."

"And what does that make me in your game, Justin?" you snap, your voice sharp.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. "I’m not playing games," he insists. "I’m trying to show you the truth. Jaeyun doesn’t care about you—he never has. To him, you’re just another piece on the board, someone to control and manipulate to his advantage."

You glare at him, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. "And you think you’re any better? You think dragging me here, tying me up, and ranting about Jaeyun makes you some kind of saviour?"

His face darkens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or guilt. "I’m trying to free you from him," he says, his voice low.

"Free me?" you laugh bitterly, shaking your head. "Stop treating me as your moral compass. You know damn well this has nothing to do with saving me. You just want to use me to get back at Jaeyun."

Justin’s expression falters, his composure cracking. He stands abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he begins pacing again.

"It’s not like that," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

"Then what is it, Justin?" you press, your voice trembling with both anger and exhaustion. "Because this isn’t about me. This is about you and Jaeyun. And your obsession with him."

He stops pacing, his back to you. For a long moment, he says nothing, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. Then, he speaks, his voice quieter, almost reflective.

"Jaeyun and I… we’ve been at this for years," he admits, his tone tinged with something bitter. "University. Work. Every step of the way, we’ve competed. Top marks, top internships, top investments. And every time I get close, he finds a way to edge me out."

You stare at him, your mind racing to process his words.

"Do you know how frustrating it is to always be second to someone who doesn’t even care?" he continues, his voice rising. "He doesn’t care about the people he steps on, the lives he ruins. He just takes. He took everything from me—and now he’s taken you too."

"Taken me?" you echo, incredulous. "This isn’t some prize to win, Justin. I’m a person, not a trophy for your petty rivalry."

He turns to face you again, his expression hard. "You don’t understand. He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t even see what he has."

"And you think you do?" you snap. "You’re not trying to save me, Justin. You’re trying to hurt him."

Justin’s pacing grows more erratic, his voice rising as he spits out his frustrations. "He never cared about you," he snaps, his tone dripping with venom. "Sending men to beat me up because he can’t even do it himself! Everything he does is about rubbing it in my face."

You flinch at the bitterness in his words, your breath catching as the room seems to grow colder.

"He couldn’t even be bothered to show up at the gala," Justin continues, his voice cracking with anger. "But the moment he thinks I’ve crossed some invisible line, he sends his dogs after me. And you think that’s about you? No. It’s about me. About proving he’s one step ahead, always in control."

"You’re wrong," you say, your voice trembling.

"Am I?" he counters, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you. "Think about it, Y/N. Think about the way he treats you. The way he treats everyone. You’re just a piece on his board, another way for him to win."

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. "You don’t know that."

"I know him better than you ever could," Justin growls, stepping closer. "I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. Every move he makes, every decision—it’s all calculated. And this? Sending men after me? That wasn’t about protecting you. That was about humiliating me."

You bite your lip, refusing to let his words burrow deeper. "And what about you, Justin? Are you any better? You’ve tied me to this chair, dragged me into this mess, and you’re standing here acting like you’re doing me some kind of favour."

"I’m trying to show you the truth," he snaps, his tone raw.

"No," you say firmly, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury. "You’re trying to one-up Jaeyun. This isn’t about me, and it never was. You’re just as obsessed with beating him as you claim he is with controlling you."

His expression falters for a moment, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes. But then he clenches his jaw, his resolve hardening. "I’m not like him," he insists, though his voice lacks its earlier conviction.

"Then prove it," you say, meeting his gaze head-on. "Let me go."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might actually listen. But then he shakes his head, turning away from you.

"Not yet," he murmurs, almost to himself. "Not until I’ve made my point."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as the reality of the situation sinks in. Justin isn’t going to let you go—not until he’s done whatever it is he’s convinced himself he needs to do.

His fingers move swiftly over your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. "I’ll show you exactly how little you mean to him. When he comes, he won’t even bat an eye at you. It’ll all be about him—his pride, his control, his need to be the one in charge."

Your stomach twists, and you tug at the restraints on your wrists, panic building in your chest. "Justin, stop this."

He ignores your protests, holding the phone up so you can see the screen. He snaps a picture of you—bound to the chair, your face pale with fear—and then types out a message.

You: You want her back? Come and get her.

You watch helplessly as he hits send, the message shooting off to Jaeyun.

"You’re insane," you hiss, struggling against the bindings. "This won’t prove anything."

"It’ll prove everything," Justin says, his smirk widening. "You’ll see. When he shows up, it won’t be about you. It’ll be about him. About showing me up. About proving he’s the better man."

"You don’t know that," you snap, though your voice wavers.

"I know him better than you think," Justin says, his tone calm and measured. "He won’t even look at you properly. He won’t ask if you’re okay. He’ll only care about putting me in my place."

Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to believe. The man in front of you is unhinged, but his words strike a chord of doubt you can’t entirely ignore.

Justin steps back, his confidence radiating as he pockets his phone. "You’ll see soon enough," he says simply. "And when he comes, when he proves me right, you’ll finally understand who Jaeyun really is."

You glare at him, your heart pounding as you pull against the bindings. "You’re delusional," you spit.

"Am I?" he asks, his smirk unwavering.

The room falls into a tense silence, the weight of his words hanging over you like a dark cloud. You can only pray that he’s wrong, that Jaeyun will come—not because of pride or rivalry, but because somewhere, buried deep within his frozen heart, there’s a small warmth that still holds you in it.

But as the minutes tick by, the doubt Justin planted in your mind begins to grow.

The memories swirl in your mind, colliding with Justin’s words like pieces of a puzzle you wish didn’t fit. You’ve always told yourself that Jaeyun’s indifference was a defence mechanism, a way to protect himself from something deeper. But what if it wasn’t? What if Justin is right, and everything you’ve clung to was just wishful thinking?

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Justin’s voice cuts through your thoughts, smug and sharp. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a knowing look. "Wondering if I’m right. Wondering if he’ll even come."

"Shut up," you snap, though your voice lacks its usual strength.

"I don’t blame you," he says, shrugging. "He’s made you doubt yourself. Doubt him. That’s what he does, Y/N. He keeps you just close enough to keep you hoping, but not close enough to let you in. And when he does come, it’s never for you. It’s for himself."

