zorange13
zorange13
Z-O
410 posts
woc, 19, kpop fan. wrestling fan. infp-t. a fic reviewer kinda??
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zorange13 · 4 hours ago
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When do we get Jake’s love island part 2 😭🙏🏼
GUYS PLEASE IM TRYINGGGG 😫
i can't say when bc i've never done that i don't wanna overpromise and underdeliver. but i have been making progress while juggling like 5 different works. i wanna make time for the things i'm really into rn vs the things that you guys are really wanting.
i just don't want this hobby to feel like a job bc when i get there, i won't feel as solid about my work.
tldr: it'll come out soon. i've been chipping away at it. don't worry. i got you ❤️🙏🏽
plus if yk me, yk i release stuff like every other month. depends on how easy and smooth it is. some things are harder to write than others.
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zorange13 · 3 days ago
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SHAWTY BAE DROPPED THIS AND NO ONE TOLD ME??? omg TBRRRR
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easy to love. 。⋆୨୧˚
[part iii of the fwb! riki series.]
part i    part ii
pairing. nishimura riki x fem reader
synopsis. reader decides to get it together after blowing up at riki lol
wc. 3k
warnings. mdni ofc. smut. angst. heeseung and sunghoon cameo. reader is lowk an asshole for the first half again. drinking. cursing. unprotected sex and creampie. dacryphilia. a little overstimulation. 
i lowkey got tired of staring at this so i'm posting it. i'm sorry if it's not up to standards :(
tl: @jungwonsgff @isascat @weedforthoughtz @franboesawi
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
you would be damned if nishimura riki didn’t show up to park sunghoon’s house tonight. it wasn’t any huge event, just a time to drink with friends and gossip. you were assuming about 10 people would be there; easy to observe, but also easy to get under riki’s skin if you wanted to. part of you wanted to swallow your pride and apologize, though the other part stood firm in the decision to stay friends. it wasn’t your fault that riki caught feelings. but why does it leave such an empty hole in your heart since he’s gone? you want to believe it’s just the sex aspect, but you’re not so sure. 
you also know you were way too harsh, but you can’t admit that to him.
since the fallout, your bed feels void. like it needs someone else next to you. riki. the way you’d sleep together every night, whether it would be at his place or yours. now, you found yourself at your mutual friend’s house, heeseung. heeseung was not a person you were personally interested in, but you knew almost everyone was. he was the type of person to go to for relationship advice, sex advice, and even breakup advice. he’s been through it all and he’ll talk about it. proudly.
laying on his bed, you groan, “i just don’t know why he’d block me!”. heeseung peaks from the bathroom where he’s finishing getting ready himself, “y/n, you got jealous that he fucked a girl when you weren’t even together,” your nose scrunches up, and you know he was only telling the truth. “well yeah, but we were fucking! he had no right to do that!”
heeseung looks at you with an eyebrow raised, “do you even hear yourself? you told him you didn’t want to date! and you’re upset that he left you?” while you know he’s right, you still attempt to convince yourself that you were in the right. you know you were just jealous, but you had every right to be! you sit up and adjust your outfit before speaking, “what do i do then? to get him back?” heeseung rolls his eyes as if you should know already, “first of all, he can’t know that you’ve been here. he’ll think we’ve been fucking.”
which is obvious, but how were you meant to get him back? jealousy would probably make it worse. and god, what if he shows up with that girl tonight? you feel nauseous at the thought. all of this for a guy you don’t even have feelings for. you wanted to make amends as friends. you only miss his dick, you tell yourself. the only good thing about him was him in bed. 
you know you’re lying to yourself at this point. you miss everything about riki. the perfume he wears that lingers on your skin during the act of intimacy. how he’d treat you after sex. he’d even buy you new toys and lingerie to decorate yourself so beautifully with. you’re sure he would give you the world if you asked, but you fucked it up. royally. 
which leads you to your last choice, you have to apologize. you really don’t want to, but riki was right, you were selfish. selfish to put his feelings aside and to not even realize how in love he was with you. and as you come to that realization, you might be in love with him too. it’s not just the way he made you feel, it was him. having sex was connecting with him. 
you just hope he doesn’t show up with her. “we have to go separately, hee” you say, determined to make things right. he nods in response, already aware of the implications that would arise. you’re sure no one else would care, but riki definitely would. if he sees you walk into that party with heeseung, there would be room for doubt in your apology. that’s all the reason you two need. 
once you finally get yourself together, heeseung drives you both to sunghoon’s house and you’re convinced that you can hear your own heartbeat. tonight was either going to be a huge fuck up, or have the best outcome,which is one you don’t want to even think about in fear that it won’t happen. heeseung can sense your insecurity and he drives quietly, the only noise in the car being some r&b song on his playlist playing through the car’s speakers.
heeseung walks into the house first, letting you know that riki isn’t there yet. you sigh, he’s normally on time for things like this. after about ten minutes of waiting it out, you knock on sunghoon’s door. he welcomes you in quickly, and you notice the house has plenty of soju and liquors to drink. you ponder it for a moment, though quickly deciding that drinking wouldn’t be the best thing to do tonight. heeseung already has a cup with some type of liquor in it, though you’re not sure what. your mind goes to riki. his favorite was whiskey. you wonder again if he’ll be coming tonight.
you hope he doesn’t drink, or that you can stop him before doing so. you were not doing this if alcohol was involved. your thoughts were racing against themselves, all full of him. not only how he made you feel physically, but the emotional connection you two shared. your thoughts are silenced as he walks through the front door, alone, and you feel your heart stop. you realize that maybe it wasn’t only heat spreading between your legs every time you see him, but also in your chest. and maybe, you realize, that you actually love him too.
you can only watch him as he calmly takes in his surroundings, including you. then, he moves towards the kitchen. you follow him, ignoring the pounding feeling in your chest. he reaches for whiskey, and you flinch slightly. no, no, no.
“hi,” you say, quieter than you intended. he doesn’t seem to pay you any mind as he continues pouring the alcohol into a glass. “can we talk?” you walk towards him. regardless that his back is turned to you, he speaks. “can i at least have a drink first, y/n? or is it all still about what you want?” you swallow. he was definitely still angry, but you have to stay composed. you speak steadily, “i just wanted to talk without alcohol involved.”
without alcohol involved. it surprised him. either you wanted to scream at him so he remembers every word, or you actually felt bad. even though he’s surprised, he believes it to be the latter. even if you were being an asshole, you weren't the type to rub it in his face. plus, you were way too nervous right now compared to how you usually were with him. and you didn’t seem particularly horny, which puzzled him even more. 
he sighs loudly, but in despite, he sets the whiskey down and turns to you. there’s a certain type of glare in his eyes, and any other time, you’d be burning up. your breath hitches for a second, and you want to walk away, but you have to fix things with him. or at least put the ball in his court.
“i’m sorry,” you begin. you should’ve really rehearsed something, or at least get your thoughts together. “i was only thinking about my feelings and i’m sorry. once you left, i realized that it wasn’t about the sex. it was about you too.” your sincere gaze meets his, and below his distaste lies a sort of longing. has it always been there?
yet, he’s not sure if he’s ready yet. “you fucked me up, y/n. i…” he doesn’t even know where he’s going with this sentence. he takes a moment to compose his thoughts before speaking. “i’m sorry too. i should’ve told you. not blow up on you like that. and i shouldn’t have lied to you either,”
your eyebrows furrow. lied? when? “you lied to me?” you ask slowly. he looks at the floor for a moment before looking back to you. “yeah. i never slept with that girl. she knew i wanted to make you jealous,” he admits, and you could’ve sworn he was feeling guilty. maybe he was.
nevertheless, you can’t help the blooming in your chest as you continue. “i really am sorry, riki. and i hope you can forgive me. i know this won’t change things much, and i don’t expect anything, but i realized that i love you too” you say it hesitantly. his name is no longer coming out like a mantra, but full of the emotions you had been suppressing. full of everything you realized only after you let him go. 
he takes a step closer. you don’t move, almost like you don’t want to scare him away. he places his hands delicately around your waist. did he really love you so much to take you back so easily? is this what love is supposed to be? he speaks up, “never, ever can we do this again. no more miscommunications, yeah?” you nod. 
you’re about to lean in for a kiss until the sounds of random conversation fills your ears. you completely forgot you were in sunghoon’s house. now, you feel embarrassed, as if you were a child doing something you shouldn’t be. though somehow, it makes it all the more exciting. he seems to either feel the same way, or catch onto you.
“go back to mine?” he whispers directly into your ear and you shiver. “yeah,” you say, voice slightly hoarse. as he’s dragging you out of the back door, you attempt to hold yourself back from pouncing on him. you were able to fully take in his features. he seemed to do his hair tonight, which he normally wore down and messy. he was also wearing some sort of expensive, yet casual, attire. you can’t help but wonder if this was for you.
the drive was long. long enough for you to squirm every couple of seconds as your desire heightened. the way your panties were sticking to you had you clenching your legs together in an attempt to release yourself of some pressure. riki can barely turn the car off before he’s trailing you behind him into his apartment, looking flushed. 
you can feel your phone buzzing consistently in your purse, but you throw it aside. you didn’t care enough to respond to whoever was texting you right now. once you take off your shoes, riki wastes no time in backing you up against the wall and kissing you. 
it was tender, despite the circumstances. he’s never kissed you before, and you can immediately tell why. he kisses with so much passion and love that your previous outburst dissipates in your mind. you had never felt so small in his arms before, like you’re melting away into his touch until you are two souls colliding into one.
he leads you into his room so delicately, like you’re made of porcelain. he breaks the kiss for a moment to make sure you’re comfortable before laying you on the bed. “this is okay?” he asks, and when you nod, he continues, “can i love you?”
you felt like you could cry from the positive emotions that overwhelmed you. he was so soft, it was as if you were losing your virginity to him. like you guys haven’t fucked before. he takes off each article of clothing with the upmost care. once your upper body is bare, he begins to kiss down your neck, leaving a few love bites. 
from the new drift of air and arousal, your nipples begin to pique. they don’t go untouched by him either; while he’s kissing you, he’s also playing at the sensitive skin there. you gasp at the contrast between your body heat and his cold hands. 
“does it feel good, baby?” he asks, and you bite your lip. you feel a chill of pleasure run down your spine. “yeah. please… keep going” you say, and your words borderline moaning and pleading. he obliges and kisses his way down to your core slowly. he peels your panties off, eyes widening at how wet you were. it was all because of him. not as an object, personally him.
once he comes face to face with your pussy, even though he’s done it so many times before, it feels different. he teases you with a small kiss on your core before dragging his pointer finger through your folds. you can’t stop the moan that tumbles its way through your mouth as he spreads you open wider. 
“i need you, riki” you say, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. he brings a hand up to caress your face. “are you sure, baby?” he questions and you nod. it was so sweet to you that he was still asking you, despite the heat of the moment. “let’s prep you first, yeah?” he says softly, which has you entranced. “okay,” you stammer out, knowing he’ll accept nothing but words. 
he pushes two fingers inside you and begins a steady pace. already, it feels so delectable. the way his fingers work inside you, memorizing every detail of your walls. when his other hand begins to circle your clit, you already feel so close. even so, you don’t want to come without him. it wasn’t all about you, it never was. overcome with the feeling, you reach your hands out to grab at something, anything. your fingers begin to grip the sheets beside you.
“riki, wait,” you gasp and he immediately stops. “what? are you okay?” he stammers out and you nod. “i just… need you inside me. now, please” you reply as your chest heaves. he was relieved that you were okay, but he chuckles at how serious you were. your actions were so perfectly you.
he obliges, quickly removing his own clothing. his dick is already red and swollen, begging for you. he doesn’t tease you like he would usually by running himself through your folds a few times. instead, he does it once to gather your own arousal with his, then gently pushes himself in. it’s an intimate moment, like you two were meshing together permanently. you both moan at the feeling. his fingers lace themselves in yours as he begins a slow thrusting pace and you can feel every curve and every vein of him. 
the tears begin to well up in your eyes again, the pleasure too much to handle. one of his hands begins to let go of yours, but you reach out to grab it again, “no, just like this. please,” you say softly. you didn’t need his hands stimulating you right now, you needed him. he groans at this, thrusting into you harder to the point where your tears are falling.
the feeling of being so loved, the feeling of not treating yourself as an object, and the feeling of riki gets to you. so many emotions built up inside of you that you feel a pit in your stomach about to release itself. “shhh, it’s okay, baby. you can come,” riki says to you, still holding both of your hands to him. he knew your body almost better than you knew it yourself. 
you release onto him, and with the feeling of your walls clenching him so tightly, he comes as well. you can feel thick liquid coat the inside of you as you come down from your intense high. he pulls himself out of you slowly before wiping the tears that remained on your skin. “you did so well for me,” he murmurs to you before continuing, “was it okay?” he asks, looking into your eyes. you want to tell him it was more than okay, that you love him, but you only nod.
it was because you wanted more. 
“i need more of you,” you admit, too caught up in the moment to be indirect. he wastes no time before pulling you onto his lap, into a lotus position. the one you never tried. “you sure? you can take it?” he hums, asking genuinely. “yes, riki… please, i…” the words get caught in your throat, but he patiently waits for you to finish your thoughts, “yes. i need you.”
the fact that you were face to face with him right now and that his skin was touching yours was so intimate. you felt like you were absolutely burning. he easily slips back in to you, and you moan once again at the raw feeling of him. his hands are on your ass, guiding you to bounce on his dick. the way your mouth was open slightly, the way your breasts moved so perfectly in sync with the connection of your bodies, all of it was intoxicating to him.
you begin to cry again, from overstimulation and the pleasure all at once. you don’t even care that he can see all of you in this moment. to you, being able to see him was the most special part. you got to see him in ways no one else ever could. every furrow of his brow, when his eyes fluttered shut, every emotion that crossed his face could be seen by you. 
with his dick hitting all of the right places inside of you, you felt close again. a choked moan falls from your lips as you come for the second time. his release came soon after yours, his arms wrapped around you securely as he fucks your body onto his. 
after pulling out carefully, he places you down to lay on his bed and leaves for a moment. he comes back quickly with a towel soaked in warm water to clean you up with. he cleans you slowly and meticulously, making sure to get every area so that you're comfortable. he doesn’t waste an extra second until he’s laid next to you.
“you’re so perfect, y/n” he looks at you with admiration. you take a moment to respond, “thank you. for making me feel so loved,” you tiredly smile at him, gripping his bicep like he’ll disappear. like this feeling will disappear. 
“you make it easy to love.” he smiles.
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zorange13 · 3 days ago
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so if i said i've been working on a riki x black oc series since october of 2024...would yall read it 😬
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zorange13 · 5 days ago
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ok so sanctioned 2 (title tbd) will definitely be longer than the first part. i'm already encroaching on 22k words. so expect that i'd have to split it into 2 parts!!
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zorange13 · 7 days ago
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i love wwwsk so 🤭 this felt like it was meant for me ngl
resignation | sunghoon
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SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.
NOTES: desperately need to rant about my life and I’m doing it by way of enhypen 😩 this is a small little chapter and I have no idea if I’m gonna make this a whole thing, but we’ll see. enjoy for now and let me know your thoughts! xx
WARNINGS: none :)
SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST
***
Like a bird stuck in a metal cage, you feel trapped in an enclosure that’s meant to prevent you from flying away. That’s what it feels like to work at Park Inc., an international venture capitalist firm that serves Asia and the greater North American and European landscape. Your job is boring and meaningless, and today is the day you decided to do something about it. 
Your alarm rings every morning at 5 A.M. on the dot and today is no exception. Since becoming Park Sunghoon’s assistant six years ago, you’ve learned the masterful art of never hitting snooze after hearing an earful from Sunghoon himself when he requested your presence the following hour (you failed to arrive in time and learned to never go back to sleep unless it was your day off). 
This life seemed like a dream at the ripe age of twenty-one. Freshly graduated from college with no real career goal in mind, one of your academic mentors suggested entering the workforce as a personal assistant to gain social capital and learn about different areas of industry that could potentially lead you towards a career. Your measly business degree left you feeling unfulfilled and your parents’ aloof demeanor towards the lack of job offers lining up after graduating wasn’t the kind of news you were ecstatic about. You jumped at the chance to work as a personal assistant with the assumption that it would be the kind of job that you could pursue in the meantime until something else came along.
This position at Park Inc. fell into your lap like some kind of dumb luck. The role wasn’t posted on any job site. Rather, your name had been submitted on behalf of your academic advisor, which got you your first interview. You suppose that must be some kind of nepotism. After six separate interviews over the course of three months, the job was yours.
You’d saved up enough money, working the night shift at a local restaurant to afford a rundown apartment and a new office-appropriate wardrobe from the local second hand stores in your neighborhood. Pencil skirts, fashionable blouses, heels that promised to last a long time, and blazers that looked professional enough lined your closets for future use. It was an exciting prospect and starting your new life after graduating university felt like a different ball park than when you were still pursuing your degree. 
Despite all of that, you feel listless.
Your days begin before the sun rises and ends just after sunset. Anticipating Sunghoon’s needs is seamless for you, to the point where you’re able to think on his behalf without second guessing yourself. He agrees on most days and doesn’t put up much of a fight when it comes to business matters because you’ve been by his side for over half a decade. You’ve picked him up from many late night rendezvous with women who definitely wanted more than he was willing to give, and you’ve accompanied him to events where he couldn’t bother asking somebody to be his date. You’re his assistant, and therefore you’re always available. 
But you’re just the help. You don’t have any real stake in Park Inc., nor does anybody take you seriously unless Sunghoon agrees with your opinion. You know this company inside and out, and you know exactly how Sunghoon envisions this company to succeed. You act like you’re a managing partner without the title because you’re by his side nearly every hour of the day, and it’s gotten to a point where people me either whisper about a silent affair, or look at you with sympathy because Sunghoon can’t seem to function without you. 
It was fun, at first. Learning how to stand on your own two feet while leaving everything you knew behind felt exhilarating. Abandoning your hometown to explore the big city was a dream come true, and you envisioned all of the late night food runs you’d go on in an attempt to explore each neighborhood within Seoul. The beginning was tolerable at best—if you count crying in your small apartment after thinking you’d never get the hang of this job—and Sunghoon knew to delegate tasks to you based on experience level. He had you fetch coffee and take care of his dry cleaning in the first few months, on top of organizing multiple reports until you were ready for more. He was kind like that, and you’re sure his willingness to help you in your career was why you stayed for as long as you have. 
Six years ago, receiving the amount of responsibility you carry felt like you’d reached the top of the tallest mountain after dreaming of the day Sunghoon could trust you enough to let you do your job without much supervision. You could complete a task for him before he delegated it to you, because you understood his workflow and what needed to be prioritized. The both of you worked well like that, and after six years of getting to know each other, many would say you’re both joined at the hip professionally. 
It comes to a point where you learn that the Sunghoon you see is far different than the Sunghoon everybody else sees. He’s naturally funny and a bit clumsy. He’s professional and stoic when he needs to be, but behind closed doors, Sunghoon laughs your ear off about old men who think they can walk all over his business tactics and people who are too rich to see that they’re the problem. Sunghoon is the best boss you’ve ever had, bar none. 
He’s unlike any of the wealthy, stuck up assholes you deal with on a daily basis. Sunghoon hides his witty, flirty personality behind a professional face in the eyes of higher ups and investors who he does business with. He keeps his personal and work life separate, as far as he can, with the exception of occasionally letting women he meets accompany him to select events that almost always end up in having to kick them out of his penthouse apartment the morning after if they haven’t left already. His lifestyle is one you’ll never get used to. Even after six years working beside Sunghoon, you go back to your humble one bedroom apartment, the same one you moved into once you were able to afford living without any roommates. 
It seems as though life moves for Sunghoon. He doesn’t have to do or say much to get people to fall to their knees or grant his every wish. He’s good looking (that’s something you’ll never deny because he’s objectively handsome), he manages to say all the right things, and he’s really good at his job. Sunghoon comes from a powerful and wealthy family that’s existed in Seoul for as long as anyone can remember, and there aren���t many bad things people say about him behind his back. He’s risky but strategic, gambling on chances that would typically slip through the cracks if not for his watchful eye and modern approach to business. 
You’ve learned a lot from him, too. Sunghoon grew into the man he is today. He’s no longer the overly arrogant and cocky person he was when you first met him, and he’s gained a deeper understanding of the company he’s about to inherit once his father transitions his title unto him. There’s much to be said about powerful men who choose to view everybody he works with as an equal, and while you might legally be his personal assistant, Sunghoon has allowed you to partake in the business too. You’ve been his right hand man ever since he realized you knew the company as well as he did. Yet, you can’t help but feel utterly stuck in this endless cycle of work, work, and more work.
There must be something out there for you that doesn’t consist of answering emails and letting your inbox pile up until the stress eats you alive. Being able to travel alongside Sunghoon for business opportunities has granted you a pathway to see the world, but it’s not enough to accompany somebody else. You want to explore the world by yourself and create agendas for your taste and likeliness, not Sunghoon or potential business partners while you sit in the back and take notes during every conversation. You want to live your life without being chained to a desk and learn what it feels like to try something new. 
For the past six years, your life has been dedicated to Sunghoon and only Sunghoon. 
“Sir?” You say tentatively, knocking on his door while pushing the heavy wooden door open. 
“Come in.” 
You know well enough he’s got nothing on his schedule that would impose a distraction. You slip into the room and close the door behind you with your fingers gripping a beige Manila folder behind your back. Sunghoon wears a suit that’s tailored to his likeness and his hair is slicked back like he’s trying to resemble Patrick Bateman from American Psycho. 
“To what do I owe the pleasure of an unscheduled interruption?” Sunghoon asks with humor in his tone. He knows you typically keep to your inbox unless something is imminently urgent.
He turns around from looking outside of his window and watches as you hesitantly walk towards his desk. The office space is huge, bigger than your entire living room, and the sudden realization that you’re about to make the biggest change of your life is weighing on your shoulders. Your feet feel heavy beneath you when Sunghoon glances between your face and the folder in your hands. 
“What’s this?”
You don’t hesitate to open it and put it on his desk facing up.
“My resignation letter.” 
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Sunghoon stares at the letter you’ve typed out and notices the large, black signature at the bottom of the page. His eyes flicker back at you as if to detect any lie in your face before he scoffs with a short laugh.
“Right. April Fool’s Day has already passed. No need to keep me on my toes like you usually do, though I appreciate a good joke.” 
You shake your head. “I’m being serious, Sir. I’m quitting.” 
