BALCONY BLISS ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 0.2
in which you and niki are neighbours, and have never crossed that line. until one night, facing the exhausting aspects of life, you do.
AUTHORS NOTE: hi so if u saw the og before i changed it no u didnt.. i disliked how i went about the angst so. heres the redo! im only keeping the og up as it has likes so... me baymous?? i lowkey still hate this one but we ball..
warnings/genre: smut, slight fluff if you squint, slight angst, unprotected p in v, drinking, smoking,,, lmk if more?
if there was one thing you learnt from college, its that not everyone stays.
if there was one thing you didn’t learn from college, its that everyone would turn out to be awful.
including, maybe you. arguing with your now— well ex— after he cheated on you, surely wouldn’t have been good for your neighbours. especially not with how paper thin these walls are, especially not with how loud you were.
you weren’t even really mad at him. sure, he’s a dick. but you never pictured yourself marrying him or anything.
so, as you stand in the breeze just outside your warm living room, breathing in the comfort of your cig—
“you should really stop that.”
a sudden voice, very deep voice, pulls you out of your thoughts. to your left, the usually empty balcony identical to yours—save for a few plants here and there, now has a presence. a seemingly very tall, annoying, presence.
“pardon?” you ask, not having to yell, or quieten down for that matter. your apartment complex was unfortunately quite small— the space between you was nothing short of miniscule.
“the smoke. it keeps me up. i have work early.” he replies back, his elbows bent on the railing as he clasps his fingers together, looking directly into your eyes. his face, now illuminated as he comes into the light, makes you tense up slightly. how has he gone unnoticed by you for so long?
“lot of demands coming from someone i cant even put a name to.” your eyebrows hitching up, frowning at his smug face.
“you could.” he smirks, tilting his head slightly. “you’re pretty.”
you scoff, appalled by the direction of this very, very unneeded conversation.
“no thanks.” you turn away, flicking the bud out of your fingers and stomping onto it, putting out your only comfort for the night.
“because you got broken up with?” he calls back, halting your movements instantly.
“what? how the hell did you-”
“usually when you smoke i hear talking along with it. you sit with him out here all the time. he sounds like a prick.” he cuts you off, shocking you even more.
why the hell is he so attentive?
“yeah, well. could’ve heard that before i dated him.” you mutter, turning your head towards the free house you now live in. empty, but free.
“what’d he do?” the man asks, resting his head against his fist as he awaits your answer, looking as if he’d been curious the whole night.
and you know what? you’re done being the one who settles your frustration through a puff of smoke and a sip of a drink. your annoying, sexy, prick of a neighbour can deal with it tonight.
“he cheated.” his eyes widen— without shock over the fact, more over your decision to actually talk to him. the guy who told you off for smoking for his own benefit, and proceeded to flirt despite your miserable look. “with one of my friends, no less.”
“why’d you even date this dude?” you eye him. then shrug— realising you don’t even really know. college had been a lot. it was easy to have him there, sometimes.
not when he’s off fucking your friend.
“i wouldn’t do that to you.” he perks up, tearing his eyes off you as he sighs. as if thats the most normal sentence to ever leave his mouth. “wanna talk about it?”
“are you just trying to get into my pants when i’m in a vulnerable state?” you ask, trying to hide the temptation. whether he was acting interested or not, both outcomes could work for you tonight. both are distractions.
you weren’t even sad over the guy. just disappointed you even let yourself go that long with him.
“no. you can even get to know my name tonight.” he answers, shaking his head, slightly pouting.
you stare at him, now smirking slightly, wishing you had your smoke still in between your fingers. or brushed hair. or at least some makeup on.
“jeez, third base already?” you say, finally enticing something other than a smirk out of this guy as he chuckles, muttering something back.
now you chuckle, despite the rude, audacity of this dude, he already seems better than your ex. better sense of humour, at the very least.
“is there a word for the opposite of a gentleman?” you ask him out of nowhere, your teeth showing as you smile at his puzzled look.
“hmm.. prick? uncouth?” he ponders, shoving his hands in his pockets as he shivers slightly, the cool night air hitting you both.
“thats the name ill put to your face.” pulling your phone out, you open contacts, and begin jotting something down.