You shake your head, refusing to let him poison your mind any further. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t I?" he counters, raising an eyebrow. "Then why are you here, Y/N? Why aren’t you at home with a husband who loves and protects you? Why are you the one who always has to wonder if you even matter to him?"

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let him see you break. "You’re only saying this because of your hatred for him. You don’t care about me. You’re just as bad as him."

Justin’s smirk fades, his jaw tightening. "Maybe I am," he admits. "But at least I’m honest about it. Can you say the same for him?"

The sound of your phone buzzing on the table snaps both of you to attention. Justin picks it up, glancing at the screen with a satisfied grin.

"Looks like he got my message," he says, holding up the phone so you can see Jaeyun’s reply:

Jaeyun: Where is she?

Jaeyun: Fucking bastard, I swear if you so lay a single finger on her I’m going to kill you.

Justin tosses the phone back onto the table and crosses the room to face you. "This is it," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. "When he gets here, you’ll see exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as the weight of the situation sinks in. The doubt, the fear, the flicker of hope you can’t quite extinguish—it all swirls together as you wait for the man you’ve spent years trying to understand to finally show his hand.

The silence in the warehouse is shattered by the sharp screech of tyres outside, the deafening sound of a car coming to an abrupt halt. Justin’s smirk falters slightly, though he quickly masks it, his eyes darting to the door.

Moments later, it bursts open with a crash, and Jaeyun strides in, his suit dishevelled, his tie loosened as if he’d rushed to get here. His eyes immediately scan the room, landing on you—bound, frightened, but alive. His expression hardens, the sharpness in his gaze like a blade cutting through the tension.

“Let her go,” Jaeyun growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Justin steps forward, placing himself between you and Jaeyun, his smirk widening again as if to taunt him. “So predictable,” Justin sneers. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? I knew you’d come running.”

“I’m warning you, Justin,” Jaeyun snaps, his fists clenched at his sides. “Let her go.”

Justin chuckles, shaking his head. “You think this is about her? It’s always been about us. About showing you that you’re not invincible, that you’re not always in control.”

“Is that what this is?” Jaeyun spits, his voice rising. “A desperate attempt to prove something to yourself? You’re pathetic.”

Justin’s expression darkens, and he steps closer to Jaeyun, his movements quick and aggressive. “Pathetic? You’re the one who couldn’t even be bothered to care about her until now! Don’t act like you’re some hero. You don’t even love her.”

“You have no idea what I feel for her.” Jaeyun bites back, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Justin seems taken aback. But then he scoffs, his confidence returning. “Words, Sim. Just words. But actions always speak louder.”

Before you can process what’s happening, Justin lunges, his fist aimed directly at Jaeyun. The sound of the impact is sickening, Jaeyun stumbling back as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t back down.

“You think this will prove anything?” Jaeyun snaps, his voice filled with fire as he ducks under Justin’s next swing. “You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind your jealousy!”

Justin lets out a roar of frustration, his movements becoming more erratic as Jaeyun deflects blow after blow. It’s brutal. You scream, your voice echoing as you plead for them to stop, but neither man listens.

The room is a whirlwind of chaos, with fists flying and grunts of effort and pain filling the air. Justin’s confidence is beginning to waver as Jaeyun fights back with an intensity that you’ve never seen before. But the tide turns when Justin grabs a metal pipe from the corner of the warehouse, his face twisted with rage.

“Stay back!” Jaeyun growls, shielding you as Justin brandishes the weapon.

Justin’s laugh is bitter, almost maniacal. “Stay back? You think you can protect her, Jaeyun? You can’t even protect yourself.”

Before you can register what’s happening, Justin’s attention shifts to you. His gaze sharpens, his grip on the pipe tightening as he steps forward.

“Maybe she’s the problem,” Justin sneers, his voice low and menacing. “Maybe I need to remind you what’s really at stake.”

Your heart stops as Justin raises the pipe, his body coiling to strike. Panic floods your veins, your voice breaking as you scream, “Justin, no!”

But the blow never lands.

In an instant, Jaeyun moves, throwing himself in front of you just as Justin swings the pipe downward. The sickening sound of metal meeting flesh reverberates through the warehouse, and Jaeyun staggers, a sharp cry escaping his lips.

“Jaeyun!” you scream, your voice raw with terror as he crumples to one knee, his arm instinctively clutching his side where the pipe struck. You struggle against the bindings, the rough material sinking deeper into your skin the more you tug on it.

You’re helpless, watching the man you love cradle in pain at your feet.

Justin stumbles back, momentarily stunned by what just happened. The pipe slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor with a metallic clang. “Why would you—?” Justin begins, his voice faltering.

Jaeyun doesn’t waste another second. Summoning the last of his strength, he lunges forward, delivering a final, powerful punch that sends Justin sprawling to the floor.

The room falls silent except for the sound of Jaeyun’s laboured breathing. He stumbles towards you, his movements unsteady but determined. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse as he kneels to untie the ropes, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

Tears blur your vision as you nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “You’re hurt,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you reach for him.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the wince that follows says otherwise.

Justin groans from the floor, trying to push himself up. “This doesn’t change anything,” he sneers weakly. “You don’t care about her. This was about beating me, as always.”

Jaeyun doesn’t even glance his way. Instead, he cups your face gently, his eyes searching yours. “Are you hurt?” he asks softly, his voice trembling with something you can’t quite place.

“N-No,” you stammer, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

“Good,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Justin’s laugh is bitter and broken. “Still pretending to be the noble husband, I see. How long can you keep up the act, Jaeyun?”

Jaeyun turns to him, his expression cold and unyielding. “This isn’t about you, Justin. It never was. You wanted to prove I don’t care about her, but you’re wrong. She’s the only thing I care about.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, your breath catching as the weight of them sinks in.

Justin stares at Jaeyun, his confidence finally cracking as the realisation dawns. He’s lost—not just the fight, but the twisted narrative he tried to build.

Jaeyun helps you to your feet, his arm wrapping around your waist as he steadies you. “We’re leaving,” he says firmly, leading you towards the door without sparing Justin another glance.

As the warehouse disappears behind you, the cold night air hits your face, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you can breathe again.

“Jaeyun…” you begin, your voice trembling as he helps you into the car.

“I’ll explain everything,” he says, his tone soft but resolute. “But first, let’s get you home.”

And as the car pulls away, you realise that for once, you believe him.

