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fictionlover100 · 1 month ago

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I love the way she writes like check out her other stuff. lowkey need an angst filled part two

Like Im on knee saying "ENJAKEYYYYYY RELEASE A PART TWO AND MY LIFE IS YOUR🧎🏽‍♀️❤️‍🔥💘"

Baby Girl, You Got Desires Too

Pairing: Mob!Niki x Mob!Fem!Reader

TW/N | 14k- forbidden love, pining, yearning, you’re too good for me | some kissing, a lot of pining here and there | not much of a plot | part of the PLEASE STOP DONT STOP universe but you don’t need to read that to understand this one. Just fun Easter eggs for those who have read it | Riki is a little shit in this one (he always is), curses a lot, disrespectful to his Hyungs but you know it’s all love, emotionally unavailable

Summary: Riki started off in the mafia life a bit too young, a bit too innocent. It only made sense that he grew into who he was now- the sharpest one, physically skilled and can wield a knife and gun better than chopsticks. But when he’s tasked to teach the daughter of the Mafia world’s biggest boss, he knew he was meant to keep his distance. He couldn’t put his life, his family’s life, on the line- but for Y/N, he was willing to risk it.

“Riki, your hair is fried.”

Nishimura Riki, or Niki, as many called him, had a habit of dying his hair. He wasn’t sure why- it had started when he was barely a teenager. At that age, when he had suddenly been thrusted into freedom with money, he’d done a lot of things he’d come to regret- piercings, tattoos, clothing styles. The biggest of them all was introducing himself as Niki to the people he met in the industry. As he grew older, he realised how childish it was, to change his name. But changing his hair styles was something he’d never come to regret.

He always insisted that it gave him charisma- or, even better, made him look intimidating sometimes. Just like now, when his hair was bleached and eyebrows changed to match.

His Hyungs loved to make fun of him for it, especially Sunghoon. But at least they didn’t call him Niki anymore.

“Shut up, Hyung,” he rolled his eyes. And though he sounded like he spat the words with malice, Sunghoon just grinned at him.

Jay- his boss- was sprawled out on the couch beside Sunghoon, phone caressed lazily in his hand. His eyes didn’t flicker up to see Riki’s new hairstyle. “I’m not gonna bother looking,” he muttered. “I already know it’s something stupid.”

“I think I look nice with it,” Riki crossed his arms in defense, muscles flexing.

The boy had changed a lot since they brought him into the business. The transformation came from relentless hours of honing his skills, grueling gym sessions, and a disciplined diet. Riki had become known for his sharp technique in martial arts- so much so that he’d somehow surpassed even Jungwon, who was formally trained in taekwondo. And when it came to handling a knife or firing a gun, his precision was unnerving- deadly, even. No one ever saw it coming. He may have been the youngest, but in many ways, he was the most formidable.

“Riki, I can barely see your face,” Sunghoon commented. “Everything’s blurring together,” he waved a hand vaguely in front of his eyes for emphasis.

“Jake Hyung would like it,” Riki rolled his eyes again, looking to the side of the room where a table of framed pictures sat. There were many pictures, in many of which Riki was featured in. Mostly, though, it was Jay with his sister or Jake. “Where is he, anyway?”

That got Jay to finally lift his head, attention steering away from whatever interesting thing he was reading on his phone. “He and my sister have gone out on a date,” Jay groaned and rolled his head to lean against the couch cushion. It seemed that the thought of his best friend and sister dating still bothered him- though he’d given them his blessings a long time ago. “Two year anniversary or something- oh wow, Riki. Sunghoon’s right, I really can’t see your face.”

Jay’s expression of surprise and bewilderment brought Sunghoon down into a fit of laughter. He clutched his stomach and fell sideways into the couch, mouth wide in a smile and eyes crinkled in cheer.

Riki just stared at them, unamused, arms still crossed and eyes narrowing to slits.

“I’m the boss, and somehow, you’ve grown to look scarier than me,” Jay observed.

“You’ve gone soft, Hyung,” Riki deadpanned.

Which, technically, was true. Ever since he started mending his relationship with his sister, started listening to her and taking her advice on the business, the weight on Jay’s shoulders had lifted- only slightly. Everyone preferred working with this version of Jay- the one that listened, the one that stopped and thought before making rash decisions and the one that started caring more about his people than the business in itself.

“It’s a good thing,” Riki quickly added before Jay’s expression could fall.

Behind them, Heeseung had entered the room, the screen of his phone lifted towards them. His steps were frantic, impatient; eyes wide and confused. “Did you guys see this?”

“Jay must have. He’s been on his phone for over an hour,” Niki grinned at his oldest Hyung, who, in return, responded with annoyance and a shake of his head.

“Careful, little shit,” Jay pointed a finger at him, moving to reach for his phone that had wedged itself between couch cushions. “I can still snap.”

Sunghoon, too, opened his phone in hopes of looking for what Heeseung was referring to. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

“No one got the email?” Hesseung went on, staring at his screen like he could find some sort of clue that made sense of his spiralling. “Andrei wants to see us.”

Andrei had been the oldest friend of Jay’s family. He and Jay’s father had grown up side by side- same neighborhood, same school, same college- until they graduated and stepped into the mafia world together, a calculated risk that turned into a legacy. But when Jay’s father stepped away from the life and handed the reins to his son, Andrei remained. In some ways, he still outranked them both. He watched over Jay and everyone close to him- quietly, but with expectations that were never spoken yet always understood. Around Andrei, it felt like they were walking on thin ice. One word from him, one simple request, could bring everything to a standstill.

“What?” Jay’s voice almost disappeared.

Riki and Sunghoon could only stare at Heeseung, frozen in their expressions of uncertainty.

“Let me see,” Riki took the phone from Heeseung and examined the email.

There really was nothing much in it- it was an invitation to his house. For lunch. With his family- only him and his daughter and their two dogs.

“What in the world,” Riki mumbled. “He wants to have lunch?”

Jay grumbled and held his head in his hands.

Sunghoon stared as though there was a black hole in front of him. “I heard that the last time he called someone for lunch, he’d beheaded them and boiled their parts in acid.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Heeseung pointed at Sunghoon, as though they were relating to something. “The rumor spread like wildfire.”

“Guy’s, you can’t seriously believe that,” Riki tutted. “It was a rumor.”

The front door had opened with a familiar thud and footsteps made their way down the hallway- they could recognise it. It was Jake and Jocelyn (Jay’s sister) back from their date, arms and glee wrapped around each other like blankets. They stumbled into the hall with bright smiles, the kind that somehow had a way of calming everyone down.

But not this time, apparently. Everyone was still confused.

Jake and Jocelyn’s smiles faltered.

“Why does everyone look like that,” Jocelyn’s eyes scanned the room, slowly shifting from Riki, to Heeseung, to Sunghoon then finally, to her brother, Jay. “Did someone die or something?”

Jake let out a low chuckle. “No way,” he shook his head. But when no one reacted to him, his chuckle faltered too. “Someone actually died?”

“No,” Sunghoon swallowed. “But someone might as well.”

“Hyung,” Riki started. “You’re part of the biggest mafia gang in the country and you’re squealing like a child right now.”

Sunghoon’s face snapped towards him, fear replaced by anger now. “What did Jay just say? I can still snap.”

Jocelyn ran to Jay’s side, wrapping her arm around his hunched frame. Jake went over to Heeseung to see the invite everyone had been talking about.

“Andrei?” Jake mused. “It’s been like, what, two- three years since we’ve seen the man?”

“Yeah, the last time ya’ll saw him, I was there,” Y/N looked back, almost fondly. “I remember him being really sweet.”

“Yeah? Well,” Jay straightened again. “He’s nice until someone pisses him off.”

“Have you pissed him off?”

“No.”

Jocelyn smiled softly. “Then why are you worried?”

Andrei’s house was big.

Everytime Riki saw it- in person a few years ago, through pictures and once on a feature in an architecture magazine- he was always taken by awe. It was bigger than his house, the one he shared with Jay and everyone else. It was bigger than most houses. Too big for just two people, that was for sure.

The drive from the gate of the estate to the front door took about five minutes- he knew because the radio in the car played Hotel California from start to finish.

They’d arrived in two cars- Riki, Jay, Jake and Jocelyn in one, the rest in the other.

The ride was quiet, save for the music and the occasional glance exchanged between Jay and Jocelyn in the backseat. Jay hadn’t said much since reading the email, and while Riki tried to act unbothered- tapping his fingers on the wheel and humming along to the chorus-he could feel the tension lingering in the car like static.

Jake, riding shotgun, finally broke the silence. “So… what do we think this is? A family catch-up? Or a test?”