“you want to remember my face?” he gasps, placing a hand over his chest.
“give me your number.” you reply, eyeing him as he settles down from his dramatising— only to perk up again after recognising your words, and quickly grasping out his phone to make sure you save it.
“does this mean we get to talk?” his voice raising slightly, making the suggestive tone in his voice incredibly obvious as he leans over the railing.
“no, i’m going to bed. night prick.” you smile at him, turning off your balcony lamp as he chuckles, yelling back—
“smokings also bad for your health, pretty!”
of course, the night after your strange, but oddly comforting encounter with that- guy, you had come to one conclusion.
you were still thinking about him— whether that him was the prick from last night, or the prick who had just cheated on you, the statement would remain true. and you needed a distraction from one, and help from the other.
standing there, much more confident— yet slightly stunned— there he was. “Riki Nishimura. thats my name.” broad and tall, leaning against your doorway as your flushed face greets him once again. you let out a puff of air, shock at how perfect he is, annoyance towards that, or whatever it was, you let a slight inch of nerves out. “just come in.” and he smirks.
instantly pressing you against the cold wall, his lips follow suite onto your own, crashing your bodies against each other in fiery passion.
as his tongue breaks the barrier of your mouth, he slips his palms under your thighs, lifting you up, muttering “where?”
“left door-” you gasp against his lips as his hands squeeze you, rash and desperate as he makes his way into your room.
“jesus baby, how’d i not get you sooner?” he mumbles, diving into your neck as you fall back onto your bed, pulling your hoodie up and over your head, your cheeks slightly flushed under the small glow of the light protruding from your living room.
“don’t have me, nishimura.” you smile, before gasping at the feeling of his teeth nipping you slightly. he then moves to one of your breasts, still partially covered by your bra, alternating between them until each had been covered with traces of his lips.
“yet.” he mutters against you. “i like this. very pretty.” he says, thumbing at the lace against the very area he had been attacking with his lips moments earlier.
“want me to keep it on?” you reply, smirking as his hand instantly goes to the clasp clinging to your back.
and before you could even react to the cold air hitting your bare chest, or the warm feeling of his mouth on you, he’s moving again, guiding his hand down to your aching core.
“jesus, you’re wet. don’t even have your panties off yet baby. he suck that bad?” he says lowly, groaning as he presses into you with more pressure, edging near exactly where you needed him.
“you sound like, fuck, you sound like a porn star.” you try to laugh, knowing you’re only saying this because he never did anything like this, and all of a sudden you are finding very new things about yourself, but he cuts off your giggling, replacing it with a very sharp gasp as he swipes his fingers through your folds, pushing your underwear to the side.
“i know you like it pretty, look at how you’re squirming from just my words.” you eye him, knowing full well he knows its not just his words— his fingers circling your clit, ignoring your need for more.
“please, fuck- riki,” you whimper, gripping his arms.
“i’ve got you baby.” he mutters, holding you as your climax rips through you, helping you ride it out as you come down from your high, panting slightly as your back hits the soft bed, riki still whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
as you finally regain your thoughts, your prop yourself up on your elbows, eyeing the rough bulge in his sweatpants, before catching the smirk across his face as he follows your eyes.
“what do you need?” he coos, willing it out of you.
“you know what.” you say shyly, annoyance creeping through.
giving in slightly, he matches your clothing situation, slipping his top off to reveal his sculpted torso. “say it.”
“fuck, ki. please, just take me already.” you groan, mouth nearly drooling at the sight of him as he slips out of his bottoms, helping you to undress simultaneously.
before you even get a chance to process how hot that was, or how big he is, he’s pushing into you, light thrusts as you stretch so deliciously around him— both of you groaning together as he hunches over you, his head in your neck. “so fucking perfect baby.”
as he bottoms out, giving you a few seconds to adjust, he refuses to hold back on the praise. subtle “good girl” and “doing so well for me, princess” leaving his lips continuously as he allows you to get used to the thick stretch.
despite the aching need rushing to his cock, he doesn’t dare move before you finally nod your head, closing your locked jaw before swinging it right back open as his hips slam into yours.
you grasp for his back, eliciting a strong moan out of him.
“gods, scratch me up baby.” you do.