The drive home is silent, except for the hum of the engine and the shallow breaths Jaeyun tries to control. You steal glances at him from the passenger seat, your heart twisting at the sight of him wincing with every turn of the wheel. His shirt is stained with blood, his knuckles bruised and swollen, but his grip on the wheel is steady, determined.

“Jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice cutting through the tension.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but his jaw tightens slightly. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you argue softly, your hands wringing in your lap. “You need to see a doctor. Your ribs—”

“We’ll deal with it later,” he interrupts, his tone firm but not unkind. “Right now, I just need to get you somewhere safe.”

The word safe settles heavily in your chest, and you’re not sure if it means the house you share or simply being by his side.

As you pull into the driveway, the reality of the night crashes over you. The headlights flick off, leaving you both sitting in the dark, the faint sound of crickets filling the air. You hesitate, unsure of what to say or how to move forward.

Jaeyun breaks the silence first. “Let’s get inside,” he says, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

You follow him to the door, his movements slower and more careful than usual. Once inside, he collapses onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning back and closing his eyes as if the weight of the world has finally caught up with him.

“Let me clean you up,” you say, your voice trembling as you move towards the kitchen to grab the first aid kit.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, but the exhaustion in his voice tells you he won’t fight it.

When you return, kneeling beside him, he opens his eyes and watches you silently. You avoid his gaze as you press a damp cloth to the cut above his eyebrow, your hands trembling slightly.

The room is quiet now, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft rustling of your movements as you clean Jaeyun’s wounds. His eyes remain fixed on you, studying every flicker of emotion across your face. He winces slightly as you dab a cut on his temple, but he doesn’t pull away.

You break the silence first, your voice trembling but resolute. “Why did you really come tonight, Jaeyun?”

He exhales deeply, the tension in his shoulders visible as he leans back against the couch. “You know why,” he says softly.

“No, I don’t,” you reply, setting the cloth down. “I don’t know why, I never know why. So, please, talk to me.” Your voice falters, the weight of the night catching up with you.

“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Jaeyun replies simply, his eyes fixed on you. “It wasn’t even a question.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your throat tighten. You pause, your hand hovering over the cloth as you finally meet his gaze. “Why?” you whisper. “Why now? After everything? You’ve spent so much time pushing me away, avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague. And then tonight…”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away, his expression unreadable. “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s the only way I could keep you safe.”

Your brow furrows, confusion mixing with frustration. “Safe? Safe from what?”

“From me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “From my life. From the kind of man I am.”

You freeze, the confession hanging heavy in the air. “What are you talking about?”

Jaeyun leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasps his hands together. “I’m not a good person, Y/N. I never have been. In business, in life, I do what needs to be done. I act with consequences in mind, and I don’t regret it. But that means I’ve made enemies—people like Justin, who would do anything to see me fail.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening as the pieces begin to fall into place.

“Justin isn’t the first person who’s tried to get to me through someone I care about,” he continues, his voice steady but filled with a quiet anguish. “He won’t be the last. And the thought of you being dragged into that—being hurt because of me—is something I couldn’t, and still can’t handle. So I distanced myself. I thought it would protect you.”

You shake your head, your voice rising with disbelief. “So you thought ignoring me, shutting me out, was the answer? Do you have any idea how that made me feel? How lonely it’s been, living in this house with someone who acts like I don’t even exist?”

His eyes snap to yours, and you see a crack in his armour. “I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I know I hurt you. And I hated myself for it every single day. But I didn’t know what else to do. Loving you—it feels like giving you a loaded gun and hoping you don’t get hurt because of it.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless. “Loving me?” you echo, your voice trembling.

Jaeyun nods, his gaze unwavering. “Yes,” he says firmly. “Loving you, Y/N. Keeping my distance was the only way I know that I’m capable of loving you. Because I know you deserve better than me—better than the life your parents and I have dragged you into.”

His words hit you like a blow to the chest, the rawness of his confession cutting through every wall you’ve built. You stare at him, your breath catching as the weight of his emotions settles over you.

The cold distance, the avoidance, the rare moments of tenderness—it all makes sense now, in the most heartbreaking way.

“You think loving me means pushing me away?” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Don’t you think I should get to decide what I deserve?”

He looks at you, his expression filled with regret and longing. “I didn’t want to be selfish,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to keep you in a life where you’d always be a target, always be second to the chaos I bring. But tonight—” His voice breaks, and he takes a shaky breath. “seeing you like that, knowing Justin had you—I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Not like that. Not ever.”

Jaeyun looks down, his hands clenching into fists on his knees. He’s crying now—fully, uncontrollably crying. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “But I didn’t know how to keep you safe without hurting you either…”

You stay quiet, mostly because you don’t even know what to say. Part of you understands Jaeyun did what he thought was right, that he truly believed he was protecting you. But another part of you is just so angry—angry at the thought that he didn’t trust you enough to make decisions for yourself, angry that he acted as though he alone could determine what was best for you.

But as you look at him now, shoulders hunched, tears streaming down his face, and barely able to catch his breath as he speaks, you falter. You see the pain etched into every line of his face, the raw anguish in his voice, and you know it hurt him as much as—maybe even more than—it hurt you.

When you don’t respond for a long moment, Jaeyun exhales deeply, his breath shaky and uneven. “I wanted you to leave me on your own,” he admits, his voice breaking, “because I knew I could never leave you. But you were so stubborn. You stayed. Even after everything, you stayed.”

His words hit you like a blow to the chest, striking a nerve you didn’t even know was exposed. The trembling vulnerability in his voice, the quiet admission of his fears, cuts through your anger and replaces it with something else—something raw, aching, and painfully bittersweet.

“You stayed,” he repeats, his voice barely a whisper, as though he still can’t quite believe it. “Even when I gave you every reason to walk away. Even when I hurt you. And I couldn’t understand why.”

“Do you want to know why I stayed?” you ask, your own voice trembling now as you search his face for the answers he’s yet to give.

He nods, his tear-filled eyes meeting yours, wide and filled with uncertainty.

“Honestly, I’ve been running away from this feeling, from this truth that I was never ready to face,” you begin, your voice wavering but steady enough to push through. “And that is, despite everything—despite every bone, every nerve in my body telling me to stop doing this to myself—I hoped. I hoped that you’d prove me wrong one day. I hoped that if I stayed long enough, maybe you’d stop pushing me away and let me in.”

