041ahy

[041ahy]

── ☆ ꒰ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ꒱ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

愛 ꒰ 𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒊 ꒱

⌗ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 — Ni-ki walked in for ink, not infatuation. It was supposed to be quick—just a tattoo. But the way YN’s hands gripped his skin, the way her eyes lingered a second too long, it all twisted into something dangerous. Neither of them planned it, but the tension crackled—taunting, forbidden, suffocating. Skin met ink… and suddenly, they both wanted more.

⌗𝒘𝒄: 3.1k ┆ ⌗𝒕𝒘: heavy sexual tension, slow burn, explicit language, sensual but non-sexual touching, detailed tattooing process (needles, skin prep, pain), mentions of physical pain and reactions. lmk if missing any !

⌗ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⟢ idol niki x tattooist reader

The room pulsed with a quiet, sultry energy—dim lighting casting soft shadows on deep charcoal walls, faint gold accents glinting from picture frames filled with past inked masterpieces. The sharp, clean bite of disinfectant lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of ink and the faintest hint of burnt sage from a candle left flickering on the corner shelf.

The soft thrum of Make It to the Morning by PARTYNEXTDOOR bled through the speakers, low and smooth, adding to the late-night haze.

YN moved in rhythm, latex gloves snapping off her wrists, sterilized tools clinking softly as she wiped down the station. Her shoulders relaxed after a long day, mind slipping into autopilot—until her co-worker’s voice cut through the haze.

“Hey, your last client’s coming in soon… Riki.”

Her brows twitched. Riki? The name rolled around her head, faintly familiar, but distant. Kpop maybe? Some pretty boy with too much money and not enough pain tolerance. YN shrugged it off, uncaring. She wasn’t here for idols or fanservice—she was here for skin, ink, and the quiet satisfaction of bringing someone’s story to life.

Rolling her sleeves up, she set out fresh needles, prepped the stencil paper, and waited—oblivious to the storm about to walk through her door.

Ni-ki tugged his hoodie lower, ignoring the faint sting of Seoul’s summer evening heat. Jake had been the first to recommend this spot—talking it up like it was a hidden gem. Top-rated, private, no bullshit… and apparently, with a ridiculously attractive tattooist. Not the point, Ni-ki muttered to himself, fingers fidgeting with his phone. He was here for one thing: to finally get inked. Fans would scream, debates would trend, but he was so far past caring it wasn’t even funny. His skin, his choice—no approval needed.

He shoved those thoughts down as his feet finally stopped in front of the shop. With one deep breath, he pushed the door open.

A cool rush of air greeted him, way chillier than expected. Inside, the world shifted—walls adorned with dark, moody art, sleek matte black counters, splashes of crimson and gold, and the sharp clean smell of antiseptic and fresh ink thick in the air. The faint bass of an R&B track hummed in the background, matching the lazy buzz of a tattoo gun somewhere behind the walls. It was lowkey… his type of vibe.

“Riki?” a voice called from the counter, snapping him from his daze.

He looked up, greeted by YN’s coworker already motioning him over, walking through the usual rundown—what design, placement, payment, all the formalities. Ni-ki kept it short, direct, and before long, they pointed him toward the right.

“To the room on the right, she’s waiting for you.”

She? His jaw flexed, the tiniest hitch in his step before he headed in, unknowingly stepping straight into trouble.

Ni-ki stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The room felt different—heavier, warmer, like the air itself was watching him. The low thrum of R&B filtered through sleek wall speakers, LED lights pulsing faintly in muted crimson and deep blue, making the space feel intimate… dangerous.

At the center, YN moved with quiet focus, back to him as she adjusted fresh needles and lined up her machine. She didn’t even glance his way when she spoke—voice smooth, a little tired from the long shift.

“Take a seat. Couch’s right there.”

Ni-ki swallowed, jaw tightening as he drifted to the leather couch. He let his bag fall beside him, fingers fidgeting on his knee while his gaze drifted—definitely not to her, just… the room. Yeah, the room.

The vibe was sick—rich walls, subtle artwork, the soft scent of ink and leather, everything drenched in low lighting. But his eyes kept pulling back to her. The way her cropped top lifted slightly when she leaned forward, revealing a glimpse of dark ink curling over her ribs—a rose. Delicate, bold. And just beneath it, a black-inked vine trailing down her spine, the tail end of something bigger—fuck, a back tattoo.

His weakness. Well, one of them.

Not the point. Ni-ki blinked hard, redirecting his stare to the framed flash pieces on the wall. Didn’t work. His focus stayed magnetized to the curve of her waist, the way her shoulder blades flexed beneath the soft fabric, the subtle scrape of her rings tapping against the metal tray.

And then she turned.

Fuck.

The moment their eyes met, time stalled. His body locked up, throat dry. He hadn’t expected her to look like that—soft but sharp, casual but captivating, the kind of attractive that wasn’t manufactured, just natural and devastating.

Her brows quirked up slightly, like something clicked behind her gaze. Recognition, maybe. Not the ‘fangirl’ kind—more like, ah… so that’s who you are.

