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Heyy, So as you can probably assume i'm Kei. Im a kpop shifter and writer and since imma be bored over the summer i decided why not start a blog.
⋆˚࿔ genre; smau + written / angst / bittersweet
⋆˚࿔ warnings; timestamps matter !! pay attention to the time for a more immersive experience
*** best viewed on mobile !! (there are carousel styled images) got inspired by this song :) totes recommend listening to this while reading ^_^
꩜｡ editing the panels for this smau was so fun!! told myself i was going to make a ni-ki au ... ended up with heeseung. okay tbf this DIDD suit heeseung more !!! hope u guys know the little hee-ply easter egg i put there ... haha .... anyway i think this might be a little representation of how i felt when heeseung left enha :( i really miss him. never in a million years i wouldve thought he'd leave enhypen anyways ni-ki au is up next.. i hope
and every single one of you who refuses to see this is more than just heeseung’s removal can stop calling yourself engenes. this is about the mistreatment, abuse, and exploitation of all 7 members of enhypen. this is about the company repeatedly denying them of opportunities to become bigger. this is about the members being worked to death. this is not ot6 vs ot7, it’s engenes against the company. we are the consumers. we fund all of this. where do you think the phrase “the customer is always right” came from? company’s want to keep the fans happy to keep the cash flowing. WAKE UP. we all need to fight.
sunghoon is going to marry you someday. he’s sure of it.
although, if he said this to anyone they would find it ridiculous — this guy isn’t even dating you. yet, he already has your entire future planned out in his head. a future where he is your husband.
for now, he’s nothing more than your roommate, a friend, even. but sunghoon wants more, so much more. he already started his three years long plan to get you to date him. there are times where he wants to skip every step and kiss you senseless.
like right now. when you are perched on the bathroom counter with your legs dangling.
“do you really want me to do this?” you ask, a white towel spread across your laps — in the utmost hope it will prevent you from making an absolute mess.
sunghoon’s stands between your knees. face freshly splashed with warm water, cheeks pink. he’s clean, hair wet and scent of his shampoo hanging in the air. he is still shirtless, a towel around his waist.
“i do,” he answers. already imagining how beautiful you’d look in your wedding dress. the music. the place. he has everything in mind already.
you smile, gentle and nervous as you reach for the shaving cream. you squirt a generous amount on your palms.
your hands approach his face carefully. you smooth the cream over his jaw with an impeccable focus and care. he closes his eyes. breathes as you touch him.
he thinks he is falling in love with you here. perhaps, he already was since the first time he saw you. it’s getting aggravating now — with how gentle you are. as if he was a doll you were scared to break.
even when you fumble, smearing foam on his lips, you gently wipe it with your sleeve, “sorry,” you quietly laugh.
“it’s fine,” he says, eyes still closed as he hums, melts into your touch, “take your time.”
he doesn’t want this moment to end. he wants to stay there, with the weight of your touch on his skin. with your face close. knees squeezing his hips.
he tilts his head obediently as your hand rests under his chin. the razor in your hand approaches his neck.
“i could kill you right now,” you giggle under your breath.
i’d still love you, he wants to say. he decides to not open his mouth. he can’t talk. not when you are so close, when he is at the urge of spilling his feelings for you — just because of your touch.
it’s surprising how good you are at this. you drag the razor down his cheek with the perfect pressure, as if you’ve done this all your life. you are so careful, in your own little world, your nose brushes his and your breath fans over his mouth. tempting.
sunghoon flinches. chasing the thoughts in his head.
“are you okay? did i hurt you?” you ask, obviously worried at the sound of your voice.
sunghoon opens his eyes. yours meet his immediately. your face is pretty — painted with worry. his stomach turns with affection. strong enough to feel like gravity.
“no—no… you’re doing good, you’re…” you furrow your eyebrows, confused. he continues, breathing out, “you’re perfect.”
your eyebrows flicker up in sheer surprise. he thinks he sees you blush, but he can’t trust his instincts at the moment. he just knows that you are pretty and is only sure of how much he wants to kiss you.
“close your eyes,” you mutter, focusing back on your job. and he does, without asking any questions.
when you are bossy like that, sunghoon wants to build you a house with his bare hands.
even more so, with how much care is filled in each one of your moves. it’s like you are a professional. not one nick on his skin, perfectly smooth and shiny— as if your fingertips were magical. just as sunghoon thinks you are.
he can’t stop staring at you, upon his eyes open. his eyes shoot pink hearts at you while you clean him up, warm towel on his face and your hands rubbing balm on his skin.
he doesn’t move. even when everything is done.
“i finished,” you giggle.
sunghoon blinks, eyes fluttering upen when he opens them after a millisecond. during that short period of time, he imagined himself getting on one knee, with a tiny box in his hand.
when you get married, he’ll ask you to help him shave all the time.
“i know,” he breathes out.
your voice is barely above an whisper, yet it sends chills down his spine, “you look cute, sunghoon.”
and he’s a strong man. a very strong individual with a great height and big muscles — but not that strong. not strong enough to not be moved by the sound of your voice complimenting him with that teasing grin.
is it him or you who leaned in first? he doesn’t know. but he’s glad someone finally did.
he feels it, your grin, when he gets a taste of your lips. he doesn’t regret skipping his elaborated plan when your warm hand touches his naked shoulder. or when you cup his smoothened jaw.
sunghoon holds onto the bathroom counter for dear life, your legs wrapping around his hips making his knees go weak. he’s too shy to reach out, to put his hands on your precious skin.
until you wrap your arms around his neck. only then he allows himself to press his palm against your back.
he has never dreamed of something better than this feeling right there. never craved anything more than finally kissing you.
“i did a great job,” you say between a kiss. shamelessly complimenting your work.
his lips are attached to yours, barely letting you pull away in the slightest to speak. even when he answers, “yeah, you did,” it’s against your mouth.
and god, not only you are perfect but the way you kiss drives him crazy. give him a few months. he’ll put the prettiest ring on your finger, he can promise that.
Synopsis: Breaking up with Jungwon was one thing. But agreeing to co-parent a dog afterward? That was how you ended up in the weirdest post-breakup situation ever. Because what kind of exes still see each other at precisely 10 a.m?
You broke up. You’re sure of it. So why does it feel like your relationship never ended? Just… got a schedule and a leash?
Author's note: Another fic has been sitting in the drafts for too long. I finally decided to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!
Warnings: This story contains equal parts fluff and angst, with a dash of unresolved feelings, awkward ex moments, and a dog that might steal the spotlight. Reader discretion is advised! 🐾
Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20
Here’s the thing no one tells you about breakups:
When you two bought a dog together while you were still dating, breaking up isn’t just about parting ways with a person. You get partial custody of an emotional support furball with no idea why mom and dad stopped living together. The breakup was mutual. There was no shouting, no ugly crying, no one storming out at 2 a.m. with a suitcase and a dramatic one-liner.
It was a quiet and tired conversation on the couch. Some nods. A few long silences. And Maeumi, curled up between you, unaware that his life was about to get complicated.
You probably should’ve fought over him. Or at least discussed like rational adults. Instead, you both just… didn’t let go. Now, you set schedules like divorced parents. Only with more awkward small talk and a lot of pretending it’s totally normal to see your ex every other day at exactly 10:00 a.m.
It started with meetups. Hand off the leash, say a polite hello, smile as if it doesn’t sting anymore. Then it became coffee afterwards. Then breakfast “because he looks hungry and I’m already here anyway.”
Then, last weekend, Maeumi ate an entire bag of chips and got sick all over Jungwon’s living room, which somehow led to you arguing about brand-name kibble.
“You were the one who said he needed variety!”
“Variety doesn’t mean junk food!”
“They were organic!”
“He threw up on my socks, (name).”
And you’re not proud of it, but you laughed. A little too hard. Then Jungwon laughed, and it felt like nothing had changed for a moment.
But everything had.
Now, you’re waiting for Jungwon in the usual meeting spot, Maeumi’s leash wrapped loosely around your wrist as he trots in excited little circles. Jungwon’s late. Not by much, just five minutes. Enough to make you wonder if he’s okay. Enough to make you check your phone. He shows up a minute later, hair a bit messy, holding two coffees. “Sorry,” he says. “I stopped by that place you like. The one with the stupid tiny straws.”
You take the cup without a word.
Maeumi barks, happy as ever, tail wagging because it was the best part of his week. Seeing his divorced parents together! ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა
“Did he eat?” Jungwon asks.
You replied. “Yeah. But he thinks spinning in a circle gets him more food now.”
Jungwon sighs. “You didn’t.”
You shrug. “It was funny. He almost knocked over my lamp trying it this morning.”
There was a slight pause before, “He seemed to miss you a lot when he was with me last week. A good thing he has spent with you these past few days.” Jungwon says, nudging Maeumi’s head.
You nod, eyes on your coffee cup. “I missed him too.”
You’re not sure which of them you’re talking about.
🍎
Maeumi planted his butt on the floor and refused to move. You tugged the leash gently. “Come on, it’s Dad’s turn.” Maeumi looked at you. Then looked at Jungwon. Then flopped onto his side. You sighed. “He’s being a brat again.”
Jungwon crouched beside you, holding out a treat from his pocket. “Maeumi, let’s not do this today.”
Maeumi sniffed the treat, stood up halfway, then turned around and pressed himself against your leg.
You and Jungwon exchanged a look.
“I think he’s made his choice,” you said.
“It’s not even a choice. It’s supposed to be my weekend.”
“You tell him that.”
Jungwon sighed and looked down at Maeumi, who was now rolling over, belly up, smug as ever. “You’re a traitor. You know that?”