Jaeyun flinches, his expression crumpling under the weight of your words. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice cracking as fresh tears spill over.

The silence that follows is heavy, thick with tension, the air between you charged with everything unsaid. His hands twitch at his sides, as though he wants to reach for you but can’t quite bring himself to do it. The hesitation in his movements is almost palpable.

“I thought if you hated me,” he says finally, his voice low and pained, “it would be easier for you to walk away. But you didn’t hate me. You never gave up. And that scared me more than anything.”

Your voice trembles as you stare at him, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your chest. “I do hate you,” you admit, the words falling like stones between you. “So much.”

Jaeyun flinches as though you’ve struck him, his breath hitching, and for a moment, he looks like he’s bracing himself for more. But you’re not finished.

“But loving you…” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky breath, blinking away the tears that blur your vision. “Loving you hurts more than hating you.”

His head snaps up, his wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto yours. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrors your own, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“I’ve tried,” you continue, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “I’ve tried to hate you, to tell myself that it’s easier, that it’s what I should feel after everything. But it isn’t. Because no matter how much you’ve hurt me, no matter how much I’ve wanted to walk away, I can’t stop loving you. And that… that’s what hurts the most.”

Jaeyun’s breath shudders, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. You can see the hesitation in his movements, the way his hands twitch at his sides as if he’s fighting the urge to reach for you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice trembling. “For all of it. For every time I hurt you, every time I pushed you away when all you ever did was stay.”

Your heart clenches at the rawness in his tone, the vulnerability he’s finally letting you see. You take a small step forward, the distance between you shrinking, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his carefully constructed walls crumble entirely.

“You don’t have to apologise anymore,” you say softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “Just… don’t make me regret staying.”

Then, as if something inside him snaps, he steps closer, his trembling hands reaching out to cup your face. “I won’t,,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I never give you a reason to hate me again.”

Before you can say anything else, Jaeyun closes the remaining distance between you. His arms wrap around you, tentative at first, as though he’s afraid you’ll push him away. But when you don’t, when you melt into his embrace, his hold tightens. Even with the searing pain in his ribs, he presses his body against yours as though he’s terrified of letting you go.

The warmth of his touch is overwhelming, and you bury your face in his chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat is erratic against your cheek, mirroring the rapid pounding of your own.

You tilt your head up to look at him, your breath catching as you see the intensity in his gaze. His eyes are filled with something you’ve longed to see—love, raw and unguarded. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Maybe not,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m still here.”

He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. You meet him halfway, your lips pressing against his in a kiss that is as tentative as it is electrifying.

The world seems to fall away as his lips move against yours, soft and searching, as though he’s pouring every unspoken word, every buried emotion, into this one moment. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, a mixture of desperation and relief in the way he holds you.

When you finally pull away, breathless and overwhelmed, his forehead rests against yours. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the emotion trembling beneath it.

The words hang in the air, soft but weighty, like a promise long overdue.

You nod, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you smile softly. Hearing those three words from him is something you never thought would happen, something you’d almost given up hoping for.

They settle in your chest, filling the void that had been carved out by years of distance and pain. And yet, they don’t feel fleeting or uncertain. They feel real.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, the confession spilling from your lips without hesitation.

His arms tighten around you, as though anchoring himself to you, and in that moment, the weight of the past begins to fall away. It doesn’t erase the hurt, the scars, or the battles you’ve fought, but it lays the foundation for something new.

Something worth hoping for, worth holding onto.

The morning sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. The faint chirping of birds filters through the open window, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. You stir beneath the covers, blinking against the golden light, and instinctively reach out.

Your hand brushes against Jaeyun’s, and his fingers wrap around yours reflexively. A soft smile spreads across your face as you realise he’s already awake, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, carrying a hint of amusement as if he’s caught you in a rare, unguarded moment.

You smile, the simple greeting filling the room with a kind of light you hadn’t felt in years. “Good morning,” you reply, your fingers brushing against the wedding ring that now sits firmly on your finger—a symbol that, finally, feels like it truly means something.

Jaeyun leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You looked peaceful,” he says, his fingers brushing your cheek. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

You laugh softly, resting your hand on his chest. “You can’t just watch me sleep, Jaeyun. That’s… mildly creepy.”

His laugh rumbles in his chest, a sound you’ve come to treasure. “Fair point,” he admits, his eyes sparkling.

“Do you have any plans today?” he asks, shifting closer, his arm slipping around your waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Not unless you count breakfast.”

He grins, the boyish charm you rarely saw before now shining through. “I was hoping we could spend the day doing nothing. Just… being here. Together.”

You nod, the simplicity of the suggestion warming you. “I’d like that.”

The morning unfolds with quiet moments that feel extraordinary in their ordinariness—Jaeyun making coffee, you teasing him about burning the toast, laughter filling the kitchen as you both try to perfect pancakes. It’s these moments, you realise, that make a life worth living. Not grand gestures or elaborate plans, but the small, quiet ways you choose each other every day.

As the day stretches on, you find yourselves curled up on the sofa, your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns along your arm. The television hums in the background, forgotten as you both bask in the peace you fought so hard to find.

The man beside you now isn’t the distant, closed-off Jaeyun you once knew. He’s present, attentive, and more open than you ever thought possible. It wasn’t an overnight change, that’s for sure. But somewhere along the way, you both chose to stop running—from yourselves, from each other, and from the future you could build together.

What you have now feels special, priceless. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You’ve learned, through pain and healing, that happiness doesn’t come from wealth or success. True happiness comes from love.

The kind of love that makes you giddy inside.

The kind of love you once believed only existed in fairy tales.

The kind of love that everyone seeks but few find.

The kind of love you’ve found with him.

They say if he’s not calling, it’s because you’re not on his mind. Once, you believed that. You let it eat away at you, let it shape your every thought, every quiet moment when his absence felt louder than words. You told yourself his silence was a choice, that his excuses were just another way to say you didn’t matter enough.

But now, sitting beside him as the evening light filters through the curtains, his hand resting over yours, you realise how wrong you were—not about the hurt, not about the cracks that formed between you, but about what lay beneath them. He wasn’t running because you didn’t matter. He was running because you mattered too much. And it took breaking everything apart for you both to understand how to rebuild it.