The seriousness of your voice seems to catch him. He takes a seat on his leather chair and pulls himself closer to the desk to fully examine the letter.
“Dear Mr. Park, I am writing to inform you that I will be resigning from my position as your personal assistant at Park Incorporated. My final day will be two months from the day I hand you this resignation letter. I am committed to ensuring a smooth transition, and will facilitate seeking a replacement while I complete projects and tasks on my docket.” 
He looks up at you.
“You’re breaking up with me.” 
“No, I’m quitting this job.”
“Which is the same as breaking up with me. You’re my business partner, for God’s sake. You come with me to every meeting and important event that requires my presence.”
“I’m your assistant. There are many people who would die to be able to do that for you.”
He looks at you like you’ve set his office on fire. “I will not let you quit.” 
You tilt your head. “That’s not how it works, you know. Soobin from HR will process my resignation, even if you beg him not to. I’m giving you a two months' notice because that is how much I value my time here.” Sunghoon clasps his hands as if trying to make sense of the matter.
“But why? Why now? You’re impeccable at your job. Is the pay not suitable enough for you? I can give you a generous bonus and pay raise, if that will convince you to stay. Do you want a bigger office or reduced working hours?” 
“I don’t need any of that. I’ve made up my mind, Sir.”
“Why?” 
With a sigh, you sit down in front of him. “I’ve spent nearly every day for the last six years catering to the needs of you and this company. I’ve loved my time here, and I credit my ability to navigate this industry to you and this job. You’ve given me incredible opportunities that I probably wouldn’t have gotten elsewhere, and it’s been fun learning the ins and outs of this business.
“But I don't have a personal life at all. My days are spent catering to your needs. I don’t have many friends aside from the people I see in this building. I don’t travel and I’ve had to miss important family milestones because of work obligations.”
“Is more time off what you need?” Sunghoon interrupts. “You’ve earned your fair share of requested time offs, even if it’s a personal day for no reason. You’re responsible enough for me to know you can handle your workload when you get back.” 
You shake your head. “It’s not just that. I…I don’t meet new people anymore. I don’t make new friends and I don’t date because this job eats up my life. I feel like I’ve been wrapped up in this company and doing whatever it takes to help it succeed while neglecting my own needs. I’ve had six incredible years, but it’s time for me to move on.”
“…Date?”
With a sigh, you respond. “Yes, Sir. Just because you can find women at the snap of your fingers doesn't mean that everybody else can too.” 
“You don’t date at all?”
You scratch the inside of your wrist at his question. “I can’t date. I don’t have the time to.”
“So you’re quitting because you want to date.”
“No. I’m quitting because I want to experience life without being on call for when you need my help.” 
Sunghoon purses his lips and you can’t read his expression. In the years you’ve worked with him, learning his every mood has been critical to maintaining cordial balance between the two of you, and with other people who Sunghoon isn’t particularly fond of. You’ve extinguished emotional fires just by glancing at him, but the way he looks at you is something you can’t seem to figure out. 
While you wouldn’t say you’re exceptionally close with Sunghoon, you’d argue your relationship to him is far closer than other assistants in the firm. He might be hard headed and stubborn, but he’s compassionate and understanding. He doesn’t expect you to stay in the office until he leaves unless explicitly stated (which consists of half the week, but you can’t complain when some of your colleagues are constantly working longer days than you). 
He compensates you well from time to time, buying you new wardrobe for events he’s requested you to be at. You have a drawer full of exquisite jewelry. You’ve had the privilege of accompanying him on international business trips. From the outside, your life looks like one glamour shot that’s been afforded to you through diligent work, which is partially true, but seldom do people see the dark circles underneath your eyes or how many meals you skip because you need to cater to Sunghoon’s needs. 
For as lucky as your career has been thus far, it’s all on company time, and nothing is ever because you want to. You get the perks, but it’s a transaction. There’s nothing you want more than the freedom to choose what time you wake up and what time you go to bed.
“I can’t say I’m too happy with this news,” Sunghoon says as he leans back on his chair. “You and I work together really well. I don’t think I’ve ever had an assistant as diligent and as smart as you.” 
“You had three assistants before I came into the picture.” 
“They were terrible. Why did you think you went through six interviews?” 
“I can train my predecessor to be as excellent as I can be. I can do it in two months because that’s the time it took me to get used to you and your habits.” 
Sunghoon remains silent for a moment. 
“They’ve got big shoes to fill.” 
Part of you thinks he’s accepted your resignation. He doesn’t immediately grab the Manila folder with the papers in it. Rather, he closes it and keeps it shut on his desk with his hands clasped like he’s afraid it’s going to materialize and escort you out of his office.  
“You’re still needed for events and other internal-facing meetings until your time comes to an end.” 
“Of course, Sir.”
The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “There’s one tonight. I wasn’t going to have you come to this one initially, but given the circumstances, I think it’s fair that we squeeze in as many as possible before you’re off the hook, no?”
You can’t say you’re incredibly excited by the idea, but knowing Sunghoon, he’s either forgotten he needs someone to act as arm candy or one of his many flings bailed on him at the last minute. 
“I’ll have my car pick you up from your apartment at 8 P.M. Don’t worry about checking in early tomorrow, either. Come in at nine instead, and get some sleep tonight.” 
Nine is still early, especially if you’re going to accompany Sunghoon to an event this evening, but it’s better than getting four hours of shut eye before you’re needed the next day. 
***
A section of your wardrobe is dedicated to items Sunghoon has gifted you throughout the years you’ve been with him. They’re far more expensive and of higher quality than the garments you buy for yourself, and the jewelry is far too precious for you to mix in with your everyday wear. They sit in their own designated section, away from your business attire and weekend wear.
Back when you started this position, Sunghoon found it amusing that you refused the luxurious gifts he’d offer for large tasks such as acting as a liaison at black tie events or helping him with projects that required you to look more presentable than remaining in an office. He bought you enough dresses, shoes, and jewelry until you were able to rotate a few pieces so that you’d never have to wear the same thing twice in a row. To assuage your mind about the prices of each item, Sunghoon would tell you to wear it out on a date with a special someone or to important events that required you to dress up a bit.  
When you pull out a sleek baby blue powder dress that hugs your body in all the right places and jewelry to match, the memory makes you laugh. There hasn’t been any time for engaging in those types of things and your life does not reflect that of Sunghoon’s. They gather dust in your closet until you’re needed to make an appearance as his well-trained, capable assistant. His colleagues know to defer to you unless Sunghoon’s word needs to be confirmed, and that’s how the dynamic has been for the entirety of your working relationship with him. 
You don’t put much effort into your appearance tonight. After touching up your makeup and slipping on a pair of black sling backs that match a black Italian clutch purse he had gifted you on your first international trip, you wait for the car to arrive at your doorstep. 
Surprisingly, Sunghoon steps out from the backseat and holds the door open for you.
“…Sir?” 
“Right on time. You look stunning.” 
His compliment flies over your head as you try to make sense of what you’re seeing. You’re used to meeting Sunghoon at the fairgrounds and not holding the door open for you in his personal mode of transportation. The only time the two of you arrive together is when you depart from the office. Sunghoon is a busy man who makes work his priority. He doesn’t escort you from place to place. That’s your job.
“What are you doing here?” 
He beckons you inside of the car. The partition is raised to give the two of you some privacy. Sunghoon slides into the backseat and puts a respectable distance between the two of you when the driver begins to drive away.
“It dawned on me that I rely you on you for so many things, and yet, I can’t seem to take an hour of my day to ride with you to events I’ve asked you to be at.” 
“It’s my job.”
“No, your job is to make sure I don’t lose my head.”
“If letting you work while I drive alone makes your head stay on your shoulders, I think that’s a job well done.” 
He purses his lips. “Still, I don’t think ending my workday early to pick you up will kill me.” You raise your eyebrow at him.
“This isn’t changing my mind, Sir. I still plan to leave the company.”
Sunghoon shrugs. “Worth a try. But I meant what I said about accompanying you. We’re a team, even if your position is just my assistant.”
“Sir—”
“Sunghoon,” he interrupts. “Call me Sunghoon.”
“...Sunghoon.” He smiles.
“That’s more like it.” 
***
will there be a part 2? who knows
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zorange13 · 8 days ago
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NRK KISS SHOT
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【爱】 you and your boyfriend got caught on kiss cam at a baseball game (^ム^) sorry if this sucks… wc 300+ NOT proofread!!!!!!!
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your boyfriend loved baseball, that’s what he told you on the first date — so when you surprised him with tickets to watch his favorite team play, let’s just say he went absolutely insane… and now here you are. sitting down at the ballpark, already mid way through the game.
you two had matching jerseys, one that you got him custom-made with his name on the back from his last year – and yours with a random player you had no clue about. it was now halftime. the random adds playing on the big screen, and the crowd spread out around the ballpark.
one add played, then another.. but an announcer started speaking.. “ladies and gentlemen.. we brought out the kiss cam!”. you turned to riki, smiling, “what if it lands on us..” you said while lightly tugging his sleeve.
he just scoffed playfully, still eating his popcorn he got earlier from a random snack stand. “I doubt that.. I mean we’re all the way up here..” you made an exaggerated sigh — “aw cmonnn… let’s atleast watch!!”
riki rolled his eyes, finally surrendering. “okay fine, let’s watch people eat eachothers faces off..”. — after a few couples pass, it felt like the camera was getting closer to where you two were sitting. waiting in anticipation… silently hoping it landed on you two.
like your prayers magically worked right when you asked, the camera landed on you, and riki. your face turned a deep shade of red.. not because you had to kiss him, but because everyone was watching.. the announcer spoke “oh? what do we have here..? cmon love birds kiss!!!” like that didn’t make you more embarrassed.. riki abruptly grabbed the side of your face with his palm, smashing his lips on yours.”
it felt like the world stopped, the distant cheers in the crowd echoing through your ears.. he pulled away smiling and looking back at the camera. you flushed in embarrassment — speaking in a shy tone, “ur gonna pay for that later..” you said while playfully smacking his arm. “hm.. you wouldn’t try..” riki said, a sly smirk spreading his face. “just watch..”
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zorange13 · 8 days ago
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texts with fwb! riki ii
warnings. mdni. smut. angst. afab/feminine reader. talks about dacryphilia, shibari. a lot of cursing. riki is down bad and reader is an asshole (sorry guys)
part i here
very VERY highly requested! i hope this meets your expectations ♡ sorry to break ur heart at the end... dw, part iii is in the works ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
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@jungwonsgff
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zorange13 · 8 days ago
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hii this is sooo random but I read your love island enhypen and I LOVED ITTT! I enjoyed reading it so much!! 😭😭 I was just wondering if you don’t mind, I would love to write a riize one with credits going to you?? I’ve also read your other works and they’re so amazing!!
hi my love!!
im so glad you love my work and it means everything in the world to me ❤️ but please do, it’s fanfiction there’s no bounds. actually the person i got inspo to do the enha version from was @rynfiles !! she did one for attack on titan and i loved the idea and kinda made it my own.
goes to show that there’s never too much of one thing in fanfics. it’s kinda like vampire or mafia or werewolves au’s or something. it’s not the concept that’s bad if you reuse, but rather content if you reused.
if you do tag me, i’d hope it’d be bc you’d like me to read it BC I WILL TAG ME PLEASE!!! I LOVE RIIZE
bias??? mine is sohee 🤭
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zorange13 · 10 days ago
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hiii :3 will there be a part 2 to sanctioned? :D
hola!!
yeah there will be, in process of writing currently. but i also am working on other things too. i'm having one of my depressive episodes rn and my urge and desire to write is slowing waning. but i'm trying to push thru! there's just a lot happening in my personal life rn. but it will get to you!
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zorange13 · 12 days ago
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girl omg.
洪水 | YANDERE THEMES | NI-KI.
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"of course I've missed you, mum." you mumble, with the fluency of an actor. you'd even consider auditioning for a theatre major if you weren't so busy sorting out your new flat, instead of focusing on your college plans.
at home, your parents seem to have been struggling. growing up, you sometimes heard them talk about love and promise to be faithful to each other, but to you, love shouldn't be demonstrated through weekly fights that often lead to breakups or the threat of divorce, which puts everyone in the family's mental health at risk.
the only positive connection you had with your sister, but that complicity faded as you got older, as she fell into adolescence and became addicted to partying, clothes shopping and chatting with friends. meanwhile, you've moved to a new city to live on your own and continue your college studies in a new environment after applying for a transfer.
your main goal and dream is to maintain excellent grades, so you won't be forced by your parents to move back. and sure, you don't miss much about your old town. In fact, you had some friends there that you left behind, good friends who may now think you're selfish for not even saying goodbye to them, among them ni-ki.
nishimura riki, a year younger than you, came into your life thanks to his relationship with your younger sister, which began three years ago. with his sharp tongue and quick temper, he was a sweet boy who somehow impressed you and stood out among the others. over time, you became close to each other as you discovered that you shared common tastes, had a similar sense of humour and seemed to complement each other. and yet, you eventually had to walk away from him, not because of the implications of a stronger-than-usual relationship, but because of what that closeness stirred up inside of you.
more precisely, things changed between of you that night you went out to celebrate his coming of age and he tried to kiss you. while he quickly apologised for his thoughtless act and reiterated his interest in your sister, it was clear in his eyes and shyness that his feelings were not as clear as he had intended. you silently wondered why he didn't acknowledge his interest in you. and as much as you hated the situation, the suspicion that he might have been in love with you warmed your heart a little, although you felt pity for waiting for someone who wouldn't fight for you.
so you decided to move away to protect your emotional peace from people who could complicate your life.
determined not to fall in love just for the sake of appearances, a few weeks after moving to the new city, you ventured out. you felt it was the right time to have new experiences at your age, so you set up dates with people you met online and sometimes arranged them when you had time off from your university studies. you made it clear that you weren't looking for a relationship at the time, and although you felt like you were being watched in these situations, as if there was something wrong or someone judging you, you tried to convince yourself that it was just delusional paranoia.
"i'll call back later, need to hang up," you stated hurriedly, trying to say you were busy without wanting to sound rude, especially since the caller was your mum.
and, as you grab the doorknob to enter your apartment, you get the unpleasant feeling that it's damp. "yuck" you think, but you quickly head to the kitchen to start organising what you've just shopped for.
"maybe you will, or maybe you won't. i do. i know you well, (y/n)," says your mum. "and before I forget, just wanted to tell you that (your sister's name) wanted to talk to you this morning. she seems to need help with her birthday arrangements."
you scowl as you notice that the air-conditioner is not on and respond: "i'll take care of it, but it's got to be her who calls me, mom, she's got a mobile phone after all."
"she claimed to have called you, but there was no response to her messages," insists your mother.
"that's not possible…" you start to argue, but as you check your phone on the dresser to scroll through the notification bar, you notice your sister's missed messages and calls from a few days ago. "ouh…"
you notice that you've been carrying your phone with you less often lately, and you face reality and admit that you only carry it when you have an important date, and also when you want to get away from something or someone, and you realise this when you see ni-ki's messages.
"she's your sister, (y/n), you shouldn't ignore her. I don't know what happened between the two of you or what's going on, but you'll have to work it out. just remember that you're older and you shouldn't act like a spoilt girl."
the term "spoilt girl" was familiar to you, as your father used to call them that when they fought over a toy. It's so ironic.
"well… au revoir, mum," you said before hanging up.
although your mum was right that you should work on rebuilding your relationship with your sister, you were reluctant to do so in a short phone conversation of twenty minutes or fewer. plus, you're not yet ready to admit the real reason why you "broke" up with her: your mistake of falling in love with her boyfriend. so, for now, you prefer to wait for your guilt to subside before facing his advice, while you go to organise the products in the fridge.
about sixty minutes later, when you hear a notification on your mobile phone, your body goes into alert mode because it might be the girl you went out with yesterday, minji (she, with her black hair flowing gracefully down her back and a face that could touch the gods themselves, gave you a great time strolling along the seashore) and without wanting to admit it, your impatience overwhelms you, as if you were a schoolgirl eagerly awaiting another text message from her, or yearning for some sign that you're not so boring (again) that she doesn't want to go out on a second date with you.
by contrast, when you switch on your mobile phone and see a new message from ni-ki, feel like time has stopped, leaving you unable to move. although a wave of emotions overcomes the panic in your heart, your mind urges you to take a deep breath and count to a hundred. and the idea of staying calm is a distant option at the moment.
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one side of your mouth is crooked, you realise, and in your mind you criticise him, silently pleading that it's not the end. but you soon realise that you look pathetic because you can't even reply to one of his messages.
so you decide to ignore him again.
(...)
just after midnight, ni-ki entered the apartment, moving cautiously as if he was afraid of waking up his girlfriend in their shared apartment, an idea that proved true for him, at least in his mental world. he moved slowly through the environment, stopping at the end to stare at the door with relief when he realised how easy it was to get in, and felt a brief moment of triumph as he savoured the sensation, which quickly gave way to the reality of being in your space.
"finally..." ni-ki spun around, letting any trace of manners fade away, rivalled only by the sound of his slippers on the floor and by the beating of his heart.
before he enters your room, he releases the handle to lift his feet, removes his slippers and places them next to the wall in a gesture that others don't consider necessary but you appreciate as a sign of good manners. and he congratulates himself because he has eliminated from his behaviour what he knows bothers you: eating with his mouth open, using the phone while eating, talking too loudly in important situations, etc. all to please you.
sure, most people fear death, but for ni-ki, the biggest fear is not being loved. ever since he saw a picture of you on your sister's phone, he has been trying to be the perfect boy. he has adopted your favourite colour, your culinary tastes, and even your film preferences. needless to say, he studied how to behave with you, wondering if one day your eyes would fall on him or you would miraculously wake up feeling perfect and wishing he were by your side forever.
your sister may have been nice at first, which ni-ki liked. however, he started the relationship mainly to fit in with his friends and to avoid being teased for being single. you and she inherited your mother's hair colour, share the same eye colour and have a strikingly similar appearance. despite this, (your sister's name) failed to awaken ni-ki's desire to dominate her, and as the days passed, her desire to end the relationship grew.
he chooses not to wait for you to wake up to speak, instead reaching into the collar of his shirt to lift the fabric over his head, and makes room for his torso to be caressed by the coolness of the room, settling with his knees on the mattress on either side of your hips.
you almost always sleep on your stomach, giving him a free hand to climb up and kiss you on your upper back.
a faint humming sound from your mouth interrupts the silence of the night.
"shh… just go back to sleep in peace."
ni-ki notices your limbs relaxing and your lips quivering, and stops abruptly. he places his hand on the side of your face, asking for support and confessing, "when i heard you left, i almost lost my mind, can you imagine? can you imagine? without you, i'm nothing."
his throat is dry and muscles are tense, as he brace for what's to come…. something bad. although ni-ki had promised to give you time to fall in love with him, promises often remain unfulfilled. and tonight, that promise will cost you dearly.
"how naïve, noona. always so selfish to bring everything of yours and not come back." ni-ki continues to speak, barely able to moving his body away from yours, his nose buried in your hair and feeling dizzy from the fragrance. "but forgetting the most important thing: of me."
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MASTERLIST
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zorange13 · 14 days ago
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texts with fwb! riki
warnings. MDNI! this is basically pure smut. cursing. reader has female anatomy and is feminized. riki's lowkey down bad for reader. lmk if more.
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zorange13 · 15 days ago
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loveeeeeeee as always. i always enjoy anything written by her. ❤️
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P: Baseball Player!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader (SEQUEL)
Warnings: Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Controlling Behavior, Obsession, Mental Health Struggles, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Ex-Lovers, Jealousy, Begging, Suggestive Content, Violence, Use Of Drugs, Power Imbalance, Infidelity, Pregnancy Manipulation, Mentions Of Past Trauma, Codependency, Media Harassment, Alcohol Use, Emotional Breakdowns, Spiraling Behavior, Manipulative Reconciliation, Guilt-Tripping, Unstable Relationship Dynamics, Toxic Nostalgia Romanticized, Unresolved Trauma.
Synopsis: Ni-ki swore he was different now, no more games, no more damage, just a boy trying to earn a second chance. You almost believed him. Almost. But then she shows up. A girl from the time he was trying to forget you — pregnant, unhinged, and claiming the baby is his. Now Ni-ki’s unraveling all over again, desperate to prove you're the only one who matters. But the thing about love like his? It always comes with teeth.
Wordcount: 16,3k
a/n: so many people wanted a part 2 from the original fic, so i decided to kindly give the people a small sequel based on a request. So i recommend reading the first part for this to make sense :) Reblogs and commentary are appreciated!
now playing reflections by the neighbourhood | revenge by xxxtentacion | void by the neighbourhood | doubt by twenty one pilots | borderline by nico collins
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Morning had blurred into days.
Two days since he’d walked off that field, two days since the world decided to paint him as the villain of his own success. The headlines wouldn’t let up — clips of his last pitch, the slow-motion shot of him tossing his glove aside, leaving his team stranded mid-game. Sports analysts dissected his every move, his every mistake, like they knew him.
By day three, the press had found your apartment. Flashbulbs burst outside your building every time the door opened. They wanted a statement. They wanted dirt. They wanted you.
Ni-ki had stayed, of course. He’d barricaded himself inside your place, pacing and muttering under his breath between stretches of silence so heavy it pressed against your chest. Sometimes he’d grab your hand out of nowhere, holding it like proof you were still there. Other times, he’d go hours without speaking, his gaze far away, like he was still standing on that mound, still deciding whether to throw or to walk.
You hadn’t spoken much. Not because you didn’t want to — but because everyone else wanted a piece of him. The team. His manager. Reporters camped on your street. There was even a statement from the league demanding he "address the situation publicly."
He didn’t care. Not like he should.
That afternoon, you found him on your couch, hair damp from a shower he must’ve taken while you were at work. His phone buzzed nonstop on the table, but he didn’t even glance at it. “Ni-ki,” you said, softly. 
 He didn’t move.
“Your manager’s been calling. There are people outside. What are you even planning to do?”
Finally, he looked up. Eyes tired, but sharp. “Does it matter? None of that matters if I don’t have you.”
Your stomach twisted. This again.
“It’s your career,” you whispered. “You walked off the field mid-game, Ni-ki. People are—”
“People can talk.” His jaw tightened, voice rough. “Let them. I don’t care if I lose everything. I can build it back. But if I lose you again—” He broke off, leaning forward like the thought itself was unbearable. His hands dragged over his face, down his neck, gripping the back of it like he was trying to hold himself together.Then, softer, like a plea. “I left because I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t come find you. Baseball doesn’t mean anything without you in the stands. Without you to come home to.”