“yeah, mark me up just like that.” you do.
as he continues his ruthless hammering into your now drenched cunt, you feel the sharp coil tighten once again, your sounds getting ever so louder.
“f- fuck ki!” you gasp as he speeds up, both of you chasing your high.
“jesus baby, all those pretty sounds just for me? doing so well.” he grunts, leaning down to nip at your neck.
“oh god, i’m going to cum, ki please-” you whimper, before he cuts you off, his thrusts slamming into you.
“not yet baby, i’m close, stay with me. together, yeah? will you do that for me?” he leans back up, his dazed eyes meeting yours as you slam them shut, bathing in the overwhelming pleasure.
“eyes on me.” he commands, your eyes immediately obeying him as you nod your head vigorously, his hand coming down to circle your clit once again.
you gasp, before digging your nails into his shoulder blades, him burying himself to the hilt inside you.
you both slowly come down from your high, as he immediately wraps his arms around you, basically forcing you to accept the sweet affection of aftercare.
“did so well for me.” he mumbles, stroking your hair for a hot second until his breathing slows, finally pulling out.
“ill be back in 2 seconds.” he says, clearly.
you nod lazily, too wrapped up in your state to even really recognise his footsteps as he wonders mindlessly into your bathroom, before returning with a warm hand towel, cleaning you up.
before you nod off, your head fall onto the warm chest of the man who just turned your world upside down. literally.
its suffocating, when you wake up. knowing what you’ve done. it felt insanely right and wrong all at the same time. for gods sakes, the guy cheated on you, and you feel bad for pretty much moving on in a few nights. or maybe it isn’t that.
you eye the clock perched on your wall, not making out the exact time but knowing its too early to be called morning and too late to be called night.
so, you get up. as usual when it gets too tight—when everything starts closing in slightly, you tiptoe your way out to your balcony, careful not to wake the, not-so-prick, laying in your bed as you sit down, bringing your knees to your chest, realising the fluffy pyjamas you don’t remember putting on.
clearly not careful enough, however. “cant sleep?” a raspy voice questions from behind, subtly approaching and sitting next to you, propping one knee up as he lays a thin blanket across your shoulders, draping onto your back. “whats on your mind?”
“she wasn’t just one of my friends. who he cheated with.” a pause, and a sigh. “she was my best friend.”
you laugh, bouncing your forearm against your knee, trying to will the tears away.
“she was basically my fucking sister. i didn’t like him that much. but at one point he was my friend too, and we shared good times.” you feel almost empty, hollowed out.
“i don’t really have anyone now. except her.” you smile, pointing towards your lighter, resting near the rigid box of cigs on the rim of your balconies flimsy railing.
finally, you turn to meet his eyes— his very sad, and very worrying eyes.
but theres something else there, something hidden behind those irises, that you cant quite place yet.
then he smiles, just barely.
“i think this is our first time having a conversation.” he smiles, fully now, brimming as he looks straight ahead again, your shoulders nearly touching. “a real one, not just a nod at each other or a bland ‘hi’.”
now, he turns, facing you more evidently in his body language. “ive wanted to be close with you for a while now, y/n.” you take in a small breath.
“at first it was something like tradition gnawing at me, the desire to be on good terms with the neighbours. share sugar when we needed it, things like that.” you let out a faint chuckle. “then, one day i heard that idiot boyfriend of yours slam your door when i was sleeping. i was mad— pissed off, he did it a lot. so, having had enough, i walk out to the balcony— i knew if i went outside no one would be there. i was going to yell at you, tell you to be mindful of others.” you turn fully towards him now, only now noticing just how deeply he looks at you.
“then i saw you, standing there, still staring at the door. not moving. like you were just done. then slowly, you turned around, tears brimming in your eyes, and just silently walked out—parallel to me, sat, and simply looked. you didn’t even notice me.”
you stare at him, stunned— shockingly, you can recall the night, despite it being like so many others, that was the night you-
“that was when you started,” he nods his head to the small box that had been glaring at you all night, “started smoking again.”
“since that night, i was so desperate to be friends. maybe not even friends, just aware of each other.” you feel a small tear travel down your cheek.
“you have me, now. you’ve had me since that night, and you wont lose me.” you feel your teeth jabbing into your right cheek.