Your gaze falls to the tattoo on your ring finger, a faint mark that once felt like a brand tethering you to emptiness. It’s still there, as permanent as the scars this marriage once bore. But now, it’s different. It’s not a reminder of disappointment or neglect, not a mark of the silence that stretched between you. It’s a symbol of endurance, of a love that’s messy and flawed but undeniably real.

But you’ve learned that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, about facing the hard truths and still choosing to stay.

“Busy” may have once been his excuse. But now, “always” is his answer.

Always.

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an8elkiss · 26 days ago

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3:00 AM | N.R

warnings: suggestive content, making out, pet names etc…

Nights like these have become stamped into you and your boyfriend’s routine lately. Straddling his hips on the leather couch in his room, lips entangled with faint music playing in the background.

Currently, it’s somewhere around 3 in the morning. First it’d started off with you freshly getting out of the shower around 12, your boyfriend joining you in the bathroom to cling to you while you tried to do skincare. Hands glued to your waist leaving faint kisses onto your collarbone while you were applying your products. You’d made your way into bed with the intention of going to sleep, but Ni-ki had other plans.

It was 1 in the morning when he’d started his “sneaky” touching. You were facing him with your eyes softly shut trying to drift to sleep when he whispered just low enough for you to hear.

“baby?” he whispered slipping his arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to his warm body.

“ki it’s late why aren’t you sleeping?” you responded back scooting closer to him moving your arm to entangle your hand into his hair.

“can’t sleep right now ‘m sorry for waking you up” he said answering your question sighing softly when you’d began to scratch his scalp soothingly.

you smiled at him moving to wrap your legs around his comfortably pecking his lips in the midst of it.

“it’s okay baby. I’m up now”

Ni-ki moved his hand to your chin caressing it before connecting your lips in a slow and lazy kiss. Your hand paused its movement surprised before you kissed him back eagerly sighing into his mouth.

He moves his hand from your waist pushing it into your loose fitted sweatpants caressing the soft skin on your side.

You broke the kiss before it got too heated moving to det angle your legs making your way out of his bed.

“Where are you going?” He asked with a cute pout resting upon his face.

You resorted to grabbing your toothbrush dangling it in front of your face before disappearing into the bathroom turning on the warm water.

Looking in the mirror you almost physically shook your head at your appearance. Your hair was messy ontop of your head, fly aways too visible for your liking. Your tank top strap was resting on your arm rather than your shoulder and your sweatpants hung low on your waist revealing your white lacy panties.

You began brushing your teeth still feeling the slight tingle from the way your boyfriend was kissing you no shorter than 2 minutes ago. Spitting the excess toothpaste back in the sick and rinsing your mouth, you open the bathroom door to peak at your boyfriend revealing him sitting on his couch peacefully playing the game.

You roll your eyes before turning off the light to head back out of the bathroom sliding back into his messy bed.

He turns his head to look at you before setting the game controller down gently on the side of him and patting his lap.

You hide your smile threatening to creep onto your face before shifting to sit on his lap.

“we’ve been doing this a lot lately huh?” He says jokingly.

You slightly giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, tucking your head into the crevice of his shoulder.

“Yeah because you don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself” you state accusingly.

“Guilty as charged” he mumbles while slipping his hands into the back of your sweatpants resting his hands on the small of your back.

You lift your head just enough to start leaving light kisses on his neck while moving your soft hands in his hair.

He moves his head tilting it to give you more access to kiss him.

Moving your hand down and under his shirt you caress his abs in hurried motions kissing up his neck until you get to his lips.

You rush to connect your lips not wanting to be separated from him longer than needed as you begin to move your hips against his in slow lazy motions.

Ni-ki completely melts into the kiss groaning lowly into your mouth as he squeezes your hips moving his against yours in upward motions.

He sits the both of you up kissing down your neck in slow and teasing motions moving his hands under your shirt touching any skin accessible to him.

You loll in pleasure fully indulging in the pleasure hes giving you while wrapping your hand around the back of his neck.

“love you so much” he says between pecks hands still roaming your covered body.

“so” kiss. “so” kiss. “much” kiss.

Smiling in to yourself, you let out a whine as he moves his hands down to your ass squeezing a hand full of it as he kisses and sucks on your neck aggressively.

he pulls back from your neck widening his eyes out the noise you let out before raising his eyebrows giving you a “do you really want to do this rn” look

Biting your lip in a shy motion you slowly nod your head all while trying to hide your smug smile.

Instead of exchanging words, he lifts the both of you up and carries you back to his messy bed. He softly lays you down and hovering over you as he dives right back into your neck sucking hard enough to let you know there’s definitely gonna be a mark left there in the morning.

You bite your lip closing your eyes thinking to yourself, you both won’t be going to sleep anytime soon.

this is totally a thank you for 100 followers already!! i’m glad you guys are enjoying my works as most of them are rushed af😭. anyways, thank you all again and theres definitely more to come in the future </3

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dksfml · 2 months ago

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Love 119 [Part One]

part of my paramedic!jungwon series. [part two] [part three]

pairing: paramedic!jungwon x doctor!reader genre: workplace tension, constant bickering, fluff (trust me) word count: 2.7k summary: jungwon and you made it a habit to constantly be at each other's throats, especially in the emergency room. while he barked orders, you fired back just as fiercely. but once the doors closed, the tension shifted into a warm intimacy that only you two knew. author's note: self-indulgent fic because i've seen no one writing this trope

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip behind the skyline when the call came in—an emergency at a construction site on the outskirts of the city.

Jungwon barely had time to glance at his watch before he was in motion, his team falling in line behind him as the sirens wailed and the ambulance tore through the city streets.

Arriving at the site, chaos greeted them. Workers were clustered around a man lying motionless on the ground, his hard hat cracked and discarded nearby, dust and debris littering the air. Jungwon’s jaw tightened, taking in the scene in a flash. This wasn’t good.

“Let’s move,” he barked, his tone sharp but calm, his team already spreading out as they grabbed the necessary equipment from the ambulance.

He strode forward with an authoritative air, his well-built frame and broad shoulders drawing more than a few eyes from the construction workers, some of whom were openly staring at him, their faces filled with a mix of concern and awe.

“Step back, please,” Jungwon said firmly but politely, the workers quickly making way as he knelt down beside the injured man.