You hated the way your heart jumped, hated that you still felt that pull — the same one that had always made it impossible to stay away. “We shouldn’t be talking about us right now,” you said quietly.
Ni-ki didn’t move.
“I’m serious,” you continued, voice steadier this time. “You walked out in the middle of a nationally televised game. Your name is everywhere. Your team’s in chaos. And you’re—” your voice cracked with disbelief, “—you’re sitting here like none of that matters.”
“It doesn’t,” he said again, too fast, too sure.
“It should.” You let the silence hit hard. “It really, really should.”
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, restless. Like if he stopped moving, he'd feel everything all at once. “You think I care what people say? What they expect from me? They don’t know what it felt like, walking into that stadium with your ghost still in my chest. Every pitch, every cheer—empty.”
You stared at him. “So what, you blow it all up?”
His eyes snapped to yours. “I’d blow up the whole goddamn world if it meant I’d get one more chance with you.”
You flinched, not from the words, but from how much they still meant. How much he knew they would. 
“No,” you whispered. “You don’t get to say that and pretend we’re not standing in a fire you started.”
“I didn’t come here to pretend.” His voice dropped again, rougher now. “I came here because I couldn’t breathe without you. And I’m not gonna stand here and talk about them when I finally have you in front of me.”
You felt the heat rise behind your eyes — frustration, exhaustion, and something far more dangerous: the longing you buried. “I can’t do this with you right now,” you muttered. “Not like this.” You turned away before he could answer, before his voice could twist into something that might pull you back in. The room felt like it was shrinking — not from the silence, but from everything pressing in beyond it.
You crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain just an inch, your stomach sinking at the sight below. Twelve, maybe thirteen reporters. Cameras slung around their necks. Phones held up. They weren’t even trying to hide anymore, standing just off the porch like they belonged there.
Your pulse skipped. You let the curtain fall back into place. “They’re outside.”
No response.
You turned around slowly. Ni-ki was standing exactly where you left him, hoodie half-slipped from one shoulder, staring down at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. The screen lit up again and again — unknown numbers, familiar names. You caught a glimpse of one: Coach Park. The next: JUN SEO | PRESS. Then: Taehyun (Pitching).
You didn't realize he was gripping the phone so tight until his knuckles went pale.
He wasn’t breathing steadily anymore.
“Ni-ki…”
Still no response.
He just stood there, jaw clenched, muscles drawn tight like a rubber band ready to snap. When the phone buzzed again — this time a FaceTime call from someone marked MGMT — he slammed it down on the table. Not enough to break it. Just enough to echo. “Let them call,” he muttered under his breath, voice dark. “Let them scream. Let them guess.”
“You think this goes away if you ignore it?”
His eyes finally lifted to meet yours. Not wild. Not desperate. Focused.
“I think none of it means anything if I lose you again.”
There it was. Again.
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “Ni-ki, I’m not going to magically fix everything. I’m not your safehouse. There are consequences, and they’re not just going to disappear because you’re hiding in my living room.”
“I’m not hiding,” he snapped. “I’m choosing.”
The room stilled.
He stepped toward you slowly, voice low. “They want me to be something I’m not. Perfect. Controlled. Easy to market. But I was never any of that. I was just—” he paused, frustrated. “I was angry. And scared. And sick of pretending. And the only time I ever felt real was with you.”
You shook your head. “You can’t run from your life and expect me to carry it for you.”
“I’m not asking you to carry it,” he said quietly. “I’m asking you to stay in it.”
You stared at him, searching for something solid beneath the mess of his words. A promise. A plan. Anything that didn’t sound like blind emotion disguised as devotion. But instead, he just kept looking at you like you were the only real thing in the room. Like if you stepped back even an inch, he’d fall through the floor.
“I know I messed everything up,” he said, voice lower now, trembling at the edges. “But you’re the only part of my life that ever made sense.”
You exhaled shakily. “Ni-ki—”
“I’m not saying it’s fair. I’m not saying I deserve you. I just…” He took a small step closer, careful, like he knew you were already halfway out the door. “I don’t sleep when you’re not around. I don’t eat. I pitch worse. I go out less. It’s like every time I try to move on, I still end up coming back to the same damn place — to you.”
Your arms crossed before you could stop them, a weak barrier between you and everything he was spilling into the space. “You think that’s love?” you said quietly. “That sounds more like obsession.”
He flinched and for a second, you saw something break in him. Or maybe it cracked just enough for you to think it had. “I don’t know what love’s supposed to be,” he whispered. “I just know I’d rather ruin myself than live in a world where you hate me.”
You blinked. That wasn't fair. He knew that wasn't fair.
“Ni-ki—”
“No, listen to me.” His voice rose — not angry, but desperate. “I’ve done everything wrong. I know that. But don’t act like you don’t still feel it too. You let me in. You didn’t have to. You could’ve slammed the door in my face that night, and you didn’t. You wanted me here.”
Your jaw clenched. Because he was right. You hadn’t shut the door. And now he was using that choice like proof.
“I came here because I couldn’t breathe without you,” he said again, quieter this time, words like chains dressed in velvet. “I left the field, the cameras, the people who thought they owned me — all of it. For you.” He looked at you like he was waiting for you to break. And God, you almost did.
“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness yet,” he added, stepping forward again. “But if you leave me now—if you give up—then what the hell was I fighting for?”
Your throat tightened.
“That’s not fair,” you whispered.
He nodded. “I know.”
And still — he didn’t stop.
He brushed a hand against your arm, featherlight, just enough to remind you what it felt like when he used to hold you like the only thing that could anchor him to earth. “Just… don’t make me pay for every version of me you never got to fix,” he said softly. “I’m still trying. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s too late.”
You weren’t sure which part hit harder — the guilt he slipped into your ribcage, or the way he looked at you like your forgiveness was the final prize in a game he refused to lose.
Your mouth opened, then closed. He stepped closer.
“You were always the one who believed in me,” Ni-ki continued, voice lower now, like a secret meant just for you. “Even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when everyone else saw the mess, you looked past it.”
You shook your head, but his hand caught yours before you could pull away.
“And now you want to act like we’re strangers?” he said, a bitter laugh slipping out. “Like all of that meant nothing?”
“That’s not what I’m doing—”
“Then what are you doing?” His grip tightened slightly. “Because it feels like you’re just trying to push me away so you don’t have to admit you still want this. Still want me.”
You yanked your hand free. “This isn’t about what I want, Ni-ki.”
“Of course it is,” he snapped, voice sharp before softening again — like he was catching himself in real-time. “This has always been about us. You think I left everything behind just for fun? You think I gave up everything just to watch you walk away again?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, that unraveling edge showing again. “I was drowning. In all of it. And the second I knew where you were, I finally breathed. You don’t get to take that from me now.”
You were spiraling — logic screaming in one ear, memory whispering in the other.
He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t cruel. That’s what made it worse. He was sweet. Familiar. Just enough of the boy you used to love to blur the lines between then and now. The way he tilted his head when he looked at you, the way his voice dipped into that low, aching register — it wrapped around you like muscle memory, like the past hadn’t taught you how dangerous it was to let him in. And he knew it. You could see it in his eyes. He knew exactly what strings to pull.
Ni-ki stepped forward again, so slowly, like he was afraid you’d bolt. His voice softened, calculated tenderness dripping from every word. “I know you’re scared. I get it. But we don’t have to start over. We just have to keep going. You and me — we already know how this works.”
Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Because that’s what terrified you most:  You did know how it worked. You knew how easily he could tangle himself into your life, how quickly love with him stopped feeling like a choice and started feeling like gravity.
“I left everything behind,” he said, motioning vaguely toward the window — toward the chaos outside, the calls still lighting up his phone. “You think I would’ve done that if you weren’t worth everything?”
You hated how that made your chest ache. Hated how part of you wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that maybe this time he meant it. But this wasn’t a love letter. This was a contract he was trying to sign with your silence. “You’re not giving me a choice.”
“I’m giving you us,” he said quickly, stepping closer again. “I’m giving you the one thing we always said we wanted. No cameras. No teammates. No bullshit. Just you and me.”
You stared at him — stunned, confused, heartsick. “Ni-ki, you didn’t give me anything. You showed up, uninvited, in the middle of a crisis you created. That’s invasion.”
He flinched. But only for a second. “Then why haven't you chased me out yet if you didn’t still love me?”
You didn’t answer.Because the truth was curling in your throat, thick and dangerous.
You did still love him. That was the worst part. But it didn’t mean he deserved you. Not like this. Not when he only wanted you when the world turned against him.
And yet— his eyes were pleading now, like the damage in him was begging for something to hold. “I know I’m hard to love,” he whispered. “But I swear I’ll make it easier, if you just stay.”
You looked at him, blinking away the sting behind your eyes. 
That wasn’t a promise. It was a bargain.
Three days later, the knock at the door wasn’t hesitant. It was sharp. Demanding. Like whoever stood on the other side didn’t care if they were interrupting something personal.
You knew who it was before you even opened it.
Mr. Kwon — Ni-ki’s longtime manager — stood on your porch, dressed in black, jaw tight, eyes already scanning the hallway over your shoulder.
You hesitated.
“Is he here?” he asked bluntly, no greeting.
You nodded once, then stepped aside.
Ni-ki was lounging on the couch, barefoot, hoodie wrinkled, head tilted back like he hadn’t just detonated his career and gone into hiding in someone else’s home. He looked up lazily when Mr. Kwon walked in, like this was a casual drop-in and not a long-overdue reckoning.
“You have some nerve,” the manager said before the door even closed behind him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Ni-ki blinked. “Hi.”
“I’ve been calling you for days,” Mr. Kwon snapped, pacing across the living room with barely contained fury. “You left mid-game. You humiliated the team. You’ve been ignoring everyone while the media builds their own version of you — unstable, impulsive, self-destructive. You think this is a joke?”
Ni-ki shrugged. “They’ve called me worse.”
“This isn’t a tabloid headline you can brush off, Riki. You’re on the edge of suspension. The league is demanding answers. Sponsors are threatening to drop. Do you understand what’s at stake?”
Ni-ki stayed where he was, jaw propped in his hand, eyes glazed like he was bored of the conversation before it even started. “I’ll talk when I’m ready.”
“Oh trust me! You’re ready.” Mr. Kwon’s voice rose. “This isn’t just your problem anymore — it’s the team’s, the brand’s, my problem. And you’re acting like you’ve got all the time in the world to sulk in someone else’s living room while everything you’ve built goes up in smoke.”
At that, Ni-ki finally sat up. “I’m not sulking,” he said, voice low. “I’m thinking. Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”
Mr. Kwon’s nostrils flared. “Thinking doesn’t get you out of a contract violation. Thinking doesn’t fix your image. What the hell have you even done this whole time?”
Ni-ki looked over at you, and there it was again — that soft, maddening smile. The one he always gave when the world was on fire but he’d already chosen what was worth saving from the flames. “I’ve been staying with the only person who never asked me to be anything I’m not.”
Mr. Kwon scoffed. “You think that’s noble? You think throwing everything away for some—” he stopped, catching himself, glancing at you. “For this is going to save you?”
Ni-ki stepped closer, the lazy edge sharpening. “I didn’t throw it away,” he said. “I just decided it wasn’t worth it without her.”
Your breath caught.
 Mr. Kwon’s eyes narrowed. “You want to ruin yourself? Fine,” he said tightly. “But don’t drag her down with you.”
Ni-ki’s jaw ticked — subtle, but dangerous. “She’s not the one dragging me,” he said. “She’s the one keeping me together.”
But that wasn’t true, not really. You weren’t holding him together. You were barely holding yourself together. And he was letting the wreckage pile at your feet like you were supposed to clean it up for him. 
You looked away before either of them could read it on your face.
Mr. Kwon turned back to you, voice more composed now. “You need to understand something,” he said carefully. “This version of him? It doesn’t last. It never lasts. And when he falls again, you’ll be the one under him.”
You didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t believe it — but because you did.
And still, Ni-ki stood behind you like he couldn’t even hear it, like nothing could shake him as long as you were still in the room.
Mr. Kwon's phone suddenly buzzed sharply in his coat pocket, the sound slicing through the silence like a blade. He pulled it out without breaking stride in his rant, eyes flicking down to the screen — then narrowing. He scrolled once. Then again. And suddenly, everything about him changed. “Son of a bitch,” he spat, spinning on his heel. “You absolute fucking idiot—”
Before anyone could ask what happened, he smacked Ni-ki across the chest with his cap, hard, like a parent trying to knock sense back into a kid long past saving.
“What the—?!” Ni-ki jumped back, dodging the next swing. “What the fuck is your problem?!”
Mr. Kwon didn’t respond right away — just shoved the phone into Ni-ki’s face, voice shaking with fury. “That’s my problem.”
Ni-ki took the phone, still half-annoyed, half-confused. But the second his eyes scanned the screen, everything in his posture changed.
It was like watching him short-circuit in real time.
“No,” he breathed. He scrolled. Then again. And again. “No. No. No, no, no—fuck—no.”
You watched as he zipped up from the couch so fast the cushions shifted behind him. His hand went straight to his hair, fingers threading through like he was trying to physically hold his skull together. Panic spread across his face, raw and undiluted — not the usual smirk, not the calculated deflection. This was real. 
“Tell me this is fake,” he muttered, turning to Mr. Kwon. “Please tell me this is fake—”
Mr. Kwon didn’t blink.
You stood frozen as Ni-ki’s breath quickened, his body practically vibrating with shock. He turned to you for a second — not to explain, not to defend — just to look. Like seeing you might somehow reverse what he’d just read.
“What is it?” you asked, voice low.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes like the news would disappear if he just stopped looking long enough. But it didn’t. And whatever it was, it had shattered the illusion he’d been so carefully living in.
Mr. Kwon exhaled harshly, then handed you the phone — the headline still up, the comments already flooding in.
And there it was:
EXCLUSIVE: Riki Nishimura’s Alleged Ex-Girlfriend Posts Positive Paternity Test, Accuses Star Pitcher of Ghosting Her and “Running Back to His First Choice”
You stared at the screen, the words burning themselves into your brain like they had teeth.
"Running back to his first choice."
Your throat dried instantly.
The girl’s post was everywhere — screenshots, blurred sonograms, dated messages, all conveniently timestamped around the time you and Ni-ki weren’t speaking. The time you’d left. The time you finally thought you’d saved yourself from him.
You remembered that version of him too well — reckless, unhinged, unraveling without apology. Back when his Instagram stories were blurry party clips and his name was in every gossip thread. Back when everyone said he was spiraling, but no one could name the reason. You hadn’t needed to. You were the reason.
That was when you noticed something. You didn’t even want to say it out loud, but the resemblance was there — just enough. Enough to make your stomach turn. To make you wonder if Ni-ki had been trying to replace you in the worst way possible.
She looked like you. Not exactly. But close. Close enough.
Your eyes drifted from the screen to him.
Ni-ki still hadn’t moved.He stood there like the headline had punched the air out of his lungs, like the panic in his chest hadn’t even figured out how to surface properly. His hand was still tangled in his hair, his mouth parted, his eyes locked on nothing.
Mr. Kwon paced behind him, muttering curses under his breath like a man doing inventory on a crumbling investment. “You were one of the worst kids I ever had to clean up after,” he muttered, voice half-wrecked, half-resigned. “And still… one of the best. God help me.”
But you barely heard him. All you could look at was Ni-ki — this boy who once swore he’d never want anyone but you, now crashing under the weight of a truth that might tie him to someone else forever.
And in that strange, suspended silence… You heard yourself speak before you even realized you had. Calm. Flat. Almost numb.
“Are you really the father?”
His head whipped toward you, expression shattered, like glass mid-fall. “No,” he said instantly — too fast. “No, I swear to God, I’m not. I’m not, I—I can’t be.” His voice cracked, catching in his throat like it hurt to say. Like the words themselves were slipping through fingers that didn’t know how to hold the truth. “You have to believe me,” he rushed out, stepping forward. “Please—please, don’t look at me like that. Don’t shut down, I can feel you doing it. I see it—”
You didn’t say anything.
He flinched at your silence. Like it burned.
“Fuck, no—please.” His voice rose, desperate now. “I wasn’t with her like that. It was one time. One fucking time and I didn’t even mean to. I was—I was wrecked. I wasn’t sleeping, I was drinking too much, I—” He choked on his words, stumbling closer. And then—
He dropped to his knees.
It was sudden, like gravity had finally yanked him down, like the weight of it all snapped the last string holding him upright.
You stared, frozen.
Ni-ki looked up at you from the floor, hands clutched together like a prayer or a confession, and he kept going — voice trembling, low and broken. “You have to understand,” he whispered. “I didn’t even want anyone else. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t fucking breathe. I was off my face—high, drunk, stupid—in some hotel room after that game in Daegu when I got hit on the mound.”
You remembered that match. He took a line drive straight to the ribs. Everyone thought he was done for the season.
“I don’t even remember her name,” he whispered. “I swear to you. I couldn’t pick her out of a room if you paid me.” He rubbed at his face harshly, shaking now. “It was you. Even then, it was you. All I saw was you. I thought—I thought if I blurred it enough, it would hurt less.”
You blinked slowly. Your arms were folded across your chest, but it didn’t feel like protection. Not against this. “You think that makes it better?” you asked softly.
“No,” he rasped. “No, I just—I need you to know I didn’t choose her. I never chose anyone but you.”
“And yet you’re here,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, “on your knees, begging me to stay while someone else might be carrying your child.”
He broke at that.
His forehead dropped to the floor for a second, like he was trying to disappear into it. His hands pulled at his hair, fists clenched. His entire body shook. “I’ll fix it,” he whispered. “Please, let me fix it.”
For a moment, it was all heavy breathing and silence.
Then, from across the room, Mr. Kwon finally exhaled — loud, annoyed, and tired of watching the emotional bloodbath unfold on your living room floor. “Alright, alright, let’s not spiral yet,” he muttered, arms crossed. “First thing’s first—did you use protection?”
Ni-ki didn’t move at first. But slowly, he lifted his head. His face was wrecked — red and puffy, wet trails of tears streaking down his cheeks, lips trembling as he tried to swallow air. He blinked up at his manager, then sniffled, voice small and miserable.
“…I don’t remember.”
The silence cracked like ice under pressure.
Mr. Kwon’s face darkened. “You don’t remember,” he repeated, flat.
Ni-ki shook his head, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I was shitfaced, okay? I blacked out. I didn’t even know I’d slept with her until someone told me the next day—how the fuck would I remember if I used protection?”
Mr. Kwon turned around and dragged a hand down his face, muttering a string of curses in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he said. “You don’t remember. Jesus Christ.”
Ni-ki dropped his head again, rubbing his eyes raw like he could claw the night out of his memory if he just pressed hard enough.
“We’ll deal with it,” Mr. Kwon said finally, more to himself than to anyone else. “We’ll contact the girl. Set up a meeting. See if she’s willing to do an early test to confirm paternity. It might not even be yours.”
You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. And then, you asked the question no one else was saying aloud. 
“What happens if it is?”
Ni-ki’s head snapped toward you like you’d thrown something at him. His eyes were wide, swollen, wet, and panicked. “What?” he said, voice cracking. “Don’t—don’t say that.”
Mr. Kwon didn’t even flinch. He just looked between the two of you, expression unreadable. “We’ll see.”
That was it. No reassurance. No denial. Just a quiet acceptance that the future might be uglier than any of you were ready to face.
Ni-ki stared at you like the ground beneath his knees had just crumbled.
And maybe it had.
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The meeting wasn’t as explosive as you’d expected. But it wasn’t calm, either.
She was defensive from the second she stepped into the room — eyes sharp, tone clipped, every word soaked in the kind of bitterness that made it clear she hadn’t just come for clarity.
She came for war.
But Mr. Kwon kept things civil. Professional. He offered terms, an early paternity test once the window opened in a few weeks, and a clear promise that the press wouldn’t get a single word until facts were on the table.
At first, she resisted. Called Ni-ki a coward. Called you a name you didn’t flinch at, just watched her with that same, detached calm that had kept you alive this long.
But eventually, she agreed.
She wanted proof too, apparently. Wanted the same truth you were quietly dreading.
It was nearly midnight when you and Ni-ki finally sat on your bed.
He hadn’t spoken much since the meeting. Hadn’t cried again. Just followed you through the house like a ghost that had nothing left to haunt.
He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, hunched forward, hoodie sleeves pulled over his fists like a child waiting to be scolded.
And you — you were tired of silence being the only answer you got.
So you asked it, straight. “Are there other girls?”
His head lifted slowly, his brows furrowed. “What?”
You leaned back against the headboard, watching him. Not accusatory, just… hollow. “I mean it. Don’t lie to me. Are there more I don’t know about? Anyone else who could show up next?”
He stared at you like you’d slapped him. Then, his throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing something that didn’t want to go down.
There was a long pause. The kind that didn’t feel like hesitation — more like dread. “…There were a few,” he said quietly.
Your chest tightened, but your expression didn’t shift. You stayed still. Waiting.
“It wasn’t like that,” he added quickly, eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching for something—mercy, maybe. “I didn’t—I never went the whole way. Not with any of them.”
Your jaw clenched, just slightly.
He sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands threading into his hair like he wanted to hide. “I kissed some of them. Hooked up, yeah. But I couldn’t—I didn’t… I always stopped.”
You didn’t move. You just watched him.
Ni-ki shifted, visibly uncomfortable, like the silence was pressing down on him harder than any accusation could. “I didn’t want to lie to you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I could’ve left it out. You’d never know. But I didn’t want to do that. Not this time.”
Still, you said nothing. And that silence, that stillness, made him panic.
“Say something,” he pleaded. “Please.”
You looked down at your hands, fingers curling slightly. “It’s not about what you did,” you said finally, voice even. “It’s about the fact that I had to ask. That I couldn’t even trust you to be honest with me until I dragged it out of you.”
He blinked. Hard.
“I was scared,” he said quickly. “I thought if I told you everything—if I gave you the ugliest parts—you’d walk.”
You met his eyes. “So you wanted to make the decision for me.”
That shut him up.
You inhaled slowly, the kind of breath that tried to fill all the space he left hollow. “Let me guess. You told yourself it didn’t count, right? Because it wasn’t all the way. Because you stopped just short of completely ruining it.”
He looked like he wanted to deny it. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he just whispered, “I didn’t know how to be without you.”