“i barely even know you.” you whisper, trying to convince yourself to not fall too deep into this- friendship, fuck-buddies, whatever it was.
he hums. “my dad was in the army, died before i was born. i work as a bartender most nights, very late. my lucky number is seven. my favourite colour is black-” he stops— looking at your lips as your voice stutters slightly. “i know its a shade. be quiet.” he smiles, mocking frustration. “and for a long time refused to make any strong connections with anyone.” his grin fades slightly, looking into your eyes as you process the information.
“..why?” you tilt your head slightly.
he nods his head, as if gulping down the information he’d never really wanted to regurgitate. “i wanted to follow in my fathers footsteps. never even knew the guy, but i reckon till the day i die they’ll keep a spot open for me in his favour. apparently he was pretty good at what he did.”
vulnerable, you think, one more time.
“id rather you didn’t.” he smiles, before moving back into your side, extending his arm across your shoulders as you give in, and finally lean your head into him.
“good. thats good.” he hums.
“i also love black. even though its not a colour.”
and yet, despite the warmth, and the care, you’re still expecting the worst in the end.
a soft hum echoes across your dull hall, the only recognised pressure being that of the faint music playing a few doors down, seeping into the crack of your apartment the silence suddenly so noticed. gone is the intense, breaking tension your ex took with him the night you met niki, replaced with days filled with constant golden hours.
the often, too often fights over simple mishaps— why you were home so late, the clothes you wore, the easily forgettable, yet so dearly held onto discourse. your mind, your soul may have let go of him, you may have recognised it wasn’t the man you were sad about.
but your heart refused to recognise the true reason.
the thought, that anyone— anyone, could just do that to you. despite your effort.
and what made your emotions clench the most, out of this whole situation, was that he never made you feel scared it would happen again. ever since niki showed up, everything has felt slow.
so now, as you sit on your balcony, the setting sun catching your hair in such a light that even you notice it highlighted in your peripheral, you close your eyes, and breathe.
being alone, knowing all you really had was those two, used to kill you.
maybe its niki, maybe its the relief of letting go, but now, now?— you just feel at peace. and youd like to think the thought of niki leaving doesnt gnaw at your brain regardless, but it does.
and its terrifying, its calming, its annoying, its him.
after a few weeks, dwelling on that realisation, dealing— enjoying him as he visits, calls, anything, you notice how much tranquility an apartment can hold when, albeit subtle, is no longer filled with the faint stench of forgotten cigarettes. a hard process, of quitting, gone unnoticed. you no longer felt the need. it was almost like you didn’t have time to, when he was around so often.
the usually mundane weekday nights, spent with tired bones after a long day at work, a tired mind falling asleep next to a man who didn’t even seem there, were now— if not peaceful— filled with laughter. or chatter, or whatever else you and niki had got up to. he now had an overwhelming presence, all the time.
he was there to get excited with you when your favourite shows got a season 2, he was there to give you a hug whenever the feelings caught up, he was there when you just needed a distraction— whether that be a good fuck, or eating your weight in popcorn on his couch. he was there, always, over the past few weeks.
he is there, now, as you realise how much it is you like him, and how much you just want to pester him, be around him. especially when you’ve just got your period.
so, you pick up the phone, noticing the small “7:34PM” reading in the corner. it rings once, twice, before-
“hey pretty” he answers, always prepared with that dumb nickname. just barely making out the gruff in his voice— probably having been just woken up.
“i’m really hungry.” you sigh.
he chuckles. “are you now?”
a faint pause, before a laugh, almost like a sigh— yet a happy one— calls from his side.
“sounds like you want me to get you something.”
“i want cupcakes.” the tone in your voice is laughable, so serious over something so simple.
“okay” you can just hear the smile on his face. “ill go to the store princess.”
you hear him moving, -putting on some clothes maybe? “…i want specific ones. as in 1 hour away specific.” then he pauses, the shuffling about stilling.
“you want cupcakes that are 1 hour away? you cant get them anywhere else?
“correct. pink ones.” you add.