Maeumi sneezed in response.
Eventually, after five minutes of bargaining and light bribery, Jungwon stepped inside your apartment to get him moving. One minute turned into five. Then ten. Now you were both sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of tea in his hands, Maeumi curled between you like a peace treaty in dog form. “You know,” you said, watching as Maeumi kicked his leg in his sleep, “he wasn’t like this when we first got him.”
“Nope,” Jungwon muttered. “He used to listen to me. Now he acts like he pays rent.”
“That’s your influence.”
He shot you a look. “My influence? You’re the one who started giving him tiny portions of your dinner because he’s a spoiled prince.”
You shrugged and grinned. “He deserves nice things.”
“He eats better than me.”
Jungwon glanced at you for too long, then looked away and sipped his tea.
You didn’t notice.
Well, yeah, you did, but you were pretending not to.
Jungwon leaned back a little. Then he looked toward the kitchen. And then he saw it. The mug. The one he bought for your birthday two years ago. You loved it to the point that you used it daily while you two were still dating. He nodded toward the cupboard. “Didn’t think you still had that.”
You glanced over. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”
He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes stayed on it. That dumb, ceramic memory sitting there as if it had every right to exist in a post-breakup world.
You added, “It’s a good mug.”
Jungwon barely smiled. “Yeah. Real high quality.”
You didn’t reply.
He looked back at Maeumi, who was still fast asleep between you, snoring lightly. “I keep one of your spoons in my drawer,” Jungwon said suddenly.
Your head turned. “What?”
“You left it after that one trip. The one where we bought those instant noodles that tasted like cardboard.”
“Oh. Right.” You stared ahead. “That was a good weekend.”
“It rained.”
“I like rain.”
You both nodded and pretended the conversation didn’t sting a little.
Maeumi snored louder as if he were trying to cover the silence.
🍎
Your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.
You were half-asleep. Maeumi had gone home with Jungwon hours ago, but the apartment still felt…full.
You grabbed your phone.
Jungwon [11:42 PM]
Thanks for taking care of him this week. He seemed extra happy. When he saw you, his tail wagged about ten times per second.
You smiled without meaning to, your thumb hovering over the keyboard to send a quick "anytime" or maybe a "he missed you too."
But another message came in before you could type.
Jungwon [11:43 PM]
You’re still the easiest person to talk to.
You stared at the screen.
You didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps you did, and that was the problem.
So you… didn’t reply.
🍎
Jungwon sat on the curb's edge, nursing a canned coffee. Sunghoon was sipping from his drink, watching him spiral in silence. “I’m losing it,” Jungwon finally said. “She still knows how I take my coffee. Didn’t even ask.”
Sunghoon glanced over. “She made it the same way she used to? Back when you two were together?”
Jungwon nodded slowly. “Exactly like that.”
“And you’re upset because…?”
“I don’t know,” Jungwon shaked his head. “She laughs at my jokes the same way. She still says ‘bless you’ when I fake sneeze for attention. And today, I saw the mug I got for her birthday two years ago, sitting in her cupboard like it never left.”
“Maybe it’s just a good mug?” Sunghoon offered.
Jungwon stared at him. “That mug has a whale on it saying ‘whale you be mine.’ It wasn’t just a mug.”
Sunghoon choked on his drink and wiped his mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s tragic.”
“And she still wears my hoodie,” Jungwon added. “She likes that hoodie.”
Sunghoon crossed his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna ask for the hoodie back and confess your undying love in the same breath?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I was over her. I thought we were fine being exes who raise a dog together.” Jungwon let out a long sigh and tilted his head back. “I don’t know when it started feeling like this again.”
Sunghoon crumpled his empty drink can and tossed it into the bin beside them. “You mean the part where you show up with her favorite foods, sit on her couch like you never left, and keep pretending Maeumi’s the only reason you’re still hanging around?”
Jungwon looked at Sunghoon. “…Okay, rude. But not wrong.”
“Exactly. Look, man.” Sunghoon turned to face him fully now. “You two broke up. Sure. But you’re still texting her late at night, still wearing the cologne she once said smelled nice, and still looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.”
Jungwon groaned. “She’s just being nice. She always was.”
Sunghoon scoffed. “No one’s that nice, bro. She has your hoodie. She made you pancakes last week. You said she cut the strawberries the way you like them.”
“She always cuts the ends-”
“Exactly.” Sunghoon gave him a look. “At this point, you’re not just co-parenting a dog. You’re toeing the line of a romcom reboot.” He added, “Seriously, who even does this? Shared custody over a dog? With your ex? This is the weirdest post-breakup dynamic I’ve ever seen.”
Jungwon didn’t even deny it. He muttered, “…Yeah, but it’s kind of working.”
Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “You’re doomed.”
Jungwon groaned. “I think I’m accidentally falling in love with her again.”
“No such thing as accidental. You just never stopped.”
🍎
Maeumi wasn’t himself. You noticed it the moment he refused his dinner. He moved slowly, dragging his paws across the floor, and his eyes looked distant. Something was off. He usually had a healthy appetite, but tonight, nothing. You knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “Hey, Maeumi, what’s going on?”
He let out a weak whimper. Panic rose in your chest. You didn’t know what was wrong but knew you needed help. You grabbed your phone without thinking.
Jungwon picked up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned, even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.
“Maeumi’s sick. He won’t eat, he’s not moving much… I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Don’t worry. I’m coming over.”
It didn’t take long for him to arrive, his face tense as he crouched down to Maeumi’s level. The dog barely acknowledged him, enough to make you both nervous. “We should take him to the vet,” Jungwon said after a moment.
You nodded, already on the phone, setting up an appointment. The drive was tense, your hand gripping the door handle while Jungwon kept one hand on the wheel, his eyes between you and Maeumi.
When you finally arrived at the clinic, it was quiet. You and Jungwon waited in the sterile, cold waiting room. Maeumi was lying on your lap, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. You rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to calm yourself. “He’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said quietly, glancing over at you.
You nodded but didn’t answer. He touched his hand lightly near yours as he reached for the water cup beside you, and for a fleeting second, you felt his warmth. You looked at him, but his gaze was somewhere else, not meeting yours.
For a brief moment, you wondered if he missed this. If he missed you. But before you could even entertain the thought, the door to the exam room opened, and the vet emerged, pulling your focus back to Maeumi. Jungwon stood up. “He’ll be fine,” he said.
And you weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the first time since your breakup, you couldn’t ignore how much it stung to see him so close yet still so distant.
🍎
By the time you and Jungwon returned from the vet, Maeumi was already dozing off on the couch, wrapped in an old blanket and looking much more himself. The panic had eased. You stood by the kitchen, hands on the counter, watching Jungwon kneel to check Maeumi. You glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should eat before you head back.”
Jungwon looked up. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I was gonna cook anyway,” you said, opening the fridge. “Don’t expect a five-course meal, though.”
“I never did,” he said, smiling as he joined you in the kitchen. “You still burn rice, don’t you?”
You gave him a light shove with your elbow. “That happened once. And the pot betrayed me.”
Then, he washed the vegetables while you stirred the soup. It was annoyingly comfortable.
By the time dinner was done, the table was set. Jungwon set down the last dish and glanced over at you. “This… feels like we never broke up,”
You froze. Then, you replied, “We never used to have this much garlic.”
He huffed a small laugh but didn’t push it. And for the rest of dinner, neither of you brought it up again.
🍎
The dishes were washed. The leftovers are packed. Maeumi, finally feeling a bit better, had claimed his usual spot at the foot of your couch, tail thumping gently as he dozed. You stood near the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel, when Jungwon spoke from behind you. “I didn’t just miss Maeumi, you know.”
“I miss…” He let out a soft breath. “I miss all of it.”
“Do you still think about us?” he asked.
The silence was deafening. You felt him watching your back, waiting. And if the room had stayed that quiet a second longer, you would’ve said something honest. But Maeumi barked as if he’d sensed the tension rising and decided to cut it clean. You both jumped slightly. You turned with a light laugh, avoiding his gaze. “I think someone needs his water refilled.”
Jungwon didn’t press. He nodded before crouching to check Maeumi’s bowl.
Neither of you said anything else.
But the question stayed.
🍎
It happens on a night that should’ve been uneventful. A regular handoff. Maeumi is snoozing on your carpet, belly full. Jungwon’s quiet tonight. You notice it right away, but you pretend not to. You handed over Maeumi’s leash, but he didn’t take it. “You still have my hoodie,” he says.
You glance up. “What?”
He gestures vaguely toward the coat rack. “The gray one. I saw it last week. You used to sleep in it.”
You shrug. “It’s comfortable.”
His jaw tightens, but he laughs a little. “Everything I gave you is ‘comfortable,’ huh?”
You don’t answer.
“I saw your story the other day,” he adds. “Looked like a date.”
Now, you furrow your eyebrows. “Seriously?”
Jungwon runs a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”
“No,” you say. “You brought it up. So say it.”
“It’s confusing. For one moment, we laughed as if nothing had changed. Then, in the next instant, I remember how you used to fall asleep on my chest or steal all the blankets.” His voice wavers for a moment, but he pushes on. “I just can’t tell if I’m the only one stuck in the past or you’re better at pretending.”
You hesitate, then quietly. “I wish I could say I moved on, but I haven't.”
Jungwon’s shoulders drop a little. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?”
He looks down. “Because you looked like you were doing okay. And I didn’t want to make it harder if you were healing.”
“I wasn’t okay,” you say softly. “I’m still not.”
Jungwon lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. “Neither am I.”