Riki didn’t answer, just kept driving with his jaw clenched and bleached eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Jay didn’t want to answer, judging by the way his knee bounced slightly, restless.

“Could be both,” Jocelyn offered, her voice calm but careful. “He wouldn’t ask to see all of us unless it meant something.”

As they pulled up to the front entrance, two large black hounds sat poised by the doorway- Andrei’s dogs, just as massive and intimidating as Riki remembered. The front of the house looked like a modern fortress, all sharp angles and glass, with a stone driveway wide enough to host a small parade.

The second car pulled up behind them. Heeseung stepped out first, muttering under his breath. Sunghoon followed, unusually quiet, and Jungwon and Sunoo trailed behind, jaws tight with focus.

They all gathered at the base of the stairs before anyone dared to ring the doorbell.

“I feel like we’re walking into a war room,” Sunoo said, eyeing the tall double doors.

“Shut up,” Jay muttered, adjusting his coat. He turned to his sister. “Stay close.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

The door had opened without them having to knock, as though the house had sensed their presence. They knew it wasn’t magic- they were automated doors. But the fear that lingered on their nerves made them believe whatever wild thought that entered their heads.

The inside of Andrei’s house was as breathtaking as it was unsettling.

It was cold- not in temperature, but in atmosphere. The kind of cold that whispered power in polished surfaces and quiet corners. The floors were black marble with veins of silver running through them like cracks in glass. Every footstep echoed, soft but distinct, as though the house wanted to remember every person who walked through it.

Tall ceilings loomed overhead, supported by clean-lined columns that stood like silent sentinels. The walls were a soft matte grey, broken up by strange, modern art- sculptures that twisted in forms too abstract to name, and paintings that bled shadows and red.

Nothing felt homely- not a photo frame, not a fingerprint- just wealth, precision, and intention.

To the right, an enormous staircase curved upward like a spine, its railing a dark metal so finely crafted it almost looked like lace. A chandelier hung above it, not the classic crystal kind but an avant-garde fixture of golden rods and spheres, suspended in deliberate chaos.

Even the air smelled expensive- notes of cedar, clean linen, and something older, like history.

Heeseung’s eyes traced the perimeter, already mapping exits. Jungwon said nothing, jaw tight. Sunoo’s expression was unreadable, but his fingers tapped nervously against his thigh.

“This place could be a museum,” Sunghoon whispered under his breath.

“No,” Jake said beside him. “Museums feel alive.”

Andrei appeared at the end of the grand hallway, framed by the pale gold light spilling through the archways behind him. A pipe hung lazily from the corner of his mouth- smoke curling upward in soft spirals. It was new. Jay didn’t remember him ever smoking a pipe.

But what struck him more than the pipe was the smile- wide, warm, disarming- like they were long-lost family returning home.

“You came,” Andrei beamed, spreading his arms.

“Of course we did,” Jay said, voice steady as he stepped forward. The two men embraced- brief, firm, the kind of hug between people who respected each other but still watched their backs.

Then Andrei turned to Jocelyn, his expression softening further. “Darling,” he murmured, pulling her in. His hug with her lasted longer, less guarded. “You’ve grown into your mother’s mirror.”

Jocelyn smiled, a bit taken aback but not uncomfortable. “You talk like a poet, Andrei.”

He chuckled, stepping back, removing the pipe just long enough to blow the smoke away from their faces.

Behind them, the others stood quietly- still, as if unsure whether to approach or wait for orders.

Andrei’s eyes flicked to them. “Come now,” he said, arms open again. “What’s with all the stiffness? This is lunch, not an ambush.”

No one moved right away. Then Riki took the first step.

“We brought wine,” he offered, holding up the bottle he’d been carrying.

Andrei’s grin widened. “Ah, the pretty one with bleached hair. You never disappoint. Niki, was it?”

“Riki,” he responded with a curt nod.

Andre hummed, stared him in the eye for two seconds, and then turned to lead everyone into the dining hall.

Riki turned to Sunghoon with a cheeky grin, as though he’d won in some sort of bet. “He likes my hair.”

Andrei led them through a long, high-ceilinged hallway, his steps unhurried, pipe still trailing smoke like a veil. Their footsteps filled the silence in a rhythm that felt ceremonial- no one dared to speak.

The dining hall doors were already open.

Inside, the room glowed gold under a massive chandelier. The table was long, dark wood with a flawless polish, stretched out like something from a royal painting. The spread laid across it was nothing short of a feast- roast meats, platters of grilled vegetables, seafood glistening with butter and herbs, fresh bread stacked like bricks, and wine in glass decanters so clear they looked invisible.

Yet every chair stood empty, waiting.

Andrei took his place at the head of the table, the chair like a throne. The other end of the table remained unoccupied. No one even glanced at it for too long- it had once belonged to his wife. No one dared sit there.

Silently, they filled in the seats along the sides. Jay took the one closest to Andrei on the left, Jocelyn beside him. Riki ended up across from Sunghoon and Jungwon, and Jake between Heeseung and Sunoo.

Waiters appeared with practiced precision, dressed in uniform black, serving portions without a word. The clinking of silverware and glass filled the room for a moment- almost soothing, if not for the tension that buzzed faintly beneath the surface.

“So,” Andrei said, voice light as he poured himself a glass of wine. “How’s business, Jay?”

Jay gave a clipped smile. “Stable. Clean. Quiet.”

Andrei laughed under his breath, the kind of laugh that said he didn’t believe in quiet. “That’s good. Quiet means you’re doing something right.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries- Sunghoon complimenting the food, Jocelyn asking about the chef, Riki quietly stabbing into a grilled shrimp- until the sound of soft footsteps interrupted them.

Everyone turned.

A girl walked in- cooly, not hurried, like she’d been planning her entrance to the tea.

She was effortlessly put together- white dress that reached her knees, hair falling down her back in waves. Her eyes were sharp, fox-like, a flicker of amusement playing in them even though she hadn’t said a word yet. She carried herself with a kind of lazy confidence- born from growing up in rooms where men lowered their voices when her father walked in.

“This is my daughter,” Andrei said as she came to his side. “Y/N.”

Y/N offered a short nod, her gaze flickering across the table- assessing, not greeting. “Hi,” she said simply, sliding into the empty seat next to her father.

She didn't try to make conversation. She didn't even need to.

Andrei leaned back in his chair, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I brought you all here for a reason,” he said, letting the pipe rest in an ashtray beside him. “And while I do enjoy seeing familiar faces… this wasn’t just a social call.”

The table quieted. All eyes turned to him.

“It’s about her,” he continued, glancing toward Y/N, who looked mildly annoyed at being the center of attention.

Jay frowned. “What do you mean?”

Andrei raised his glass but didn’t drink. “She’s grown up around all this,” he gestured loosely. “But I never taught her how to protect herself. Call it a father’s guilt. Or maybe I’m getting old. Either way, ” his eyes landed on Riki, “I want him to train her.”

Riki blinked. “Me?”

“You’re the best we’ve got,” Andrei said plainly. “And you’re on Jay’s side, which means you’re on mine. Who better to trust?”

The room was silent again.

Riki looked to Jay for some unspoken signal, but Jay’s face gave away nothing.

III

The hallway lights were dim, and most of the house had gone quiet for the evening. Riki was in the shared living room back at their place, sprawled dramatically across the couch, a pillow over his face smothering his rage.

“I can’t believe this,” he groaned, voice muffled by cotton. “Out of everyone- me? Do I not have better shit to do?”

From the nearby armchair, Sunoo didn’t even look up from his book. “You don’t.”

Riki sat up, tossing the pillow aside. “I do! I’ve got- training, and drills, and gun maintenance, and- ”

Sunoo raised a brow. “You’re literally describing the same things you’re going to do with her.”

“That’s not the point,” Riki snapped. “She’s… cocky.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but she’s got that rich-girl-doesn’t-care-if-she-gets-shot kind of cocky. Like, daddy will save me.” He gestured wildly in the air, mimicking her expression. “Hi, I don’t need to know basic defense because my last name is enough to keep me alive.”

“I don’t think she’s being forced into this,” Sunoo finally looked up, closing his book with a soft thud. “Plus, Andrei asked for it.”

“Which means I can’t say no.”

“Exactly,” Sunoo echoed, now getting up and walking to the kitchen for water. “He asks, we deliver. That’s the rule, remember?”

Riki’s gym took up the entire basement- what was once a dull, unused space had been gutted, repainted, and reborn into his own haven of physical exercise and mastery of weapons. A boxing ring sat squarely at the center, its ropes frayed at the edges from constant use. The walls were painted in sharp hues of grey, yellow, and red, giving the otherwise white canvas a burst of aggression and focus. Weights lined one wall, punching bags hung like silent spectators, the floor smelled faintly of sweat and disinfectant- Riki kept it immaculate.