His dark hair, just a bit tousled from the rush, caught the light, and the sharp angles of his jawline seemed even more pronounced against the backdrop of the gritty site. His team watched him with admiration; Jungwon always exuded this calm, confident charm that somehow made even the most panicked scenes feel manageable.

Jungwon quickly assessed the man’s condition. The patient was unconscious, his breathing shallow. One of his teammates handed over the stethoscope, and Jungwon listened intently to the faint sounds of the man’s breathing. His brow furrowed.

“Possible head trauma. We’ve got low oxygen saturation,” he muttered under his breath, signaling for the oxygen mask as his hands moved swiftly yet delicately over the man’s body, checking for fractures and injuries.

His every move was precise, commanding attention—not just because of his skill but the way he carried himself. Even in the face of an emergency, he looked collected, like he was born to handle the pressure.

"Jungwon," his teammate called from the side, holding the patient's chart. "No significant external bleeding. We’ve got a weak pulse though, around 130, BP's borderline. We need to get him out of here fast."

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed as he nodded, quickly making a decision. “Let’s secure his airway first and immobilize his spine. We can’t risk any movement.” He made the call as he smoothly slid the oxygen mask onto the patient’s face, adjusting it with a gentleness that contrasted the urgency of the situation. His fingers brushed over the man’s wrist, checking his pulse again. A slight frown creased his forehead.

With practiced ease, his team set up a backboard to stabilize the patient, while Jungwon prepared to radio the hospital. His deep voice echoed through the dust-laden air, crisp and calm. “We’re looking at a possible internal bleed or brain injury—trauma to the head, decreased GCS. Get Y/N on standby. She’ll want to know.”

He tapped his earpiece, dialing straight into the hospital, his tone switching effortlessly into that of a strict professional.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice filled with authority as he spoke into the receiver, “we’ve got a situation here. Male, late twenties, unconscious after a fall from height—GCS is 4. We’ve administered oxygen and immobilized his spine, but he’s unresponsive. Internal injuries are likely.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, before your voice came through, crisp and all business. “Vitals?”

Jungwon rattled off the numbers, his tone growing sharper as he outlined the gravity of the situation. “BP’s dropping fast, pulse is weak, pupils uneven—one’s blown. It’s not looking good.”

“Get him here as fast as you can,” you replied, your voice steady. “We’ll be ready when you arrive. I need him in trauma two for imaging, and you better give me a detailed report when you get here.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes subtly, though no one else could hear his exasperation. “Of course, Doctor. Just make sure the room’s prepped.” His sarcasm was impossible to miss, but before you could retort, he was already motioning for his team to get the stretcher ready.

“Let’s get moving,” he said, standing up in one fluid motion, his wide shoulders casting a shadow over the patient as he signaled for the transfer. His team lifted the man onto the gurney, Jungwon guiding them every step of the way. Despite the intensity of the moment, there was something about the way he commanded the situation—his deep voice, his piercing gaze, the way he moved like a force of nature—that made even a frantic scene seem a little calmer.

Jungwon was the kind of guy people listened to, the kind of guy people looked up to. Even with the weight of the situation hanging over him, he held his head high, taking charge like it was second nature. His team moved quickly, securing the patient in the ambulance as Jungwon gave one last glance to the scene before climbing in.

“Let’s go,” he said firmly, and with the wail of sirens, they sped off toward the hospital.

Jungwon stormed through the emergency room doors with a sense of purpose, his jaw clenched as he guided the gurney toward the trauma bay. “28-year-old male, head trauma, GCS of 4, possible internal bleeding. Move it!” His voice boomed with authority, eyes scanning the room as the ER team sprang into action.

The chaos of the emergency room was nothing new, but today it seemed more charged than usual. The tension was thick as the nurses hurried to get the trauma room prepped, doctors barking orders as they readied themselves. And at the center of it all was you—focused, sharp-eyed, already gloved up and waiting.

The moment Jungwon and his team wheeled the patient in, your eyes met his, a silent exchange of understanding mixed with the tension that always crackled between them in moments like this. Not that anyone would’ve noticed—your constant bickering was practically a feature of every shift.

You stepped forward, your voice cutting through the noise of the room. “Trauma two is open. Let’s get him in fast!”

The team followed your lead, transferring the patient from the gurney to the hospital bed with swift efficiency. Jungwon stayed close, hands still gripping the rails of the stretcher as if he was unwilling to relinquish control.

“You took too long with the vitals report,” you said, throwing him a sharp glance. “We could’ve been in there five minutes ago.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed. “We did take the vitals. Maybe if you paid attention, you’d know that.”

“Excuse me?” you shot back, your gaze never leaving the patient as you worked to stabilize him. “I don’t need a paramedic trying to tell me how to do my job. We had a plan, and your delay didn’t help.”

Jungwon glared, his voice low and clipped. “Maybe if your plan didn’t waste time on unnecessary scans, we wouldn’t have needed a second round of intubation last time.”

Your hands froze for a split second before you caught yourself. You threw him a withering look. “This again? You think you can waltz in here and play doctor, Jungwon?”

“I’m not playing doctor. I’m trying to make sure you don’t screw it up.” His tone was biting, but professional, and the tension in the room rose instantly.

One of the nurses stepped back, shaking her head. “Here they go again.”

You didn’t back down, leaning closer as you adjusted the IV line. “How about you leave the doctoring to me, and I’ll leave the paramedic work to you? We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Jungwon took a breath, his expression unreadable for a moment, his frustration barely contained. “Fine. Just don’t mess it up.”

“Same to you,” you retorted, not missing a beat.

Before Jungwon could respond, one of the nurses interrupted. “Dr. Y/N, patient’s BP is dropping.”

Instantly, you refocused, the banter dropped as quickly as it had escalated. “Let’s get the trauma panel done. We need to stabilize him before moving for imaging. Prep the fluids.”

Jungwon watched you work, his arms still crossed, but he didn’t say another word. Despite the constant arguing, there was no denying that you are incredible at your job. Even in the most high-pressure situations, you were in complete control.

You worked together in tense silence, the only sounds in the room now the soft beeps of the monitors and the quiet shuffling of the medical team around them. Jungwon’s team lingered just outside, waiting for their next call, though they couldn’t help but glance back inside the room occasionally, accustomed to the combative exchanges between Jungwon and you.