“I miss you,” he says. “Not just Maeumi. Not just Saturday mornings. I miss… talking to you. I miss knowing how you’re doing without having to ask.”
You look away. “Then why are we doing this?” you whisper. “Why are we acting like we’re fine?”
He lets out a breath. “Because maybe we don’t know how to be anything else.”
You nod slowly. “Yeah.”
He says, more gently this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument.”
You shake your head. “You didn’t.”
He bends down and clips the leash onto Maeumi’s collar. The dog wags his tail, clueless, happy just to be loved by both of you. Jungwon straightens up but doesn’t turn to leave right away. He looks around your apartment. His eyes land briefly on the hoodie by the coat rack, then the familiar mug on your kitchen shelf.
“I still love you,” he says suddenly.
You freeze.
“I didn’t think I should say it. I didn’t want to make this harder. I thought… maybe it’d get easier if I stopped talking about it. But it didn’t.”
He’s not asking for anything. Not a hug. Not a kiss. Not to come back. He was standing there with his hand gently resting on Maeumi’s back because it kept him from breaking. “You laughed at one of my jokes last week,” he says softly. “And for a second, I forgot we weren’t together anymore. That’s how easy it is to fall back into you.”
You swallow hard. But he keeps going.
“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. Or corner you. I just needed you to know. It wasn’t because I stopped feeling everything when we broke up. I was scared. And tired. And maybe I thought it’d hurt less if we ended it on our terms.”
He finally looks at you. “But it still hurts.”
Maeumi lets out a soft bark. Jungwon reaches down and scratches behind his ears; for a second, it’s just the sound of his hand brushing fur. Then he straightens again, but now you notice his eyes are a bit glassy. “I’ll take him tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow. If you need anything, or if… you want to talk more, I’m one call away.”
You nod. Slowly. You can’t get your voice to work. But your eyes say enough.
Jungwon opens the door and glances back just once. “Goodnight,” he says.
And then they’re gone.
🍎
Jungwon sits on the edge of his bed, hair slightly damp from a rushed shower. Maeumi is curled beside him, his head resting on his paw, and his eyes blinking up at him as if he understands more than a dog ever should. Jungwon takes a small breath and runs a hand through Maeumi’s fur. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” he mutters. “I didn’t yell.”
Maeumi blinks again.
“Okay,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back a little, “I maybe said too much.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Maeumi,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “She just looked at me like I was someone from a different life. That sucked.’’ Jungwon glances down and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Mommy and Daddy were just having a little disagreement.”
He lays back on the bed. “I’ll bring her back,” he whispers. “I swear, Maeumi. I’ll bring your mom back to me.”
Maeumi lets out a soft woof.
🍎
The rain had been pouring since morning. You didn’t expect anyone when the doorbell rang, especially not Jungwon. But there he was. Standing at your doorway, drenched from head to toe, Maeumi dripped beside him and looked more like a soggy mop than a dog. “Uh,” Jungwon offered sheepishly. “He refused to walk anywhere else.”
You said in disbelief. “You could’ve called.”
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
You step aside. “Come in before Maeumi gets mistaken for a wet sock.”
Towels came out. You wrapped one around Maeumi, rubbing his fur as he wagged his tail. Jungwon was quieter. You handed him a dry hoodie from your closet, which was his, actually. It still smelled like him, though it had sat folded for months.
He changed. You made tea. He sat across you on the couch, rubbing Maeumi’s ears absently. “I’ve been thinking,” Jungwon started, voice gentle. “We weren’t ready back then. But maybe now…”
You looked at him, guarded. “I’ve changed,” he continued. “You have too. And I don’t just mean getting better at feeding Maeumi actual food.” You smiled a little. He took it as permission. “I guess I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I didn’t say before. For not knowing how to stay when things got hard.”
You met his gaze. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away when I didn’t know what I needed.”
“Do you think Maeumi would be okay if we lived together again?” Jungwon asked suddenly, eyes hopeful.
You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for the dog or for you?”
A sheepish smile curved his lips. “Both.”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, your head resting there like it used to. “Maybe we could try again,” you said quietly. “For real this time.”
Jungwon’s hand found yours.
Maeumi snored at your feet.
And outside, the rain kept falling, washing everything clean.
genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers
summary: in which you realize the feelings you've been trying to ignore might not be so one-sided after all
warnings: mild language, lots of teasing, mutual pining, mentions food, mild nervousness
pairing: ni-ki x fem!reader
wc: 1k
The sun blazes overhead as you step out of the car, the scent of hot asphalt and buttered popcorn already filling the air. You adjust your sunglasses and glance over at Riki, who is stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. He looks effortlessly cool, dressed in a loose T-shirt and ripped jeans, his blond hair shining under the summer sun.
"Finally! I thought we were never gonna make it," Riki groans, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you both walk toward the ticket booth. Your heart skips a beat, but you tell yourself it's just the excitement of the amusement park. Yeah. That’s it.
"It’s not my fault you overslept," you tease, elbowing him lightly. He grins, all sharp edges and playful energy, and it makes your stomach do that stupid thing again.
You’re not exactly sure when your small crush on Riki started. Maybe it was that time he stayed up all night helping you study, despite complaining the entire time. Or maybe it was when he showed up at your house in the pouring rain just to bring you your favorite snacks when you were sick. Or maybe it was even earlier, when he grabbed your hand and pulled you through a crowded street without a second thought, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But he’s your best friend. There’s no way he thinks of you that way. You shake your head, trying to clear the thought as the two of you grab your tickets and head inside.
"Alright, what are we doing first?" Riki asks, shoving his hands into his pockets as he surveys the park.
You pretend to think, but you already know what you want. "Roller coasters. Obviously."
Riki snorts. "Obviously. You and your need for speed."
The two of you weave through the crowds, the sound of screaming riders and laughter echoing all around you. You hit the bumper cars first, where Riki spends most of his time ramming into you at full force and laughing maniacally. Then there’s the spinning teacups, where he purposely spins your cup so hard you nearly fall out when it stops. And of course, the haunted house ride, where he keeps sneaking his hand onto your knee just to see you jump.
But when you near the first big roller coaster—a massive, looping beast—you notice Riki slowing down. He’s staring at it with an odd expression.
"Hey, you good?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, totally," he says quickly. Too quickly. You narrow your eyes.
"Wait." You gasp, realization hitting you. "Are you scared of roller coasters?"
"What? No!" he scoffs, but he refuses to meet your eyes.
A slow smirk spreads across your face. "Oh my god, you totally are."
"Shut up," he mutters, tugging at his sleeve. "I just… don’t like the feeling of falling, alright?"
You tilt your head. "So you prefer… what? The ground?"
"Yes. Solid, stable, reliable ground."
You bite your lip, considering. He looks genuinely uneasy, but at the same time, you can’t let this go. Not when it’s Riki of all people—the guy who teases you relentlessly.
"Tell you what," you offer. "If you go on this ride with me, I’ll buy you all the churros you want after."
Riki eyes you suspiciously. "All the churros?"
"Every single one."
He sighs dramatically. "Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you."
"Deal."
As you get strapped into the ride, you glance over at him. He’s gripping the safety bar so tightly his knuckles are turning white. You stifle a laugh.
"You’re gonna be fine," you reassure him. "Probably."
Riki glares at you. "I hate you."
The ride launches forward before you can respond, and all thoughts fly from your mind as you're flung through the loops and drops. When you stumble off, breathless and exhilarated, Riki looks like he’s just seen his life flash before his eyes.
"Never again," he mutters, shaking his head.
"Aw, come on, you survived!" you tease, poking his side.
He glares at you but relents. "Fine. But I want my churros. Now."
After grabbing the promised churros, the two of you wander around the park, hitting up different rides and games. At some point, Riki wins you a stuffed bear at a ring toss booth, and you try not to overthink it. But then he casually throws an arm around your shoulders again, and your brain short-circuits.
"You’re acting weird today," you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
Riki raises an eyebrow. "Am I?"
"Yeah, like—" You hesitate. "I don’t know. You keep looking at me weird. And you’re being kind of… clingy?"
He shrugs. "Maybe I just like being around you."
Your heart stutters. Don’t read into it, you scold yourself. It’s Riki. He’s saying these things to get a rise out of you.
But as the day goes on, little things keep happening. Like the way he keeps standing just a little too close—not in a casual, accidental way, but like he’s deliberately closing the space between you. When you stop at a game booth, his arm brushes yours and lingers a second too long before he pulls away with a smirk. When he hands you a drink, his fingers brush against yours, and he doesn’t let go immediately, just watching you as if waiting for a reaction. And then there’s the way his gaze keeps finding you—when you’re laughing at a kid struggling with an oversized prize, when you’re distracted watching a ride, even when you’re not looking at him. He always looks away just a second too late, like he’s been caught. It’s subtle, but it’s enough to make your head spin.
By the time the sun starts setting, you’re sitting on a bench, sipping on a lemonade while Riki scrolls through his phone beside you. The Ferris wheel nearby glows softly, its lights twinkling against the dusky sky.
"Wanna ride the Ferris wheel before we leave?" Riki asks suddenly, locking his phone.
You nod. "Yeah, sounds good."
You don’t think much of it until you’re both sitting in the small carriage, slowly ascending. Then, the realization hits you.
Riki shifts beside you, his knee bumping against yours. Before you can react, he leans in closer, his face just inches from yours. "You nervous?" he murmurs, his voice lower than before.
"No," you lie, gripping your cup tightly.
He chuckles. "Liar."
A few beats of silence pass before he exhales sharply. "You know, I wasn’t actually scared of the roller coaster."