Y/N showed up right on time. Not too early, not fashionably late- just on the dot, like she was setting a tone.

She stepped in wearing black leggings and a fitted top, her hair tied into a high ponytail that didn’t dare move. She had a bounce in her step, like this was just another challenge she was confident she’d charm her way through.

“Morning,” she said brightly, offering a slight smile as she looked around. “Nice place. Didn't think you'd be the aesthetic type.”

Riki didn’t respond. He stood near the edge of the ring, arms crossed over his chest, face more unreadable with his bleached brows and hair. His silence was louder than any greeting.

“Warm up,” he said flatly.

Y/N’s smile faltered for half a second. “Not a talker- got it.”

She nodded and dropped her bag to the floor, stepping to the side to begin her stretching routine. Her movements were fluid- familiar, well-practiced. Riki watched without expression, eyes calculating, taking mental notes.

After a minute, her voice cut through the tension.

“So… what are we doing today?” Her cocky edge had returned, laced with curiosity. “You gonna show me how to throw knives or something?”

Riki’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not starting anything today,” he said. “Only exercise.”

Y/N groaned slightly, tipping her head back with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, how boring.”

“Then leave,” Riki said, deadpan.

She blinked. He didn’t flinch.

She huffed a breath of laughter, amused and annoyed all at once. “Wow. Okay. Tough crowd.”

He turned away and started setting a timer. “Five sets of jump squats, thirty seconds rest. Let’s see if the mafia princess can even survive a warm-up.”

Y/N paused mid-squat, eyes narrowing. “I’m not a mafia princess.”

Riki didn’t even glance up from the timer. “Then what?” He continued flatly. “Daddy’s princess?”

The words struck harder than she expected- mocking, cold, dismissive.

Her smirk vanished. “You don’t even know me,” she snapped, standing upright.

He finally looked up, arms crossed. “Don’t need to. I’ve seen your kind before.”

Her eyes flared. “My kind?”

“Entitled. Spoiled. Think they can smile their way out of hard work.”

Y/N stepped closer, jaw tight. “You think I was forced into this?”

Riki shrugged. “You’ll still be here tomorrow. That’s all that matters.”

She stared at him, furious. Then turned away, biting down the urge to argue more. She grabbed her water bottle with a little too much force, taking a sharp breath.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, just loud enough. “Cocky, emotionally constipated, knife boy.”

Riki heard- but didn’t flinch. He just hit start on the timer. “Set two. Let’s go, princess.”

Y/N wasn’t spoiled. Not in the way people liked to assume.

Her father had raised her with discipline, values, and a sharp tongue that could hold its own in any room. At least- that’s what she liked to believe. Still, more than once, people had told her she had an attitude. It came up in passing, always laced with a laugh- too sharp, too smug, too sure of herself. But she never saw a reason to correct it.

Because the truth was- her life didn’t demand humility.

Y/N lived a life most people could only dream of. As the daughter of Andrei- the most feared and respected man in the country’s criminal underworld- she existed in a world built on power, wealth, and silence. She had bodyguards before she had braces, chauffeurs before she had a license. Wherever she went, her name traveled ahead of her, clearing the way like a blade through water. Her father’s influence wrapped around her like armor, and for most of her life, it had been enough. No one touched her- no one even dared. She had money, freedom, and the kind of unspoken reverence that followed her even when she wasn’t trying to be noticed. On the surface, it was the perfect life.

But it wasn’t bulletproof.

The night everything changed hadn’t felt like anything at all- just another quiet evening. She had come home from her university class, tossed her bag on the floor, washed her face, and climbed into bed like it was any other day. That’s when the alarms started- piercing, shrill, flashing red lights flooding the hallway. The sound of bodies moving-heavy boots, drawn weapons, the bark of commands. And then a struggle- quick, brutal, over in seconds. By the time she opened her bedroom door, it was done. The intruder had been tackled just outside the side entrance, barely a few meters from where she slept. If the bodyguards had been a minute slower, he might’ve reached her.

For the first time, Andrei had seen the crack in the foundation. He watched the security footage in silence, a lit pipe resting between his fingers, smoke curling like ghosts around his face. What scared Y/N the most wasn’t his anger- it was how calm he was- the way he stood in her doorway that night, long after the incident, just watching her sleep like he was mourning something he hadn’t lost.

The next morning, he gave the order.

She needed to learn to protect herself.

And that was where Riki came in.

Riki wasn’t just another bodyguard or soldier. He was the sharpest weapon in Jay’s arsenal, someone who had risen quickly through the ranks not by legacy, but by discipline and deadly precision. Everyone knew what he was capable of- knife work, close combat, firearms- he mastered everything. Young, powerful, and ruthless, Riki never flinched.

He didn’t care that Y/N was Andrei’s daughter. In fact, that was exactly why Andrei chose him. Riki wasn’t there to entertain her, pamper her, or protect her ego. He was there to mold her into someone dangerous- someone who didn’t flinch in the face of a gun, someone who would never need saving.

Y/N had agreed, not out of fear, but out of pride. She wanted to prove she was more than just her father’s name, more than just the girl at the end of the table during dinners, more than someone who was almost kidnapped. But what she didn’t expect- what no one warned her about- was just how much Riki would make her earn it.

Training with Riki wasn’t the kind of physical exhaustion Y/N had braced herself for. There were no bruises blooming beneath her skin, no split lips or dramatic battle scars- at least, not yet. What truly drained her, what left her feeling heavy and hollow by the end of each day, was the sheer mental weight of it all. It was the relentless stillness in his voice, the clinical precision of his words, the way he never praised, never acknowledged, never gave her even a sliver of satisfaction.

The first day had broken something in her, though she would’ve rather chewed glass than admit it. Despite the bravado she carried in with her- head held high, eyes challenging- she returned home that evening in silence. Her father had waited at the dinner table, an untouched plate in front of him, and though he didn’t say anything when she walked past, he noticed. She didn’t eat. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at him.

And yet, the next day, she was back.

She arrived early, hair tied tight, expression sharper than it had been the day before, as if she had stitched her pride back together just enough to stand. But Riki didn’t reward her silent resilience. He barely even looked at her as he tossed her the rope and told her to warm up. What followed was a repeat of the day prior- stretches, conditioning drills, plank holds, wall sits, core exercises until her body trembled under the pressure- but the part that wore her down the most was the repetition, the lack of progress, the dull, numbing sameness. Occasionally, if she was lucky or if he was particularly generous, he let her use the dumbbells under strict time and form limitations. That was the extent of variation. There was no celebration when she did something right, no adjustment when she struggled. Just the same three words, muttered without a glance- “Again. Fix it.”

And, of course, the nickname. Always the nickname.

“Princess,” he’d say, dragging it out just enough to make her feel it, like he was driving the knife in slowly- just to watch her bleed frustration. She hated it because it undermined her effort, and because it reminded her of everything she’d been trying to escape.

And Riki didn’t care.

“If you’re so annoyed,” he said casually one afternoon, watching her mid-set as sweat dripped down the side of her face, “the door’s right there.”

She didn’t answer. - ust rolled her eyes and kept holding the plank until her arms trembled.

That was the day Jocelyn had walked in- unannounced, a breath of fresh air in soft curls and a denim jacket, smiling like she didn’t know the room was emotionally on fire. Her warmth was instant, her presence oddly disarming. She slipped beside Y/N and offered a small nod, like they’d been friends forever.

“Come on,” she said gently. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Two bodyguards trailed them the entire time- like shadows glued to café glass and pastel menus. The café was cozy, too cozy to house the kind of lives they lived. The juxtaposition made Y/N laugh- really laugh for the first time in days.

Jocelyn quickly became her escape. When Riki pushed too hard, when her self-worth started cracking under his silence, Jocelyn would swoop in- text her out, drag her to a bookstore, slip her snacks under the table. She’d call Riki out to his face, too- never scared, never subtle.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” Jocelyn had snapped at him once, right after he corrected Y/N’s stance for the fifth time in one session. “She’s trying. You could try not to be a robot.”

But Riki didn’t change. If anything, he seemed to double down. The more he realized he could get away with it- the more it became clear that Andrei was firmly on his side- he pushed harder. Andrei never scolded him, never told him to ease up- he trusted Riki’s judgment. Which, to Riki, was permission to keep jabbing.

And so he did.

With every flat remark. With every eye roll. With every “princess.”

Because the truth was- Riki had already decided what Y/N was. And no matter how many days she showed up, she hadn’t proved him wrong yet.