“You learned,” you said coldly. “You found ways. None of them were honest, but they worked for you.”
Ni-ki’s eyes were glassy now, his jaw tight like he was holding something in — regret, maybe. Or just the fear of losing the last thing he thought he still had a grip on. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so fucking sorry.” The words barely left his mouth before he moved — sudden, unsteady, and trembling. His hands found your waist, pulling you into his lap like he needed your closeness to breathe. His arms wrapped around you tightly, anchoring himself in your body like if he held you hard enough, everything else might disappear.
You flinched, your hands bracing against his chest. “Ni-ki—no, don’t.”
But he didn’t let go.
He buried his face against your neck, breath hitching, voice breaking apart in sobs. “I can’t lose you. Please—please don’t make me watch you leave again. I’ll do anything, I’ll be anything—just don’t go, don’t go, don’t—”
You tried to push him off, palms flat against his hoodie, but it was like trying to move a wave crashing into shore. He clung to you like you were all he had left, like letting go would shatter something in him that couldn’t be put back together. “Ni-ki—stop, you’re—”
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed again, his voice wrecked. “I was stupid, I was selfish, I was empty without you and I didn’t know how to fix it. You’re the only thing that ever made me want to be better. The only one.” His grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened — his body shaking, face wet against your skin, the sound of him breaking open sinking into your bones.
You kept your hands on his chest, but your fight was draining fast.
He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t cruel. He was just devastated. And for all the things he had done, for every lie, every wrong choice, every excuse—
Right now, he was just a boy in love with something he didn’t know how to hold without breaking.
Your hands slid slowly from his chest to his back. You didn’t hug him. Not fully. But you didn’t push him away either, just let him fall apart around you, your cheek resting lightly against his head as his sobs echoed through the quiet room.
After that night, things didn’t magically fix themselves.
There was no grand reset. No ribbon-tied redemption. Just the sound of two people who had torn each other apart trying to exist in the same silence without bleeding all over the floor.
You let him stay.
And Ni-ki — for all his flaws, all his wreckage — tried.
You saw it in the little things. How he woke before you most mornings and made your coffee exactly how you liked it. How he answered his phone now when Mr. Kwon called, even if it meant pacing outside with his jaw tight and frustration simmering beneath the surface. How he flinched every time he caught himself speaking too sharply, or standing too close, or reaching for you when your body tensed ever so slightly.
He tried to bury the version of himself that had scared you away once. 
But some days, the grave wasn’t deep enough.
There were moments — quick, sharp flashes — where the old Ni-ki bled through. The possessiveness in his voice when someone texted you too late. The anger in his eyes when you said something he didn’t want to hear. The subtle ways he worded things to pull your guilt tighter around your neck like a leash.
But then… he’d stop.
Catch himself mid-sentence. Mid-spite. Mid-lie.
And then he’d break. Quietly, bitterly.
You once found him in the bathroom after a petty argument — door half open, sitting on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands, whispering “What the fuck is wrong with me?” over and over under his breath like a curse he couldn’t shake.
He never begged again, not the way he had before. But the fear never fully left his eyes.
He was terrified you’d stop forgiving him. Terrified he’d become too much. Again.
And the strangest part was… you didn’t throw him out.
You could have. 
Maybe you should have. 
But you didn’t.
Because there were nights he held you like he was scared to sleep. Mornings where he kissed your shoulder with a kind of gentleness that felt foreign even to him. Times when he looked at you like he was still surprised you let him stay.
And maybe it wasn’t healthy. Maybe it wasn’t forever. But it was something.
Two people trying to live in unison. Not whole. Not healed. But aware.
You kept your eyes open this time. And he tried — really tried — not to become the reason you’d need to close them again.
But that was wrecked during one quiet afternoon.
You had laundry half-folded on the couch, a mug cooling on the table, and Ni-ki was in the kitchen — sleeves pushed up, scrubbing a pan like the act of cleaning might somehow help him feel more in control.
Things had been… steady. Not perfect, but livable. The kind of fragile peace that made you hold your breath just in case the floor creaked the wrong way.
So when the knock came, you didn’t think twice.
You opened the door to find Jinwoo, your old friend — all easy smiles and warm energy. He held up a hand sheepishly, gesturing toward the doorway.
“Hey—sorry, I know it’s random. I think I left my copy of Tomb Raider here after that study night? Just realized it.”
“Oh—yeah,” you said, stepping aside. “It should be on the shelf. Come in.”
He walked in casually, scanning the game stack in the corner, already chatting. “Didn’t mean to bother you. I can just grab it and go.”
But you didn’t respond. Because behind him, in the doorway of the kitchen, Ni-ki had stopped moving. His hands were still dripping soap, dish rag hanging limply from one of them. His eyes were locked on Jinwoo like he was a threat, not a guest.
You felt your stomach drop.“Ni-ki,” you said gently, trying to shift the tension. “This is Jinwoo. He’s just here for—”
“Yeah, I heard,” Ni-ki said. Flat. Cold.
Jinwoo turned and offered a friendly nod. “Hey, man. Sorry for barging in. I won’t stay long.”
Ni-ki didn’t answer. Just dried his hands slowly and walked into the room.
You saw it in his eyes — that look. The one that made your chest tighten before a single word left his mouth.
Jinwoo bent down to grab the game case, still oblivious.
But then Ni-ki spoke.
“Didn’t know we had people coming over unannounced now.”
You blinked. “It’s not a big deal. He just left something—”
“Funny,” Ni-ki said, louder now. “Because you never mentioned anyone else being here. Especially not him.”
Jinwoo stood up, awkwardness creeping in. “I’ll head out—”
“You don’t have to be rude,” you snapped, stepping between them. “He was only here for five minutes, Ni-ki. Stop.”
Ni-ki’s jaw clenched. “I’m not being rude,” he muttered. “I’m just wondering why some random guy’s comfortable enough to show up at our place like this is his second home.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here,” Jinwoo said, trying to keep it light. “I’m literally just grabbing a game.”
“Ni-ki,” you warned.
But he wasn’t hearing it anymore. His eyes were locked on Jinwoo like every buried insecurity had just clawed its way back to the surface. “Did you bring him here when I wasn’t around?” he asked suddenly, voice lower now. Darker. “Is that what this is?”
Your heart dropped. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He took a step toward you — not threatening, but close enough to box you in. “I’m not stupid,” he said, voice shaking. “You don’t even let people borrow your things. But he gets to come in here, hang around, touch your stuff—?”
“Ni-ki!”
Jinwoo held up the game in both hands like a white flag. “I think I’ve got what I came for.” He started backing toward the door, but Ni-ki wasn’t watching him anymore.
He was watching you. Your silence. Your expression. And whatever he saw there — fear, disappointment, recognition — it hit him harder than any shove could have. His breathing was ragged. Regret creeping up behind the rage like a delayed shadow. “Wait,” he said quietly, eyes darting. “Wait, I didn���t mean—fuck, I didn’t mean it like that—”
You stepped back.“You did,” you said.
And that was worse than yelling.
Jinwoo let himself out, quietly. And the door clicked shut behind him like the final note in a song you never wanted to hear again.
Ni-ki was frozen. Hands trembling. Face pale. Like the realization had hit too late. Like the worst part wasn’t what he’d said — but the fact that he couldn’t take it back.
You didn’t say anything at first. You just stood there, staring at him, watching the panic rise behind his eyes as the silence dragged on.
He stepped toward you once, hesitantly, like a wounded animal unsure whether to run or beg.
You crossed your arms over your chest, not to protect yourself — just to keep from shaking. “You meant every word,” you said, “and the only reason you’re sorry is because I didn’t let it slide this time.”
“No,” he said quickly, desperate. “That’s not—it wasn’t about him. It was me, it’s always me. I get in my head, and I just—fuck, I ruin everything. I get scared, and I don’t know how to—please.” His voice cracked on the last word. He reached out. Just barely.
You didn’t move.
“I saw someone in our space,” he said, like he was still trying to make you understand. “I didn’t think. It was instinct. I just—I panicked. I thought you were slipping away.”
“You thought I was slipping away because a friend picked up a game?”
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
“I’m not your hostage, Ni-ki.”
The words landed hard. You could tell by the way his knees almost buckled, how he stepped back, like the truth physically hurt to hear. 
“I know,” he whispered. “I know. I just—fuck—why do I always do this?”
You watched him fold in on himself, like the self-hatred was a familiar shape. Like he'd already rehearsed this scene in his head, countless times — you confronting him, him unraveling. He turned his back for a second, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes like he could hold the shame in that way. “I don't want to be this,” he whispered. “I swear I'm trying.”
And maybe he was. But trying didn’t mean healing. Trying didn’t mean he wasn’t still hurting you, even if he hated himself for it.
You stood still, heart in your throat, hands clenched, wondering how long love could survive a pattern this sharp. And more importantly… If you were willing to keep stitching yourself back together every time he broke.
You stared at his back for a long time.
The way his shoulders slumped, hands still pressed to his face like he couldn’t stand being seen. Like the weight of who he was, of who he kept becoming, was finally too much to hold up.
But you didn’t move. Didn’t comfort him. Didn’t say another word. Instead, you turned and walked away — quiet, steady — each step up the stairs feeling heavier than the last. By the time you reached your room, the silence was suffocating. You sat on the bed like your body didn’t know what to do with itself.
For a while, you just stared at the floor.
Then you reached for your phone — maybe out of habit, maybe out of the stupid hope that there would be something else, anything else to focus on.
But there wasn’t.
It was all Ni-ki. You and him. Her. Speculation. Fan edits. Headlines. Fake tweets. Blurred photos. “Anonymous sources.” Comments that dug under your skin like splinters.
“Knew she was just a rebound.”
“She looks like the girl he got pregnant.”
“He’ll move on next week.”
“She’s gonna leave him.”
You locked the screen. Unlocked it. Locked it again.
And then, without thinking, you threw it across the room, hard. It hit the carpet with a soft thud. You wished it had cracked.
The room was quiet again.
Until you heard it — The sound of the front door closing.
You paused and stood, walked to your window, pulled the curtain just slightly aside—
And there was Ni-ki. Walking to his car.
His head was down, hoodie pulled up, steps quick and uneven like he didn’t want to give himself time to change his mind. He slid into the driver’s seat of his sleek, black sports car — the same one that had sat parked and untouched in front of your house for a week now.
The engine growled to life. And then, he drove off. No hesitation. No glance back.
You stood there, blinking at the space he left behind.
It surprised you, more than you wanted to admit.  He hadn’t left in days. Had barely gone past the porch. And yet… he was gone now.
Your chest tightened, but you pushed it down. You walked away from the window like it hadn’t happened at all.
If he left, good. You didn’t care.
That’s what you told yourself. Over and over as you pulled your covers up and lay in the dark.
Good. Let him go.You didn’t care.
You repeated it like a prayer. Like if you said it enough, it would rewrite the truth inside your chest. But as the silence settled again you realized you could still smell him on your pillow. 
And sleep didn’t come easily after that.
You woke to the sharp crack of something breaking downstairs. For a second, you thought it was in your dream — until you heard it again. Glass. Or ceramic. Something falling hard.
You groaned, heart already starting to race, and slid out of bed. The house was dark. Quiet in a way that didn’t feel safe. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand — dead. Of course.
Still half-asleep and now fully on edge, you made your way downstairs, feet barely making a sound against the steps. The living room was empty. Everything looked untouched. But then—
The back door. It was cracked open. Just slightly.
You froze. 
That door had been locked. You were sure it had.
A sick feeling bloomed in your stomach. You scanned the area quickly, fingers curling around the closest thing you could find — a small table lamp. It wasn’t a weapon, but it was heavy. It’d have to do.
You crept toward the back door, lamp raised, breaths shallow. Your hand pushed the door further open, just enough to peek into the night.
Then — a flicker of movement. 
 A shadow to your left.
You spun, heart in your throat, arm lifting to swing, but the shadow turned and it was Ni-ki.
He flinched when he saw you, stumbling a step back like you were the threat. 
“Shit!” he barked, eyes wide. “Are you trying to kill me?!”
You dropped the lamp to your side, groaning, heart pounding. “You scared the hell out of me!” you shouted. “I thought you were a burglar, Ni-ki! What the fuck was I supposed to think?!”
“I—” He blinked rapidly, taking a breath. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to wake you.”
You shook your head, lowering the lamp and setting it back on the table with shaking hands.
It wasn’t until the adrenaline started to fade that you noticed the rest of him.
One: he was holding a cigarette between two fingers. Two: in his other hand was a bottle of liquor — half gone — which he took a slow, numb sip from even as you stared.  Three: he looked like hell.
His hoodie was inside out. His hair was a tangled mess. His eyes were glassy, rimmed red, like he hadn’t slept — or had been crying long before he came back. His lips were chapped. His hands were shaking.
He looked like someone you didn’t recognize. Like a version of himself he thought you’d never see again.
“Ni-ki,” you said, breathing softer now. “What the hell are you doing?”
He didn’t answer, just leaned back against the frame of the house, exhaling smoke toward the sky like it held answers. 
The soft cherry glow of the cigarette lit up the curve of his jaw, flickering as he breathed. The bottle in his hand swayed slightly as he gripped it tighter, the glass catching what little moonlight broke through the clouds.
You stayed in the doorway, watching him. You didn't know whether to scream or sit down beside him.
“Where were you?” you asked finally.
He let the smoke trail out of his nose before answering. “Nowhere important.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He glanced at you, then looked away. “Doesn’t matter.”
You crossed your arms, the chill of the night settling into your skin, the ache of worry flaring into frustration. “It does matter,” you snapped. “You disappeared and now you’re here in the middle of the night smelling like liquor and cigarettes, breaking shit, crawling in through the back like a thief.”
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he muttered, like that was still the biggest crime in the room.
“You didn’t want to face me.”
He said nothing.
The silence stretched until it was unbearable. You stepped out onto the porch, your bare feet against the cold wood, eyes locked on him.
He didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he took another sip — slow, deliberate — and then, finally. “I drove around until I ran out of gas.”
You blinked.
He let out a hollow laugh. “Pathetic, right? Just me and the radio and a bottle I shouldn’t’ve bought. Kept thinking if I just kept going, maybe the thoughts would stop. But they didn’t. Just got louder.” He turned his head slightly, eyes on the horizon, voice barely audible. “I thought maybe if I sat still long enough, the world would forget me.”
Your chest tightened.
There it was again — that terrifying softness beneath all his mess. The boy who didn’t know how to be okay without someone dragging him back from the edge.
You looked down at his hands — the bottle, the cigarette — and the bruises blooming beneath his eyes, more from exhaustion than anything else.
He wasn’t okay. Not even close.
And part of you wanted to drag him inside. Wrap a blanket around him. Make him tea and wash the night off his skin.But the other part — the part still bruised from every lie, every fight, every version of him that left you bleeding — stayed perfectly still.
You swallowed.
“Do you want to come inside?”
He looked up slowly. His eyes were glassy, bloodshot, desperate. “Only if I still can.”
You hesitated, then turned and left the door open behind you as you stepped back inside.
A minute later, you heard the cigarette hiss out against the stone porch. And then, the soft sound of his footsteps following you in.
The door clicked softly behind him.
You didn’t turn around right away. Just walked into the kitchen, flicked on the small overhead light. The warmth it cast was dim, but enough. Enough to see the damage on his face. Enough to see what he’d become in your absence, even when you were just upstairs.
You filled a glass with water, silent except for the hum of the faucet. When you turned and held it out to him, Ni-ki didn’t reach for it right away. He just looked at you — like you were something holy, and he’d shown up too dirty to touch you.
Finally, he took it. 
“Thanks,” he rasped, voice hoarse. He took a sip. Then another.
You leaned against the counter across from him, arms folded, your body language distant but your eyes too present. Watching. Absorbing. “Why’d you really come back?” you asked softly.
He didn’t answer right away.
Then: “Because I didn’t want to wake up alone.”
“That’s not the same as wanting to wake up with me, Ni-ki.”
He closed his eyes, jaw tightening.
You stared at him, not with anger but with something worse. Disappointment. Sadness. 
“You say you’re trying,” you said. “You say you want to be better. But every time something doesn’t go your way, you fall apart. And it’s like I’m supposed to just… be here. Waiting. Ready to catch you.”
He set the glass down on the counter with a shaky breath. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he said again, quieter. “I drove around thinking about calling people. Kwon. My brother. Hell, even my agent. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk to anyone but you.”
Your eyes flicked to him. “That’s not love, Riki. That’s codependency.”
He winced. At the name. At the truth.
You stepped forward, slowly.
“I’m tired,” you whispered. “Not just physically. I’m tired of being your lifeline every time you self-destruct. I’m tired of being the one thing you cling to while dragging all your damage behind you.”
He looked like you’d just ripped something out of him.
“I know,” he whispered. “And I hate that. I hate that I can’t seem to show up for you without making a mess first.”
You swallowed the tightness in your throat, staring at the boy you love like he was something you didn’t know how to hold anymore. “Then stop making messes,” you said simply. “Start cleaning up the ones you’ve already made.”
He stepped closer. “I want to. I’m trying. I swear to God, I am. But it’s like—every time I think I’ve got a grip on it, it slips. And then I think if I could just hold you, I’ll feel steady again.”
You looked up at him. “You’re not supposed to build your balance on me.”
“I know.” His voice cracked on the words, just barely. Then he reached for you — slow, unsure, trembling like he wasn’t sure you’d let him. Like he’d already resigned himself to rejection.
But you didn’t move away.
You let him wrap his arms around you.
And the second he did, he broke.
His chin dropped onto the top of your head, and his grip tightened like he was holding together all the jagged parts of himself with your body alone. Like if he let go, they’d scatter across your kitchen floor.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t try to explain anymore. He just cried. Not loud or messy — not like the night he fell to his knees — but the kind of crying that comes from deep in the chest. Silent. Sharp. Shaking. Like his ribs couldn’t take it anymore.
You slid your arms around his waist, pressed your cheek against his shoulder, and rubbed slow, steady circles into his back. You didn’t tell him to stop. You didn’t shush him. You just held him. Because sometimes that was all there was left to do.
He pulled you tighter, hands bunching in the fabric of your shirt as he leaned all of his weight into you. His jaw trembled where it rested against your head. His breathing hitched, broken and uneven. “I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he whispered hoarsely.
You closed your eyes, heart aching. For him. For you. For the version of this love that wasn’t so heavy. “I know,” you said softly. “I know.”
He didn’t say anything in response. Just held you tighter, as if he couldn’t believe you were still letting him. 
And then — slowly — you felt him shift.
Ni-ki’s jaw slid from the top of your head to your temple, then to your cheek, and then, almost without thinking, he dipped lower, until his face was buried in the crook of your neck. His breath hit warm against your skin. Shaky. Unsteady. He inhaled deeply — like he needed the scent of you to remind himself he was still here, still with you, even if only barely.
Then he groaned. Soft. Ragged. Quietly broken.
Not in a way that asked for anything. Just in a way that said this is the only place I know how to fall apart.
Your fingers slowed against his back, caught between pulling him closer and stepping away before the moment turned into something it shouldn’t.
You tilted your head slightly to look at him. 
And he was already watching you.
His eyes were glassy and red, but his gaze was locked on yours like there was nothing else in the world worth seeing. Not the broken night. Not the mistakes. Just you.
His forehead brushed lightly against yours. His voice was barely a whisper. “You make everything hurt less.” It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t an apology. It was a truth he didn’t know how to live without.
You didn’t speak. Because what could you say? That it was unfair? That love wasn’t supposed to be this heavy? That you still ached for him even when you didn’t trust him all the way?
You didn’t say any of it. Because suddenly, there wasn’t space for words.
You weren’t sure who leaned in first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was both of you, pulled into each other like magnets too tired to keep resisting.
Your noses brushed. Breath hitched.
And then your lips touched — barely. Soft. A question more than a promise. The kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything… just confirmed what was already there.
You both pulled back slightly. Just a breath’s worth of distance.
Your eyes met.
And something in them — the grief, the longing, the ache — cracked.
Then you kissed again.
Harder.
Desperate.
His hands found your face first, fingers trembling but sure, like he needed to hold you in place, to make sure you were real. Yours gripped his hoodie, yanking him closer as your mouths moved in sync, all restraint gone, all caution drowned.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t clean. It was everything you’d both been swallowing down since the beginning — spilled out, messy and human.
His hands moved — your jaw, your neck, your back — not frantic, but greedy. Memorizing. Yours were just as needy, curling into his hair, dragging down his spine, grounding him.
And for a moment… A full, perfect moment… Your minds went quiet.
No more questions. No more spiraling. No more wondering how long this could last. Just you, and him, and the soft gasp that left his mouth when your hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. Just him, groaning into your lips as if the taste of you was the only thing he hadn’t ruined.
His forehead pressed to yours again, breathless.
You could feel the shake in his hands where they held your waist, the way his chest rose and fell like he was trying to catch something slipping through his ribs.
His eyes searched yours like he didn’t know if he was allowed to want you like this. Not after everything.
But you didn’t pull away.
And that was all the permission he needed.
He kissed you again — deeper this time, slower, but just as desperate. The kind of kiss that says don’t go, not yet. Stay. Just for now.
Your hands moved, fingertips grazing warm skin, feeling him tense, then melt. He breathed your name into your mouth like a confession, like he didn’t know whether it was holy or a curse.
You shifted, guiding him backward until his hips bumped the edge of the counter. His hands gripped tighter, fingers splayed across your lower back as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch he’d missed. “You still feel like home,” he whispered, almost dizzy.
You swallowed hard. Because he did too. And you hated that. And you needed it.
The kiss turned messier. Teeth. Tongue. That ache in your chest twisting into something you could feel in your spine. His hand fumbled up your side, dragging your shirt with it. Yours tugged at the waistband of his sweats like you wanted to erase every layer that separated you.
He broke the kiss for half a second, breath ragged against your lips and then suddenly, his hands were on your hips, turning you with a quick, firm grip and lifting you up onto the counter in one smooth motion.
A surprised gasp escaped your throat as the cold of the counter met the back of your thighs, but it was gone just as quickly, drowned out by the way he stepped between your legs, hands gripping your thighs like he needed to feel your pulse beneath his fingertips.
And then he kissed you again — slower, deeper. More sure.
You weren’t sure if it was him that made you feel drunk, or if it was the sharp tang of alcohol still clinging to his tongue. Either way, it didn’t matter. You tilted your head to let him kiss you harder, to let him take whatever he needed — because you needed it too. Needed the noise in your head to shut up. Needed something to remind you that you were still here, still wanted, still his, even if only in this moment.