She didn’t say it. Didn’t need to. YN kept it professional, but there was a flicker in her eyes, like she’d just realized she was about to tattoo someone very known… but she couldn’t care less about the fame.

Ni-ki inhaled slow through his nose, chest tight.

This was gonna be a long session.

YN shuffled through the stack of stencil papers on the tray, fingers grazing over the crisp outlines she’d printed just minutes ago. Clean, sharp linework. She pinched the edge of the sheet between her fingers, holding it up to the light to check the detailing, lips quirking.

“One of one?” Her voice cut through the haze, curious and just a little amused.

Ni-ki blinked, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a quiet, awkward laugh. “Yeah… uh… I kinda… drew it,” he admitted, words tumbling out like a half-confession, half-deflection. “Wanted something… mine, you know?”

YN’s gaze lingered on the lines, genuinely impressed as she traced a finger near the design’s edge. “You’ve got clean flow… I’ll give you that.” Her lips curled in a grin, something playful tugging at her tone as she met his eyes. “Didn’t expect an idol to pull decent linework. Respect.”

Ni-ki’s ears warmed, tension folding deeper into the room as she stepped closer, hands fluid, confident. “So… placement?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Rib,” Ni-ki answered without hesitation, tapping his side lightly.

YN’s laugh cracked the tension—rich, amused, but still laced with something wicked underneath. “Oh, you’re cocky,” she teased, rolling her wrist as she set the stencil paper down. “Sure you wanna do ribs, rookie? Shit hurts like a fucking bitch.”

He chuckled softly, shoulders loosening, and for a moment, it felt easy… until her fingers brushed against his side, prepping the skin, touch light but precise. Ni-ki glanced down, curiosity winning over his nerves. “Yours… on your rib,” he motioned toward her side, “did it hurt?”

YN’s lips quirked, glancing down at the dark bloom of the rose peeking from under her shirt. “Pain tolerance’s decent,” she mused, voice lower, smoother, “but ribs? It’ll humble you real quick.”

Her words were casual… until her eyes dragged, just a second too long, from his face down to his covered frame—hoodie and shirt still clinging to his body. She clicked her tongue, stepping back just enough for the teasing grin to cut through.

“Gonna need you to take it off.”

Ni-ki blinked, stupidly. “What—?”

YN’s grin stretched wider, head cocking to the side. “Can’t tattoo you if you’re dressed, pretty boy,” she drawled, gaze sharp, tone smooth as velvet with a bite underneath. “Need skin to… work my magic.”

Ni-ki opened his mouth, closed it. Swallowed.

Yeah… he was in trouble.

Ni-ki peeled off his hoodie first, then tugged his shirt over his head in one swift motion—but it didn’t feel swift. It felt agonizingly slow under her gaze. He’d been shirtless in dance studios, at shoots, even on stage, but here… here he felt shy. Exposed in a completely different way.

YN didn’t even pretend to look away—her lips tugged into a grin, eyes dropping instantly to trace over the lines of his torso, sharp jaw tilting just slightly as her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.

“Damn…” she hummed, eyes glinting, voice slick as honey. “You work out, pretty boy?”

Ni-ki nearly choked on air, swallowing hard and immediately regretting it when she bit back a smirk. Was this normal? Did tattoo artists flirt like this? Because it was doing things to his brain—bad things. His mouth opened, but all he could manage was a quiet, breathless, “Uh… I guess… yeah.”

YN just clicked her tongue, grabbing her gloves and snapping them on, her hips swaying lazily as she prepped the antiseptic. “Guess? You don’t accidentally get a body like this, sweetheart.”

Ni-ki short-circuited.

Then came the cold sting of antiseptic against his ribs, making him flinch slightly—YN’s gloved hands were confident, firm but gentle, wiping the area clean before grabbing a razor and getting to work, her touch practiced and unapologetically thorough.

“Gotta get it smooth, can’t have you patchy, pretty boy,” she teased, tone light but gaze sharp, focused.

Ni-ki swallowed again, jaw tight as his eyes followed every step like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen—the fluid way she wiped down the area again, disinfected, grabbed the stencil, pressing it to his skin with steady, gloved fingers. Her head tilted, inspecting the placement before smoothing it out, pulling away slowly, revealing the crisp outline against his ribs.

YN gave him a once-over, stepping back, her grin damn near lethal. “You ready, pretty boy?” she asked, tone low, teasing, just a hint of challenge laced in her voice.

Ni-ki let out a shaky laugh, feeling the heat crawl up his neck, fingers flexing against the couch cushion. “Fuck… let’s do it.”

And just like that, the air snapped, tension thick and electric.

The second the needle kissed his rib, Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, a ragged breath spilling from his lips.

“Oh—fuck.”

His hand shot out, gripping the edge of the couch so tight his knuckles turned white. YN, meanwhile, barely glanced up, the corner of her lips curling into a slow, smug smirk.