“I’m gonna teach you how to use a knife today.”

The words landed in the air like a stone dropped in still water- sudden, sharp, sending silent ripples through everything.

Y/N froze halfway through tying her ponytail, the elastic still looped between her fingers. For a second, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned her head slowly, brows furrowed, expecting some kind of follow-up- maybe a correction, a deadpan jab, the usual eye roll that came with his sarcasm.

But Riki was serious.

He stood near the storage rack, sleeves pushed up, eyes cool and unreadable, and beside him, laid out on a clean white cloth, was a single black-handled blade- sharp, deadly.

Y/N let the elastic snap into place and approached, the echo of her sneakers soft against the gym floor. “You’re not just trying to scare me off?”

Riki didn’t blink. “If I wanted you gone, I’d just stop showing up.”

He picked up the knife with ease- one could tell his familiarity with it with a simple glance. The blade gleamed under the basement lights, catching a thin sliver of gold in its curve before he held it out, handle first. “Take it.”

Y/N reached for it without hesitation, fingers curling around the grip. It was heavier than she expected- not impossibly so, but enough to remind her that this wasn’t a movie, and this wasn’t pretend.

“You’re not gonna say I haven’t earned it yet?” She asked, glancing up at him with a flicker of something close to a smirk.

Riki’s expression didn’t shift. “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be holding it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable for once. It felt like a new weight settling into the room, a shift in dynamic- small, but undeniable. For the first time in weeks, Y/N didn’t feel like she was being tolerated. She felt like she was being tested.

He stepped behind her, adjusting her grip slightly, guiding her fingers with deliberate precision. His hands were steady, clinical, devoid of any softness. “You don’t hold it like you’re scared of it,” he said. “You hold it like it belongs to you. Because if you ever need to use it, hesitation will get you killed.”

Y/N nodded once..

“What are we starting with?” She asked.

“Targeting. Center mass. Arterial strikes. The basics.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, just light stuff.”

Riki stepped back, the faintest hint of something in his eyes- approval, maybe, though he’d never say it aloud. “You want me to sugarcoat it, or teach you how to survive?”

“I’m not here to be babied,” she said.

“Good,” he replied. “Because I don’t do that.”

VII

It was one of those rare evenings where the entire house sat down for dinner together- something that only ever happened under Jocelyn’s unrelenting insistence. She called them “non-negotiable trust exercises,” claiming that shared meals were sacred, that they built familiarity, dissolved tension, and reminded them all they weren’t just soldiers, or heirs, or enforcers- they were still, somewhere beneath the chaos, a family.

It had happened so often by now that no one protested anymore. In fact, though none of them would dare admit it- especially not Jay- they had started looking forward to it.

The dining table stretched wide, dressed in warm food and soft candlelight, laughter crackling occasionally between bites and side glances. For a few moments, the world outside faded- the rival families, the tension in their bones, the training regimens, the name Andrei looming over their choices. For a few moments, they were just people.

Between bites of roasted vegetables and low conversation, Jay- leaning back with his wine glass in hand- glanced toward Riki without much ceremony. “How’s training going with Y/N?”

Before Riki could even lift his head, Jocelyn cut in, spearing a piece of chicken with far too much enthusiasm. “I think she hates us,” she said, voice cheery in the way only someone trying to stir trouble on purpose could manage. “Riki treats her like absolute shit.”

The table fell dead silent.

Forks hovered halfway to mouths, spoons paused mid-scoop, and everyone’s breath collectively stilled, like the room itself had flinched. All eyes swung toward Riki at once- Heeseung, Sunghoon, Jake, Jungwon, Sunoo- each of them caught somewhere between horror and fascination. It was like someone had pulled the pin on a grenade and dropped it gently in the soup bowl.

Riki leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, gaze level and expression unreadable, like none of this concerned him in the slightest.

Riki would never admit it aloud- certainly not here- but there was a reason he treated Y/N the way he did, a reason that wasn’t about her at all. It was about the fear her father instilled in all of them- the kind of fear that wasn’t loud or threatening, but quiet and suffocating, like a wire pulled tight around the throat. He didn’t like seeing his Hyungs afraid, didn’t like watching the power shift in a room the second Andrei was mentioned. And whether it was misplaced rebellion or something tangled in the growing pains of teenage pride, Riki’s way of pushing back was through her. Through the one person Andrei had made them all silently swear to protect.

It wasn’t fair. Jocelyn told him that- often and bluntly. And still, he didn’t stop.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Jungwon asked from the far end, his tone more serious than usual.

Jocelyn raised her brows, leaning into the storm she had brewed. “Guys. I feel like you overestimate Andrei. I know he’s… intense, but he thinks of us as family. He trusts us. He trusts Riki.”

“Do you think he’ll still think that,” Heeseung muttered darkly, “when he finds out we’ve been letting his daughter get bullied by this little shit?”

“He hasn’t yet,” Riki said, finally breaking his silence, his tone steady but low. “And he knows how I’ve been training her. I’ve reported everything. He hasn’t said a word about it.”

Jay set his wine glass down, a soft click punctuating the space between them. His eyes were fixed on Riki now- sharp, calculating, protective. “You better not take it too far,” he said, voice cold and quiet in a way that made everyone feel it.

Meanwhile, back in her room, Y/N was face-down on her bed, her arms splayed out and her face half-buried in her pillows like she could physically smother the thoughts racing through her head.

She hated that she was thinking about him.

She really hated that she was thinking about the way his chest had pressed lightly against her back that afternoon- how his voice had lowered, just slightly, as he corrected her stance, one hand firm around her wrist, the other hovering near her waist. There had been nothing flirtatious in it, nothing even remotely intentional. And yet, she felt it- his breath at her neck, his hand steady and warm, the way his hair brushed across her cheek when he leaned too close.

For the first time, he’d treated her like someone who belonged.

Not like a task. Not like a child. Like someone capable of learning. Like someone seen.

And it had wrecked her.

This was not supposed to happen. He was rude, arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and worst of all- barely even looked at her like a person before this week. But the moment he had, the moment he shifted even slightly, her feelings had unraveled.

Riki was the first person to treat her like she had to earn her space.

And God help her, she wanted to- for reasons she didn’t understand yet.

Training sessions with the knife continued that way.

They weren’t rushed, not by any means. Riki moved with measured precision, always focused, always professional. Each lesson built on the last that slowly, inevitably carved her into someone sharper- just like Andrei wanted. And through it all, Riki was there, correcting her grip with a firm hand around her fingers, steadying her hips when her balance faltered, tilting her elbow just slightly to improve her range. His touch was never inappropriate, never lingering- but it was there, constant and unavoidable.

And that was the problem. It wasn’t supposed to matter. But it did.

Because every time he stepped in behind her, hands brushing her arms to guide a motion, or his chest ghosting too close to her back, she became aware- not just of him, but of herself; of how small she felt next to him, how easily he could move her body like it was a piece of a larger machine, how focused he was on the technique and how hard it was for her to stay focused on anything else. She’d nod, she'd respond, she'd keep her stance- because she wasn’t weak- but inside, it drove her mad.

And that was its own kind of addiction.

Eventually, the knife training evolved.

One afternoon, he led her toward the dartboard nailed to the far corner of the gym wall, the sleek, black-and-red target lit under a harsh spotlight. “Congrats, you’re graduating to darts,” he said plainly, handing her a set of matte steel-tipped ones. “Practice for using the gun later. This’ll train your hand-eye control without needing a trigger.”

She wanted to ask why now, but didn’t. She knew better than to ask for praise from him.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was how suddenly his touch disappeared.

No more hands adjusting her wrists. No more shoulders pressed lightly behind her as he corrected posture. No more hovering presence that reminded her she was being watched, guided- trained.

Now, he stood on the other side of the gym, arms crossed, occasionally nodding when she landed a clean shot, occasionally correcting her form with nothing but a sharp word. It was colder, it was emptier- and for reasons she wasn’t ready to unpack, she hated it more than she could admit.

She’d gotten used to him. Not just his methods, but him- the way his presence filled the room like smoke- quiet but consuming. It was the way his voice cut through her overthinking, the way he only touched her when it mattered.

Now, she was left standing there, throwing darts into silence, craving something she couldn’t name without sounding stupid.

A few days later, over a late lunch, Jocelyn asked casually. “Is Riki still being an asshole to you?”

Y/N paused mid-sip of her iced coffee, then exhaled through her nose with a shrug. “I guess it’s the same,” she said flatly. “Yeah. He’s making me play darts now.”