“ill be back soon.” and with that, he hangs up. leaving you, a smiling, giggly mess an hour and a half later as he announces his arrival with multiple boxes of pink, swirly, cupcakes.
the night after your escapade of frosting, giggles, and play fighting, you realise how you haven’t heard from him since then. only a few hours, just a day, gone so slowly without him. there was always, if not a visit, a text. something to make sure the friendship— whatever it was, hadn’t dissipated in 6 hours.
so, this time, instead of asking him to come over seductively, or call and ask for far away cupcakes, or heading out to your balcony to spy on him only to find him hanging from yours like he’s bloody romeo montague, you simply get up, and head next door.
you breathe in as you get to his place. only a few metres away— the distance doesn’t give you much time to turn away, or think.
so, you stand, and breathe. it was only a little while. you tell yourself.
its not like we’re even together.
but regardless, it still scares you. just the thought of, whatever you had, slowly going away, was awful. enough to make your breath hilt. at the least.
and he answers, just a few moments later.
“oh, hey.” he sighs, meeting your eyes for only a second, before standing there as you watch him dumbfounded, over the tiny fact that he didn’t call you pretty.
“hi.” you reply, your voice small. he perks up slightly, opening the door wide to let you in, motioning his hand to get you to sit on his couch.
a show still plays on the screen just across from where you where both sitting now, something forgotten amidst the tension, the awkwardness, the anxiety floating between you two.
you sit comfortably, but don’t dare touch him. usually, that would be nothing.
he’s been inside you for gods sakes.
moments pass, maybe even hours— at least it feels that way, just filled with silence, subtle glances taken at each other when you think the other isn’t looking, and a knowing recognition, that this isn’t your normal silence. where you’ve both had a long day, and you both need quiet, paired beautifully with the others silent presence.
you feel like you don’t belong, like your some giant alien sitting right next to him.
but you refuse to fall back into how you were.
so, you muster up all of the courage in your bones, your blood, your skin, your nerves- and lay down— letting your head fall across his chest.
“you okay?” you thumb at his shirt, his eyes still looking away, but making contact with your own in sudden pulses.
“yeah, yeah i’m fine. just been thinking, we, we’re just like, friends right?” he mutters, his features remaining normal— a polar opposite to your widened eyes, and slightly gaping mouth.
“if you want, i mean, yeah. i guess so.” you mumble out, peering up at him, begging for him to look you in the eye. “why?”
he chuckles. “didn’t want you to get too attached to me now.” as if it was a joke. "youll be fine without me, if i ever do happen to leave?"
you nod, your lips pursed so tightly to hold back any threatening tears.
and after a little while, laying slightly tangled together, your hand now matching his as he strokes your arm, you tracing his tattoos, it feels almost back to normal.
almost as if he hadn't confirmed that he didn't want more just a few moments ago.
almost as if now, you two weren't acting completely in love.
almost as if you hadn’t noticed the hickey on his neck, and on his chest.
and you hadn’t kissed him, not like that, for weeks now.
you try to convince yourself that it was on you. you had thought to hard about him, he wanted casual with you. hell, thats probably what you should’ve wanted, considering your last relationship.
you try to remind yourself that he had even said when you met, he’d always wanted to be friends, that you hoped for more.
but regardless, after multiple nights, weeks, of messing around together, fucking around together, and understanding each other, its reasonable to find yourself shocked, sitting on your balcony again, smoking. something you haven’t done since that night you met him. something you decided to pick up again, after the oh so evident ghosting you’ve endured over the past week. as if all this time together meant nothing.
first it was no responses— that day of silence, then the realisation that he had been with another. then no showing up on the balcony. then only coming home late. really late, later than usual with his job. then it was the tears, knowing how out of nowhere this all was. thinking you had it all with him.
until you hear a faint knock at your door. after weeks. after too long.
and you knew who it was. you knew that knock. you knew it from the nights you would spend together. the best ones being when you would sit and talk about the serious stuff. then the dumb. then the sad. whether it be his guilt over never joining the military, your loneliness, or your stupid favourite colours, it was always something to be remembered.
so, knowing it was him, you don’t open the door. you sit. and think. and notice after a few minutes a faint rustling sound nudging the floor, before footsteps receding. and you realise how he didn’t go to his balcony again, and he didn’t check on you.