“Didn’t peg you for a loud one, pretty boy,” she teased, her voice dipped in that dangerously low tone, the kind that slid under his skin and made his pulse spike.

He could barely get used to the sting when she suddenly paused, rolling her stool back and casually rummaging through one of the drawers. Ni-ki blinked, confused, before she turned back to him, offering a firm little stress ball.

“Here,” she grinned. “Thought you might need it.”

Ni-ki didn’t hesitate, snatching it from her hand like a lifeline… until she leaned in just a little closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

“Would’ve told you to grab my waist instead… but we’re not there yet.”

His head snapped up, a noise caught in his throat—half groan, half desperate laugh—while YN spun back to her machine like she didn’t just fry every fucking brain cell in his body. The needle buzzed back to life, and Ni-ki sat there—skin burning from ink and words alike.

He tried to focus on something, anything… but his eyes betrayed him, locking onto her face, the way her lashes fluttered when she focused, that adorable little scrunch of her nose as she worked the finer details into his skin.

The stress ball? Pointless.

Staring at her? Yeah… that somehow helped… or made it worse, he couldn’t tell anymore.

“Halfway there, pretty boy,” YN purred without looking up, her tone playful as she pressed the machine deeper into his skin.

Ni-ki could only nod, muscles twitching beneath her touch, mind miles away from the tattoo and all over her—her touch… her voice… her.

And then there was the touches—the featherlight sweeps of her gloved hand over his abs, the accidental-but-not-really grazes along his v-line, the occasional shift of her body as she pressed closer, the scent of warm vanilla sinking into his lungs, addictive, maddening.

The worst part? Every time a low, involuntary whine slipped past his lips, YN just smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief, murmuring soft little apologies like she didn’t mean to do it… like she wasn’t very much doing it on purpose.

The needle dragged against a fresh stretch of skin—deeper, sharper, a fuck-you kind of sting that shot straight to Ni-ki’s spine. His breath stuttered, muscles flinching hard, and before he could stop it, a brutal string of curses ripped from his mouth.

“F-fucking—shit—ah—fuck.”

YN eased off immediately, pulling the needle back with a low, teasing laugh that made his head spin worse than the pain.

“Alright, alright,” she grinned, setting her machine down, rolling her wrist lazily like she had all the time in the world. “Drama king—take five.”

Ni-ki leaned back, chest heaving, every nerve burning under the heat of her smirk. She didn’t go far—just leaned over slightly, grabbing something from a nearby tray, fingers rustling through a jar before she popped a wrapped candy in front of his lips.

“Here,” she purred, pressing it into his palm, fingers brushing his knuckles a little too long, a little too soft. “Sugar helps cool the sting. Or at least distracts you from cursing my name.”

He chuckled, chest still tight, tearing it open and tossing it into his mouth just to keep himself occupied—keep his mouth full before it said something stupider.

YN’s lips quirked, head tilting. “You think your fans would approve of this?” she teased, playful lilt in her voice but curiosity hiding behind it.

Ni-ki huffed, leaning his head back, letting the sugar melt on his tongue before smirking, sharp and shameless. “Couldn’t give two fucks, honestly.”

That earned a real laugh from her—loud, unapologetic, full. The sound danced between them, and weirdly… it eased some of the sting in his ribs.

“Respect,” she grinned, picking her machine back up, flicking on the switch again. “I like a man who knows it’s his body, not the internet’s.”

Her words dug deeper than the ink, something sticky and slow settling in his chest as the buzzing returned, but… it didn’t feel as bad now. The pain was still there, biting at the edges, but the tension? The tension was worse—deliciously worse.

They didn’t talk much after that. No words… just lingering, charged glances.

Every time Ni-ki dared a glance at her, she was already watching him—eyelashes heavy, mouth curling in the faintest smirk, knowing exactly what she was doing. Her hands moved over his skin like she owned it, light brushes across his abs, quick swipes against his v-line, knuckles grazing a little too soft… making him tense, making him squirm just enough for her to notice.

And she noticed. Oh, she definitely noticed.

Ni-ki swallowed thickly, dragging his eyes away, trying to focus on anything but the slick pull of her gloves and the way she leaned in too close, vanilla swirling around him like a slow suffocation.

When she finally sat back, machine off, Ni-ki barely realized he’d been holding his breath until it rushed out of him—like a goddamn dam breaking.

YN was grinning as she grabbed the aftercare gel, her fingers expertly smoothing it over the inked skin, touch gentle… but her thumb pressing just a little too close to his lower ribs, right where his abs clenched beneath her palm.

“Congrats, pretty boy,” she murmured, voice dipping dangerously low as she worked the gel in slow, agonizing circles. “You survived.”

Barely.

Ni-ki’s jaw was tight, body tense under her hands as she explained the aftercare, what to avoid, how to sleep without ruining it, how the peeling would start… but his brain barely processed a word.

He was too busy watching her lips move, too aware of the heat rolling off her skin, too conscious of the fact she looked ridiculously hot even when casually explaining healing time.