It sounded so mundane when said out loud- darts. As if the word didn’t come weighted with hours of silent precision, as if it wasn’t now tangled with every complicated thought she’d refused to unpack since he started keeping his distance.

Jocelyn didn’t press her. She didn’t raise a brow or tilt her head in curiosity. She just nodded, like that answer was good enough- like of course it made sense.

And that’s when it hit Y/N- despite the annoyance Riki seemed to bring everyone- the insults, the eye rolls, the walls he built taller than most people could see over- they trusted him without question, without explanation. They followed his lead in a fight, deferred to his methods in training, and even Jay, the man who outranked him, never challenged the way Riki handled her.

They trusted that Riki would never hurt her. And, against all odds, she was starting to believe that too. Even if she still wanted to slap that deadpan look off his face most days.

VIII

Riki hadn’t meant to bring her to the gun range so soon. In his head, she still needed a few more weeks of drills- more form correction, more footwork, more discipline. He didn’t want to rush her into something she wasn’t ready for. That’s what he kept telling himself.

The truth, though, was simpler- she was getting good. And much faster than he’d expected. There was a sharpness in her, one that didn’t come from brute force or survival instinct. He watched it grow with every session, and the higher it climbed, the more he dug his heels in, refusing to say the one thing that kept biting at the edge of his tongue.

She was better than she should be.

But pride had never been Riki’s strong suit. So instead of telling her, he just texted her the location and time.

Gun range. 5 PM.

When she arrived, he was already there, loading magazines at the back table. The Glock lay in full view, polished, prepped, resting like it was waiting for her. And the second her eyes landed on it, her whole face lit up- wide-eyed, eager, the kind of grin that would’ve made someone else laugh, maybe even tease her. Riki didn’t do either, but he noticed it. And for a split second, the way her excitement filled the room reminded him of something younger- before orders, before violence had become muscle memory.

She looked at the gun like a child being handed a lollipop, and somehow, it didn’t make her look naive.

As she approached, he just nodded and motioned her closer. Then, without any fanfare, he stepped behind her, close enough that his presence could be felt but not overwhelming. His hand settled on her lower back, firm but careful, guiding her toward the right position. When he placed the Glock in her hands, he didn’t ask if she was nervous- he simply adjusted her fingers around the grip with the same precision he’d applied to every lesson before.

His chest brushed lightly against her back as he corrected her arms, lining her up with the target. One hand slid to her waist to adjust her balance; the other repositioned her wrist, steadying her elbow like she was an extension of his own movement.

“Breathe through your stomach,” he said quietly. “Not your chest.”

She didn’t respond, but he felt her body shift, her breathing grow deeper, slower. She was focused- more than he’d seen her yet.

When the shot rang out, it echoed clean through the chamber.

Dead center.

He blinked at the target, then at her. She hadn’t even flinched.

It was a better first shot than he’d ever pulled off.

For a second, he stayed behind her, watching the slight tremble in her arm settle, watching the way she held the weapon like it belonged to her. There was something tightening in his chest- something like respect, with edges he didn’t know how to name.

He stepped away before it could settle too deeply.

“Not bad, princess,” he said, flat as ever.

But he knew- and she knew he knew- that it was more than that.

And somehow, that made things even more complicated.

Later that night, when the house had settled into silence and the world outside had finally stopped demanding things of him, Riki sat alone in his room- lights off, window cracked open, the faint sounds of the city humming in the distance like a lullaby that didn’t quite land.

He had a habit of keeping things minimal. His room reflected that- clean, sparse, practical. A bed, a desk, a shelf lined with weapons he never bragged about, a set of notebooks he never let anyone read. Even the air felt sharpened by discipline, like nothing stayed unless it earned its place.

Tonight, though, his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. He leaned back in his chair, head tilted slightly against the wall behind him, eyes fixed somewhere in the dark. His body ached faintly from his own training, but that wasn’t what bothered him. It was her- Y/N. Not just her smile at the range, not just her aim. Her.

The way she stood a little taller these days. The way her jokes landed more confidently. The way she stared straight back at him when he criticized her, like she was daring him to look deeper and find something worth saying.

She’d started to take up space. Not in a loud, attention-seeking way, not like the girls he’d known before, who wanted to be admired or envied. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone- not even her father. Especially not him. And maybe that was what gnawed at him most.

She wanted this- the training.

And he hated that it made him care.

Because he’d promised himself long ago he wouldn’t get involved. Not with people who could be used against him. Not with people tied to bigger names, bigger consequences. And especially not with someone like her- someone who carried Andrei’s legacy like a blade pressed to the throat of every man in this house.

But still… when she shot dead center today, her posture steady, her eyes locked on the target like it was personal, he hadn’t seen Andrei’s daughter. He’d seen Y/N, who she’d been begging him to see, and that was dangerous. Because if he was honest with himself- and he rarely was- he didn’t know if he was more afraid of hurting her… or protecting her.

Both felt like weakness.

By now, she’d memorized the sound of his voice when he called her princess. The first time he said it, it had dripped with condescension- like she was an intruder in a space built by blood and sweat, a spoiled girl playing pretend with knives. But lately, it hadn’t sounded like an insult anymore.

Riki still said it like it was muscle memory, like he didn’t even think about it. But Y/N could feel it in the air each time the word left his mouth. It no longer struck like a bullet- it brushed against her like a whisper, warm and low and maddeningly familiar.

She told herself she didn’t care- but it was starting to ruin her.

Today, when she walked into the gym, he didn’t even look up. He was standing near the far wall, hands wrapped in tape, posture loose but ready- like always. The only acknowledgment she got was a single nod and the flick of his eyes down to the knife laid out for her.

“Back to blades?” She asked, dropping her bag near the corner, pulling her hair up without waiting for a reply.

“You still hold it like you’re scared of it,” he muttered, finally tossing her a dull training knife. “You want a gun, earn it.”

She caught the knife and rolled her eyes. “I did earn it.”

“You earned a lesson. Not the weapon.”

Y/N bit down her response. It was always like this- every compliment is buried under sharp edges. Every ounce of progress ignored- or worse, acknowledged in silence. Still, she stayed. Still, she showed up every time. And he knew she would.

The drills began- swift, methodical, exhausting in their repetition. Riki moved around her like a shadow, close enough to guide her, never close enough to feel safe. He adjusted her posture with two fingers on her back, fixed her grip with the curve of his palm against hers. Every brush of contact lit a fuse in her chest- short, sharp, breathless.

She hated how much her body noticed him now. The way he stood behind her to correct her stance, tall and composed, warmth bleeding through his shirt as he aligned her movements to his. The way his voice dipped lower when she was doing something right. The way he never admitted it out loud, but kept letting her go further anyway.

“You’re hesitating,” he said once, when she faltered mid-block.

“I’m not,” she whispered back, heart racing.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, unflinching. “Prove it.”

She didn’t look away- not this time.

Their next drill was closer in contact- something that would’ve flustered her a month ago. Now, it just made her aware of everything. The shape of his jaw, the slight hitch in his breath when she got the move right, the way his fingers lingered a beat too long on her waist when he stopped her momentum.

And when they broke apart, she missed his touch so sharply it almost made her stumble.

They didn’t speak of it. Neither of them mentioned the way the room suddenly felt hotter, or how time seemed to slow every time he looked at her. But it was there- it was in the silence.

It was in the way he handed her the blade before their final set and said, quietly, “ready, princess?”

The word settled on her like a secret. Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t even bring herself to smirk. She just nodded, eyes locked on his, pulse wild under her skin.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m ready.”

It was a routine afternoon when Jay showed up.

Training was supposed to be just the two of them- like always. Y/N had walked in ready, hair tied back, tank top clinging to her skin from the heat, that same practiced neutrality on her face that she tried to wear like armor around him. Riki had almost forgotten what it felt like to train anyone else. She took up so much space now, even when she was silent.

But then Jay strolled in, leaning casually against the gym doorway with his arms crossed and that signature unreadable expression that meant he was watching more than he let on.

“Don’t mind me,” Jay said, tone light but eyes sharp. “Just felt like watching for a change.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest. Y/N just nodded stiffly, shooting a glance at Riki that felt almost nervous.

The drills started. Knife work first, then light sparring, then stance correction. It all felt routine- except it wasn’t. Not with Jay’s eyes following every movement, not when Riki noticed the way Y/N’s composure faltered just a little more under observation; the way she smiled when Riki rolled his eyes at her, the way her laugh came out softer, quicker, like she didn’t mean for it to slip.

And Jay saw all of it.

He saw the way Riki’s hands hovered just a little longer on her waist when he corrected her balance, the way Riki’s jaw clenched every time she touched him and didn’t notice it. And the way he looked at her- God, how he looked at her.