His hand came up, cupping the back of your neck, thumb stroking behind your ear as his mouth moved against yours with more hunger than grace. You parted your lips for him like instinct — like he’d never really forgotten the way you moved beneath his touch. “Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice low and wrecked. “You feel the same. You still feel like mine.”
You didn’t answer.
You just kissed him again — hard, messy, desperate — as your legs locked around his waist, dragging him closer, anchoring him to the place he always ran to when everything else collapsed.
His hands were on your waist again, thumbs pressing into your skin beneath your shirt, like he didn’t want space between you anymore. He kissed you like a man unlearning how to be gentle. Like someone who’d dreamed of this a thousand times and never once believed he’d feel it again.
And maybe that was why you didn’t stop him.
Because in this kiss — this ache — this terrible, beautiful moment — there were no lies. No paternity tests. No headlines. No threats.
Just him. And you. And the burning need to forget everything but each other.
His hands slid under your shirt, palms warm against your bare skin as they mapped the curve of your back, your sides, like he was memorizing all the parts of you he thought he’d lost. His mouth never left yours for long,  barely a breath between kisses, like stopping would mean facing everything you both weren’t ready to say.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, pulling him closer, and he groaned into your mouth — low and broken, the sound vibrating between your ribs.
“You don’t know what it did to me,” he whispered against your lips, eyes half-lidded, voice trembling. “Not touching you. Not kissing you. Not having you.”
You didn’t reply. Your hands were already feeling the tension in his shoulders, the heat of his skin, the quiet tremble in his muscles as he pressed himself against you.
He leaned in, forehead against yours, his breath coming fast. “I thought about this every fucking night.” 
And the worst part was… so had you.
He kissed you again as his hands gripped your thighs where they wrapped around him, thumbs moving in soft, grounding circles. Your chest pressed against his as you arched into him, the counter cold beneath you, but his body burning against yours like it was the only thing keeping you warm. His mouth trailed down — the corner of your lips, your jaw, the side of your neck — and when he breathed you in again, his entire body shuddered.
You cupped his face, forcing him to look up at you.
His eyes were glassy, his lips red and kiss-bruised, but his gaze… his gaze was clear. No walls. No performative softness. Just him — stripped down to every raw, vulnerable piece.
You leaned in again, kissing him slower, softer. Not because the desperation was gone, but because now it was being replaced by something heavier. Something more honest.
It wasn’t about forgetting anymore. 
It was about remembering everything. 
Eventually, the urgency faded. The desperation softened into something slower. Something quieter.
Your bodies stayed close — tangled and warm in the dim light of the kitchen, the cool air brushing against sweat-damp skin. His head rested against your shoulder now, his arms still loosely wrapped around your waist, like he didn’t trust himself to let go just yet.
Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.
You just sat there — you on the counter, him standing between your legs, your fingers lazily combing through his messy hair, his thumbs still brushing the sides of your thighs in soft, distracted motions.
His breathing was calmer now. But his hold on you hadn’t loosened.
You stared past him for a while, eyes fixed on the dark window. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t peaceful either. It was… suspended. Like the moment hadn’t ended, just paused. Because now that the rush was over, the noise started creeping back in.
The girl. The test. The lies. The fear. The fact that this was still a house filled with tension, not trust.
You felt him shift slightly. He exhaled slowly, and when he finally spoke, it was hoarse, almost shy.
“Did you regret that?”
You looked down at him — his eyes barely meeting yours, heavy with something between shame and hope. Like he already knew what he feared you’d say, but needed to hear it anyway. You slid your hands down to his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. You held him there, gently, grounding him. “No,” you whispered. “But I don’t know what it means yet.”
He nodded, like that hurt and helped all at once. “I’ll wait,” he said quietly. “Even if I don’t deserve to.”
You didn’t answer. You just leaned forward and pressed your lips to his forehead.
Eventually, the kitchen grew too cold, too quiet. The emotional weight in the room hung heavy on your limbs, and you both knew — without saying anything — it was time to move.
You slid off the counter slowly, fixing your shirt as you moved past him. He didn’t let go right away, his fingers grazing your wrist as you stepped away. But he didn’t say anything either.
You paused at the stairs, glancing back at him — his hoodie was bunched, lips still pink and bruised, hair a mess of curls from your hands. His eyes met yours, unsure, waiting.
“Go shower,” you said quietly, firm but gentle. “You smell like smoke and whiskey.”
For a second, he blinked like you’d spoken another language. Then he nodded, wordless, and obeyed.
You disappeared into your room while he headed to the bathroom down the hall. The sound of the water running filled the silence, the distant thud of his clothes hitting the tile floor the only proof he was still here. You crawled under the covers and lay back, eyes on the ceiling, the weight of what happened pressing into your chest. It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t relief either. Just… real. Tangible. Something you could no longer ignore.
The bathroom door creaked open some time later. Soft footsteps padded across the floor. Then the light flicked off.
You turned your head to look at him as he approached. Freshly showered, damp hair curling a little at the ends, face clean, hoodie gone, now just in a t-shirt and boxers.
He looked… young. Like the boy you remembered loving before all the mess, before the manipulation and pain and chaos.
He crawled into bed beside you slowly, like he wasn’t sure he had the right. The mattress dipped under his weight, and for a moment he lay on his side, quiet, facing you. Not touching. Just breathing the same space.
Then—cautiously—he reached out. Fingers brushing yours under the blanket. Just seeking. Just asking.
You let him.
His hand found yours fully, lacing your fingers together like it was the only thing anchoring him to the present. “Thank you,” he whispered. Not for the bed. Not the shower. Not the silence. For staying.
You didn’t reply. But you didn’t let go.
And a minute later, he inched closer, curling into your side, tucking his head gently beneath your chin like muscle memory. One hand resting on your stomach, his breath warming the fabric of your shirt.
You closed your eyes.
It wasn’t healing. It wasn’t fixing anything.
But for tonight, it was enough. Enough to sleep, enough to forget, enough to stay.
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Morning came soft and gold, leaking through the curtains in long, lazy rays.
You stirred slowly, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you shifted beneath the sheets. The weight of an arm was slung around your waist, warm and heavy, and when you tried to move—tried to slip away gently—it tightened.
“Mm-mm,” Ni-ki mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. “Don’t go.”
You sighed softly, not annoyed—just tired. Emotionally worn. Your body ached in the way that only came after long nights filled with too much feeling and not enough rest. “I need to get up,” you whispered.
His response was a low groan as he curled into you, burying his face in your shoulder. His hand flattened on your stomach, holding you there. Possessive. Familiar.
Too familiar.
“Stay a little longer,” he mumbled. “Just like this.”
And just like that, you were back there.
Back in another morning, years ago. In another apartment. Another version of him. Back when things were soft and warm more often than they were sharp and cold. He used to be like this all the time. Clingy. Gentle. Wrapping himself around you like he was afraid you’d vanish while he slept. Pressing sleepy kisses to your neck. Mumbling half-dreamed things into your skin.
You used to laugh, teasing him about being a human furnace. Used to let yourself believe this was what love was supposed to feel like.
And now here it was again. The same body. The same voice. The same comfort. But it wasn’t the same. Because this time, you knew what came after.
This time, it didn’t feel like home. It felt like a memory dressed up in softness.
You stared at the ceiling, his breath warm against your neck.
His grip on you didn’t loosen.
“You never used to let me leave the bed,” you whispered without meaning to.
He hummed sleepily, lips brushing your skin. “Still don’t want to.”
You swallowed. Your throat was tight. Your hands stayed at your sides. You didn’t return the touch. Not yet. Because even as your body remembered how to melt into him… Your mind remembered how hard it was to pull yourself back out.
His hand traced lazy patterns over your side. The kind he used to do when you were his—when the world was quieter, or maybe just when you didn’t know better.
You didn’t respond to it now. Didn’t lean in. Didn’t sigh or smile the way you once did.
Because you weren’t the same.
And neither was he.
“Ni-ki,” you said quietly.
He stilled, fingers pausing. “…Yeah?”
“I need to get up.”
He groaned, this time more awake, and pressed his face further into your neck like a child refusing to get out of bed for school. “Just ten more minutes.”
You closed your eyes.
It’s not just about the bed.
It was about him pretending like nothing was broken. Like you hadn’t been torn apart and stitched back together with trembling hands and too many unanswered questions. Like last night’s desperation had solved everything when in truth, it had only pressed pause on a storm.
“Ni-ki.” Firmer now.
He finally pulled back enough to look at you, still half-asleep, eyes puffy, but a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
You didn’t smile back.
His expression faltered, just barely. “What’s wrong?”
You sat up slowly, brushing your hair from your face.
He stayed laid out, hand falling flat on the sheet where your body had been. The air between you cooled.
“I’m not… this isn’t a reset,” you said, not looking at him yet. “Last night happened. But it doesn’t erase what came before it.”
“I know that.” His voice was quiet now. Careful.
You turned to look at him. His hair was still damp near the roots. The side of his face red from being pressed against your skin all night. “You’re acting like everything’s normal.”
“I’m not,” he said quickly. “I just—” He sat up too now, rubbing a hand over his face. “I wanted to pretend. Just for a few more minutes. Is that so bad?”
You didn’t answer. Because yes, it was. It was dangerous, and familiar, and so easy to fall back into. That’s what made it worse.
He leaned forward a little, hand brushing your back lightly. “Last night meant something to me.”
You nodded. “It did to me too.”
He swallowed. “So… what now?”
You hesitated. Because the truth was, you didn’t know. You were still sitting in the middle of wreckage, and maybe there was still warmth between you, but it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t fixed. “Now,” you said softly, “we get up.”
And he nodded — reluctantly.
Later that day you were tucked away in the small office upstairs, headphones on, eyes on your laptop, trying to ignore the heaviness in your chest that still lingered from the morning. Work helped. Keeping your hands busy helped. For a little while, it was quiet. Just the muted sound of Ni-ki’s game downstairs, the occasional sound of digital crack of a bat, crowd noise, his muffled curses when something didn’t go his way.
Then the doorbell rang.
You paused, waiting. Didn’t think much of it.
He’ll get it.
You returned to your screen, fingers hovering above the keyboard.
And then— screaming.
Your whole body jolted.
Not TV. Not in-game audio. Real. Sharp. High-pitched. 
A crash followed. Something glass, maybe. Something loud enough to rattle the floor beneath your feet. 
You were out of your chair before you knew it, bare legs flying down the stairs, your heart beating so fast it made your head buzz. And when you hit the last step, you saw her.
The one from the post. From Ni-ki’s past—the piece of it he swore he’d left behind.
She was in the middle of your living room, her face twisted in fury, tears streaking her makeup, her arm mid-throw as a candle from the end table sailed past Ni-ki’s head and shattered against the wall. “You think you can hide from me?!” she screamed, voice cracked with emotion, unhinged. “You think you can just disappear and pretend I don’t exist?!”
Ni-ki was shouting back, jaw clenched, body tense like he was seconds away from losing control. “You don’t get to just show up here! You don’t just—fuck, are you crazy?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“What’s wrong with me?!” she shrieked, stepping closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You used me. You threw me away like garbage. You’re the one who left!”
You stood frozen at the base of the stairs — barefoot, wearing nothing but one of Ni-ki’s oversized hoodies and shorts, your damp laundry still in the washer, forgotten. You hadn’t meant to come down like this. You hadn’t expected a warzone.
But then she saw you.
Her eyes snapped to yours. Wild. Bloodshot. Full of venom.
And you knew. Everything just got worse.
“Oh,” she spat, laughter bubbling up cruel and sharp. “Oh. So this is why you’ve been playing house, huh?”
You opened your mouth to say something — anything — but she cut you off, voice rising to a screech.
“Did you fuck him back into being a good person? Is that how this works?!”
Ni-ki moved instantly, stepping between you both, arm out as if shielding you from her.
“Don’t.” His voice was low now. Dark. “Don’t fucking talk to her.” 
She shoved his chest. “You’re disgusting! You left me and our baby for this?”
“You don’t even know if it’s mine!” he snapped back. “You came here to what — scare her? Humiliate her? That’s not gonna work.”
But you weren’t listening to their voices anymore. Your head was buzzing. Your heart was pounding so loud you couldn’t hear past it. The way she looked at you… like you were the villain. Like you had taken something from her. Like you were just a trophy he had come running back to — all over again.
Wait….
In the midst of all the shouting, all the noise, all the chaos — you’d frozen. You’d stood there like a spectator in your own life. Let her scream. Let him defend. Let the weight of the world crush you beneath a hoodie that suddenly felt too heavy on your skin.
But now… You were hearing it. Really hearing it.
The accusation. The venom. The way she looked at you like you were some homewrecker. Like you had taken what wasn’t yours. Like you were second.
And just like that — it clicked.
No.
No, you weren’t.
You were the original. You were the one he fell for when he didn’t even know how to handle love. You were the one who stood by him while he spiraled. You were the one he ran back to. Every. Single. Time.
She was a detour. A rebound. A desperate attempt to scrub you out of his bloodstream when he couldn’t face what losing you really meant.And now she was in your living room, throwing shit, screaming in your face — like she had the right?
Hell. No.
You stepped forward, brushing past Ni-ki’s arm before he could stop you.
He flinched. “Wait—”
But you weren’t listening. You walked straight up to her, bare feet silent against the hardwood, head held high despite the fact you were in nothing but his hoodie and laundry-day shorts.She narrowed her eyes, lips curled, like she expected you to cry. To break. But you didn’t. You stopped just close enough for her to feel the heat off your skin — and you smiled. Not kindly. 
“You’re in my house.”
She blinked. Thrown off. “Excuse me?”
“Let me make one thing very clear honey — whatever happened between you and him? That was never more than a consequence of me walking away,” you clarified coldly, voice low, steady.
Her nostrils flared.
But you weren’t done.
“You weren’t chosen. You were convenient. A body to crawl into when he couldn’t feel me anymore. You weren’t the prize. You were the punishment.”
Her hand twitched like she wanted to slap you. But she didn’t.
Because you didn’t flinch. You didn’t move. And Ni-ki—Ni-ki just stood behind you, wide-eyed, stunned silent, like he was watching you become something he couldn’t believe he’d ever forgotten.
You took a breath. Calm. Measured. “So if you’ve got a test result to hand over, hand it over. If not? Get out. You don’t get to scream your way into a place you were never meant to be in.”
She looked at Ni-ki, maybe for backup. He said nothing.
And that silence? That crushed her.
But more than that.. It enraged her.
You saw it in her eyes before she even moved. That flicker of humiliation, that flash of hatred — the way her pride curled in on itself and came out gnashing.
She wasn't going to walk away. Not quietly.
You didn’t even have time to react properly, because the next thing you knew, she lunged at you — fingers clawed, wild scream tearing out of her throat as she threw herself across the space between you.
But you weren’t backing down.
You lunged back.
The crash was messy. Bodies colliding. Your shoulder slammed into hers with force, sending both of you stumbling back into the couch. She grabbed at your hoodie — your hair — something — and you shoved her hard in the chest, teeth clenched, jaw locked.
“You’re fucking crazy,” you hissed. “Showing up here like some feral bitch. What — you didn’t get enough attention on Instagram?”
Her face twisted, and she lunged again. “Don’t act high and mighty, you little hoodie-wearing whore! You’re just the girl he runs to when he’s lonely!”
“Funny,” you spat, “coming from the spare he used when he couldn’t see straight.”
She gasped, furious. “You think he loves you? He fucked me while crying over you!”
Your hands balled into fists. “Good. That’s all you were — a convenient regret.”
“You manipulative bitch!”
“Jealous fucking groupie!”
It escalated fast — too fast — hands flying again, a tangle of snarled words and wild desperation as Ni-ki grabbed at your waist from behind, trying to pull you off her, his voice panicked now. “Stop—baby, please, stop!” He didn’t dare touch her. He didn’t even try. His entire body was angled toward you, voice cracking with frustration as he yanked you back hard enough that your legs slipped out from under you, stumbling halfway into him as she clawed at the air, still shouting.
“Let me go!” you snapped at him, trying to push past.
“No!” His grip tightened, desperate. “Stop—please. Just stop—”
Your chest heaved.
 The other girl was red-faced, hair wild, chest heaving too.“I’ll press charges!” she screamed. “I’ll have you both buried in court—him for ignoring me, you for assault—”
“Try it,” you barked. “You broke into my house, remember?”
“You won’t win!”
“Neither will you.”
Ni-ki shoved the front door open with his foot, voice almost breaking. “Get the fuck out of this house before I call police.”
She paused. Watched him. And then—without another word—she spat on the floor, turned, and walked out, slamming the door so hard the floorboards trembled.
You were still breathing heavily.
Ni-ki hadn’t let go of you yet, still behind you, arms wrapped around your waist like a human restraint, holding on like you were the one who might fall apart next. “Are you okay?” he whispered, breath warm at the back of your neck. 
You didn’t respond. You were still staring at the broken stuff on the floor. Still shaking. Not from fear. But from the way rage made your blood feel electric.
You finally spoke, voice like ice.“She thinks she can touch me in my own house and walk out like that?” All you could feel was heat, rage, and the way his hands still held you like you belonged to him — even after she tried to rip that from you.
The taste of anger lingered in your mouth, bitter and metallic. The adrenaline was still pulsing, but it was starting to drain — leaving behind a hollow ache.
And Ni-ki hadn’t let go of you once.
He held you from behind, his arms tight around your waist, body pressed flush against yours like he thought if he loosened his grip even a little, you’d vanish.  “Hey,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”
You didn’t answer. Not yet.
He dipped his head closer, breath brushing against your ear. His voice dropped, barely audible. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
You closed your eyes. Let yourself lean back just a little — enough to feel the steady thump of his heart. His hand moved up, slow and deliberate, palm flat against your stomach as he rubbed small, grounding circles into the fabric of his hoodie — the one you were still wearing. “You scared the shit out of me,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen you like that.”
You let out a breath. A shaky one. “She came at me first.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You defended yourself. And you defended us.”
That word — us — felt strange right now. Unstable. Fragile. But you didn’t push it away.
He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering there. “You were… terrifying,” he added with a tiny, exhausted laugh. “Hot, but terrifying.”
That pulled something out of you — not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. Your jaw unclenched a little. “I didn’t know I could do that,” you whispered, finally letting your hands relax over his.
“You can do anything,” he said. “Especially when it’s about protecting yourself.”
You leaned back into him fully now, your head resting against his shoulder. The warmth of him. The steadiness of his breath. The way his arms never loosened, not even once.
Your heartbeat started to slow. Your breathing steadied.
And in that silence, in the aftermath of chaos, he just held you. Like he didn’t care if the world outside this house burned — as long as you stayed right here, in his arms.“You’re safe,” he whispered again, more to himself than to you. “I’ve got you.”
You stayed like that for a long time.
Held. Anchored. Silent, but no longer cold.
Eventually, Ni-ki guided you to the couch without a word. His hands didn’t leave yours as you sat. He pulled you into his side and tucked you beneath his arm, your legs folded over his lap. One of his hands cradled your thigh, the other gently brushing through your hair.
You rested your head against his chest. His heart was still beating a little fast — but it was steady. “I should’ve never let it get this far,” he said quietly, voice raw, almost ashamed. “I should’ve handled it before she even got near you.”
You didn’t answer. You were still too tired for blame.
“She’s not the victim,” he continued. “And I’m not defending her. But I should’ve been… better. Stronger. For you.”
You looked up at him, his eyes already waiting for yours — dark and glassy, full of guilt that ran too deep for words.
“She’s angry because she knows I’d never look at her the way I look at you,” he said, thumb stroking small, nervous circles against your skin. “Not even close.”
You let your head fall back against his shoulder. “I know,” you whispered. “But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”
He nodded slowly, lips brushing your temple. “I’ll make it right. Somehow.”
You didn’t ask how. You didn’t believe in promises anymore, not when they were so easily broken. But you believed in the way he held you like he couldn’t afford to lose you again.
“I don’t want her in your head,” he murmured. “Not tonight. Not ever. She’s not part of us.”
You nodded, slow. “But what if… the baby is?”
He tensed — just slightly — but didn’t flinch. “We’ll deal with it,” he said. “Together, if you’ll let me.”
You looked up at him again. His face was soft, honest. Just him. Tired and bruised, but trying.
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The days leading up to the test blurred together. Some were easy. Almost sweet.
You’d find him sitting on the porch in the morning sun, hoodie pulled over his head, watching birds like he’d never destroyed anything. He’d make you coffee, pull you back into bed after breakfast, wrap his arms around your waist like he didn’t know how to exist without the weight of you against him.
He’d press kisses to your shoulder in the middle of the night. Tell you he loved you while half-asleep. Text you stupid memes from across the couch just to make you smile. For a moment, it was enough to trick you into thinking maybe you could survive this.
But then it would shift. Like it always did.
It started small.
A tone. A question that was really an accusation.
“Who were you texting?”
You’d glance up from your phone, confused. “Just Rei.”
He’d nod, but too slow. Too quiet. Eyes sharp. “You smile like that when I text you?”
You’d sigh.
But he’d already gone cold. Already pulling away. Already building the wall back up just to make you climb over it.
Other times it would be a name — someone you’d work with, someone you’d known for years — that made him spiral.
“So he just came over to help with work?”
“You didn’t tell me you were meeting up with her.”
“You always look so happy when you’re not with me.”
And when you pushed back—when you refused to apologize for having a life—he’d twist it. Guilt-trip you with tears in his eyes and a voice that shook just enough to make you doubt yourself.
“You want me to get better, right?”
Yes.
“Then why does it feel like you’re punishing me every time I fuck up?”
What?
 “I’m trying. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Yeah.. But not like this…
But it wasn’t always anger. Sometimes it was silence.
When he knew he’d pushed too far, he’d vanish. Gone for hours. Sometimes the whole night.
And when he came back, it was worse.
Eyes glassy. Movements sluggish. The faint scent of weed or vodka clinging to his hoodie. A bottle half-hidden in his coat. Pills tucked in the inner pocket of his bag.
The first time you found them, you flushed them without saying a word.
The second time, you yelled.
The third time, he collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into your legs, clutching your hands like they were a lifeline.
“Please—please don’t throw me out—”
 “It just makes the voices quiet. It helps.”
 “I swear I’m not trying to disappear, I just—can’t breathe sometimes without you.”
And you didn’t throw him out. But you started to pull away. In the quiet ways.