And when she pressed the protective film against his ribs, her palm flattening over the fresh tattoo, her fingers flexing lightly into his side… his heart fucking stuttered.

The tension? Unbearable.

Ni-ki’s eyes fell to the ink, still glistening under the wrap… but all he could think about was her—YN, with those smug little smiles, filthy comments, soft hands, and addictive vanilla scent… standing right in front of him like she didn’t just ruin every logical thought he had.

Yeah.

He was fucked.

Absolutely, utterly fucked.

Ni-ki tugged his shirt back over his head, muscles still buzzing from the aftershock of pain and the lingering heat of YN’s touch. The fabric felt rougher somehow, almost suffocating after being under her hands for so long. He flexed his fingers absentmindedly, glancing around the space—her space—where the air still smelled of antiseptic, ink… and her vanilla perfume that stuck to his skin like a fucking brand.

Across the room, YN moved with ease, snapping off her gloves and cleaning up her tools with that same confident rhythm. No hesitation. No nerves. Like tattooing him hadn’t meant a damn thing. Like she hadn’t just sent him into a fucking spiral.

Ni-ki cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

“Thanks… for this. Seriously.”

YN looked up, lips pulling into a lazy smile—soft, knowing, devastating. Her eyes lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, locking with his, something wicked glinting behind them before she shrugged, effortlessly cool.

“Anytime, pretty boy. You sat through it like a champ… eventually.”

A breathy chuckle escaped him, chest feeling weirdly tight, fingers itching to say something—ask something. His gaze dropped to her hands, moving swiftly across the table, then back to her lips, and fuck—he needed to get out before he made a fool of himself.

But his feet wouldn’t move, caught in place as their eyes met again, sharp and intense, that same undercurrent of heat twisting between them. YN gave him a small, casual wave, fingers wiggling as she leaned back against the counter, completely unfazed.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she added, voice dipping just enough to make his heart skip.

Ni-ki swallowed hard, throat tight. Part of him wanted to turn back, lean against the doorframe, ask her out, ask for her number—anything. But something stupid—something cowardly—froze him in place.

He only managed a weak grin, awkward little nod, before stepping out into the hallway, the cool air slapping his face as the door clicked shut behind him.

Fuck.

His footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor, but after just a few paces, instinct kicked in—he looked back, one last glance at the door, the space where his world tilted slightly sideways for a few hours.

He didn’t know how or when, but something told him… this wasn’t the last time.

Not by a long shot.

The burn under his skin wasn’t just from fresh ink—it was her. And yeah, he was already planning his excuse to come back.

⌗ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — did I get this idea of niki’s rumoured tattoo? yes I did…. if you did enjoy do comment if you want a part 2!! Or if I should just leave it as a one shot…. ty for reading!!

Love, author nai

[041ahy]

3 STRIKES

‎‏➤ badboy niki x badgirl female reader

(enemies to lovers trope)

➤ synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ : Their minds were cages, and neither knew how to escape, they hated each other—until hate wasn’t enough. Now it’s three strikes. One night. One chance.

⭑ wc: 3.9k ┆ ⭑ tw !! ➤ Sexual content, underage drinking and smoking, self-harm, physical violence, domestic abuse, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation, profanity, mental health themes, mature language.

⚠︎ This story contains mature and potentially triggering content. Please read at your own discretion. If you are sensitive to any of the topics listed, feel free to skip.

ꪆৎ

“You’re staring again,” YN said, not looking at him. Her lips glistened under the neon lights.

Ni-Ki leaned in, voice low. “You’re not that interesting.”

She smirked. “Then why do you look at me like you wanna ruin me?”

He didn’t blink. “Because I do. Break you. Taste you.”

Her breath hitched. Just barely.

“You wish,” she snapped.

He smirked back. “Keep telling yourself that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

She looked like sin and she knew it.

Mini skirt, glossed lips, and a strut that made people part like water. But she wasn’t here for the attention. Not really. Not for the music either, or the cheap liquor, or the fake laughs from fake friends.

She always ended up at parties like this—dark lights, loud bass, sweat in the air—not because she enjoyed them…

But maybe, just maybe, he’d be here.

Not that she’d ever admit it. Not even to herself.

And there he was.

Of course he was.

Leaning against the back wall like he owned the damn place, black shirt, cigarette dangling from his lips. Ni-Ki. Always with Jake and Jay, always too cool to care, and always watching like he knew something she didn’t.

Their eyes met.

She didn’t blink. Neither did he.

He smirked. Slow. Arrogant.

And then—

The audacity, he winked.

“Motherfucker,” she muttered under her breath, jaw tight.

She turned on her heel, straight to the table lined with shot glasses. If she had to see his smug face all night, she might as well be drunk for it.

The vodka burned going down. Good.

So did the feeling crawling up her spine.

She was partying like she gave a damn—dancing, laughing too loud, letting the bass replace the thoughts in her head. Her so-called friends were around, glittered and drunk, but YN felt like she was floating through it all. Detached. Sharp edges dulled by alcohol and attitude.