You frown. "Huh? But you—"
"I was just nervous about something else," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "About telling you something."
Your stomach twists. "Riki…?"
Before you can answer, Riki tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to your lips for the briefest second before he closes the space between you. His lips brush against yours, soft yet certain, and the world outside the Ferris wheel fades. When he pulls back, your breath is stolen, your thoughts scrambled. He watches you for a moment, then smirks. "I like you."
The words hit you like a freight train. Your brain stalls, your heartbeat hammering so loudly you think he might hear it.
"Wait, what?" you manage to choke out.
Riki laughs, though it sounds a little nervous. "I *like* you. More than just a friend. I thought maybe you’d noticed, but you’re kind of oblivious."
Your mouth opens, then closes. "I—" You swallow. "I like you too."
Riki blinks, then smirks. "You do?"
Before you can overthink it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. It’s barely there, but it’s enough to make him freeze.
He looks at you, eyes searching. "You can do better than that."
Your breath catches as he cups your chin and kisses you—soft but sure. When he pulls away, his smirk is back. "See? That wasn’t so hard."
You groan. "I regret everything."
Riki just laughs, threading his fingers through yours as the Ferris wheel continues its slow descent. As the ride slows, he squeezes your hand. "So, does this mean I get unlimited churros forever?"
You roll your eyes. "We’ll see."
And just like that, the night isn’t quite over yet.
. . . SCENE ─── close enough to touch , too late to pretend it's nothing.
bestfriend!ni-ki & fem!reader 𓂃 Fluff , slice of life ✶ skinship , kissing , mutual pining
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The first time it happens, you don’t even process it. Like it doesn’t even register in your brain at first bc why would it???
You’re on Ni-ki’s couch, half-buried under a shared blanket, a half-eaten bag of popcorn in your lap. Some movie is playing—something he picked, so obviously, he’s really into it, while you just sit there pretending to care. But the thing is. He’s close. Like, weirdly close.
His knee keeps bumping against yours, and normally, okay, whatever. But he doesn’t move away. Not even a little. Then he reaches for the popcorn and just… leaves his arm there. Right against yours. Warm and solid and so, so there.
And okay. Fine. Maybe you’re overthinking it. Maybe you’re just hyper-aware bc it’s late and you’re sleep-deprived and Ni-ki is Ni-ki. But the second time? Yeah, no. That one you definitely notice.
Bc it’s 2AM now, and somehow, at some point, you both ended up on the floor. There’s pillows and blankets everywhere, and Ni-ki’s stretched out on his side, way too comfy for someone who’s literally lying on the ground. And the worst part? His head is right there. Like, right next to yours.
You blink. Try to ignore it. But then—
“You’re warm,” he mumbles, and before you can even begin to unpack that, he just leans in and rests his head on your shoulder. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Your brain just fully malfunctions. Like. You actually forget how to breathe for a sec.
“Uh—”
“You smell nice.”
“Ni-ki, what are you doing??” You try to sound normal, but your voice comes out all wobbly and embarrassing.
He just hums, shifting a little, nose barely brushing against your collarbone before he sighs. “i dont know. Just feels nice.”
You should push him off. Say something. Tease him. Anything. But you don’t. You just sit there, your body betraying you by leaning into it, his warmth sinking into your skin like it belongs there.
And the third time? Yeah. You don’t even have the chance to question it.
Bc you wake up with his arm around your waist. His face tucked into the back of your neck. His entire body curled around yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
pairing: bodyguard!jay x rich ceo's daughter!reader
genre: enemies to lovers, tension
synopsis: after a kidnapping attempt, your father hires jay, a cold and infuriating bodyguard you can’t seem to get rid of. you push his buttons at every turn, but as danger closes in, the tension between you turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable connection neither of you can ignore.
warnings: mentions of blood, a bit of fighting, kissing
note: i'm dropping smth two months later finallyy(i'm still in the middle of exams AGAIN). i feel like this is not my best work, i had a major writer's block with it and ended up making it basic? idk i haven't been feeling well recently with the insane amount of workload i have since the start of this year and the burn out shows in this ughh. i hope the fic isn't too bad TT enjoy!
word count 5.8k
If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist
the heavy oak doors of your father’s office loomed before you, their polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the hallway chandelier. you paused, your fingers hovering over your phone screen, scrolling through a feed of designer handbags you didn’t need but absolutely wanted.
the text from your father had been curt, almost ominous: “my office. now.”
you rolled your eyes. it was probably about the credit card statement again. you had a perfectly good excuse ready—charity auction, obviously. he’d buy it. he always did.
with a sigh, you pushed the doors open, not bothering to knock. “you rang?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you leaned against the doorframe, still engrossed in your phone.
your father didn’t look up from his desk. “sit,” he commanded, his voice sharp enough to make you glance up.
you blinked. okay. not a good sign.
it was then that you noticed him. the man standing beside your father, a silent shadow in the room. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed entirely in black—black tactical pants, black fitted shirt, black boots that looked like they could crush a skull without breaking a sweat. his arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but somehow radiating intensity. his face was all sharp angles and hard lines, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room with a precision that made you feel like he’d already dissected every inch of it—and you along with it.
you straightened, your phone slipping into your pocket as you took a step forward. “who’s this?” you asked, your tone light but laced with suspicion.
your father gestured toward the man, his expression unyielding. “this is jay. your new bodyguard.”
the words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and absurd. then you laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound that echoed off the mahogany walls. “you’re joking.”
your father didn’t laugh. neither did jay. in fact, jay didn’t so much as twitch. his expression remained impassive, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.
you turned back to your father, your laughter fading into a scoff. “this isn’t necessary. i’m not in danger. that whole kidnapping thing? a fluke. it’s been weeks and nothing’s happened.”
your father’s jaw tightened. “which is exactly why you need protection. we’re not taking any chances.”
you opened your mouth to argue, but jay beat you to it. his voice was low, calm, and infuriatingly even. “i’m not here to be liked, just to do my job.”
your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. excuse me?
he met your glare without flinching, his expression as unreadable as a stone wall. he didn’t care. not about your annoyance, not about your defiance, not about you. the realisation made your blood boil.
“congratulations on the worst job in existence,” you said coolly, tilting your head as you studied him. “because i’m not some damsel in distress.”
jay didn’t blink. “right. you handled the last situation so well.”
your jaw dropped. the audacity. “excuse you—”
“enough,” your father interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this entire conversation. “jay will be with you at all times. this isn’t up for discussion.”
you stared at him, then at jay, who was still standing there like some brooding statue, completely unfazed. your mind raced, already plotting ways to make his life a living hell. fine. if this was happening, you wouldn’t make it easy for him.
you flashed jay a sweet, taunting smile, the kind that usually made people nervous. “try and keep up.”
his lips twitched—just barely—but it wasn’t a smile. more like a challenge accepted. “i don’t plan on falling behind.”
oh, you already hated him. hated the way he looked at you like you were a problem to be solved, hated the way he stood there like he owned the room, hated the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. but most of all, you hated that he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by you.
your father exhaled, clearly done with the conversation. “jay will start immediately. i expect you to cooperate.”
you didn’t respond. instead, you turned on your heel and strode toward the door, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. you could feel jay’s eyes on your back, tracking your every move, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder. let him try to keep up. you were already planning your first escape.
as the doors swung shut behind you, you couldn’t help but smirk. this was going to be fun.
the first twenty-four hours with jay as your shadow were unbearable. it wasn’t just his constant presence—it’s the way he moves like he knows what you’re about to do before you do it, like some kind of infuriating psychic in tactical gear.
you woke up to find him standing right outside your bedroom door. arms crossed, eyes alert, posture straight. like a soldier. like a statue. like someone who had absolutely no life outside of making yours miserable.
you glare at him, silk robe slipping off your shoulder, hair a mess. “do you ever sleep? or do you just stand there like a creep all night?”
jay doesn’t react. not even a twitch. his gaze flicks over you, assessing, before looking away.
he didn’t react. not even a twitch. his dark eyes flicked over you briefly, assessing, before he looked away, his expression as blank as ever.
“good morning,” he said, his tone flat.
you rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face.
when you went to get coffee, he was already there, waiting. the barista gave him a once-over, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the faint scar that ran along his jawline. then they glanced at you, their eyebrows raised in a silent question: are you okay? do you need help?
you forced a smile. “he’s harmless,” you said, though the words tasted like a lie. jay didn’t so much as blink.
you grabbed your latte and stormed out, jay falling into step behind you like some kind of silent, brooding ghost. you could feel his eyes on your back, watching, always watching. it was suffocating.
in meetings, it was worse. you sat at the head of the conference table, your laptop open, your team discussing quarterly projections, and there he was—standing against the far wall, arms still crossed, his gaze sweeping the room like he was expecting an ambush at any moment. every time you glanced his way, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.
you tried to ignore him. you really did. but his presence was like a thundercloud hovering over the room, dark and oppressive. by the time the meeting ended, you were ready to scream.
you had to get rid of him immediately.
attempt #1: the emergency exit
it was simple, really. you waited until you were in the middle of a crowded lobby with jay, your phone pressed to your ear, your face the picture of distress. “no—no, stay right there, i’ll be there in five minutes,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. then you slipped out the back door, quick, smooth, victorious.
you couldn’t help but grin as you rounded the corner, your heart racing with the thrill of escape. finally, some freedom. finally, some—
jay was already there.
leaning against your car, arms still crossed, not even looking at you. like he’d been waiting for hours. like he’d known exactly where you’d go.
you froze, your smile slipping. “how the hell—”
he finally acknowledged you, tilting his head just slightly. his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. “you’re going to have to try harder than that.”
your fingers clenched into fists. oh. it was war.
attempt #2: the disappearing act
you waited until you were at a charity gala, the kind of event where everyone was too busy sipping champagne and gossipping to notice anything amiss. you slipped into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, your movements quick and deliberate. you ducked behind a potted plant, then made your way to the service entrance, your heart pounding with excitement.
you were almost there. almost free. and then—
“leaving so soon?”
you whirled around, your breath catching in your throat. jay stood in the doorway, his arms still crossed, his expression as calm as ever. he didn’t even look winded.