giving up on your restraint, you head to the door, an overwhelming presence in the room. as if it was pulling you over, just needing you to check. see if maybe he is still there, maybe he meant it all those nights ago when he said he wouldn’t leave.
then you remember, all those nights ago, how he mentioned his refusal to strong connections.
so, when you open the door, expecting nothing now, expecting his fear for connection to represent itself in the flesh as you swing it open, you gasp. just faintly.
there, glaring at you, with the softest eyes, is a small note attached to some black flowers.
with shaky hands, you lean towards it, lifting up the small bundle and walking backwards, into the safety of your home. of the loneliness of your home. and you read.
i’m sorry. i know this is sudden, but i couldn’t do it. i’m not good with this, feelings when they mean so much. you say often how you dont care for your ex. how you didn’t even like him much. but i see you, and i know it still hurts you. and thats what scares me. i dont think i could live with myself if i ever made you feel that way. and i know i wouldnt be okay with being just friends.
i don’t understand my own feelings here, but i know i want more. and im scared, terrified that i cant give you what you deserve. hell, no one could.
i will be back one day, and when i do get home, i hope you will be doing well. please take care of yourself. the cigarettes hurt your lungs.
you gasp, the thoughts and realisation tearing through your airways as you lurch as fast as you can at the doorknob after processing what he’s decided. what he’s going to do.
“fuck, fuck, fuck.” you mutter, the shock and desperation ripping through you as you sprint down, hoping, praying you’re heading down the same street he’s on, heavy droplets landing against your bare back, only slightly covered by a loose singlet, and whatever else pyjamas you so happened to throw on. not caring for your style, or how insane you look running through the cold rain, tears matching the drops as they rush down your face.
until finally, you hit a dead end. and know that your too late. that he’s already gone, and you recognised it too late.
why couldn’t he be more brave?
then, a deep, annoying voice pulls you out of your state.
“y/n?” he stands there, shocked, relieved, and mad all at once. as if he should be surprised to see you.
“baby-” he cuts himself off. instantly. “what are you doing here? you’re going to get a cold, you barely have proper shoes on-” and then you do it, you cut him off before he can notice his senseless rambling, and get scared of how much he cares for you again.
“why, why did you leave?” you cry into his chest, leaping into him, wrapping your arms around him so tightly he couldn’t even think of breaking away. “you said you wouldn’t, you said i would have you forever. i know its scary, but, fuck, ki-” you sob, looking up at him now. "if not for me-, no. why not for me? i thought, i thought you had changed your mind, about, about that. why would you want to leave? you can stop talking to me, you can give up, you can be scared, but don’t leave, don’t take the free place, please.” you ramble, word vomiting all over him and he stands there, stunned and just accepting it all. all your frustration, sadness, and all his realisation.
his realisation that getting close to you, and the possibility of hurting you wasn’t his biggest fear. it was actually hurting you. and thats what he's just done. in the attempt to avoid the bad, he committed the worst. his realisation that, he does understand his feelings. that oh yeah, he's fucked. and he’s totally, utterly, digustingly-
you stop, immediately looking at him with wide eyes, not believing your own hearing at first.
“fuck. i’m sorry. jesus. i’m so sorry. i cant believe i’m realising that now. god, i’m sorry. i wont leave. never again, pretty.” now he’s the one rambling, his eyebrows pressing into each other as he finally moves, wrapping his arms around you, still standing in the rain. the now pouring rain.
“i forgive you.” its almost pathetic, really. how fast you say it. but despite that, you understand why you do. and you understand why he needed the forgiveness in the first place.
and you understand why he’s worth it.
regardless, he cant hear you anyways. not over the sound of the rain hitting the pavement, heavy all around you. he tilts his head, a habit he may never get over, indicating his confusion. and so, sick of all the sadness, and the hurt, you lean onto your tippy toes, and kiss him. sweet and gentle, cupping his cold cheeks.
and as he leans in, his lips silently whispering his care, love, and admiration for you as they move against yours, you know. you know it will be okay.
especially after you mention how you just so happen to love him too, and he cant remember a day he was happier in his whole life.
if there are any mistakes pls ignore i did not proofread... i honestluy dont think this one is any better but again i wanted to get it out !!
@yjwswhilom