Then she felt it.

That stare.

Hard.

Heavy.

Burning into her skin.

She didn’t look. Wouldn’t. Whoever it was could fuck off. She kept dancing.

But the feeling lingered.

The bathroom reeked of tequila and vanilla perfume. Her heels clicked against the floor as she stepped out of the stall, adjusting her top, patting under her eyes. The mirror told her she looked good.

Too good to care.

Until—

There he was.

Leaning against the wall like the hallway was built just for him. Same damn smirk. Same cigarette behind his ear. Same cologne—spicy, warm, and toxic like him.

Ni-Ki.

She didn’t speak. Neither did he. That smirk was louder than words.

“You run from every mirror or just the ones that show too much?”

His voice was low, casual, too close.

YN rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “Get a new personality. That one’s expired.”

She pushed past him, but his hand shot out—grabbing her arm.

Too hard.

Right there.

On the bruise she’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t healing.

She hissed.

His eyes dropped to it.

No smirk now.

He didn’t say a word. Just stared. Hard. Like he saw through her skin, down to whatever was left.

YN yanked her arm back, fury and shame rising like acid. “Touch me again, and I swear to God—”

But she didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.

She walked away.

Didn’t look back. And Ni-Ki?

He didn’t call after her. Didn’t follow.

He just watched her walk away.

And for once, the smirk was gone.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Hallways packed. Noise. Movement. Too many people trying to matter. Ni-Ki sat slouched in the corner of the school courtyard, legs spread, hoodie half-off, smoke curling from Jake’s mouth beside him. Jay was talking shit about someone’s car. Dumb. Loud. Stupid friends. But he loved them.

Then—grip. Hard. On his shoulder.

Before he could react, he was yanked up.

“You’ve got a fucking problem with me, Nishimura?”

Of course.

Him.

The same greasy punk always trying to prove something. Always stepping where he shouldn’t. Blonde highlights, leather jacket, eyebrow piercing that screamed wannabe villain.

Ni-Ki tilted his head, lips twitching. “Yeah,” he said simply, eyes dark. “Your face.”

Then it was fists. Cracking bones. Shouts. Blood on knuckles, laughter in his throat. Ni-Ki fought like he didn’t care about anything. Because maybe he didn’t. The guy landed a solid punch—right across his mouth. Blood. Sharp. Hot. Ni-Ki licked it off his lip and grinned. And then—his eyes shifted.

Her.

Across the crowd, standing still. YN. Looking straight at him. Unmoving. Unbothered. Unblinking. He smirked wider, even with blood dripping down his chin. Raised an eyebrow. Slow. Mocking. Like the whole fight had been for her. She didn’t flinch.

But he knew—she wanted to punch him too.

Maybe more than anyone else here.

And maybe… he wanted her to.

Ni-Ki cracked his neck, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned away. Walked off with Jake and Jay like nothing happened. Behind him, the blonde was sprawled cold on the floor. Unconscious. Forgotten.

But that look in her eyes?

He’d be thinking about it all night.

ꪆৎ

He wasn’t even trying to clean the blood right. Just smearing it around with the back of his sleeve like that would fix shit.

Then he heard her.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Her voice—sharp, smug, familiar.

The kind that made him want to choke her or kiss her depending on the minute. Ni-Ki rolled his eyes without looking up. “Didn’t realize I asked for commentary.”

“Didn’t realize you were this stupid,” she shot back, stepping closer.

Before he could answer with something nasty, she grabbed a cotton pad from her bag—God knows why she even had one—and started dabbing at his busted lip like it was nothing.

Until—

“Shit—what the fuck, YN?”

He jerked when she pressed too hard.

“Don’t be a baby,” she said flatly, not even looking at him. “You don’t know how to clean wounds, apparently.”

He glared. She ignored him.

“You like taking hits, but you don’t know how to take care of yourself. Typical.”

He scoffed. “So you do care about me.”

She paused. Brief. Almost dangerous. Then shoved the cotton harder into his cheek. “I care about not watching you die from an infected cut, dumbass.”

He hissed again. She smirked—evil.

By the time she finished, she tossed the bloody cotton away like it disgusted her, spun on her heel, and started walking. Naturally, Ni-Ki trailed after her like the menace he was.

“Didn’t know I needed a nurse. You got any other hidden talents, Princess?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, not stopping. “I can disappear. Wanna see?”

“Feisty. Damn. No wonder I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She flipped him off over her shoulder. He grinned wider.

By the time they reached the school gate, the sun had dipped just enough to cast shadows. Ni-Ki swung one leg over his motorcycle, helmet dangling from one handlebar. He revved it once, loud and proud, before calling out:

“Bye, Princess.”

She turned. Eyebrow raised.

He winked. “Thanks for patching me up.”

Full smirk. Bleeding lip. Hair messy. Still hot.

YN?

She gave him the middle finger. Held it up nice and proud.