Jay knew that look. It was the same look Jake used to give Jocelyn when Jay was a protective nutjob all those years ago. He himself had worn it before, years ago, with someone he couldn’t have.

When the session ended, Y/N grabbed her water bottle, barely glanced at them as she walked out- too flustered, too warm, too aware of whatever it was that lived in the air now. She gave Jay a quick, awkward wave. “See you later.”

He waited until she was gone, until her footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Then he turned to Riki. “So,” Jay said, voice flat now, arms still crossed, “you wanna tell me what that was?”

Riki didn’t even look up from where he was putting the blades away. “What was what?”

Jay scoffed. “Don’t play stupid. That tension? I could cut it with one of those knives you keep throwing at her.”

Riki shut the drawer with a little too much force. “Training. That’s all.”

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you’re looking too hard, Hyung.”

Jay stepped forward, voice still calm but edged now. “She’s Andrei’s daughter, Riki.”

That made Riki freeze- just a second too long.

Jay noticed.

“I know,” Riki muttered, voice lower now, the defensiveness creeping in despite him trying to keep it steady. “I haven’t done anything. Nothing’s happening.”

“Maybe not yet,” Jay said. “But don’t act like you’re not halfway there.”

Riki turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. His usual cool exterior was cracking- not completely, but enough to reveal the mess beneath. “She’s a trainee.”

“She’s not just a trainee,” Jay shot back. “And you know it,” Jay sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t get to mess this up. Not with her. Not with him watching us like hawks. If he even thinks you’ve crossed a line-”

“I haven’t,” Riki cut in sharply. “I won’t.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You can lie to me. But don’t lie to yourself,” he turned to leave but paused at the door. “Figure it out, Riki. Before someone else does,” and then he was gone, leaving Riki standing in the center of the gym, the silence ringing louder than any gunshot he’d ever fired.

Because deep down, beneath all the denial, beneath all the bravado, he already had crossed a line. He just didn’t know what to do with the part of him that didn’t want to go back.

The air in the basement gym felt different that evening. Maybe it was the heat from the sparring mats or the hum of the overhead lights, or maybe it was something else- something that had been building quietly between them, day after day, in every unspoken word and every touch that lingered longer than it should’ve.

Y/N showed up a few minutes early, her water bottle still half-full from earlier that afternoon, strands of hair already sticking to her temple despite the shower she’d just taken. She found Riki already at the far end of the gym, shirt clinging to his back, sweat running down the curve of his neck, gloves hitting the punching bag in practiced, rhythmic bursts.

When he saw her, it was the same thing every time- that pause, that fraction of a second where the air seemed to thicken around them before he blinked, nodded, and turned away like nothing in his chest had tightened.

She set her bag down, smoothing her hands over her leggings. “I forgot my gloves,” she said, not expecting sympathy.

“You can go bare,” he muttered, not looking up. “It’ll toughen your hands.”

“Tough love again?”

“No. Just love.”

The words slipped out too quickly- too quiet, too smooth- and for a second, neither of them moved. But then he rolled his shoulder and stepped toward the corner of the room where the throwing knives were stored. “Get ready,” he said, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

But it had. She could feel it in her spine.

They went through warm-ups without speaking, but the silence wasn’t comfortable the way it used to be. It buzzed now, full of static. Every time she glanced at him, his eyes were already on her- watchful, unreadable, and far too soft for someone who used to cut her down with every word.

Then, without warning, he said, “We’re not doing blades today.”

She paused. “No?”

“No,” he replied, tossing a small black case onto the mat in front of her. “We’re doing this.”

Y/N crouched down, flipping open the case. Inside sat a matte black Glock 19. Her breath caught a little in her throat, not because of fear, but because this was it- this was the next step, the one she’d been waiting for without even realizing it.

“Seriously?” She asked, glancing up at him. “You're letting me fire this now?”

“You’re ready,” Riki said, already crossing the room toward the private firing range that had been installed in the far end of the basement. She wondered why he took her to a shooting range the last time. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She followed him with a quiet sense of awe, like a child being handed a key to a secret world. The thrill wasn’t just from the weapon- it was the way he trusted her with it. It meant he trusted her.

Inside the range, everything felt quieter, more closed-in. The walls were padded, the air cooler. He handed her protective earmuffs and adjusted her stance from behind, like always. But this time, when his hands came to rest on her wrists, she didn’t flinch. And he didn’t pull away.

“Grip tighter,” he murmured, voice brushing her neck with warmth. “Looser in the shoulders. You’re too stiff.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“You’re close.”

“I have to be.”

His breath was at her jaw now, and she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back, the firm press of his hands guiding hers toward the target. Every part of her was lit up, heart racing, skin alive with sensation that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’ve done this before,” he said softly.

“Not like this.”

Something about her voice made him freeze- ust for a second, just long enough.

She turned her head slightly, only to find that his face was closer than she expected- barely a few inches away. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, the faintest shadow of stubble at his jaw, the tension carved into his mouth.

He didn’t move. Neither of them did.

And for the first time, she leaned forward first. Only a fraction, only enough to feel the whisper of his breath across her lips.

But then, just before the space between them disappeared entirely- he stepped back. Not far, just enough to break the moment, just enough to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Focus,” he said. “Fire.”

And somehow, she did.

XII

It was late- one of those hushed, heavy nights where the house was still, and even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.

Riki had been pacing for twenty minutes before he finally gave in and knocked on Jake’s door. Not loudly- just enough to make sure he was awake, just enough that he wouldn’t have time to pretend otherwise.

Jake opened the door half-asleep, shirtless, hair messy, blinking hard against the dim hallway light. “You good?” He asked, voice gravelly.

“I need to talk.”

Jake stared at him for a beat, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Riki entered without a word, dropped onto the edge of the bed, palms rubbing over his face like they could scrub away the chaos in his chest. Jake sat across from him, leaning against the headboard, arms folded, waiting.

It took Riki a full minute to say anything.

“I think I’m fucking up.”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“Y/N,” Riki said quickly, like if he didn’t get it out now, he’d swallow it again and let it rot inside him. “I think-” He stopped, hesitating, then took a breath and tried again. “I know I acted like I hated her. I know I was awful to her at first. But something’s… changing.”

Jake tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

“I can’t focus around her,” Riki muttered, his voice lower now, like he didn’t want the walls to hear. “I’ll be mid-sentence and forget what I’m saying. I touch her waist to adjust her stance and my heart’s fucking racing. It wasn’t like this before. I feel like I’m slipping.”

Jake gave a small, knowing smile. “You like her.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.”

Riki let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Jay told you?”

“He told me what he saw in one of your sessions,” Jake said. “Said he’s never seen you look at anyone like that. Said she looked at you the same way back.”

“She can’t,” Riki said, shaking his head.

“And you can’t either. But look where we are.”

Riki looked away, jaw tight with shame and conflict. He wasn’t the type to let himself feel things. But this- whatever this was- had come in through the cracks before he even realized he’d left the door open.

Jake’s voice was gentler now. “How do you think Jocelyn and I even started?” Jake said, shrugging slightly. “It was innocent touches, glances we didn’t mean to hold. Eventually, I kissed her. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t stop myself anymore. And it worked out. Took time, sure. But it worked out.”

Riki didn’t speak, his fingers curling into the blanket beside him.

Jake leaned forward slightly. “This could work out too.”

Riki’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “She’s Andrei’s daughter,” he didn’t need to say more. That fact alone carried the weight of a thousand consequences and confessions.

But Jake didn’t mock him. “And Jocelyn is Jay’s sister. And I’m still alive,” he added with a half-smile. “But I made it through. Look, I know we’re all scared of Andrei. I don’t think that’s ever going away. But I also know one thing for sure- if his daughter wants something, she gets it.”

Riki looked up, uncertain. “You think she’d ask for me?”

Jake’s smile deepened, kind but knowing. “She will ask for you.”

And for the first time in days, Riki didn’t argue. He just stared down at his hands, the ones that had trained her, steadied her, touched her more times than he could count and wondered what the hell he’d do if she ever asked.

XIII

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how to ask for Riki.

He wasn’t some luxury commodity behind glass, not someone she could simply claim or corner. And yet… she wanted him- really badly. Enough that it settled into her bloodstream and made her skin prickle with awareness every time he stood too close or looked at her a second too long.

It was past the point of being a crush. Middle school infatuations didn’t keep you up at night. They didn’t make you forget how to speak, didn’t ruin your appetite, didn’t lodge themselves into your chest until every beat sounded like his name.