“how do you keep doing that?” you demanded, your voice rising.
he shrugged, the motion infuriatingly casual. “it’s my job.”
“your job is to annoy me to death?”
“if that’s what it takes to keep you alive, then yes.”
you glared at him, your chest heaving with frustration. he stared back, unflinching, his dark eyes boring into yours. for a moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, and you wanted to so badly give into it and just cause a tantrum. instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back into the gala, jay following close behind.
attempt #3: sensory overload
the mall was a chaotic symphony of chatter, clattering shopping bags, and the faint hum of pop music playing over the speakers. you strode through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, your eyes darting toward the exit signs. jay was a step behind you, his presence as unshakable as ever. his dark eyes scanned the crowd, his posture tense, like he was expecting a sniper to take a shot at any moment.
you rolled your eyes. “relax, rambo. it’s a mall, not a war zone.”
he didn’t respond. of course he didn’t. he just kept walking, his gaze flicking toward you every few seconds, like he was making sure you hadn’t somehow vanished into thin air.
you gritted your teeth. this was supposed to be your day. you had a date with someone your mutual friend had set you up with. your father had forbidden you from going, but since when had you ever listened to him? and yet, here was jay, ruining everything like some overgrown shadow you couldn’t shake.
you bit back a sigh. if you wanted to shake him, you’d have to get creative.
spotting a perfume shop up ahead, you darted inside, the overwhelming scent of floral and citrus hitting you instantly. jay followed without hesitation, his towering frame making the narrow aisles feel even smaller.
“why are we here?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.
“to test some new scents,” you replied innocently, grabbing a random bottle and spraying it on your wrist. “you wouldn’t understand.”
jay raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
you tried a few more perfumes, using up the space on your wrists and arms. finally, you turned to him, holding up a bottle.
“hold out your arm.”
jay blinked. “what?”
“you’re supposed to test it on skin,” you said, your tone overly patient. “and i’m out of space. come on.”
reluctantly, he extended his arm. you sprayed the perfume lightly on his wrist and leaned in, inhaling deeply.
jay tensed under your touch, his muscles stiffening as your fingers brushed his skin. you glanced up, noticing the tightness in his jaw, but you didn’t comment.
“it’s not bad,” you said, tilting your head. “but maybe something lighter.”
you reached for another bottle, quickly spraying it on his other wrist. this time, you didn’t stop at one spray. you pressed the nozzle again and again, filling the air with an overpowering mix of scents.
jay sneezed once, then twice, stumbling back a step as he tried to clear his nose.
“what the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled between sneezes.
“just testing!” you said, holding up your hands in mock innocence. “you’re being dramatic.”
jay glared at you, but before he could recover, you dropped the perfume bottle and bolted, weaving through the crowded store and out into the mall. you didn’t look back. you didn’t need to. you could hear his footsteps behind you, heavy and determined.
your heart raced as you sprinted through the mall, dodging shoppers and strollers. you spotted a clothing store up ahead, its entrance tucked away in a quieter corner. perfect. you ducked inside, your breath coming in short gasps as you scanned the store. the dressing rooms. that was your best bet.
you darted toward them, slipping into the first stall you saw. you yanked the curtain closed, your chest heaving as you pressed your back against the wall. for a moment, there was silence. then you heard it—the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching the stall.
the curtain flew open, and there he was. jay. his chest was rising and falling slightly, his dark eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped into the stall, his body crowding yours as he pinned you against the wall. the curtain fell shut behind him, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.
you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. he was so close you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his neck. his hands were braced on either side of your head, his body caging you in. the air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your stomach twist and your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with running.
“you’re not as clever as you think you are,” he said, his voice low and rough.
you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “and you’re not as scary as you think you are.”
his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. “try me.”
you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue. his eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, and something shifted between you. the air crackled with electricity, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body seemed to press closer without actually moving.
for a moment, neither of you moved. then jay stepped back, his expression shuttering as he regained control. “let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped.
you didn’t argue. for once, you didn’t have the words.
the party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint hum of a live jazz band. you stood near the centre of the room, dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged your figure perfectly, a glass of champagne in hand. you laughed at something your friend said, the sound light and carefree, but your attention was elsewhere.
jay.
he was standing across the room, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you. he wasn’t even trying to hide it. he was watching you like a hawk, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense enough to make your skin prickle.
your friend leaned in, her voice low and teasing. “he’s been looking at you all night.”
you shrugged, pretending not to care. “who? jay? he’s just doing his job.”
but the truth was, you did care. you were hyper-aware of him now, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. and it annoyed you. it annoyed you that he could stand there, so calm and collected, while you felt like you were unravelling.
so you decided to push him.
you flirted with everyone but him. you laughed a little too loudly at a joke a handsome stranger made. you let your hand linger on the arm of a guy who clearly had no idea what personal space was. you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, pretending jay didn’t exist.
but he did. he always did.
suddenly, a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky grin—stepped into your space, his hand hovering near your waist as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. his breath smelled like whisky, the proximity way too close for your comfort.
you froze, your smile faltering. before you could react, jay was there.
he moved like a shadow, swift and silent, stepping between you and the man with a presence that was impossible to ignore. his voice was cool but sharp, cutting through the noise of the party like a knife. “hands off.”
the man blinked, his grin faltering as he took in jay’s imposing figure. “whoa, man, i was just—”
“i don’t care what you were just doing,” jay said, his tone low and dangerous. “back off.”
the man hesitated, his eyes flicking between you and jay, before he finally raised his hands in surrender and slunk away. you stared after him, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest.
when you turned back to jay, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “you have no idea what you’re doing.”
your breath caught. “what are you talking about?”
he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice rough and tinged with something that sounded almost like frustration. “flirting with strangers. disappearing into crowds. acting like you’re invincible. you’re not.”
you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i can take care of myself.”
“can you?” he asked, his tone challenging. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”
you opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. he was close—too close—his body crowding yours, his heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and something woodsy, and it made your head spin.
as the night wore on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, rough and low and so, so close. you caught yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time your eyes met his.
oh.
so he did care.
it happens slowly. or maybe it doesn’t. maybe it’s been happening this whole time, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice. but now, you do.
you start noticing the way he moves. always a step ahead, always positioning himself between you and anything that could be a threat. his sleeves are always rolled up, revealing the veins that line his forearms, his hands steady and sure. you notice the way he watches you, his dark eyes scanning every room like he’s mapping out every possible danger, but it’s never just that. there’s something else in his gaze, something you can’t quite name.
and worse? you start feeling it.
the heat in your chest when his hand brushes yours as he passes you a coffee. the frustration that coils in your stomach when someone else looks at him for too long. the way your breath catches when he says your name instead of brat or princess or whatever sarcastic nickname he’s come up with that day.
this is a problem.
but you handle it the way you always do—by pushing him.
it’s late, with the city feeling quiet, almost peaceful, and the only light comes from the flickering neon sign of a 24-hour diner. you’re sitting in a booth by the window, picking at a plate of fries you didn’t really want but ordered anyway because you were too stubborn to admit you were hungry. jay sits across from you, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the nearly empty diner like it’s a potential battlefield.
you roll your eyes. “relax, jay. the only danger here is the cholesterol in these fries.”
he just takes a sip of his black coffee, his expression as unreadable as ever.
you lean back in the booth, crossing your arms over your chest. “you know, you don’t have to babysit me 24/7. i’m not a child.”
his eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. “could’ve fooled me.”
you glare at him. “excuse me?”
he sets his coffee cup down, his voice low and even. “you act like rules don’t apply to you. like you’re invincible. you’re not.”
your jaw tightens. “and you act like you’re my dad. newsflash—you’re not.”
for a moment, neither of you speaks. the tension between you is thick, almost suffocating, and you can feel it building, building, building until it finally snaps.