You stopped holding his hand when you didn’t have to. Stopped responding right away to the check-in texts. Stopped kissing him goodnight unless he asked for it. Because you didn’t know how to stay close without being consumed. Didn’t know how to keep saving someone who was already drowning himself.
Still—when he was curled over the toilet, shaking and pale, dry-heaving into nothing—you were there. Holding his hair. Wiping his face. Whispering that it would pass, even when you didn’t believe it.
“This isn’t helping you,” you’d tell him.
“It makes me feel better,” he’d mumble, eyes dull.
But better wasn’t the same as okay.
You found him on the floor again. Corner of the hallway this time. Collapsed like his bones had given out somewhere between rage and regret.
He was shaking — not from cold, but from something deeper. Something gutted.
His hoodie sleeves were soaked at the cuffs from tears, and his hands fumbled uselessly with something in his pocket.
Your heart sank the moment you saw the tiny glass bottle between his fingers. A miniature shot — cheap, half-warm, trembling in his grip. “No,” you said quietly, stepping forward.
He flinched. Looked up at you, eyes wide, red-rimmed, face splotchy and wet. Broken. Gone.
“Don’t—” he choked, voice wrecked. “Just let me—just give me—”
“Riki.” 
You knelt, firm and steady, and pried the bottle gently from his hands. He didn’t fight you. His fingers released it slowly, helplessly.
And then he collapsed forward — right into you. His arms wrapped around your legs like a lifeline and he sobbed.Not quiet. Not delicate. Ugly, shaking sobs that wracked his whole body and pulled sounds from his throat you’d never heard before. Like something was breaking that wouldn’t ever quite grow back right. “I’m so fucking tired,” he whispered between gasps. “I didn’t even do anything today and I’m still so tired—”
You sank to your knees in front of him, cradling his head against your stomach, threading your fingers through his hair, stroking gently as he shook in your lap. “What happened?” you asked softly. “What started this now?”
He sniffled. Coughed. Fumbled for his phone with one trembling hand and held it out to you.
You took it gently. Unlocked.
The screen lit up.
Headlines. Dozens of them.
Photos from his games. Studio shots from old endorsements. Then… the texts.
“Rising Baseball Star Or PR Nightmare?”
“Nishimura Riki’s Talent Can’t Excuse His Track Record With Women.”
“Poster Boy With Pretty Eyes, But Zero Accountability.”
“He Can Pitch, But He Can’t Apologize.”
Comments. So many. Piled beneath each one.
“Bro thinks good cheekbones cover for treating girls like shit.”
“Another overhyped pretty boy with mommy issues.”
“Must be nice to be hot and still be a mess.”
He curled tighter against your legs, burying his face again. “They’re right,” he croaked. “I am a coward. I hide. I—hurt people. You. Her. Everyone. I don’t even know who the fuck I’m supposed to be anymore.”
You didn’t speak. You just kept rubbing his back. Slow, gentle strokes. Up, then down. Over and over again. Like maybe if you were steady enough, he wouldn’t fall further.
“I read them all,” he whispered. “Every single one. I just kept scrolling and scrolling and… it’s like I could feel them crawling inside me. Like they weren’t wrong. Like they were just saying what I try not to.”
You pressed your forehead to the top of his head, eyes closing. “They don’t know you,” you murmured.
“But what if I don’t either?” he breathed. “What if this is just… me?”
You didn’t answer because you didn’t know, because maybe some of it was him. The worst parts. The parts he refused to fix for so long.
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The courtroom was suffocatingly quiet despite the chaos that had led up to it.
From the moment the car had stopped in front of the courthouse, it had been a storm. Paparazzi yelling Ni-ki’s name, flashes popping like fireworks, fans screaming from the barricades, security barking orders.
Ni-ki hadn’t let go of you once. His hand had clamped over yours the second you stepped out of the car, then shifted to your waist, your back, your wrist — anywhere he could hold you, steer you through the noise, keep you tethered to him like he was afraid the chaos might rip you away.
You hadn’t said much. Neither had he. 
Now, seated in the courtroom, the storm still echoed in your head, dulled only by the stillness of the polished wood, the shuffle of papers, the solemn buzz of something irreversible about to be said.
You sat directly behind Ni-ki. Mr. Kwon beside you, tense and whispering updates under his breath. Ni-ki’s teammates lined the benches further back, silent support in pressed suits and furrowed brows.
Across the aisle, she sat. The woman. The one who’d stormed into your life with fire and venom, now noticeably further along, her bump visible beneath a tight black dress that felt more like armor than maternity wear. Her lips were painted, her hair curled perfectly, but her eyes were daggers, aimed straight ahead, never once shifting your way.
She wasn’t allowed to. Not since the court had approved your restraining order.
You looked up again as the judge finally entered the room.
Everyone stood.
You felt Ni-ki stiffen just slightly in front of you, his shoulders squared, like he was trying to look taller than the weight pressing down on him.
You stood. You watched. And when the judge sat, so did everyone else.
Then… the folder.
The judge picked up the file from the bench.
The paternity test.
No preamble. No drawn-out dramatics. Just the slow, deliberate opening of a manila folder that could gut someone alive with one sentence.
Ni-ki turned in his seat, just enough to look at you.
You gave him a small smile.
He looked like hell, even in that perfectly tailored suit. Dark circles. Jaw locked. Hair slicked back with effort, not vanity. A boy who had clawed his way back from rock bottom, and still wasn’t sure if he deserved to be standing.
But God, he was still beautiful.
And for once, you didn’t smile for him because you had to. You smiled because he’d tried. You saw that now, clear as day.
Then—
“The results have returned,” the judge began, scanning the paper. “In the matter of paternity regarding Miss Cho and Mr. Nishimura...”
The room stilled. The air turned to glass. Every breath stopped.
“Riki Nishimura is not the biological father.”
Silence.
Total, suffocating silence.
You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until Ni-ki exhaled in front of you, a sound between a gasp and a sob. His shoulders dropped. His head fell forward.
Across the room, the woman stood up violently.
“What?!” she screamed. “No—no, that’s not—that’s wrong!! That’s wrong!” Her lawyer grabbed her arm, already muttering about additional testing and legal protocol. “This is rigged—you paid them off, didn’t you?! You sick, rich bastard—!”
Ni-ki hadn’t even turned to look at her. He just sat there. Still. Hands trembling on his knees.Then slowly, he turned around to look at you.Eyes wet. Lower lip trembling just slightly. Like a boy who just realized he hadn’t ruined everything.
He looked at you like maybe he could finally start breathing again.
And then, before you could even react—
He moved.
In a flash, Ni-ki leapt over the courtroom bench, not caring for formality, not caring for protocol or order or the stares. His suit jacket caught on the back of the bench as he stumbled forward, but he didn’t stop. He dove straight into you, arms wrapping around your waist so tight you nearly lost your balance as you caught him, his face burying into your shoulder.
He cried.
Like he hadn’t believed it until he was in your arms again. Big, gasping, ugly sobs that shook his whole frame. And behind you—around you—the entire room erupted.
Applause. Scattered at first, then full, thunderous clapping from his team, from his manager, even from court staff who had been following the headlines like the rest of the world. A moment of pure, guttural relief. The kind of applause that didn’t just celebrate a win—but a release.
From across the room, she was still screaming. “This isn’t over!” she shrieked. “He paid them—he’s rich—he’s famous—he lied! That test was fake! That was rigged! You’re protecting him because he’s a star!” Her lawyer tugged her arm, trying to calm her down, but she twisted out of his grip.
But the judge had already leaned forward, voice raised over the noise. “Enough,” he snapped. “Miss Cho, you’ve had your say. The test results are conclusive. The court has confirmed that Mr. Nishimura is not the biological father of your child. The evidence is factual. This case is closed.”
She screamed again. Wordless now. Like something in her broke loud enough for everyone to hear.
You didn’t look at her, not when Ni-ki was clinging to you like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to. His hands dug into the back of your dress. His body trembled so hard you had to hold him tighter just to keep him grounded. “It’s over,” you whispered to him, stroking the back of his head. “Ni-ki… it’s over.”
“I thought I ruined it,” he sobbed. “I thought she—God, I thought I’d lose you. I didn’t care about the team, the press—I just—you. I thought I lost you again.”
You pulled him in tighter. Right there in the courtroom, as cameras flashed behind the glass doors and people whispered and clapped and shook hands and watched the drama unfold like a movie.
But this moment wasn’t theirs.
It was yours.
Just you and him. A collapsed boy in a suit. Crying into the arms of the one person he still called home. And this time, he wasn’t running away.
 He was finally safe.
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zorange13 · 16 days ago
Text
— enhypen as your toxic situationship
enha x fem! reader
cw. unhealthy behaviors in romantic relationships, manipulation, lying, profanity, angst, possessiveness, toxicity (obviously)
wc. 3.4k
i do not condone any sort of toxicity in any relationship, this is just for fun of the imagination. this is me stepping outside of my comfort zone (been doing that a lot lately. trying to find a niche.) plus given that im working on sanctioned 2 (title tbd), this was on my mind and i gotta get it tf off. very sloppy, hardly proofed, and on my mind. so come chat with meeee!!
lee heeseung
— who he is and how it started
to be honest, heeseung gives the kinda vibe that he’s very good at push and pull. give and take. he’s very flirty and i’ve said this about this man like a million times and i don’t wanna sound like a broken record but…he’s a libra man. as a libra woman (hee and i share a bday—i will never not brag about this), i know how they get down. he has such a natural way of pulling women that it comes so easily to him. and because it’s so easy, he doesn’t really see the value in a relationship because to him, all women are the same. so what’s the point in locking one down? if you have one, you have them all. if you have them all, then that’s fine too. 
you knew this about hee, you knew that he wasn’t shit. but fortunately for guys like him and unfortunately for girls like you—you thought you could fix him. he had pursued you of course and you truly thought that something was different about him. you knew he was charming but DAMNNN UGH! he quite literally talked you out your drawls. 
— how you “broke up”
you always gave him the girlfriend treatment. but it wasn’t one-sided, he fed into it and found himself actually starting to like you. he enjoyed making playlists with you, having sleepovers and matching pajamas, doing face masks and debriefing any reality show that you dragged him into against his will. and he enjoyed it and loved it more than he’d like to admit. you guys didn’t just have physical chemistry, your banter and verbal communication was so intriguing to him. he didn’t have to try with you, heeseung had essentially put on a façade and with you, he felt he didn’t have to do that. you guys just got along so well and dare i say…mr. heeseung got butterflies. and it scared the shit out of him.
for once, he had learned that not all women were the same. you were just like every other girl but that was what made you so cool to him. but instead of leaning into the good thing he had, heeseung did what men like him do best—self-sabotage with a side of emotional immaturity. he pulled away. not dramatically, not all at once. he just…started replying slower. canceled a couple plans. suddenly forgot the things you’d tell him. you’d be talking and he’d zone out. you’d cry and he’d get quiet. you’d ask what are we, and he’d hit you with a “why ruin it by putting a label on it?” like he wasn’t already doing boyfriend shit with you on the daily.
it wasn’t one fight that ended things. it was death by a thousand cuts. you stopped texting first. he stopped noticing. and one day, you just didn’t hear from him again. not a goodbye. not a “take care.” just silence. like all those nights tangled up in each other never meant anything. 
you wouldn’t call it a breakup because technically you were never together. but it felt like one. because your heart was in it, and he was halfway there…until he ripped it out the second it started beating too loud.
— how he is now
still very silent. but he lurks badly. always the first to view your stories, might even drop a like on them when you post a cute pic of yourself. but he’d never dm you, never take it further. heeseung would just admire from afar because in the back of his mind he knew that he could never be the man you needed. 
he would not badmouth you because he just finds that to be corny. heeseung would just not say anything to anyone and if anyone asked about you then he’d just say it was a mutual ending. obviously a lie because he didn’t wanna seem like an asshole. but he figured that stops people from asking questions and he didn’t wanna make either of you look bad in this situation.
park jay
— who he is and how it started
oh he’s for sure a love-bomber. hands down. he’d pursue you with intention and would let you know that he wanted you. but of course, if one has never undergone lovebombing then it’s hard to identify it. so you were so beyond starstruck when he bought you flowers, took you to rooftop dinners, soft jazz bars. also gift-giving, like he spends thousands of dollars on bags, shoes, dresses, makeup, jewelry. not to mention, he would shower you with compliments and affection: “you’re so stunning” “i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you” “i love your personality” “i’m so happy fate brought me you” THE WORKS. not to mention the intense conversation that happened way before the one month mark. “do you think soulmates exist?” “you’re so special to me and i can’t wait for our future.” “you’d look so good with my last name.” at first, you really thought you found the one. 
— how you “broke up”
things started to get weird come the third month. jay was starting to question you more about your whereabouts. making you feel bad for wanting to have a night out with the girls. what started off as dreamy turned dark real fast. jay wasn’t pulling back like most guys do—he was tightening his grip. suddenly, the man who once hyped you up for posting a selfie was asking “who’s that guy in the comments?” he didn’t like that you were still independent. he didn’t like that you had a life outside of him. and when you started setting boundaries, he started sulking. gaslighting.
he’d say “i just care about you” when he was really trying to control you. he’d say “you’ve changed” when really you just started noticing the red flags. he still took you on those luxury dates—but now there was tension. you’d be eating a $300 dinner in a designer dress he bought, but the silence across the table felt heavier than gold. and then, one night, after yet another argument that ended with him calling you “dramatic” for expressing how hurt you were, you packed your things and left.  he didn’t chase you. he just stood there. arms crossed. expression unreadable. like you were just another limited edition that finally sold out.
— how he is now
he’s bitter. quiet. but bitter for sure. he’d leave you alone in the beginning but would indirectly antagonize you. telling mutual friends that you were the problem. that you were crazy and dramatic and the reason for the downfall of your relationship. but the people that really knew you didn’t buy it.
he’d watch your stories religiously bro omg. he posts cryptic playlist screenshots and the occasional photo dump with lyrics like “onto the next” even though he’s the one who fumbled and is still in your likes. 
and then comes the DM. months later. “I was at that little jazz bar the other night. thought of you.” and for a second, you almost folded. but then you remembered how small you felt when you were with him. how you had to shrink yourself to fit inside the fantasy he created. so you left him on read.
sim jaeyun
— who he is & how it started
i’m not even sure what archetype this is but he’s just the classic manipulator. but check it out, like narcissistic men know what they are and aren’t capable of. so he likes to stay within those lines because he knows he has to. jake knows he’s charming, knows he can get any girl he wants, knows especially his soft voice and accent nails them every time, knows he’s incredibly smart. and would for sure use that to sort of play dumb.
like he’d have his eye on you for a lil bit and it would be cute. he’s very personable and interactions with him would be sweet. jake would show you fun little spots around campus that him and friends frequent. as well as planning fun dates for the both of you and just literally being the nice guy that everyone loves. it’s like a mask, it seems like. jake somehow does an amazing job of being so sweet to people that it completely makes others doubt that he could do any wrong. 
— how you “broke up”
i see it just like this: y’all are at your house, lying down in bed. it’s roughly midnight and you’re cuddling him, head on his chest and his arm is around you. you’re both watching videos on his feed: animal videos, seafood mukbangs, nature videos, whatever. you end up falling asleep and he just continues watching them.
then you stir and you don’t hear the obnoxiously loud chewing anymore. you see jake. texting someone. another girl on his phone. at 2am. and the phone’s practically in your face too like bro does this guy even care? lmao.
so you call him out on it: ‘dude, what the fuck. who are you texting time of night?’ and like i said, king of playing stupid. ‘baby, my girl best friend…she needed help. her man dumped her and—’ *scratch record* ‘what the fuck are we in middle school, since when do we have girl best friends?’
he swears you’re overreacting and he was just comforting a friend. he denies, denies, denies, and you swore you saw him damn near sexting this girl too like…but jake would just throw the classic ‘we aren’t even together’ thing at you and it would click. like you could practically hear the switch. oh this guy’s a weirdo…like sir…you were literally at my house, in my bed, eating my snacks, meeting my family, and now you’re talking like we’ve been casual strangers this whole time?
that was the moment you realized every sweet thing he did—the playlists, the little souvenirs from spots you visited, the way he’d always carry your bag for you—was just to keep you wrapped around his finger. he didn’t actually want you…he wanted the convenience of you.
so of course, he grabs his stuff and tells you that you’re being dramatic, making this bigger than it needs to be. he didn’t beg, didn’t crash.
— how he is now
he’s just sneaky and trifling as fuck. he doesn’t block you. doesn’t ghost you entirely. he just lingers. random memes sent to your DMs. liking your posts two days late. an occasional “you’d love this place” text like he didn’t gaslight you into doubting your own eyes!!
and because he’s the “nice guy” to everyone else, you look like the bitter one if you speak on it. mutual friends still see him around—holding doors open, buying drinks, making people laugh—and they’ll say, “he doesn’t seem that bad…” which is exactly what he wants. and it sucks. the only people that believe you are your friends though, which is all you need. the worst part? he has the nerve to “check in” every few months. “just making sure you’re doing okay.”  
you blocked him eventually.
park sunghoon
— who he is & how it started
i genuinely feel like he’s just a weirdo. like very…strange. the type that you never thought would like you because he’s entirely too hot to fathom but also because he just doesn’t talk to anyone but the same 6 people that he always does. you never hear about any other girls that he deals with so when he approached you, needless to say, you were OVERLYYYY going.
but he offers a shoulder, a coffee, a friend, a fuck buddy. literally anything you wanted, he was down for. eventually things got just a bit more complicated than that and you both started to actually connect. still, he never said much. and you thought it was because he’s just a very lowkey guy but he really was just keeping his cards close to his chest.
— how you “broke up”
i think he just stops talking to you tbh lmao. like he rubs me as the person that if he thinks you’re annoying, he doesn’t like you for any reason, or he simply loses interest then he would just cease any and all communication. so sunghoon would just stop texting you. stop calling you. but if you saw him in person then he’d smile and nod. but if you stopped him then he’d swear nothing was wrong and that he was just preoccupied with things like work and school and home stuff. when you offered to help him through it, he rejected you saying that it was alright. making you think that something was wrong with him when in actuality, he just lost interest and was too pussy to tell you.
but soon enough you got the hint. you stopped reaching out, stopped calling, and when you passed by him, you just kept going. not sparing him any type of glance. he’d be a little surprised at the stoicism seeing as any other girl he’s done this to had freaked but he was grateful for how smooth you were about it.
— how he is now
he lurks from time to time. every couple of months but eventually he’d stop caring about what you’re up to. but it’s also mildly strategic like he just keeps tabs through mutual friends and lets himself stare for a second longer than usual when he sees you around. the great thing about him, sunghoon is indeed a very lowkey guy so no one would even know you guys were a thing. and even then, he wouldn’t say anything but positive things about you. ‘yeah she’s super nice.’ ‘she’s cool, we don’t really speak that much but when we did, she was cool.’ just things to keep people out of yours and his business really and he didn’t wanna talk shit because he also thinks that’s corny. but sunghoon would still want to control the narrative and make sure that the world doesn’t assume there was a bad guy even though it might’ve been him.
yang jungwon
— who he is & how it started
jungwon is the type who seems perfect at first. he’s attentive, considerate, and somehow always knows exactly what you need—he’ll bring you water when you’re stressed, remember your coffee order, walk you to your car after late classes. he’s got that quiet boyfriend energy that makes people say “oh, he’s such a good guy.”
and honestly? you believed it.
 he took you on study dates, walked you through his favorite bookstores, made sure you got back home safe every night. he had this way of making you feel chosen without ever having to say it outright.
the problem? jungwon never actually said it outright. he gave you all the boyfriend treatment without ever making you his girlfriend. and at first, you didn’t notice—you were so caught up in how safe and cared for you felt that you didn’t question why he dodged every conversation about labels.
— how you “broke up”
it wasn’t a blowout. it wasn’t screaming or cheating. it was frustration. one night, you’re sitting on his couch, half-watching a movie, and you finally ask: “what are we?” and he just…froze. he gives you this calm, borderline patronizing smile and says, why do we have to put a name on it? we’re happy, aren’t we?” but you weren’t happy—you were confused, overthinking, second-guessing every interaction. you pressed him again and again, and every answer felt like him tiptoeing around a landmine. 
eventually, he sighs and says: “i don’t want to ruin what we have by overcomplicating it.” that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t some deep emotional struggle. he just didn’t want to commit. and you’d been pouring all this love into a situationship he never intended to upgrade. so you grabbed your bag, told him you deserved clarity, and walked out. he didn’t stop you.
— how he is now
jungwon’s the king of “let’s stay friends” energy. he doesn’t badmouth you, doesn’t stalk your socials—but he hovers. likes your pictures here and there. asks mutual friends how you’re doing. sends you a random “hope you’re eating well” text like he’s still your caretaker. and here’s the kicker—he’ll say things like “i miss our late-night talks” or “nobody gets my jokes like you do” just enough to make you wonder if he regrets it. spoiler: he doesn’t. he just likes knowing you’ll always think of him as “the one that got away.”
but jungwon is a very jealous, possessive man and he’s said that multiple times. so i think eventually when you move on and find someone else, he just gets so irrationally angry. typical man, they don’t like seeing any other guy with someone he already had—especially someone he fumbled. it would take every ounce in him to not be petty but he wouldn’t. he’d let you have it because some part of him feels that the new guy will never compare to him.
kim sunoo
— who he is & how it started
sunoo is the type of guy who comes into your life like a burst of glitter. he’s witty, stylish, always has the best recommendations for cafes, playlists, skincare, outfits — and he makes you feel like you’ve been upgraded just by being around him. he hypes you up constantly: “you’re so pretty”, “you’re my favorite person to be around”, “no one makes me laugh like you do.” he’s your partner in crime. your shopping buddy. your gossip hotline. you start out as friends and somewhere along the way, the flirty banter turns into 2 a.m. calls, kisses, and him making you playlists labeled with inside jokes.
the thing with sunoo is…he thrives on being adored. and when you’re giving him that constant validation, he eats it up. but the second you stop feeding the ego? the cracks start to show.
— how you “broke up” it started small—a little dig at your outfit here, a sarcastic comment about something you posted there. you’d brush it off, thinking oh, that’s just his humor, but then it became constant. you’d be telling him about your day and he’d be scrolling on his phone, throwing in an “mm” or “you’re so dramatic” without looking up.
one night, you called him out on it: “do you even like me? because lately it feels like you just…tolerate me.” he laughed. actually laughed. then hit you with, “you’re overthinking again. why do you always have to make everything a problem?” that was your breaking point. because with sunoo, it was never an argument—it was you being too sensitive, you not getting the joke, you making things weird. so you stopped explaining yourself. you told him you were done, and for once, he didn’t try to talk you out of it. he just shrugged and said, “fine. your loss.”