“Fuck off, Ni-Ki.”

He laughed—loud and real—and finally slipped his helmet on. As he sped off down the street, dust and attitude in his wake, YN kept walking, and then— Smiled. Just a little. A stupid, small, fucking smile.

ꪆৎ

Home.

If you could even call it that.

The second she stepped through the front door, the yelling hit her like a wall. Her mom’s voice sharp, her dad’s deeper—both slurred, both violent, both full of venom they couldn’t swallow.

Crash. Shouting. Slap.

She didn’t flinch anymore. She just walked past. But it didn’t matter how quiet she moved. The second her dad’s eyes landed on her—

“Look at her—standing there like a fucking princess while we rot.”

She didn’t even look up. Just kept walking.

Didn’t stop them.

“Fucking answer me when I’m talking to you!”

She turned—slow, empty.

Then came the blow.

His hand. Her mother’s shove. Someone’s bottle smashing near her feet.

Familiar bruises. Familiar ache.

She didn’t scream. She never did.

Her room was her grave and her shelter. She locked the door, flicked the light off, and sank to the floor.

The yelling still echoed through the thin walls, but she’d learned to block it out. A lighter flicked. Cigarette lit. She pulled the smoke in like it was oxygen. Let it burn. Her arm throbbed. Not from the hit— From earlier.

From the fresh cut she made last night, shallow and careless. Just enough to feel something. She was numb everywhere else.

YN was bad.

Not because she wanted to be.

Because that’s what life made her.

She drank.

She smoked.

She skipped class.

Her grades were trash.

She vaped between school buildings, kissed strangers when she felt nothing, and laughed when things were too quiet. No one knew what went on behind her locked door. No one knew that being a “bad girl” was just her version of surviving.

And if Ni-Ki ever found out?

She didn’t know if he’d laugh—

Or see himself in her.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The bass was shaking the floor, lights low and bodies everywhere — but all eyes turned when she walked in. Mini dress hugging her curves like a second skin, smoky eyes sharp, lips glossed and wicked. She didn’t walk — she owned the room. But she wasn’t here for the attention. Her eyes scanned the crowd with purpose.

“Looking for him?”

A voice, low and teasing, pulled her from her thoughts. She turned, already knowing.

Jake.

Messy hair. Dressed like he didn’t try — still looked like a sin.

She smirked. “Maybe. Maybe I was looking for you.”

That made him raise a brow, leaning in. Their faces were close. Too close.

“Is that so?”

His voice was a low purr now, the kind that curled under your skin. YN didn’t back down. She tilted her head, fingers brushing lightly against the hem of his shirt. Flirting? Flaming.

“Wouldn’t mind getting lost in your accent for a night,” she whispered.

Jake let out a deep, throaty laugh —

Then stilled.

“Well, shit…” he muttered. “Looks like we got someone’s attention.”

She didn’t even have to turn, she felt it. That stare.

Burning. Heavy.

She turned her head slowly — and there he was.

Ni-Ki.

Fist clenched at his side.

Jaw locked.

Leaning against the wall like a demon freshly carved from marble —Jealousy radiating off him in waves.

Their eyes met. Locked.

And YN?

She turned right back to Jake. Laughed at something he didn’t say. Let her fingers trail a little higher up his chest. Close enough that their lips nearly touched. Jake? Enjoying every fucking second.

“He’s gonna murder me,” Jake whispered with a grin, eyes still on her mouth.

YN smiled sweetly. “Then maybe you should kiss me before he gets the chance.”

But they both knew. She wasn’t Jake’s. She never was.

And deep, deep down?

Jake knew it too. She was off-limits.

To who?

He didn’t even need to ask.

ꪆৎ

The night was colder than expected, but YN didn’t feel it. Not with the vodka burning her throat and the cigarettes burning her lungs. Stick after stick. Drag after drag. Her heels dug into the gravel as she leaned back against the brick wall, exhaling smoke like it was oxygen. The music thumped through the walls behind her.

The laughter. The chaos. The lies.

She lit another. Took a swig straight from the bottle. Her throat screamed. She didn’t care.

“Had fun flirting with my friends?”

She didn’t need to look. That voice was etched into her bones by now.

Ni-Ki.

She let out a low chuckle. “Aww, baby. You jealous?”

Another drag. “Didn’t think you cared.”

He stepped closer, pulling a cigarette from his jacket, and she caught it — the brand. Same as hers, typical.

“Didn’t say I cared,” he muttered, lighting it. “Just asked a question.”

“Then yeah,” she said, still not looking at him. “Had a great time.”

They stood side by side in the dark, under that goddamn flickering streetlamp, smoke curling between them. No words. Just silence. Heavy. Loud. Dangerous. Until— He turned, and stared. His eyes dragged over her arm — the way her dress had shifted slightly, exposing the bruise.

Bright. Ugly. Raw.

YN caught it. Saw the way his gaze hardened, jaw tightened. She exhaled smoke again and smiled lazily. Like it meant nothing.