“why do you even care so much?” you demand, your voice rising just enough to draw the attention of the tired-looking waitress behind the counter.
jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t get it, do you?”
your heartbeat stutters. “then explain it to me.”
for a second, he says nothing. he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure you out. then he stands, slow and deliberate, and slides into the booth beside you. he’s close now, closer than he’s ever let himself be, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.
you don’t back away.
his eyes flicker to your lips, and your breath catches. the air between you is so thin, so sharp you can almost taste it.
he leans in, his voice low and rough. “you have no idea what i’d do to keep you safe.”
your pulse is in your throat, waiting, waiting, waiting.
but before anything can happen—
the bell above the diner door jingles, and a group of loud, laughing teenagers spills inside, shattering the moment.
jay pulls back instantly, his jaw tightening as he slides out of the booth. he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. he just walks to the counter, his posture rigid, like nothing happened.
like nothing almost happened.
but you know better.
you press a hand to your chest, trying to steady your heartbeat, but it’s no use. your mind is racing, replaying the moment over and over again—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the way your body had reacted to his nearness.
this is getting dangerous.
later, as you sit in the back of the car on the way home, you can’t stop thinking about it. jay is in the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. you stare at the back of his head, your thoughts a tangled mess.
you think about the way he’d stepped between you and that guy at the party, his voice sharp and commanding. you think about the way he’d leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.
and you think about the way he’d pulled away, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean anything.
but it did. you know it did.
you mentally groan, leaning your head against the window. this is a problem. a big problem. because no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you can’t deny it anymore.
you like him.
and that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
you don’t talk about it.
the almost-kiss, the tension that stains every interaction now—it hangs between you like a live wire, sharp and charged. you find yourself watching him more, catching the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. his gaze lingers a little too long, his movements a little too deliberate, and it drives you insane.
but you don’t talk about it.
instead, you push. you push him, you push yourself, you push the boundaries of whatever this is between you. and he pushes back, always steady, always in control, until—
one day it happens fast. too fast.
you’re walking back to the car after an event, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. jay is a step behind you, his presence a constant, grounding force. you’re arguing about something stupid—something meaningless—because that’s what you do now. you bicker, you snipe, you push each other’s buttons, all while pretending the tension between you doesn’t exist.
and then, out of nowhere, it happens.
you don’t even see it coming. one moment, you’re stepping off the curb, and the next, jay is moving—swift, silent, and utterly precise. he shoves you out of the way, his body shielding yours as a figure lunges at you from the shadows.
there’s a flash of metal, a grunt of pain, and then the sound of footsteps retreating into the night.
you stumble, catching yourself against the car, your heart pounding in your chest. “jay—”
he’s already turning, his hand pressed to his side, his breathing steady despite the blood seeping through his fingers. “get in the car.”
you stare at him, your mind racing. “you’re bleeding. we need to go to the hospital—l”
“it’s nothing, just a scratch” he says, his voice calm, like this is just another day on the job. like he didn’t just take a knife for you.
but it’s not nothing. it’s not nothing because your hands are shaking as you reach for him, your fingers brushing against the warm, sticky blood staining his shirt. “jay—”
“get in the car,” he repeats, his tone sharper this time. “now.”
you don’t argue. you can’t. your mind is a blur as you climb into the passenger seat, your eyes never leaving him as he slides behind the wheel. his movements are steady, controlled, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel.
the drive home is silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. you keep glancing at him, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. fear. guilt. something else.
when you finally arrive, you follow him inside, your hands still trembling. he heads straight for the bathroom, and you trail after him, your heart hammering in your chest.
“let me see,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
he doesn’t argue this time. he just sits on the edge of the bathtub, his shirt already half-off, revealing the deep gash along his side. it’s not fatal, not even close, but it’s enough to make your stomach twist.
you grab the first aid kit from under the sink and kneel in front of him, your hands shaking as you clean the wound. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and unreadable.
“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say, your voice breaking. “you shouldn’t have—”
“it’s my job,” he interrupts, his tone calm, like that explains everything.
but it doesn’t. not to you. not when your hands are stained with his blood, not when your chest feels like it’s about to collapse under the weight of everything you’re feeling.
“don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “don’t do that again.”
he looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see it—the crack in his armour. the flicker of something raw, something real.
“you don’t get it,” he says, his voice low and rough. “i’d do it again. every time.”
your breath catches, your hands still pressed against his side. “why?”
he doesn’t answer. not with words, at least. instead, he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch so gentle it makes your chest ache.
and that’s it. that’s the breaking point.
you don’t think. you don’t hesitate. you just pull him in, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and relief. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and you’re terrified you’ve made a mistake.
but then his hands are in your hair, his mouth moving against yours, and it’s like the world stops. the tension, the anger, the fear, it all melts away, leaving nothing but the two of you.
the room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the overhead light. jay’s hands are still tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rests against his chest, and it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s as affected by this as you are.
but then he pulls back, his expression shuttering as he regains control. “we shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and rough.
you blink, your chest tightening at his words. “why not?”
he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he stands, his movements stiff as he turns away from you. “because it complicates things.”
you stare at him, your heart sinking. “complicates things? jay, you just took a knife for me. i think things are already complicated.”
he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t understand.”
“then explain it to me,” you snap, your frustration bubbling over. “because i’m tired of pretending like this—whatever this is—doesn’t exist.”
he turns to look at you, his dark eyes blazing with something you can’t quite name. “you think i don’t feel it too? you think i don’t want—” he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “it doesn’t matter what i want. my job is to keep you safe. that’s it.”
you step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “and what if i don’t want you to just be my bodyguard? what if i want more?”
he doesn’t respond. not with words, at least. but you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. for a moment, you think he might give in, might finally let himself feel something.
but then he steps back, his expression hardening. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
you laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “don’t i? because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re the one who’s scared.”
his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you’ve pushed him too far. but then he exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “you’re right. i am scared. because if something happens to you—if i let myself care too much and i can’t protect you—” he cuts himself off, his voice breaking. “i can’t lose you.”
your breath catches, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “jay—”
he doesn’t let you finish. instead, he steps forward, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you again. this time, it’s softer, slower, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you. and you let him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pull him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.
when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. “i can’t promise this will be easy,” he says, his voice low and rough. “but i can promise i’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
you swallow, your throat tight with emotion. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”
you don’t talk about it for a full twenty-four hours.
not because you regret it. god, no. if anything, the memory of his hands on you, his lips against yours, plays on a loop in your mind, leaving you breathless every time. but now, there’s no going back. no pretending this isn’t real. no pretending you don’t feel the way his presence sets your skin on fire, or the way your heart races when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.
jay is still jay. still overprotective, still infuriating, still the same stoic bodyguard who drives you up the wall. but now?
now, every argument ends with him pulling you in by the waist, his voice low and rough as he murmurs, “you’re impossible,” before silencing you with a kiss.
now, every lingering stare actually leads to something—a brush of his hand against yours, a heated glance that makes your stomach flip, a moment where the tension between you becomes too much to ignore.
and now, your father figures it out almost immediately.
it happens during a family dinner, of all things. you’re sitting at the table, picking at your food while jay sits in his usual spot by you. your father is at the head of the table, his sharp gaze flicking between you and jay with a calculating look that makes your stomach sink.
you try to act normal. you really do. but when jay’s hand brushes against yours as he passes you a glass of water, and you catch yourself smiling at him without thinking, your father clears his throat.
“so,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “when were you planning on telling me?”
you freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth. “telling you what?”
your father raises an eyebrow, gesturing between you and jay. “about this.”
you feel your face heat, your heart pounding in your chest. “i—what are you talking about?”
your father sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already done with this conversation. “at least it’s him.”
jay freezes, his posture stiffening as he looks at your father. you gape, your mind racing. “excuse me?”
your father shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “you were always a handful, but he can handle it.”
you stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. this is not the reaction you were expecting. not even close. you were prepared for yelling, for threats, for jay to be fired on the spot. but this? this casual acceptance? it’s almost worse.
you turn to jay, still reeling. “is this really happening?”
jay looks equally disturbed, his jaw tight as he meets your father’s gaze. “sir, i—”
your father holds up a hand, cutting him off. “don’t. just… keep her out of trouble. that’s all i ask.”
and just like that, the conversation is over. your father goes back to his meal like nothing happened, leaving you and jay to exchange a stunned look.
later, when you’re alone in your room, jay leans against the door, his arms crossed as he watches you pace back and forth. “well,” he says, his voice dry, “that could’ve gone worse.”
you stop pacing, turning to glare at him. “worse? he basically gave us his blessing. that’s not worse. that’s… i don’t even know what that is.”
jay shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “guess you’re stuck with me.”
you roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away when he steps closer, his hands settling on your waist. “lucky me,” you mutter, though the way your heart skips a beat betrays your words.
jay’s smirk softens into something warmer, his eyes searching yours. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
you don’t respond. not with words, at least. instead, you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “just don’t let it go to your head, okay?”
he chuckles, the sound low and warm, before leaning down to kiss you. and as his lips brush against yours, you realise something.
【ᯓ★𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 】 Fluff, Headcanons
【ᯓ★𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬】 skinship, kissing, Reader implied to be shorter than him, cuddling, mentions of food, friends to lovers
【ᯓ★𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭】 1.5k
【ᯓ★𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞】 I've already made some boyfriend headcanons for Riki but I took it down so this will be an updated vesion of it!
ᰔ He had always had feelings for you , it just took him too long to realize or more like accept it. He was in denial of his feelings for you , thinking that his heart was just acting up around you. The day he realized was the day he first experienced the ugly feeling of jealousy , he could still remember it clearly. He didn't like how your mutual guy friend was acting all cozy with you , touching your arm and telling you "funny" jokes (Riki thought they were absolutely lame) to which Riki couldn't help but scoff whenever you let out a laugh.
ᰔ When he came to terms with his feelings for you , he started to throw not so subtle hints at you. He'd tuck your hair behind your ear whenever it got into your face , carry hair ties around in case you needed them (he excused them for being his sisters hair ties...he bought them just for you), compliment you more , playfully bicker with you just to coo at the way you'd sulk (he found it absolutely adorable), he'd give you his Jacket when he notices you're cold (even if he himself was feeling cold), he'd walk by the street when the two of you are on a sidewalk so you're on the safer side and so on.
ᰔ But he also involved physical hints. He'd grab your wrist gently when the two of you are crossing the street , he'd rest his hand on your lower back when it's crowded so you can walk in front of him (and stay in his line of sight), he'd offer for you to sit on his lap when it's cold with the excuse that the bench is cold and that he doesn't want you to get sick (another reason why he loves winter, gives him excuses to have you close to him so he can keep you warm), compare your hands to his just so he can hold your hand , hug you longer than before and letting his shoulder brush against yours when the two of you sit next to each other.