— how he is now
sunoo’s post-situationship game is all about the optics. he’s not texting you. he’s not lurking. instead, he’s making sure you see how “thriving” he is without you. new outfits. new selfies. posts about how “sometimes you have to let go of toxic energy” (as if you were the problem). but here’s the thing—he’ll still throw shade just for sport. an instagram story with a song you once played for him, captioned with an unrelated but pointed emoji. a comment under a mutual friend’s post that you know is about you but you can’t prove. and the kicker? if you run into him, he’ll be overly sweet. hug you, compliment you, act like you’re still besties. because sunoo doesn’t want you back—he just wants to be unforgettable.
nishimura riki
— who he is & how it started
riki’s the type who gets you hooked without even trying. he’s not love-bombing, not showering you with gifts—he’s just fun. he’s exciting. being around him feels like skipping class, getting on the wrong train just to see where it goes, laughing so hard you forget you were mad. he’s blunt in a way that somehow feels like flirting, and he’s always got that little smirk like he’s in on a joke you don’t know yet. and the worst part? he doesn’t chase you—you end up chasing him, because he’s so unpredictable that every time he gives you attention, it feels like winning the lottery. an intermittent reinforcement type of deal; it just feels like a high every time he compliments you. you told yourself you weren’t going to get involved. he wasn’t your type, he was trouble, blah blah blah…but then you’re in his hoodie at 1 a.m. eating gas station snacks in his car, listening to him tell some ridiculous story, and suddenly he’s your trouble. but somehow, you’d always only ever end up hanging out with him at night. and even then, he’s such a passionate lover. because he can’t fake attraction and he would ensure you knew that much. that he wanted you in every way possible.
— how you “broke up”
with riki, it wasn’t one big betrayal—it was patterns. he’d disappear for days. leave you on read mid-conversation. cancel plans because something “came up,” then post a story out with his friends two hours later. you called him out more than once. and every time, he’d brush it off with a, “you’re so pressed” or “i don’t owe you a play-by-play of my life.” he had this way of making you feel like you were asking for too much…even when you were just asking for basic respect. the breaking point came when you found out he’d been flirting—heavily—with someone you both knew. when you confronted him, he just shrugged. “we’re not exclusive. you knew that.” like that excused the fact that he’d been acting like a boyfriend right up until it was time to actually be one. you left that night, swearing you were done. he didn’t stop you. didn’t text the next day. didn’t apologize. because riki’s the kind who only misses you once you’re gone—but by then, the damage is already done.
— how he is now
no because this man is the worst out of all of them. like he would literally try to ruin your life. he doesn’t lurk quietly, he wants you to make sure that you see him and that he’s just fine without you. he’s out. laughing. somehow “mysteriously” tagged in flicks with other girls. and just when you’re starting to move on, he’ll send you a little “u up?” text in the middle of the night. NO CONTEXT OR APOLOGIES. and it gets worse, no like seriously it gets worse. because if you ignore him, he’ll double down. sending you a funny video that you two used to laugh at together. like posts from days ago. maybe even months before that. post a song that you said reminded you of him one time. and if he sees you follow someone new—a guy, he’d follow them too. just to make sure he could keep tabs on them. then if he sees that you two are becoming something, then he’d send a little “just wanna warn you abt her” text. acting as if he cares about bro. whole time, he just wants to make sure no one gets a version of you that he had because he’s possessive and would die before you fuck with anyone that isn’t him. he just wants to make sure you don’t get over him. he might even post flicks with people he knows you don’t like too, because why not? the fucked up part is he hates them too lmao he just wants you to see that he doesn’t give a fuck about you anymore. but he doesn’t even want you back, he just wants you to know that no one will ever have you like he did.
Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.
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zorange13 · 17 days ago
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these actually make my day LMAOOO
୨୧ you look edible ୨୧
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hellooooo my pookie wookies <3 i´m back with a part 12 of the enha texts :p my masterlist is down below if you wanna check the other parts out :) send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist for this text series thing lol :)) hope you enjoy them :p
prev. | m.list. | next.
based on this ask for my amazing pookie @augennn💞
pairings: ot7!enhypen x 8th member f!reader
summary: the pre-stage shenanigans commence, although our dear y/n doesn't feel too confident in her outfit... the boys reassure her a little too much
tags: fake texts, crack, humor (or at least an attempt lmfao), strong language, enha being down BAD for y/n, they’re all very dramatic men, loser!enha, a little of insecure feelings from y/n, use of the word 'milf' once lmfao, petnames lol, they're all unhinged, and they're all lowkey horny, 18+ (i think that's it, if not lmk pls lol)
disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. i am not claiming that this depicts enhypen or anyone involved in real life.
♡ my requests are open if anyone wants me to make a specific scenario :p ♡ 
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a/n: i hope u guys enjoyed this part 12. i hope i was able to execute your idea correctly lmfaooo. thank you for your idea babes <3 always remember you are all beautiful and amazing and are deserving of love. never accept less than what these WON4PRESIDENT!enha's give y/n!!!
as always, a massive thank you from the bottom of my heart. the way y'all show up for this series? literally unreal. it means more than i can put into words. like can you even believe we're already at part 12???? insanity. 💗 a thousand thank you's >.<
if you want more of these lmk, my requests are open heheh :) or if i should stop pls lmk too lmaoooooo
taglist: @wonuziex @weepingsweep @firstclassjaylee @loverbyfate @jaerisdiction @junhuihui17 @tinyteezer @deliciousmagazinequeen @riribelle @baelalua @itzmi4u @augennn @ilovhoonie @diameuwu @k1ttyjwon @rikchic @enhawomenluvr @all4yoi @kirakun @lze325 @nyfwyeonjun @rairaiblog @luhvletters @stardroppings @seyoungiesleeps @i-peachesandstrawberries @hanjisrightearwax @hopetiger10 @bunyaya @dinacore0 @naevisringring @vvenusoncasual @kiwicup @ev4nism @enhawonnie @ikeuwoniee @24svnn @ddeonuswife @pqrkjyx @rikifordmiami @nishiriks @nik1okrock @plumeriaprincess111 @rikimuraaaa @chae-rries @randomanothercreature @saraabbas
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zorange13 · 17 days ago
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omg i added sunghoon cannot believe i forgot him LMAOOO
— enhypen as your toxic situationship
enha x fem! reader
cw. unhealthy behaviors in romantic relationships, manipulation, lying, profanity, angst, possessiveness, toxicity (obviously)
wc. 3.4k
i do not condone any sort of toxicity in any relationship, this is just for fun of the imagination. this is me stepping outside of my comfort zone (been doing that a lot lately. trying to find a niche.) plus given that im working on sanctioned 2 (title tbd), this was on my mind and i gotta get it tf off. very sloppy, hardly proofed, and on my mind. so come chat with meeee!!
lee heeseung
— who he is and how it started
to be honest, heeseung gives the kinda vibe that he’s very good at push and pull. give and take. he’s very flirty and i’ve said this about this man like a million times and i don’t wanna sound like a broken record but…he’s a libra man. as a libra woman (hee and i share a bday—i will never not brag about this), i know how they get down. he has such a natural way of pulling women that it comes so easily to him. and because it’s so easy, he doesn’t really see the value in a relationship because to him, all women are the same. so what’s the point in locking one down? if you have one, you have them all. if you have them all, then that’s fine too. 
you knew this about hee, you knew that he wasn’t shit. but fortunately for guys like him and unfortunately for girls like you—you thought you could fix him. he had pursued you of course and you truly thought that something was different about him. you knew he was charming but DAMNNN UGH! he quite literally talked you out your drawls. 
— how you “broke up”
you always gave him the girlfriend treatment. but it wasn’t one-sided, he fed into it and found himself actually starting to like you. he enjoyed making playlists with you, having sleepovers and matching pajamas, doing face masks and debriefing any reality show that you dragged him into against his will. and he enjoyed it and loved it more than he’d like to admit. you guys didn’t just have physical chemistry, your banter and verbal communication was so intriguing to him. he didn’t have to try with you, heeseung had essentially put on a façade and with you, he felt he didn’t have to do that. you guys just got along so well and dare i say…mr. heeseung got butterflies. and it scared the shit out of him.
for once, he had learned that not all women were the same. you were just like every other girl but that was what made you so cool to him. but instead of leaning into the good thing he had, heeseung did what men like him do best—self-sabotage with a side of emotional immaturity. he pulled away. not dramatically, not all at once. he just…started replying slower. canceled a couple plans. suddenly forgot the things you’d tell him. you’d be talking and he’d zone out. you’d cry and he’d get quiet. you’d ask what are we, and he’d hit you with a “why ruin it by putting a label on it?” like he wasn’t already doing boyfriend shit with you on the daily.
it wasn’t one fight that ended things. it was death by a thousand cuts. you stopped texting first. he stopped noticing. and one day, you just didn’t hear from him again. not a goodbye. not a “take care.” just silence. like all those nights tangled up in each other never meant anything. 
you wouldn’t call it a breakup because technically you were never together. but it felt like one. because your heart was in it, and he was halfway there…until he ripped it out the second it started beating too loud.
— how he is now
still very silent. but he lurks badly. always the first to view your stories, might even drop a like on them when you post a cute pic of yourself. but he’d never dm you, never take it further. heeseung would just admire from afar because in the back of his mind he knew that he could never be the man you needed. 
he would not badmouth you because he just finds that to be corny. heeseung would just not say anything to anyone and if anyone asked about you then he’d just say it was a mutual ending. obviously a lie because he didn’t wanna seem like an asshole. but he figured that stops people from asking questions and he didn’t wanna make either of you look bad in this situation.
park jay
— who he is and how it started
oh he’s for sure a love-bomber. hands down. he’d pursue you with intention and would let you know that he wanted you. but of course, if one has never undergone lovebombing then it’s hard to identify it. so you were so beyond starstruck when he bought you flowers, took you to rooftop dinners, soft jazz bars. also gift-giving, like he spends thousands of dollars on bags, shoes, dresses, makeup, jewelry. not to mention, he would shower you with compliments and affection: “you’re so stunning” “i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you” “i love your personality” “i’m so happy fate brought me you” THE WORKS. not to mention the intense conversation that happened way before the one month mark. “do you think soulmates exist?” “you’re so special to me and i can’t wait for our future.” “you’d look so good with my last name.” at first, you really thought you found the one. 
— how you “broke up”
things started to get weird come the third month. jay was starting to question you more about your whereabouts. making you feel bad for wanting to have a night out with the girls. what started off as dreamy turned dark real fast. jay wasn’t pulling back like most guys do—he was tightening his grip. suddenly, the man who once hyped you up for posting a selfie was asking “who’s that guy in the comments?” he didn’t like that you were still independent. he didn’t like that you had a life outside of him. and when you started setting boundaries, he started sulking. gaslighting.
he’d say “i just care about you” when he was really trying to control you. he’d say “you’ve changed” when really you just started noticing the red flags. he still took you on those luxury dates—but now there was tension. you’d be eating a $300 dinner in a designer dress he bought, but the silence across the table felt heavier than gold. and then, one night, after yet another argument that ended with him calling you “dramatic” for expressing how hurt you were, you packed your things and left.  he didn’t chase you. he just stood there. arms crossed. expression unreadable. like you were just another limited edition that finally sold out.
— how he is now
he’s bitter. quiet. but bitter for sure. he’d leave you alone in the beginning but would indirectly antagonize you. telling mutual friends that you were the problem. that you were crazy and dramatic and the reason for the downfall of your relationship. but the people that really knew you didn’t buy it.
he’d watch your stories religiously bro omg. he posts cryptic playlist screenshots and the occasional photo dump with lyrics like “onto the next” even though he’s the one who fumbled and is still in your likes. 
and then comes the DM. months later. “I was at that little jazz bar the other night. thought of you.” and for a second, you almost folded. but then you remembered how small you felt when you were with him. how you had to shrink yourself to fit inside the fantasy he created. so you left him on read.
sim jaeyun
— who he is & how it started
i’m not even sure what archetype this is but he’s just the classic manipulator. but check it out, like narcissistic men know what they are and aren’t capable of. so he likes to stay within those lines because he knows he has to. jake knows he’s charming, knows he can get any girl he wants, knows especially his soft voice and accent nails them every time, knows he’s incredibly smart. and would for sure use that to sort of play dumb.
like he’d have his eye on you for a lil bit and it would be cute. he’s very personable and interactions with him would be sweet. jake would show you fun little spots around campus that him and friends frequent. as well as planning fun dates for the both of you and just literally being the nice guy that everyone loves. it’s like a mask, it seems like. jake somehow does an amazing job of being so sweet to people that it completely makes others doubt that he could do any wrong. 
— how you “broke up”
i see it just like this: y’all are at your house, lying down in bed. it’s roughly midnight and you’re cuddling him, head on his chest and his arm is around you. you’re both watching videos on his feed: animal videos, seafood mukbangs, nature videos, whatever. you end up falling asleep and he just continues watching them.
then you stir and you don’t hear the obnoxiously loud chewing anymore. you see jake. texting someone. another girl on his phone. at 2am. and the phone’s practically in your face too like bro does this guy even care? lmao.
so you call him out on it: ‘dude, what the fuck. who are you texting time of night?’ and like i said, king of playing stupid. ‘baby, my girl best friend…she needed help. her man dumped her and—’ *scratch record* ‘what the fuck are we in middle school, since when do we have girl best friends?’
he swears you’re overreacting and he was just comforting a friend. he denies, denies, denies, and you swore you saw him damn near sexting this girl too like…but jake would just throw the classic ‘we aren’t even together’ thing at you and it would click. like you could practically hear the switch. oh this guy’s a weirdo…like sir…you were literally at my house, in my bed, eating my snacks, meeting my family, and now you’re talking like we’ve been casual strangers this whole time?
that was the moment you realized every sweet thing he did—the playlists, the little souvenirs from spots you visited, the way he’d always carry your bag for you—was just to keep you wrapped around his finger. he didn’t actually want you…he wanted the convenience of you.
so of course, he grabs his stuff and tells you that you’re being dramatic, making this bigger than it needs to be. he didn’t beg, didn’t crash.
— how he is now
he’s just sneaky and trifling as fuck. he doesn’t block you. doesn’t ghost you entirely. he just lingers. random memes sent to your DMs. liking your posts two days late. an occasional “you’d love this place” text like he didn’t gaslight you into doubting your own eyes!!
and because he’s the “nice guy” to everyone else, you look like the bitter one if you speak on it. mutual friends still see him around—holding doors open, buying drinks, making people laugh—and they’ll say, “he doesn’t seem that bad…” which is exactly what he wants. and it sucks. the only people that believe you are your friends though, which is all you need. the worst part? he has the nerve to “check in” every few months. “just making sure you’re doing okay.”  
you blocked him eventually.
park sunghoon
— who he is & how it started
i genuinely feel like he’s just a weirdo. like very…strange. the type that you never thought would like you because he’s entirely too hot to fathom but also because he just doesn’t talk to anyone but the same 6 people that he always does. you never hear about any other girls that he deals with so when he approached you, needless to say, you were OVERLYYYY going.
but he offers a shoulder, a coffee, a friend, a fuck buddy. literally anything you wanted, he was down for. eventually things got just a bit more complicated than that and you both started to actually connect. still, he never said much. and you thought it was because he’s just a very lowkey guy but he really was just keeping his cards close to his chest.
— how you “broke up”
i think he just stops talking to you tbh lmao. like he rubs me as the person that if he thinks you’re annoying, he doesn’t like you for any reason, or he simply loses interest then he would just cease any and all communication. so sunghoon would just stop texting you. stop calling you. but if you saw him in person then he’d smile and nod. but if you stopped him then he’d swear nothing was wrong and that he was just preoccupied with things like work and school and home stuff. when you offered to help him through it, he rejected you saying that it was alright. making you think that something was wrong with him when in actuality, he just lost interest and was too pussy to tell you.
but soon enough you got the hint. you stopped reaching out, stopped calling, and when you passed by him, you just kept going. not sparing him any type of glance. he’d be a little surprised at the stoicism seeing as any other girl he’s done this to had freaked but he was grateful for how smooth you were about it.
— how he is now
he lurks from time to time. every couple of months but eventually he’d stop caring about what you’re up to. but it’s also mildly strategic like he just keeps tabs through mutual friends and lets himself stare for a second longer than usual when he sees you around. the great thing about him, sunghoon is indeed a very lowkey guy so no one would even know you guys were a thing. and even then, he wouldn’t say anything but positive things about you. ‘yeah she’s super nice.’ ‘she’s cool, we don’t really speak that much but when we did, she was cool.’ just things to keep people out of yours and his business really and he didn’t wanna talk shit because he also thinks that’s corny. but sunghoon would still want to control the narrative and make sure that the world doesn’t assume there was a bad guy even though it might’ve been him.
yang jungwon
— who he is & how it started
jungwon is the type who seems perfect at first. he’s attentive, considerate, and somehow always knows exactly what you need—he’ll bring you water when you’re stressed, remember your coffee order, walk you to your car after late classes. he’s got that quiet boyfriend energy that makes people say “oh, he’s such a good guy.”
and honestly? you believed it.
 he took you on study dates, walked you through his favorite bookstores, made sure you got back home safe every night. he had this way of making you feel chosen without ever having to say it outright.
the problem? jungwon never actually said it outright. he gave you all the boyfriend treatment without ever making you his girlfriend. and at first, you didn’t notice—you were so caught up in how safe and cared for you felt that you didn’t question why he dodged every conversation about labels.
— how you “broke up”
it wasn’t a blowout. it wasn’t screaming or cheating. it was frustration. one night, you’re sitting on his couch, half-watching a movie, and you finally ask: “what are we?” and he just…froze. he gives you this calm, borderline patronizing smile and says, why do we have to put a name on it? we’re happy, aren’t we?” but you weren’t happy—you were confused, overthinking, second-guessing every interaction. you pressed him again and again, and every answer felt like him tiptoeing around a landmine. 
eventually, he sighs and says: “i don’t want to ruin what we have by overcomplicating it.” that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t some deep emotional struggle. he just didn’t want to commit. and you’d been pouring all this love into a situationship he never intended to upgrade. so you grabbed your bag, told him you deserved clarity, and walked out. he didn’t stop you.
— how he is now
jungwon’s the king of “let’s stay friends” energy. he doesn’t badmouth you, doesn’t stalk your socials—but he hovers. likes your pictures here and there. asks mutual friends how you’re doing. sends you a random “hope you’re eating well” text like he’s still your caretaker. and here’s the kicker—he’ll say things like “i miss our late-night talks” or “nobody gets my jokes like you do” just enough to make you wonder if he regrets it. spoiler: he doesn’t. he just likes knowing you’ll always think of him as “the one that got away.”
but jungwon is a very jealous, possessive man and he’s said that multiple times. so i think eventually when you move on and find someone else, he just gets so irrationally angry. typical man, they don’t like seeing any other guy with someone he already had—especially someone he fumbled. it would take every ounce in him to not be petty but he wouldn’t. he’d let you have it because some part of him feels that the new guy will never compare to him.
kim sunoo
— who he is & how it started
sunoo is the type of guy who comes into your life like a burst of glitter. he’s witty, stylish, always has the best recommendations for cafes, playlists, skincare, outfits — and he makes you feel like you’ve been upgraded just by being around him. he hypes you up constantly: “you’re so pretty”, “you’re my favorite person to be around”, “no one makes me laugh like you do.” he’s your partner in crime. your shopping buddy. your gossip hotline. you start out as friends and somewhere along the way, the flirty banter turns into 2 a.m. calls, kisses, and him making you playlists labeled with inside jokes.
the thing with sunoo is…he thrives on being adored. and when you’re giving him that constant validation, he eats it up. but the second you stop feeding the ego? the cracks start to show.
— how you “broke up” it started small—a little dig at your outfit here, a sarcastic comment about something you posted there. you’d brush it off, thinking oh, that’s just his humor, but then it became constant. you’d be telling him about your day and he’d be scrolling on his phone, throwing in an “mm” or “you’re so dramatic” without looking up.
one night, you called him out on it: “do you even like me? because lately it feels like you just…tolerate me.” he laughed. actually laughed. then hit you with, “you’re overthinking again. why do you always have to make everything a problem?” that was your breaking point. because with sunoo, it was never an argument—it was you being too sensitive, you not getting the joke, you making things weird. so you stopped explaining yourself. you told him you were done, and for once, he didn’t try to talk you out of it. he just shrugged and said, “fine. your loss.”
— how he is now
sunoo’s post-situationship game is all about the optics. he’s not texting you. he’s not lurking. instead, he’s making sure you see how “thriving” he is without you. new outfits. new selfies. posts about how “sometimes you have to let go of toxic energy” (as if you were the problem). but here’s the thing—he’ll still throw shade just for sport. an instagram story with a song you once played for him, captioned with an unrelated but pointed emoji. a comment under a mutual friend’s post that you know is about you but you can’t prove. and the kicker? if you run into him, he’ll be overly sweet. hug you, compliment you, act like you’re still besties. because sunoo doesn’t want you back—he just wants to be unforgettable.
nishimura riki
— who he is & how it started
riki’s the type who gets you hooked without even trying. he’s not love-bombing, not showering you with gifts—he’s just fun. he’s exciting. being around him feels like skipping class, getting on the wrong train just to see where it goes, laughing so hard you forget you were mad. he’s blunt in a way that somehow feels like flirting, and he’s always got that little smirk like he’s in on a joke you don’t know yet. and the worst part? he doesn’t chase you—you end up chasing him, because he’s so unpredictable that every time he gives you attention, it feels like winning the lottery. an intermittent reinforcement type of deal; it just feels like a high every time he compliments you. you told yourself you weren’t going to get involved. he wasn’t your type, he was trouble, blah blah blah…but then you’re in his hoodie at 1 a.m. eating gas station snacks in his car, listening to him tell some ridiculous story, and suddenly he’s your trouble. but somehow, you’d always only ever end up hanging out with him at night. and even then, he’s such a passionate lover. because he can’t fake attraction and he would ensure you knew that much. that he wanted you in every way possible.