“Oh. That?” she said, lifting her arm slightly like she was showing off jewelry. “Dad. Bad aim tonight.”

Ni-Ki blinked. Once. Twice.

Like he didn’t hear her right.

“Are you fucking serious?”

YN snorted. Took another shot from the bottle.

“What, you surprised? C’mon, Ni-Ki. I thought you knew I’m a mess.”

He stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Like all the sarcasm was just a shield he’d never noticed was cracked. She smiled again. But this one… it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Still wanna fuck me now?” she asked, voice dripping.

Ni-Ki didn’t answer.

Just dragged in another breath of smoke. And the silence returned. Thicker this time. Like a secret neither of them knew how to hold.

The silence was thick—

Heavy enough to choke on.

“You’re staring again,” YN said, not looking at him. Her lips glistened under the neon lights.

Ni-Ki leaned in, voice low. “You’re not that interesting.”

She smirked. “Then why do you look at me like you wanna ruin me?”

He didn’t blink. “Because I do. Break you. Taste you.”

Her breath hitched. Just barely.

“You wish,” she snapped.

He smirked back. “Keep telling yourself that.”

YN took one last drag, watching the smoke curl like venom from her lips. Ni-Ki turned to her, eyes unreadable under the flickering lamp. Then, slowly—too slowly—he flicked his half-burnt cigarette to the ground and stepped in front of her.

Close. Too close.

“You done pretending you don’t want me?”

Her heart skipped. But her face? Still smug.

“You done acting like you’re not obsessed with me?”

That grin. That fucking Ni-Ki grin spread across his face. He tilted his head, eyes dragging from her eyes to her mouth, to her bruised arm. And then he grabbed her wrist. Firm. Not rough. But firm.

“Let’s go.”

“Excuse me?” she scoffed, pulling back, vodka bottle clinking against her thigh.

He didn’t even blink. Grabbed her hand harder, tugged her toward the curb—toward his parked black motorcycle. She resisted. “Ni-Ki, what the fuck—”

He shoved the helmet over her head, ignoring her shoves, her swears, the bottle falling from her grasp and rolling away.

“If you don’t want me to do this the hard way,” he murmured against her ear, voice dark and filthy, “then I suggest you shut your pretty little mouth.”

And that did it.

Her breath. Gone.

She froze. The air was suddenly too hot. Her thighs pressed together without thinking.

He smirked — knowing.

And got on the bike.

“On. Now.”

So she climbed on. Furious. Breathless. Drunk. Turned on.

“So,” she purred, kicking her heels off at the door. “How many girls have you dragged here, Nishimura?”

He dropped the keys onto the counter, not turning to face her.

“What, jealous?”

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “As if I’d be jealous of the girls who’ve already had your dick.”

He turned then.

Slowly.

Eyes raking her up and down like she was the only girl in the world.

“Trust me,” he said, voice low and sinful,

“None of them made it past the front door.”

Boom.

Her stomach flipped. She hated it.

Loved it.

His bedroom was messy. Cold. Stark. But he didn’t waste time. He pulled open his drawer and tossed a first aid kit on the bed, motioning for her to sit.

“This again?” she rolled her eyes but sat anyway. He sat beside her. Too close. The tension could cut flesh. He dabbed alcohol on the bruise and she hissed, grabbing the bed sheets tight.

“Still terrible at this,” she muttered.

“Still pretending you’re not into it,” he whispered back, pressing harder.

Her eyes shot up to his—dark, half-lidded, consuming. They were too close.

The air? Gone.

Every breath was loaded. Their faces inches apart. His hand still holding her arm. Her lips parted. His gaze dipped.

“Say the word,” he said, voice like fucking molten sin, “and I’ll ruin you.”

And YN?

She just smiled.

“You already are.”

His hand still held her wrist — thumb pressed just below the bruise. Too close. Too long. Too much.

Their breathing had synced without permission.

Her chest rose. His jaw clenched. Their eyes locked like a goddamn battlefield.

“Why are you still touching me?” she sneered.

“Or do you just get off on pretending you care?”

Ni-Ki smirked, cocking his head.

“Nah,” he drawled, voice thick like smoke and sex.

“I just like watching you squirm.”

Her breath hitched — barely — but he caught it.

Of course he did.

“And I really like how your thighs keep fucking clenching every time I speak, princess.”

YN’s eyes narrowed, fire licking her spine.

“In your dreams, Nishimura.”

“Sweetheart,” he leaned in, breath ghosting her lips, “If I dreamt it, you wouldn’t be wearing this much clothes.”

And that fucking did it.

Snap.

She grabbed his collar — sharp, fast.

He gripped her waist — hard, like a promise.

And then—

Lips crashed.

Teeth clinked.

It wasn’t a kiss.

It was war.

Her nails scraped down his neck.

His hands were already under her thighs, pulling her into his lap like he owned her.

“I hate you,” she spat against his mouth, biting his lip.