ᰔ The day he confessed was the day he took you with him to Japan. He knew that you've always wanted to go to Japan for the culture and the food (and all the cute things you can buy) , so he took you with him during a specific time. He took you to his hometown Okayama since during winter , the whole Okayama station would be illuminated and decorated in pretty lights , also called "Momotaroh Fantasy". He could only smile to himself as he saw you enjoying your chocolate covered strawberries and chuckling to himself when he saw the chocolate on the corner of your lips , you still looked so beautiful to him in that moment. The way the lights illuminated your face was just breathtaking that he didn't even realize that he had his thumb on the corner of your lips to wipe the chocolate away with a lovestruck expression on his face. He couldn't hold himself back anymore and confessed his feelings for you.
ᰔ The day he confessed was also the day he first kissed you. After his confession , you had accepted it and returned his feelings much to his delight. He'd gently cup your face and just lean his forehead against yours ,telling you how relieved he was that you accepted his confession and returned his feelings before going silent. You'd catch him glancing at your lips and chuckling timidly when you took note of it before asking if he could kiss you. Your lips tasted like strawberries to him , granted that it was just because you ate strawberries before , but your lips always tasted like strawberries to him after that day.
ᰔ Dating him was both a blessing and a curse , but in a good way. His teasing never stops , he just loves to see you sulk over his teasing because you're just so cute in his eyes but,,, there is one way to make him stop. He stops his teasing in a heartbeat when you 'threaten' him with no kisses , look , single him would have laughed and cringed at that but Boyfriend him? Hell nah , he literally starts to pout a little when you threaten him with no kisses , he loves kissing you too much.
ᰔ Talking about Kissing , he loves to kiss you. He loves to cup your face or tilt your chin up so he can lean down and gently kiss your lips. But be warned , he will bite (only gently tho) , why? Because he loves your reaction whenever he does it , and also because of his habit. Sometimes , he unconsciously bites your lip thinking it's his own because he tries to bite his own lip out of habit. But he never bites hard enough for you to actually bleed so your lips are safe! What he also loves to do is peck your lips multiple times in a row before giving you a proper kiss. The kisses don't stop at your lips though , there are plenty of other spots he loves to kiss such as : the tip of your nose , your forehead , behind your ear , your tummy (he'll randomly lift your shirt up when you lay down but just enough to expose your tummy to him), the back of your hand and your wrist.
ᰔ Talking about tummy , he loves rubbing your tummy. He doesn't know why exactly , he just loves it. Your tummy is always so soft and so warm , just calling for him to put his (cold) hand on it and to rub it.
ᰔ He's not really affectionate in public , he likes to keep things such as full on cuddling or kissing behind closed doors with privacy since he cherishes those moments a lot, he'd rather not get disturbed. He does let you cling onto his arm in public and he will continue to use the sidewalk rule , he will literally switch sides with you while you're yapping his ear off.
ᰔ Cuddling , oh boy , good luck trying to escape his death grip. Once he's in cuddling mode he is LOCKED in , he will not let you go , absolutely not. He only really initiates cuddling when he's sleepy or tired or just needs comfort , otherwise it's always you all snuggled up against his side. He loves to put his head on your stomach when you're laying down with his hand under your shirt to draw shapes on your bare skin while he's talking about his day. He loves it more when you put your hand under his shirt and drag your nails against his bare back. It's relaxing. When it comes to falling asleep , he likes to spoon you from behind , his long limbs making it easy to trap you in his arms. He loves to fall asleep like that because 1.he has you close to him and 2.he can fall asleep to your scent.
ᰔ Now arguments with him do happen , but not that often. Sure they always start but they get resolved so quickly that they can't even develop. He's mature and knows that arguments will lead you to nothing. When it does start to rise , he will simply take a deep breath and say he'll go outside or play games in the living room to give the two of you some space to breathe and calm down. Once you two have calmed down , you'll sit down together and talk about the issue and resolve it.
ᰔ He tries , he really does try but don't let him near the kitchen. He once accidentally set the stove on fire. He really wants to learn how to cook actually good meals , not only for him but for you as well , he wants to keep you healthy and well fed. Sometimes , he'd disappear during the day and tell you that he's hanging out with Jay , well , he's not lying but instead of playing games , Jay is teaching him some recipes. He would also facetime his mom and ask for recipes and cook them on the spot with his mom's help.
ᰔ He doesn’t admit it but , whenever you get your nails done, he’d send you a couple nail designs that he thinks would look good on you, saying that they popped up on his instagram or pinterest feed — that’s a lie. Whenever he has trouble sleeping and isn’t with you, he’d stay up browsing for nail designs for you since he knows that you always have trouble deciding. He’ll also pay for your nails whenever they’re more on the expensive side.
ᰔ Since he’s been going to the gym more often lately , he’d find any given opportunity to pick you up and show off his strength — he’d even purposely roll his sleeves up and flex his biceps whenever he carries something happy. He just wants you to see how strong he has gotten :(
ᰔ He’s a chronic ass grabber , your ass is not safe from his hands </3 he’s the type to caress your butt when the two of you are cuddling because he knows it lulls you to sleep… but he’s also the type of boyfriend to use your butt as bongos when he’s bored. He’s just so silly :(
Synopsis -> When Chrome Hearts employee Y/N meets global idol Ni-ki, a professional encounter turns into forbidden tension. Despite the rules, their undeniable connection pushes them to risk everything for a chance at something real.
PAIRING: idol!ni-ki x fem!chromeheartsemployee!reader
GENRE: oneshot, romance, forbidden love, Celebrity/Non-Celebrity Relationship, Workplace Drama
STARTED: 1/26/2025
STATUS: complete
WC: 2.9k
Note: haha i just wrote this for fun, after seeing all those videos of ni-ki in the chrome hearts store on tiktok. Enjoy :)
The quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the otherwise silent Chrome Hearts shop. You were used to the serene atmosphere, where the only sounds were the clinks of jewelry and the murmurs of clients admiring the pieces.
Today, however, the shop wasn’t open to the public. A private appointment had been scheduled for someone important—so important that the entire store had been rented out for the occasion.
You adjusted a display of necklaces for the third time that morning, your hands steady but your thoughts racing. Your manager had emphasized the importance of professionalism today, which you found slightly redundant. Being professional was second nature to you.
When the glass door finally swung open, the sound startled you out of your thoughts. You straightened instinctively, your gaze falling on the figure walking in.
He was taller than you’d expected, his dark hair slightly tousled and his oversized hoodie making him look effortlessly casual. You recognized him immediately—Ni-ki, the youngest member of one of the most famous idol groups in the world.
His fame wasn’t something you actively followed, but even you couldn’t avoid hearing his name. It was everywhere—on billboards, in magazines, and in playlists.
“Good afternoon,” you greeted politely, bowing slightly as he stepped further into the shop.
He looked at you, his eyes curious but guarded. “Afternoon,” he replied, his voice quieter than you’d imagined it would be. He pulled down his mask slightly, revealing a polite smile.
“Feel free to let me know if you need assistance,” you added, keeping your tone neutral.
He nodded, his attention already wandering to the displays around him.
For a while, you let him browse in peace, watching discreetly as he moved from one case to another. Despite his casual demeanor, there was a sharpness to the way he observed each piece of jewelry, as if he were studying it.
Finally, he paused by a display of rings. You stepped forward, maintaining a respectful distance. “Are you looking for something specific today?”
“What would you recommend for someone who already owns a lot of Chrome Hearts?”
The question caught you slightly off guard. “That depends on what you’re looking for,” you replied smoothly. “Are you interested in adding to your collection, or are you looking for something unique?”
“Both,” he said, leaning casually against the counter. “I’ve been collecting Chrome Hearts for years. It’s kind of an obsession at this point.”
You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “An obsession?”
He smiled, sensing your interest. “Yeah. I think I was fifteen when I got my first piece—a ring. It was a gift from a stylist on one of our first shoots. Ever since then, I’ve been hooked. I love the craftsmanship, the designs... everything about it feels timeless.”
You nodded, genuinely impressed. “You don’t hear that often. Most clients are more interested in trends.”
“I’m not really into trends,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “I like things that have meaning, things that last. That’s why I keep coming back to Chrome Hearts. Every piece feels like it has a story.”
You considered his words for a moment, then reached into a nearby display case. “If that’s the case, you might like this.”
You handed him a silver chain with an intricately designed cross pendant. “This piece is part of a limited collection. The design is inspired by vintage Chrome Hearts from the early 2000s. It’s subtle, but the detail makes it stand out.”
Ni-ki examined the necklace closely, his fingers brushing over the pendant. “This is perfect,” he said after a moment.
“I’m glad you like it,” you replied, stepping back slightly.
As he continued to look at the piece, he glanced up at you. “You know a lot about this brand,” he remarked.
“It’s part of the job,” you said simply.
He smirked. “Yeah, but you sound like you actually care. That’s rare.”
You didn’t respond immediately, unsure how to take the compliment. Instead, you focused on returning the other pieces to their proper places.
“So, what about you?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
“What about me?”
“Do you have a favorite piece from the collection?”
You hesitated, not used to being the one answering questions. “I don’t own any Chrome Hearts,” you admitted.
“Really?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“It’s not exactly in my budget,” you said with a small shrug.
He chuckled softly. “Fair enough. But if you could pick one piece, what would it be?”
You thought for a moment before pointing to a sleek silver cuff bracelet in one of the displays. “That one. It’s simple but versatile.”
Ni-ki followed your gaze, nodding in approval. “Good choice. Maybe one day I’ll see you wearing it.”