— how you “broke up”
with riki, it wasn’t one big betrayal—it was patterns. he’d disappear for days. leave you on read mid-conversation. cancel plans because something “came up,” then post a story out with his friends two hours later. you called him out more than once. and every time, he’d brush it off with a, “you’re so pressed” or “i don’t owe you a play-by-play of my life.” he had this way of making you feel like you were asking for too much…even when you were just asking for basic respect. the breaking point came when you found out he’d been flirting—heavily—with someone you both knew. when you confronted him, he just shrugged. “we’re not exclusive. you knew that.” like that excused the fact that he’d been acting like a boyfriend right up until it was time to actually be one. you left that night, swearing you were done. he didn’t stop you. didn’t text the next day. didn’t apologize. because riki’s the kind who only misses you once you’re gone—but by then, the damage is already done.
— how he is now
no because this man is the worst out of all of them. like he would literally try to ruin your life. he doesn’t lurk quietly, he wants you to make sure that you see him and that he’s just fine without you. he’s out. laughing. somehow “mysteriously” tagged in flicks with other girls. and just when you’re starting to move on, he’ll send you a little “u up?” text in the middle of the night. NO CONTEXT OR APOLOGIES. and it gets worse, no like seriously it gets worse. because if you ignore him, he’ll double down. sending you a funny video that you two used to laugh at together. like posts from days ago. maybe even months before that. post a song that you said reminded you of him one time. and if he sees you follow someone new—a guy, he’d follow them too. just to make sure he could keep tabs on them. then if he sees that you two are becoming something, then he’d send a little “just wanna warn you abt her” text. acting as if he cares about bro. whole time, he just wants to make sure no one gets a version of you that he had because he’s possessive and would die before you fuck with anyone that isn’t him. he just wants to make sure you don’t get over him. he might even post flicks with people he knows you don’t like too, because why not? the fucked up part is he hates them too lmao he just wants you to see that he doesn’t give a fuck about you anymore. but he doesn’t even want you back, he just wants you to know that no one will ever have you like he did.
Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.
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zorange13 · 17 days ago
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— enhypen as your toxic situationship
enha x fem! reader
cw. unhealthy behaviors in romantic relationships, manipulation, lying, profanity, angst, possessiveness, toxicity (obviously)
wc. 3.4k
i do not condone any sort of toxicity in any relationship, this is just for fun of the imagination. this is me stepping outside of my comfort zone (been doing that a lot lately. trying to find a niche.) plus given that im working on sanctioned 2 (title tbd), this was on my mind and i gotta get it tf off. very sloppy, hardly proofed, and on my mind. so come chat with meeee!!
lee heeseung
— who he is and how it started
to be honest, heeseung gives the kinda vibe that he’s very good at push and pull. give and take. he’s very flirty and i’ve said this about this man like a million times and i don’t wanna sound like a broken record but…he’s a libra man. as a libra woman (hee and i share a bday—i will never not brag about this), i know how they get down. he has such a natural way of pulling women that it comes so easily to him. and because it’s so easy, he doesn’t really see the value in a relationship because to him, all women are the same. so what’s the point in locking one down? if you have one, you have them all. if you have them all, then that’s fine too. 
you knew this about hee, you knew that he wasn’t shit. but fortunately for guys like him and unfortunately for girls like you—you thought you could fix him. he had pursued you of course and you truly thought that something was different about him. you knew he was charming but DAMNNN UGH! he quite literally talked you out your drawls. 
— how you “broke up”
you always gave him the girlfriend treatment. but it wasn’t one-sided, he fed into it and found himself actually starting to like you. he enjoyed making playlists with you, having sleepovers and matching pajamas, doing face masks and debriefing any reality show that you dragged him into against his will. and he enjoyed it and loved it more than he’d like to admit. you guys didn’t just have physical chemistry, your banter and verbal communication was so intriguing to him. he didn’t have to try with you, heeseung had essentially put on a façade and with you, he felt he didn’t have to do that. you guys just got along so well and dare i say…mr. heeseung got butterflies. and it scared the shit out of him.
for once, he had learned that not all women were the same. you were just like every other girl but that was what made you so cool to him. but instead of leaning into the good thing he had, heeseung did what men like him do best—self-sabotage with a side of emotional immaturity. he pulled away. not dramatically, not all at once. he just…started replying slower. canceled a couple plans. suddenly forgot the things you’d tell him. you’d be talking and he’d zone out. you’d cry and he’d get quiet. you’d ask what are we, and he’d hit you with a “why ruin it by putting a label on it?” like he wasn’t already doing boyfriend shit with you on the daily.
it wasn’t one fight that ended things. it was death by a thousand cuts. you stopped texting first. he stopped noticing. and one day, you just didn’t hear from him again. not a goodbye. not a “take care.” just silence. like all those nights tangled up in each other never meant anything. 
you wouldn’t call it a breakup because technically you were never together. but it felt like one. because your heart was in it, and he was halfway there…until he ripped it out the second it started beating too loud.
— how he is now
still very silent. but he lurks badly. always the first to view your stories, might even drop a like on them when you post a cute pic of yourself. but he’d never dm you, never take it further. heeseung would just admire from afar because in the back of his mind he knew that he could never be the man you needed. 
he would not badmouth you because he just finds that to be corny. heeseung would just not say anything to anyone and if anyone asked about you then he’d just say it was a mutual ending. obviously a lie because he didn’t wanna seem like an asshole. but he figured that stops people from asking questions and he didn’t wanna make either of you look bad in this situation.
park jay
— who he is and how it started
oh he’s for sure a love-bomber. hands down. he’d pursue you with intention and would let you know that he wanted you. but of course, if one has never undergone lovebombing then it’s hard to identify it. so you were so beyond starstruck when he bought you flowers, took you to rooftop dinners, soft jazz bars. also gift-giving, like he spends thousands of dollars on bags, shoes, dresses, makeup, jewelry. not to mention, he would shower you with compliments and affection: “you’re so stunning” “i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you” “i love your personality” “i’m so happy fate brought me you” THE WORKS. not to mention the intense conversation that happened way before the one month mark. “do you think soulmates exist?” “you’re so special to me and i can’t wait for our future.” “you’d look so good with my last name.” at first, you really thought you found the one. 
— how you “broke up”
things started to get weird come the third month. jay was starting to question you more about your whereabouts. making you feel bad for wanting to have a night out with the girls. what started off as dreamy turned dark real fast. jay wasn’t pulling back like most guys do—he was tightening his grip. suddenly, the man who once hyped you up for posting a selfie was asking “who’s that guy in the comments?” he didn’t like that you were still independent. he didn’t like that you had a life outside of him. and when you started setting boundaries, he started sulking. gaslighting.
he’d say “i just care about you” when he was really trying to control you. he’d say “you’ve changed” when really you just started noticing the red flags. he still took you on those luxury dates—but now there was tension. you’d be eating a $300 dinner in a designer dress he bought, but the silence across the table felt heavier than gold. and then, one night, after yet another argument that ended with him calling you “dramatic” for expressing how hurt you were, you packed your things and left.  he didn’t chase you. he just stood there. arms crossed. expression unreadable. like you were just another limited edition that finally sold out.
— how he is now
he’s bitter. quiet. but bitter for sure. he’d leave you alone in the beginning but would indirectly antagonize you. telling mutual friends that you were the problem. that you were crazy and dramatic and the reason for the downfall of your relationship. but the people that really knew you didn’t buy it.
he’d watch your stories religiously bro omg. he posts cryptic playlist screenshots and the occasional photo dump with lyrics like “onto the next” even though he’s the one who fumbled and is still in your likes. 
and then comes the DM. months later. “I was at that little jazz bar the other night. thought of you.” and for a second, you almost folded. but then you remembered how small you felt when you were with him. how you had to shrink yourself to fit inside the fantasy he created. so you left him on read.
sim jaeyun
— who he is & how it started
i’m not even sure what archetype this is but he’s just the classic manipulator. but check it out, like narcissistic men know what they are and aren’t capable of. so he likes to stay within those lines because he knows he has to. jake knows he’s charming, knows he can get any girl he wants, knows especially his soft voice and accent nails them every time, knows he’s incredibly smart. and would for sure use that to sort of play dumb.
like he’d have his eye on you for a lil bit and it would be cute. he’s very personable and interactions with him would be sweet. jake would show you fun little spots around campus that him and friends frequent. as well as planning fun dates for the both of you and just literally being the nice guy that everyone loves. it’s like a mask, it seems like. jake somehow does an amazing job of being so sweet to people that it completely makes others doubt that he could do any wrong. 
— how you “broke up”
i see it just like this: y’all are at your house, lying down in bed. it’s roughly midnight and you’re cuddling him, head on his chest and his arm is around you. you’re both watching videos on his feed: animal videos, seafood mukbangs, nature videos, whatever. you end up falling asleep and he just continues watching them.
then you stir and you don’t hear the obnoxiously loud chewing anymore. you see jake. texting someone. another girl on his phone. at 2am. and the phone’s practically in your face too like bro does this guy even care? lmao.
so you call him out on it: ‘dude, what the fuck. who are you texting time of night?’ and like i said, king of playing stupid. ‘baby, my girl best friend…she needed help. her man dumped her and—’ *scratch record* ‘what the fuck are we in middle school, since when do we have girl best friends?’
he swears you’re overreacting and he was just comforting a friend. he denies, denies, denies, and you swore you saw him damn near sexting this girl too like…but jake would just throw the classic ‘we aren’t even together’ thing at you and it would click. like you could practically hear the switch. oh this guy’s a weirdo…like sir…you were literally at my house, in my bed, eating my snacks, meeting my family, and now you’re talking like we’ve been casual strangers this whole time?
that was the moment you realized every sweet thing he did—the playlists, the little souvenirs from spots you visited, the way he’d always carry your bag for you—was just to keep you wrapped around his finger. he didn’t actually want you…he wanted the convenience of you.
so of course, he grabs his stuff and tells you that you’re being dramatic, making this bigger than it needs to be. he didn’t beg, didn’t crash.
— how he is now
he’s just sneaky and trifling as fuck. he doesn’t block you. doesn’t ghost you entirely. he just lingers. random memes sent to your DMs. liking your posts two days late. an occasional “you’d love this place” text like he didn’t gaslight you into doubting your own eyes!!
and because he’s the “nice guy” to everyone else, you look like the bitter one if you speak on it. mutual friends still see him around—holding doors open, buying drinks, making people laugh—and they’ll say, “he doesn’t seem that bad…” which is exactly what he wants. and it sucks. the only people that believe you are your friends though, which is all you need. the worst part? he has the nerve to “check in” every few months. “just making sure you’re doing okay.”  
you blocked him eventually.
park sunghoon
— who he is & how it started
i genuinely feel like he’s just a weirdo. like very…strange. the type that you never thought would like you because he’s entirely too hot to fathom but also because he just doesn’t talk to anyone but the same 6 people that he always does. you never hear about any other girls that he deals with so when he approached you, needless to say, you were OVERLYYYY going.
but he offers a shoulder, a coffee, a friend, a fuck buddy. literally anything you wanted, he was down for. eventually things got just a bit more complicated than that and you both started to actually connect. still, he never said much. and you thought it was because he’s just a very lowkey guy but he really was just keeping his cards close to his chest.
— how you “broke up”
i think he just stops talking to you tbh lmao. like he rubs me as the person that if he thinks you’re annoying, he doesn’t like you for any reason, or he simply loses interest then he would just cease any and all communication. so sunghoon would just stop texting you. stop calling you. but if you saw him in person then he’d smile and nod. but if you stopped him then he’d swear nothing was wrong and that he was just preoccupied with things like work and school and home stuff. when you offered to help him through it, he rejected you saying that it was alright. making you think that something was wrong with him when in actuality, he just lost interest and was too pussy to tell you.
but soon enough you got the hint. you stopped reaching out, stopped calling, and when you passed by him, you just kept going. not sparing him any type of glance. he’d be a little surprised at the stoicism seeing as any other girl he’s done this to had freaked but he was grateful for how smooth you were about it.
— how he is now
he lurks from time to time. every couple of months but eventually he’d stop caring about what you’re up to. but it’s also mildly strategic like he just keeps tabs through mutual friends and lets himself stare for a second longer than usual when he sees you around. the great thing about him, sunghoon is indeed a very lowkey guy so no one would even know you guys were a thing. and even then, he wouldn’t say anything but positive things about you. ‘yeah she’s super nice.’ ‘she’s cool, we don’t really speak that much but when we did, she was cool.’ just things to keep people out of yours and his business really and he didn’t wanna talk shit because he also thinks that’s corny. but sunghoon would still want to control the narrative and make sure that the world doesn’t assume there was a bad guy even though it might’ve been him.
yang jungwon
— who he is & how it started
jungwon is the type who seems perfect at first. he’s attentive, considerate, and somehow always knows exactly what you need—he’ll bring you water when you’re stressed, remember your coffee order, walk you to your car after late classes. he’s got that quiet boyfriend energy that makes people say “oh, he’s such a good guy.”
and honestly? you believed it.
 he took you on study dates, walked you through his favorite bookstores, made sure you got back home safe every night. he had this way of making you feel chosen without ever having to say it outright.
the problem? jungwon never actually said it outright. he gave you all the boyfriend treatment without ever making you his girlfriend. and at first, you didn’t notice—you were so caught up in how safe and cared for you felt that you didn’t question why he dodged every conversation about labels.
— how you “broke up”
it wasn’t a blowout. it wasn’t screaming or cheating. it was frustration. one night, you’re sitting on his couch, half-watching a movie, and you finally ask: “what are we?” and he just…froze. he gives you this calm, borderline patronizing smile and says, why do we have to put a name on it? we’re happy, aren’t we?” but you weren’t happy—you were confused, overthinking, second-guessing every interaction. you pressed him again and again, and every answer felt like him tiptoeing around a landmine. 
eventually, he sighs and says: “i don’t want to ruin what we have by overcomplicating it.” that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t some deep emotional struggle. he just didn’t want to commit. and you’d been pouring all this love into a situationship he never intended to upgrade. so you grabbed your bag, told him you deserved clarity, and walked out. he didn’t stop you.
— how he is now
jungwon’s the king of “let’s stay friends” energy. he doesn’t badmouth you, doesn’t stalk your socials—but he hovers. likes your pictures here and there. asks mutual friends how you’re doing. sends you a random “hope you’re eating well” text like he’s still your caretaker. and here’s the kicker—he’ll say things like “i miss our late-night talks” or “nobody gets my jokes like you do” just enough to make you wonder if he regrets it. spoiler: he doesn’t. he just likes knowing you’ll always think of him as “the one that got away.”
but jungwon is a very jealous, possessive man and he’s said that multiple times. so i think eventually when you move on and find someone else, he just gets so irrationally angry. typical man, they don’t like seeing any other guy with someone he already had—especially someone he fumbled. it would take every ounce in him to not be petty but he wouldn’t. he’d let you have it because some part of him feels that the new guy will never compare to him.
kim sunoo
— who he is & how it started
sunoo is the type of guy who comes into your life like a burst of glitter. he’s witty, stylish, always has the best recommendations for cafes, playlists, skincare, outfits — and he makes you feel like you’ve been upgraded just by being around him. he hypes you up constantly: “you’re so pretty”, “you’re my favorite person to be around”, “no one makes me laugh like you do.” he’s your partner in crime. your shopping buddy. your gossip hotline. you start out as friends and somewhere along the way, the flirty banter turns into 2 a.m. calls, kisses, and him making you playlists labeled with inside jokes.
the thing with sunoo is…he thrives on being adored. and when you’re giving him that constant validation, he eats it up. but the second you stop feeding the ego? the cracks start to show.
— how you “broke up” it started small—a little dig at your outfit here, a sarcastic comment about something you posted there. you’d brush it off, thinking oh, that’s just his humor, but then it became constant. you’d be telling him about your day and he’d be scrolling on his phone, throwing in an “mm” or “you’re so dramatic” without looking up.
one night, you called him out on it: “do you even like me? because lately it feels like you just…tolerate me.” he laughed. actually laughed. then hit you with, “you’re overthinking again. why do you always have to make everything a problem?” that was your breaking point. because with sunoo, it was never an argument—it was you being too sensitive, you not getting the joke, you making things weird. so you stopped explaining yourself. you told him you were done, and for once, he didn’t try to talk you out of it. he just shrugged and said, “fine. your loss.”
— how he is now
sunoo’s post-situationship game is all about the optics. he’s not texting you. he’s not lurking. instead, he’s making sure you see how “thriving” he is without you. new outfits. new selfies. posts about how “sometimes you have to let go of toxic energy” (as if you were the problem). but here’s the thing—he’ll still throw shade just for sport. an instagram story with a song you once played for him, captioned with an unrelated but pointed emoji. a comment under a mutual friend’s post that you know is about you but you can’t prove. and the kicker? if you run into him, he’ll be overly sweet. hug you, compliment you, act like you’re still besties. because sunoo doesn’t want you back—he just wants to be unforgettable.
nishimura riki
— who he is & how it started
riki’s the type who gets you hooked without even trying. he’s not love-bombing, not showering you with gifts—he’s just fun. he’s exciting. being around him feels like skipping class, getting on the wrong train just to see where it goes, laughing so hard you forget you were mad. he’s blunt in a way that somehow feels like flirting, and he’s always got that little smirk like he’s in on a joke you don’t know yet. and the worst part? he doesn’t chase you—you end up chasing him, because he’s so unpredictable that every time he gives you attention, it feels like winning the lottery. an intermittent reinforcement type of deal; it just feels like a high every time he compliments you. you told yourself you weren’t going to get involved. he wasn’t your type, he was trouble, blah blah blah…but then you’re in his hoodie at 1 a.m. eating gas station snacks in his car, listening to him tell some ridiculous story, and suddenly he’s your trouble. but somehow, you’d always only ever end up hanging out with him at night. and even then, he’s such a passionate lover. because he can’t fake attraction and he would ensure you knew that much. that he wanted you in every way possible.
— how you “broke up”
with riki, it wasn’t one big betrayal—it was patterns. he’d disappear for days. leave you on read mid-conversation. cancel plans because something “came up,” then post a story out with his friends two hours later. you called him out more than once. and every time, he’d brush it off with a, “you’re so pressed” or “i don’t owe you a play-by-play of my life.” he had this way of making you feel like you were asking for too much…even when you were just asking for basic respect. the breaking point came when you found out he’d been flirting—heavily—with someone you both knew. when you confronted him, he just shrugged. “we’re not exclusive. you knew that.” like that excused the fact that he’d been acting like a boyfriend right up until it was time to actually be one. you left that night, swearing you were done. he didn’t stop you. didn’t text the next day. didn’t apologize. because riki’s the kind who only misses you once you’re gone—but by then, the damage is already done.
— how he is now
no because this man is the worst out of all of them. like he would literally try to ruin your life. he doesn’t lurk quietly, he wants you to make sure that you see him and that he’s just fine without you. he’s out. laughing. somehow “mysteriously” tagged in flicks with other girls. and just when you’re starting to move on, he’ll send you a little “u up?” text in the middle of the night. NO CONTEXT OR APOLOGIES. and it gets worse, no like seriously it gets worse. because if you ignore him, he’ll double down. sending you a funny video that you two used to laugh at together. like posts from days ago. maybe even months before that. post a song that you said reminded you of him one time. and if he sees you follow someone new—a guy, he’d follow them too. just to make sure he could keep tabs on them. then if he sees that you two are becoming something, then he’d send a little “just wanna warn you abt her” text. acting as if he cares about bro. whole time, he just wants to make sure no one gets a version of you that he had because he’s possessive and would die before you fuck with anyone that isn’t him. he just wants to make sure you don’t get over him. he might even post flicks with people he knows you don’t like too, because why not? the fucked up part is he hates them too lmao he just wants you to see that he doesn’t give a fuck about you anymore. but he doesn’t even want you back, he just wants you to know that no one will ever have you like he did.
Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.
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zorange13 · 21 days ago
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୨୧ update pls ୨୧
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hiiiii beautiful people <3 i´m back with a part 13 of the enha texts :p my masterlist is down below if you wanna check the other parts out :) send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist for this text series thing lol :)) hope you enjoy them :p (brace yourselves bc this is a thick one lolz)
prev. | m.list. | next.
based on this ask
pairings: ot7!enhypen x 8th member f!reader
summary: who gave them unrestricted access to the internet? that's the real question,.,,,. it all boils down to fanfics. bickering. chaos.
tags: fake texts, crack, humor (or at least an attempt lmfao), strong language, enha being down BAD for y/n, jealous enha, they’re all very dramatic men, loser!enha, lots and lots of talking about fanfics i invented out of my ass ok lmaooo (if they do resemble a real-life one, I swear it was purely coincidental lol), small sunsun moment, ao3 lingo, they're all unhinged atp, mentions of dicks lol, mentions of smut, so many fanfic clichés mentioned lol, 1 use of the word pregnant lol, 18+ (i think that's it, if not lmk pls lol)
disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. i am not claiming that this depicts enhypen or anyone involved in real life.
♡ my requests are open if anyone wants me to make a specific scenario :p ♡ 
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a/n: i hope u guys enjoyed this part 13. i might've gotten a bit carried away with it,,. it's my longest one yet lmfao. the request was tEWW good ok, not my fault :( for anon, not sure if i pulled it off the way you imagined, but i gave it my best shot LMAOO. thanks for the inspo love <3 hope it wasn’t trash lol
as always, thank you, thank you, thank you. the support for this series has been absolutely wild, and I’m so lucky to have you here. it really means the world 💗 a thousand thank you's >.<
if you want more of these lmk, my requests are open heheh :) or if i should stop pls lmk too lmaoooooo
taglist: @wonuziex @weepingsweep @firstclassjaylee @loverbyfate @jaerisdiction @junhuihui17 @tinyteezer @deliciousmagazinequeen @riribelle @baelalua @itzmi4u @augennn @ilovhoonie @diameuwu @k1ttyjwon @rikchic @enhawomenluvr @all4yoi @kirakun @lze325 @nyfwyeonjun @rairaiblog @luhvletters @stardroppings @seyoungiesleeps @i-peachesandstrawberries @hanjisrightearwax @hopetiger10 @bunyaya @dinacore0 @naevisringring @vvenusoncasual @kiwicup @ev4nism @enhawonnie @ikeuwoniee @24svnn @ddeonuswife @pqrkjyx @rikifordmiami @nishiriks @nik1okrock @plumeriaprincess111 @rikimuraaaa @chae-rries @randomanothercreature @saraabbas @miellette @luvvvash @sunooselle
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