As the patient’s vitals finally stabilized, you took a step back, letting out a quiet breath. “We’re clear to take him to imaging now. Good work, everyone,” you called to the team, your voice steady once more.

Jungwon uncrossed his arms, walking past you toward the door. “You’re welcome,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You narrowed your eyes at his back but said nothing. You didn’t need to. Your argument had run its course for now.

Thirty minutes later, with the patient stable and prepped for surgery, you stepped out of the trauma room, pulling off your gloves. Jungwon was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, that same tight-lipped look on his face.

“Everything go okay, or did I miss something else?” he asked, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

You glared at him. “Yeah, we managed just fine without your commentary, thanks.”

“Good,” Jungwon muttered, pushing himself off the wall and adjusting his jacket. “Maybe next time you won’t waste so much time arguing.”

“Maybe next time you’ll do your job and get out of my way,” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You love being in control, don’t you?” Jungwon’s eyes glinted, his voice dropping low as he stepped closer. “Can’t handle someone else calling the shots, huh?”

You crossed your arms, your gaze unyielding. “I don’t need to handle anything, least of all you.”

“Trust me, I’m not asking for much,” he replied with a smirk, his voice oozing with challenge.

You scoffed, brushing past him. “Try asking for less.”

Jungwon shook his head with an exasperated sigh as he watched you walk away, but his lips twitched ever so slightly. The others on their teams didn’t even blink. This was just how the both of you were. They were used to it by now—the biting remarks, the challenges, the constant back-and-forth. Every time Jungwon’s ambulance showed up, it was only a matter of time before you and him were at each other’s throats again.

Hours later, the hospital had quieted down. The rush of the afternoon was over, and most of the staff had gone home. You and Jungwon had managed to avoid each other for the rest of your shifts, though your earlier argument still hung in the air like static.

You finally peeled off your gloves after your last appointment and scrubbed your hands clean, your mind replaying the events of the day. You were tired, drained even, but there was something about that last spat with Jungwon that wouldn’t stop gnawing at you. Maybe it was the way he always had a smug retort ready or how he never backed down from your challenges.

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. “Annoying paramedic,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing your coat and heading out of the ER.

Your apartment wasn’t far from the hospital, a quiet space tucked away from the noise of the city. By the time you have arrived, your exhaustion had fully settled in, your body craving rest.

You pushed open the door and was greeted by the sound of faint rustling from the kitchen.

“Rough day?” a familiar voice asked, soft and warm.

You smiled, the tension from earlier melting away. There, standing in the kitchen in the same paramedic uniform that had driven you crazy just hours ago, was Jungwon. His hair was a little disheveled now, his expression soft and boyish, the strict leader of the paramedic team completely gone.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, walking over to him, your eyes catching on his broad shoulders, still defined under the crisp lines of his uniform. Jungwon turned around, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat when you see his easy smile, so different from the sharp tone he used at work.

Without another word, Jungwon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The scent of antiseptic still clung to his uniform, mixed with the faintest hint of his cologne. You closed your eyes and let yourself melt against him, the weight of the day slipping away. You buried your face into his shoulder, feeling the strong muscles beneath the fabric, and sighed softly.

“You’re lucky I put up with you,” he teased, reaching for your hand and pulling your close. “Even after you yelled at me for no reason.”

“I didn’t yell for no reason,” you protested, but your voice had lost all its sharpness, softened by the warmth of being home. You leaned against his chest, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, maybe I did. But only because you deserved it.”

Jungwon chuckled, his arms wrapping around you more tightly. “Sure, I deserved it. You really hate me that much, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no heat behind it as you melted into his embrace. “The worst,” you muttered, though your fingers played with the collar of his uniform.

Jungwon smirked, resting his chin on top of your head. “Good thing we’ve got the whole night to make up for it, then.”

“You’re still in your uniform,” you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. But inside, your mind was in chaos. His broad shoulders. The way he held you. The authority he exuded at work seemed to linger here, too, but only just enough to make your heart race.

Jungwon chuckled, his hand moving up to cup the back of your head. “I thought you liked me in uniform.”

You groaned, your cheeks flushing. “Stop it. I’m tired.”

“Liar,” he teased, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His own softened as he took in your face, the familiar tenderness filling his gaze. “You love it.”

And he wasn’t wrong. As strict and commanding as you could be at work, here with him, you couldn’t help but feel weak in his arms. You were whipped for him in every sense of the word, even if you would never admit it out loud.

Jungwon kissed the top of your head, his earlier bravado fading into a gentle affection. “Come on. Let’s get you out of these scrubs and cuddle.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that only he ever got to hear. “You’re the one who’s going to change first. That uniform’s distracting.”

“I knew it,” he grinned, but without missing a beat, he started peeling off his jacket, revealing the tight black undershirt beneath that highlighted his lean muscles. You had to look away before you lost yourself completely.

As you settled onto the couch, your limbs tangled together in the quiet of their apartment, the world outside felt a million miles away. In here, there were no patients to save, no colleagues to impress, no reputations to uphold. It was just the both of you.

Jungwon nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his earlier strictness replaced by a cuteness that only you got to see. “You’re such a pain at work, you know that?”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re not so easy yourself.”

And just like that, the bickering, the tension, all of it faded away. Because here, in your shared apartment, away from the chaos of the ER and the expectations of their coworkers, you were just you and Jungwon—no titles, no arguments. Just two people who loved each other, even if you never let anyone else know.

[part two] [part three]

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flwrstqr · 12 days ago

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𖥔ׅ ENHYPEN WHEN THEY MAKE YOU FLUSTERED ── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤⠀⦂ bf!enhypen hyung line x f!r 17OOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, slightly suggestive ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞

DANi : hai ! i know i haven't posted in a while . . .