You glanced at him, unsure how to respond. Before you could say anything, he placed the necklace and a few other items on the counter.
He looked up at you then, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “How long have you been working here?”
“Long enough to know what fits our clients,” you answered, deflecting the question slightly.
He chuckled softly, slipping the ring onto his finger. “You’re good at this.”
“Thank you.”
There was a brief silence as he admired the fit of the ring, and you took the opportunity to step back, giving him space.
“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly, catching you off guard.
You hesitated. “It’s Y/N,” you said eventually, keeping your tone polite.
“Y/N,” he repeated, as if testing how it sounded. “I like it.”
You offered a polite smile but didn’t respond, returning to rearranging a nearby display.
Ni-ki continued browsing, occasionally asking for your opinion on a piece. As the minutes turned into an hour, you found yourself impressed by his genuine interest in the craftsmanship. He wasn’t just buying for the sake of it—he seemed to truly appreciate the designs.
Still, you kept a professional distance, even as he grew more conversational.
“You’re really serious about this, huh?” he said at one point, leaning against the counter as you placed a necklace back into its case.
“It’s my job,” you replied simply.
“And you’re good at it,” he said again, his tone sincere this time. “I mean it.”
“Thank you,” you said again, not letting his compliment fluster you.
He smiled at your calm demeanor, clearly amused by your lack of reaction. “You don’t get nervous around clients, do you?”
“Why would I?” you asked, meeting his gaze evenly.
His smile widened. “Most people do.”
“Well, I’m not most people,” you said before you could stop yourself.
He laughed at that, the sound warm and genuine. “I can see that.”
The rest of the appointment went smoothly, though Ni-ki’s subtle attempts at small talk didn’t go unnoticed. By the time he’d chosen a ring and a necklace, the tension between professionalism and casual conversation hung in the air.
As he approached the door to leave, he turned back to you. “Thanks for your help, Y/N.”
“Of course,” you replied, bowing slightly.
“Have a good day, Mr. Nishimura,” you replied, your tone as professional as ever.
He paused by the door, looking back at you one last time. “See you around, Y/N.”
You didn’t respond, watching as the door closed behind him. Shaking your head, you returned to organizing the displays, telling yourself it was just another workday.
But deep down, you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him.
The Chrome Hearts event was in full swing, a buzzing culmination of celebrities, designers, and photographers mingling under the warm glow of chandeliers. You stood off to the side of the bustling fitting area, adjusting racks of jackets and accessories while trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.
This wasn’t your first time working an event like this, but it was your first time with stakes this high. Chrome Hearts had pulled out all the stops, and ENHYPEN, one of the biggest names in the industry, was headlining the night.
You’d been assigned to assist with styling, specifically to help dress Riki Nishimura.
Your mind flashed back to your first encounter with him at the store. Despite his playful demeanor, he’d left an impression that was hard to shake. And now, here you were, preparing to see him again, knowing full well that professionalism was non-negotiable.
“Y/N, they’re here,” your manager said, motioning toward the private fitting area.
You turned just in time to see the group of seven walk in, their presence commanding the room instantly. Cameras flashed as they greeted the event organizers, each member exuding confidence in their own way.
Ni-ki trailed at the back, dressed casually in ripped jeans and a hoodie, but his sharp gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, followed by a small, knowing smirk.
You quickly looked away, busying yourself with the clothes rack in front of you.
“Y/N, you’ll be with Mr. Nishimura,” your manager reminded you, handing you the clipboard with his outfit details.
“Understood,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.
When Ni-ki stepped into the fitting area, you greeted him with a polite nod. “Good evening, Mr. Nishimura.”
“Y/N,” he said smoothly, his tone teasing. “Nice to see you again.”
You kept your expression neutral. “Let’s get started. Your outfit is over here.”
He followed you to the rack, where a carefully curated ensemble awaited—a tailored leather jacket, silver accessories, and sleek black boots. As you began arranging the pieces for him, he leaned against the wall, watching you with an intensity that made your skin tingle.
“You’re really good at this,” he said after a moment.
“Thank you,” you replied without looking up, focusing instead on adjusting the jacket’s cuffs.
“Have you been doing this for long?” he asked, his voice low and casual.
“Long enough,” you said curtly, stepping back to give him space to change.
He chuckled softly, after hearing nearly the same answers to his questions like the last time. “Still keeping it professional, huh?”
“It’s my job,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.
As he slipped into the jacket, his movements deliberate, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly the pieces fit him. He had a natural presence that made even the simplest outfits look like high fashion.
When he turned to face you, fully dressed, you adjusted the silver chain around his neck, your fingers brushing against his skin for the briefest moment. The contact sent a jolt through you, but you quickly pulled back, masking your reaction.
“Looks perfect,” you said, stepping away.
“Thanks to you,” he said, his voice quieter now. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken.
You turned away quickly, busying yourself with the clipboard. “You’re ready for the photos.”
As he joined the rest of the group, the atmosphere shifted. The other members greeted you briefly—Jay’s charismatic smile, Sunghoon’s quiet nod, Sunoo’s cheerful wave—but your focus remained on keeping everything running smoothly.
It wasn’t until the group dispersed for a break that Ni-ki found a moment to approach you again, this time in a quieter corner of the venue.
“Y/N,” he said softly, his tone different now—less playful, more serious.
You glanced up from the accessory case you were organizing. “Yes, Mr. Nishimura?”
“Drop the ‘Mr.,’” he said with a small smirk. “It’s just Ni-ki.”
You hesitated, your professionalism warring with the tension that seemed to grow every time he was near. “How can I help you, Mr. Nishimura?” You emphasize his last Name.
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was wondering if you’d let me have your number.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “That’s against the rules,” you said firmly, though your resolve wavered under his gaze.
He tilted his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
You stared at him, torn between the strict boundaries of your job and the undeniable pull of his presence. Finally, with a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, you reached for a notepad on the counter.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you muttered, scribbling your number down and tearing off the piece of paper.
His fingers brushed yours as he took it, his smile softening. “I won’t,” he promised.
Before you could respond, your manager’s voice called you back to work, and the moment ended as quickly as it began.
As you walked away, you felt Ni-ki’s eyes on you, the forbidden tension between you lingering like an unspoken secret.
Weeks passed after the Chrome Hearts event, and though you tried to maintain a professional distance, everything had changed. The slip of paper with your number on it had been the beginning of a line you never thought you’d cross.
It started with late-night texts.
The first one came a day after the event:
[Unknown Number]: Is it weird that I can’t stop thinking about how you chose that bracelet?
You stared at the screen for longer than you wanted to admit before typing a response.
[You]: It’s weird that you’re texting me when this is technically against the rules.
He replied almost instantly.
[Ni-ki]: Rules are overrated. Especially for something that feels this… different.
And that was how it began.
Over time, the texts turned into calls, the playful teasing evolving into deeper conversations. Ni-ki wasn’t just a global idol with an obsession for Chrome Hearts; he was surprisingly down-to-earth, funny, and honest in a way that caught you off guard.
But as the weeks went on, keeping things secret grew harder.
The first time he showed up at the store unannounced, you nearly had a heart attack.
He arrived disguised in a plain hoodie and cap, his presence still unmistakable. “I was in the area,” he said with a grin, leaning casually against the counter.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you hissed, glancing nervously at your manager, who was busy in the back.
“And yet here I am,” he replied, his tone light but his gaze serious. “I couldn’t help it.”
Against your better judgment, you allowed him to linger, though every minute felt like a risk. When he left, he slipped a small silver ring onto the counter, one you’d once admired during your conversations.
“For you,” he said simply.
You stared at it, shaking your head. “Ni-ki, I can’t—”
“You can,” he interrupted softly. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
And just like that, the line blurred even further.
The turning point came during another Chrome Hearts event, this time at a private gala where the brand unveiled a new collection. You were there to assist again, your role similar to before, though now the tension between you and Ni-ki felt almost unbearable.
He arrived with the other members, dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit adorned with silver accents. When his eyes found yours across the room, the connection was instant, as if the noise and chaos around you didn’t exist.
As the evening wore on, he found small excuses to be near you—a whispered question about his cufflinks, a fleeting brush of his hand against yours as you adjusted his collar. Every interaction sent your pulse racing, though you tried to hide it.
But it wasn’t enough for him.
Toward the end of the night, he cornered you in a quiet hallway outside the main ballroom. His expression was serious, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, “this thing between us… I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”
You crossed your arms, trying to put up a wall you knew would crumble under his gaze. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Ni-ki. If anyone finds out—”
“I don’t care,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I know it’s risky, but I can’t ignore how I feel. Can you?”
His words left you speechless. For weeks, you’d tried to convince yourself that it was just harmless flirting, that you could keep things professional despite the way your heart raced whenever he was near. But now, standing so close to him, the truth was impossible to deny.
“Ni-ki…” you began, your voice faltering.
“I’m not asking you to break every rule,” he said softly. “I just want a chance. A real chance.”
You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you wanted to say no, to walk away before things got even more complicated. But the way he looked at you—as if you were the only person in the world who mattered—made it impossible.
Finally, you nodded, your resolve crumbling. “Okay,” you whispered.
His expression shifted into a mixture of relief and joy, and for the first time, he let his guard down completely.
From that moment on, everything changed.
The relationship that followed was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. You met in secret, stealing moments when his schedule allowed it. Late-night car rides, quiet dinners in hidden corners of the city, and whispered conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning.
But the secrecy only fueled the intensity. Every touch, every glance, every stolen kiss carried the weight of what was at stake.
And though the risk was always there, neither of you could walk away.
Because in the end, some rules were meant to be broken.
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