For all the hours they’d spent together in the gym, wrapped in silences and glances that came too close, she barely knew anything real about him. The story she pieced together came through fragments- things she’d overheard from guards lingering too long by the kitchen, from maids who whispered between rooms when they thought no one was listening.

They said Riki’s parents had done something- something unforgivable. Something that got him pulled into this world of bullets and blood before he was old enough to decide for himself.

She didn’t ask him. Not because she didn’t want to know- but because she could feel that line between them, the one drawn in silence, in pride. He’d tell her when he was ready. Or maybe he never would. And she’d learn to be okay with that.

But she had learned other things. She knew Riki only drank one brand of water- blue label, chilled, never room temperature. She’d seen him throw away a bottle once because it wasn’t cold enough. She knew that he cracked his knuckles before every new round of training- not out of nervousness, but as if his body needed it, a mechanical reset. She knew that when he helped her adjust her form, his fingers always lingered for exactly one second longer than necessary. She knew he always smelled faintly of cedarwood. And she knew, deep in the marrow of her bones, that he wanted her too. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself yet.

The next session started like any other. Riki barely looked at her when she entered. He tossed her a towel, gestured to the mat, and muttered something about drills. But she didn’t hear it. She was too focused on the way his jaw tensed when their shoulders brushed.

The gym was quiet. Only their breath and the scuff of sneakers against mats filled the air. The silence between them had changed again- it wasn’t cold or distant anymore. It was heavy and loaded. Every time they locked eyes, something passed between them- hot and unspoken.

Riki circled her as she moved, his gaze razor-sharp, hands in his pockets like he needed to stop them from reaching out.

“Back straight,” he said. “Left foot back.” She adjusted, slowly- she knew he was watching. “You’re doing that thing again,” he muttered.

“What thing?” She asked, breathless.

“The thing with your eyes. Darting. Like you’re thinking something you shouldn’t.”

She didn’t answer. Her chest rose and fell a little too quickly. His did too.

He stepped closer. “Y/N,” he said quietly. “Are you- ”

“I’m not thinking about anything,” she lied.

“You are.”

Her eyes met his. And something in him snapped. He didn’t speak. He didn’t warn her. He just moved. In one fluid, inevitable motion, Riki closed the distance between them, one hand cupping her jaw, the other wrapping tight around her waist as he pulled her in and kissed her. It wasn’t soft, nor was it polite. It was weeks of tension crashing at once- every stolen glance, every touch that lingered, every insult thrown like a defense mechanism.

His lips were warm, insistent, desperate in the way they claimed her. And she kissed him back like she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, his hair, anything she could hold onto as her world narrowed to the space between their mouths. His breath was shaky against hers, and when he finally pulled back just a few inches, their foreheads still touched.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “This is bad.”

Y/N’s lips curved, slow and sinful. “Feels pretty good to me.”

And he pulled her in again.

They hadn’t heard the footsteps. Too lost in each other, in the heat of lips meeting and breath catching, in the way Riki's hand had slipped beneath the curve of her jaw like he was holding something delicate for the first time in years. The world had narrowed to the sharp thrum of pulse and proximity- until it shattered.

“Hey,” Jay’s voice cut through the air like a slap of cold water, casual but just loud enough to be heard. “There’s someone at the gate who claims to be Y/N’s driver-”

They broke apart instantly.

Riki stepped back so fast he nearly tripped over the sparring mat, one hand dragging through his hair, the other stuffed deep into his pocket as if that would make him look less flushed. Y/N spun away from him, turning toward the nearest table and grabbing her water bottle like it had suddenly become the most important object in the world. Her chest still rose and fell a little too fast, her lips were still tingling.

Jay blinked from the doorway, taking in the sight before him- the wide space between them, the breathlessness, the too-casual way Riki avoided eye contact.

Y/N cleared her throat, too quickly. “Driver?” She repeated, brows furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. He calls me every time he’s on his way.”

Riki’s head snapped up. Jay paused mid-step, the faintest chill sliding into his voice. “That’s… not your driver?”

“No,” Y/N said, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask anyone to come tonight.”

Jay didn’t wait for further explanation. “Let’s go.”

The three of them moved quickly through the hallway- Jay in the lead, Riki silently but tightly flanking Y/N’s side like a shadow, his entire body coiled with tension. Behind them, her two assigned bodyguards followed without a word, guns no doubt already unclipped from their holsters.

Through the glass, under the yellow porch lights, stood a man- clean-shaven, suit pressed to the last crease. He held the composure of someone who wanted to look harmless- too put together, too calm.

Y/N squinted. “I’ve never seen him before.”

That was all Riki needed. He stepped forward first, arm across her instinctively, like it had become second nature now. “Stay behind me.”

Jay glanced sideways, expression steel. “Heeseung,” he called out into the house and he appeared from the stairs. “Get his plates. If he moves, shoot.”

The second guard was already reaching for the knob. He opened the door with a steady hand.

The man outside gave a small bow, smiling politely. “Good evening. I’m here for Miss Y/N-”

“What’s the name of her real driver?” Riki cut in, voice sharp enough to wound.

The man hesitated. His smile twitched.

That was all the confirmation they needed.

In a flash, both guards surged forward, seizing the imposter. He fought harder than expected- he wasn’t just a fake chauffeur, he was trained- but they had him down in under a minute, knee to his back, wrists already bound. Riki didn’t blink as the scene played out in front of him. But his fingers curled into fists.

Y/N, meanwhile, stood silent, breath caught halfway in her chest, wide-eyed and stiff. Her gaze stayed locked on the man now pinned to the ground- just another reminder that her world wasn’t normal, that she couldn’t afford to slip. That being Andrei’s daughter wasn’t just a title- it was a target.

Jay’s voice broke the silence. “That’s the second time someone’s tried to take you in six months.”

Without thinking, Riki reached out- just a touch to her wrist, grounding her. “I’ve got her,” he said quietly, mostly to Jay. “I’ll stay with her.”

Jay looked at him for a long, long moment, questioning the integrity in his voice. Then he nodded.

And for the first time, Y/N didn’t flinch from Riki’s hand- she leaned into it.

XIV

The aftermath of the kidnapping attempt left behind more than shaken breath and rattled nerves- it rewrote the rules completely. The very next morning, without ceremony or explanation, Andrei made a decision. There would be no more training at Jay’s house. No more shared spaces or group dinners or the illusion that Y/N was just another girl among her father’s closest allies.

“She stays at home,” he said into the phone, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “If she trains, he comes to her. End of discussion.”

Within hours, the mats from Riki’s gym were relocated, the gear packed and installed in one of Andrei’s lesser-used spare rooms- a space that had once been decorated in heavy velvet curtains and antique frames, now stripped to its bones and dressed in greys, reds, and pale yellows- Riki’s signature palette. The room felt clinical, impersonal, almost too neat, as if pretending that none of this was complicated, as if hearts weren’t involved.

Y/N was already there when Riki arrived- punctual, poised, dressed down in leggings and a plain black tank, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that sat snugly above her neck. But despite her usual composure, she didn’t feel steady. There was a subtle jitter in the way her hand gripped her water bottle, and something flickered behind her eyes- nerves, sparks, confidence.

Riki didn’t say anything at first. He simply stepped in, set down his bag in the corner, and nodded toward the mat.

“Start warming up,” he said, his tone quiet, unreadable- as usual.

And yet, even from the other end of the room, the weight of everything unsaid settled heavily in the air between them- the echo of their kiss from the day before still lingering like fingerprints on skin. It clung to the space around them, invisible but impossible to ignore.

They started with stretches, the kind of drills that required just enough focus to pretend everything was normal, but not enough to stop them from glancing at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Riki moved stiffly, his usual ease replaced by hesitance, like he was caught between muscle memory and new habits. He guided her through the routine, correcting her posture with the tips of his fingers, letting his hand linger a second too long on the small of her back before catching himself and stepping away.

Y/N noticed, of course she did. And she hated that it made her smile.

Knife drills came next, the same sequences they’d done dozens of times, but now, every touch- every movement of his hand over her wrist, every adjustment of her stance, every moment where his chest brushed lightly against her back as he leaned in to reposition her grip- felt different. It was no longer just training. It was choreography laced with friction, and the steps were starting to blur.

At one point, she turned to face him directly, her eyes a little darker than usual, her voice lower when she said, “You’re distracted.”

Riki met her gaze, brows raised. “You’re not?”

She opened her mouth to answer but didn’t. Because the truth was- she was. She was more than distracted, she was drowning in the gravity of whatever this thing was becoming.

They stood there, staring, the room too quiet, too still.