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 heeseung loves catching you off guard, especially when you're least expecting it. like when you're focused on fixing your eyeliner in the mirror, and he suddenly sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "you’re so pretty, you know that?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. your hands freeze mid-application, and you stumble over your words, flustered beyond belief. he grins, watching your reflection as you try to compose yourself, leaning in closer so his lips are just brushing your ear. "don’t mess up now, baby," he teases, chuckling softly when you swat at him with a half-hearted glare. instead of moving away, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "i just can’t help myself," he adds, the playful glint in his gaze making it impossible to stay mad at him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 jay notices the slight wince you try to hide as you shift on your aching feet, your heels clearly getting the better of you. before you can protest, he’s already crouching slightly, his strong arms slipping under your legs and back. "come here, princess," he says softly, effortlessly lifting you into his arms bridal style. you squeak in surprise, your hands instinctively clutching at his shoulders as he smirks down at you. "your knight in shining armor is here," he teases, adjusting you like you weigh nothing at all. despite your flustered protests about being heavy, he just chuckles. "you? heavy? don’t be ridiculous," he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he carries you inside. when he gently places you onto the bed and tucks a blanket over you, his lips brush your temple. "rest now, my love," he murmurs, his voice dripping with affection, leaving you speechless.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 ou’re nestled into jake’s side at the crowded booth, the hum of your friend group’s laughter filling the air. his arm is slung lazily over your shoulders, fingers tracing absentminded shapes on your arm. he’s mid-conversation, eyes bright as he tells some ridiculous story, and then, out of nowhere, he glances at you like you’re the only one in the room. "right, pretty girl?" he says, all casual confidence, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your heart stumbles, face heating up instantly. you nudge him with your elbow, biting back a grin. "stop," you mumble, but he just chuckles, tilting his head to press a kiss to your temple. "what? i’m just tellin’ the truth," he murmurs, voice low so only you hear it. your friends tease you both, but jake just looks at you as if he fell in love with you again,.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 you’re minding your own business, reaching up to grab a snack from the top shelf, when two warm hands wrap around your waist and tug you back—firm, sudden, and completely out of nowhere. "where you goin’, princess?" sunghoon’s voice is low, right by your ear, and it sends a shiver straight down your spine. you suck in a breath, "sunghoon, what are you doing?" you stammer, eyes wide as he rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms still locked tight around you. "just missed you," he hums, swaying you both side to side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you can feel the grin on his face without even seeing it. "you're so easy to fluster, it’s cute." you twist in his hold, face burning, but he just pulls you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "relax, baby. i got you." and yeah, that’s exactly the problem.

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okwonyo · 9 days ago

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steal his hoodie season.

⋆ ─── 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 asking.

𝑒 𓈒 엔하이픈 + f!r 和 fluff non idol au mention of skinship&kissing ﹙ ⌕ ﹚ more.

𝖭 𝒪 𝖳 𝖤 𝖲 . mwah to @hysgf for the prompt 🎀

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open & click

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mygnolia · 4 months ago

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to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you.

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading.

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now.

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye.

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?”

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class.

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.”

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording.

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards.

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing.

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him.

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.”

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval.

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room.

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch.

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.”

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth.

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag.

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question.

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.”

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got.

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English. “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?”

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.”

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.”

And they’re silenced immediately.

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.”

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?”

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.”

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.”

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert.

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold.

He doesn't like it one bit.

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area.

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner.

A spark.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself.

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm.

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man.

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.”

That scared the shit out of him.

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape.

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him.

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal.

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him.

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it.

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars.

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can.

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving.

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it.

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero.

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same.

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you.

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you.

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby.

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits.

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project.

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises.

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago.

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head.

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.”

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch.

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line.

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.”

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response.

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.”

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.”

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.”

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.”

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.”

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.”

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.”

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.”

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right?

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM.

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time?

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes?

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again.

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark.

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor.

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy.

It’s attracted to the power plant.

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims.

Bam.

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed.

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back.

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon.

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity.

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle.

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop.

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory.

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest.

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up.

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds.

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time.

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him.

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this.

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop.

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein.

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about.

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text.

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it.

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy.

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him.

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?”

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.”

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?”

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend.

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom.

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.”

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.”

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up.

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?”

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision.

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task.

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves.

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more.

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?”

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down.

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.”

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?”

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning.

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination.

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less.

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish.

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end.

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break.

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask.

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?”

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading.

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐ talk to ____ regularly

☐ don't make it awkward

☐ be..cute?

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things.

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?”

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-”

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago.

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his.

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice.

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.”

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise.

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight.

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings.

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse.

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists.

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated.

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.”

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back.

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle.

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot.

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance.

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump.

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse.

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it.

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist.

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him.

You. He still needs to save you.

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him.

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended.

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement.

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists.

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action.

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop.

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait.

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go.

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind.

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion.

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.”

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.”

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.”

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.”

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.”

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?”

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you.

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?”

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.”

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?”

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.”

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit.

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do.

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened.

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?”

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.”

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay.

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?”

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting.

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man.

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.”

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear.

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs.

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest.

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain.

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head.

What. The. Fuck.

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities.

Until now.

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.”

His blood runs cold.

“You think this…why?”

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.”

Riki was going to strangle his best friend.

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too.

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation.

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?”

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms.

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly.

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?”

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?”

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki.

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are.

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.”

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate.

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart.

“Goodnight, Spiderman.”

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain.

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue.

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out.

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something.

Nothing.

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news.

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago.

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that.

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something.

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it.

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow.

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two.

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant.

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night.

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring.

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away.

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive.

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him.

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment.

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more.

And the solution hits him. Literally.

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge.

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him.

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan.

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies.

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt.

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down.

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard.

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm.

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them.

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead.

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!”

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks.

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?”

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge.

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more.

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop.

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.”

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions.

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds.

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.”

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body.

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right?

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach.

Do not say it’s true.

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass.

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you.

“Holy shit.”

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony.

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit.

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?”

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips.

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers.

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing.

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?”

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint.

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school.

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet.

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.”

You simply stare at him, surprised.

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.”

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel.

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?”

“Jake.”

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze.

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you.

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed.

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?”

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.”

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head.

“Not stupid. Keep going.”

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.”

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class.

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly.

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt.

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things.

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod.

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.”

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.”

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE.

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest.

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug.

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach.

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear.

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.”

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out.

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago).

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand.

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised.

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain.

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze.

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!”

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you.

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.”

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.”

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you.

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe.

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting.

“I thought girls liked this.”

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose.

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?”

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.”

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him.

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man.

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration.

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.”

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

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