And then he took a step forward. He didn’t ask, didn’t give her the chance to overthink it. One moment, there was space between them- and the next, there wasn’t. His hand found her face first, fingers curling softly beneath her jaw, tilting her toward him with a tenderness that contrasted everything about how he’d treated her the last few weeks. His thumb brushed lightly across her cheek, like he was learning her face for the first time, like he was memorizing something he didn’t want to forget.

Then he kissed her.

Not out of impulse, not out of frustration, not because the world had stopped- but because he finally understood that he wanted to. Not just the kiss, not just the way she looked at him like he was more than a soldier or a weapon, but her.

He kissed her because there was no more pretending otherwise.

She leaned into it without hesitation, hands sliding up to his chest, anchoring herself in the rhythm of it, letting herself sink into the security of his arms and the warmth of his mouth and the weight of his unspoken confession.

When they finally pulled apart, breath mingling in the sliver of space left between them, neither of them spoke. Her hands still rested lightly against his chest, his fingers still curved gently along her jaw, and though the kiss had ended, neither of them stepped back. The air between them, once charged with tension and uncertainty, had fully softened. It wasn’t awkward, and it wasn’t restrained. It was just them, suspended in the calm that followed, finally giving in and the risk of being together under Andrei’s roof.

And somehow, that made it all the more desired.

They never talked about the kiss. Not the first one, not the second- not any of them. But they happened. Between drills, between breathless rounds of sparring, between the weight of his hand on her lower back and the way she glanced at his mouth when he corrected her stance- they happened, swift and natural, like gravity..

It wasn’t a performance. There was no dramatic build-up, no declarations of want or need- just fleeting moments.

Sometimes, she’d land a clean hit during a knife drill, and the thrill of it would make her grin too wide. And he’d grab her wrist, tug her toward him, and press a kiss to her mouth like it was the most normal thing in the world- congratulating her.

Other times, when she was too tired to finish her reps but refused to quit, he’d stand behind her, hands on her shoulders, grounding her- and she’d turn without thinking, meet him halfway with parted lips and fluttering lashes. And he’d kiss her, slow, like punctuation to a sentence they never dared speak aloud.

They didn’t talk about it because they didn’t have to. Because they both knew- deep in their chests, in their locked eyes, in the way their hands lingered after every touch- that whatever this was, it had already sunk its roots in. And there was no pulling it out now.

But they did talk- about everything else. Between sets and cooldowns, they learned each other in bits and pieces. She told him about the time she failed her driving test three times, and he laughed- actually laughed, rare and unguarded. He told her about his mother’s cooking, how he still missed it sometimes even though she hadn’t made a meal in years. She learned he didn’t like sweet things, hated the sound of sirens, and always tied his right boot tighter than his left. He learned she liked old films and slept with a reading lamp on. They traded stories like offerings- gentle, ordinary confessions in the middle of an extraordinary situation.

Riki knew he was playing a dangerous game. That if Andrei found out, he wouldn’t just vanish, he and his entire family would be incinerated. But that didn’t exactly stop him.

Because when she looked up at him after landing her best shot, cheeks flushed, pride glowing from her collarbones to her temples, he didn’t see a boss’s daughter, he didn’t see risk. He just saw her.

And when she kissed him- quick and secret, breathless and hot between whispered curses- she didn’t see her trainer, or a soldier, or someone who could be gone tomorrow. She saw him.

And so, the kisses continued- secretive, dashing, daring. But soft and vulnerable all wrapped together like a present.

They built a rhythm in those days. A ritual that was half training and half undoing. He’d correct her grip on the gun, his arms enclosing hers- and she’d lean back slightly, as if daring him. He’d press a kiss to her neck when no one was looking. She’d bite back a smile. Sometimes she’d kiss him mid-sentence- interrupting his scolding about footwork with a grin and her mouth on his, just a second, just enough to make him forget his next word.

And it scared him. Because if he didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop at all.

But for now- for these stolen moments, these dangerous little tastes of something forbidden- he let himself fall… just a little.

Because if being near her was a crime, then every kiss was worth the sentence.

XVI

Jocelyn hadn’t meant to catch it. She had only called Y/N for a quick chat- one of their usual midday check-ins, a moment to vent about the guards being too stiff, the tea being too cold, or Jake leaving his socks everywhere. But as they spoke, Jocelyn caught something else entirely. It wasn't in Y/N’s words, but in her tone- the softness that slipped through when she said Riki’s name, the almost-laugh that caught in her throat when she recounted how he’d corrected her grip too firmly, or how he’d teased her over her stance.

He called her princess.

It was a familiar lilt- one Jocelyn recognized with aching precision. She had once sounded like that too. Still did, when she spoke about Jake in those rare, vulnerable moments- that unguarded fondness, the grin behind the words.

Y/N was falling.

Jocelyn could hear it in the quiet between her sentences.

And yet, she didn’t immediately bring it up. For days after the call, she sat with the realization, unsure of what to do with it. She didn’t want to sound the alarm, didn’t want to startle something fragile before it had fully grown into itself. But in the end, she told Jay- not to expose Riki, not to get anyone in trouble- just so that it wouldn’t be a surprise when it inevitably came to light. Because it would- these things always did.

“Go easy on him, Jay,” she said gently after she told him. “He’s honestly still just a kid.”

Jay didn’t respond. He’d just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But she saw the way his jaw tightened, how he exhaled a little too slowly- the way someone did when they were calculating the distance between what they wanted to say and what they knew they had to.

The next afternoon, Riki was folding laundry in his room, half-mumbling to himself about a sock that had disappeared and how the dryer probably ate it. His phone was playing something offbeat in the background, and for a second, it almost looked like peace. Almost.

Jay walked in without knocking, the door creaking open behind him. His presence alone changed the temperature of the room. “We need to talk,” he said, voice low but firm.

Riki turned, confused, arms full of unfolded shirts. “What is it, Hyung?”

Jay shut the door, the sound sharp and final behind him. “Drop the act, you little shit.”

Riki blinked. “What-?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Jay interrupted. His tone wasn’t raised, but it carried weight- that same unsettling calm he’d inherited from their early days, when authority didn’t have to be loud to be terrifying.

Riki stood there, awkward and cornered, the shirt in his hands suddenly feeling much heavier than cotton. “I… I don’t-”

“Don’t play dumb.” Jay stepped forward, slowly. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t know?”

There was a pause. Riki’s mouth opened slightly as if to respond, then closed again. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“I watched you train her,” Jay continued. “I saw the way you looked at her. The way she looked at you. The tension. The way she couldn’t stop smiling, and you-” Jay exhaled through his nose. “You were practically vibrating.”

Riki couldn’t even deny it.

“You kissed her?” Jay asked, eyes narrowed.

After a beat, Riki nodded once.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “That’s it. We’ve kissed. But I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, Hyung. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

Jay sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring hard at the floor as though it would give him the answer he needed. “Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

Riki hesitated, then nodded. “I do. I think about it all the time.”

Jay looked up. “Then why are you still doing it?”

Riki swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can stop,” Jay was quiet. “I know it’s stupid,” Riki went on, his voice breaking with honesty. “I know she’s Andrei’s daughter, I know it could ruin everything. But when I’m with her… it doesn’t feel like that. It’s not about power or danger or names. It’s just… her.”

Jay’s expression shifted- not quite soft, but no longer severe. He studied Riki for a long moment before asking, “Do you love her?”

Riki’s breath hitched- he didn’t answer right away. But that silence was answer enough. “I think I’m starting to,” he said finally.

Jay leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “God, you’re both idiots.”

“I know.”

“I mean it,” Jay added, lips twitching into something close to a smile. “This is dangerous. It’s reckless. It could get us all killed.”

“I know,” Riki repeated. “I’m killed.”

“But,” Jay sighed. “I also know what it’s like to fall for someone when you’re not supposed to. When everything says it’s a bad idea. Well- I don’t. But my sister does.” Jay stood, hands on his hips now. “And yeah, I was angry. But it also gave me everything. I wouldn’t take that back.”

Riki’s eyes softened.

“So,” Jay continued, eyes locking with his, “I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to tell you to end it. But I am going to say this- be smart. Be respectful. Be honest. Don’t treat this like a phase, or a game.”

“I’m not,” Riki said. “I swear.”

Jay nodded slowly. “When the time comes- when Andrei finds out- you won’t face it alone. I’ll stand with you. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A long breath passed between them. The room felt a little lighter, like permanence had shifted beneath the surface.

Riki nodded. “Thank you, Hyung.”

Jay reached out, ruffled his hair- firm, almost fond, like how he used to when he first met Riki. “Just don’t make me regret it, you punk.”

#dear-diary-its-saph-again #rambles-with-sapphire #screaming-into-the-void #saph recs #sapphire-appreciation-hour

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