“Say it again,” he growled, rutting against her like an animal. “Say it while you grind your needy little hips on me.” She moaned — fuck, she hated that she did.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re dripping,” he whispered darkly,

“Say you don’t want me, but your body’s screaming like a fucking liar.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back.

“You’re a mistake.”

“Then make me again,” he hissed, lips at her neck,“Let me fuck that hate right out of you.”

And god, their bodies were chaos. Clothes still on, but shifting. Writhing. Heat and heat and more heat. Hands on skin. Mouths everywhere. Every moan had a curse under it. Every touch came with a threat.

“You’re still the same broken girl,” he whispered in her ear, “but I’ll be the one who breaks you properly.”

And she?

She kissed him harder — like she wanted to drown in him just to prove him wrong. Because hate never felt this fucking good.

The second her back hit the mattress, his body followed — pressing down, caging her in, breath fanning across her skin like a warning.

“Still pretending you don’t want this?” he muttered, voice gravel and sin.

“Still pretending you’re not replaceable?” she shot back.

His laugh was low — dark.

His fingers hooked under the hem of her dress, dragging it slowly up her thighs, knuckles brushing skin like a dare.

“If I’m replaceable,” he whispered against her knee,“why haven’t you let anyone else touch you like this?”

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked.“Because no one’s been as fucking annoying.”

“Liar,” he smirked, sliding the fabric higher, inch by inch.

“You like it when I ruin your night. You love hating me.”

And she did. God, she did.

Because right now, his mouth was on her thigh, biting. Teasing. And she couldn’t breathe. Her hips rolled up on instinct — he caught it.

“See?” he rasped. “Your body’s desperate for me.”

His lips trailed higher. Over bruises. Over secrets. Over places no one else had ever dared touch. And when she moaned — soft, bitten — his hands dug into her thighs like he’d earned it.

“Say it,” he murmured, teeth grazing her skin.

“Say you want me.”

“I’d rather choke,” she hissed. He smirked against her stomach. “Then open that pretty mouth, baby. I’ll give you something better to choke on.”

Her legs locked around his waist before she could stop herself. And then everything blurred. Hands pulling. Mouths crashing. Her dress hit the floor. His shirt was gone. Skin on skin, sweat slick, breathless curses and matching bruises. Her nails left scratches down his back. His hands roamed like he was mapping her body — just to destroy it.

“You think I’m weak?” she panted, biting his jaw.

“Think you’ve got power over me?”

“No,” he growled, lips at her ear.

“I think you’re already mine.”

And when he sank into her — slow, deep, deliberate — They both broke. Because the hate didn’t matter. Not when she clung to him like a lifeline. Not when he kissed her like he couldn’t fucking stop.

“Ni-Ki—”

“Don’t say my name like that unless you mean it.”

“I don’t.”

“Then moan it instead.”

And she did.

Again.

And again.

Their bodies moved like violence, like poetry, like war. No love. Just lust. No sweetness. Just need. But when they collapsed together, limbs tangled in the sheets, hearts hammering and breath uneven— he didn’t move away. And neither did she. Because somehow, in the mess of sex and spite— they found something that felt dangerously close to home.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

She woke to heat.

Not from the blankets. Not from the room.

From him.

His arm was draped over her bare waist. Their legs tangled. Her body sore in all the right places — and his gaze?

Burning.

Ni-Ki laid there like he owned the goddamn morning. That same smug look painted across his stupidly perfect face, one hand lazily tracing circles into her hip bone like they hadn’t just ripped each other apart hours ago.

“You done staring?” she snapped, voice hoarse.

“You done pretending you didn’t like it?” he fired back, tongue sliding across his bottom lip.

She groaned, shoving the covers off her naked body and grabbing the nearest shirt — his, obviously. Oversized, black, and still reeking of cologne and sin. He watched her move — shameless. Like she hadn’t shattered under him. Like she hadn’t clawed at his back and moaned his name like it was her only language.

“Leaving already?” he muttered, arms behind his head now. “Didn’t even get to say thank you.”

“Thank you?” she scoffed, pulling her shorts up with jerky hands.

“For what? The emotional damage?”

“For the best fucking night of your life,” he said casually, eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her bend. She rolled her eyes and turned for the door. But he moved fast — faster than she expected. Suddenly, her back hit the wall, his body caging her in again, eyes dark, lips parted, still breathless.

“You’re not walking out like that,” he said lowly.

“Not after the way you were moaning for me.”

Her pulse jumped.

“Get off me—”

“You sure?” he whispered, hand sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, gripping her thigh, pressing in slowly.

“Because your body’s already begging.”

She tried to glare. She really did. But her hands were already clutching his shoulders, breath catching, lips just a breath away from his.

“We shouldn’t,” she said, but it was shaky. Weak.

“You’re right,” he muttered, lifting her effortlessly against the wall, sliding her up until her legs wrapped around his waist again.

“We really fucking shouldn’t.”

And just like that—

Their mouths collided again. Hot. Messy. Desperate. Nothing soft. Nothing clean. It wasn’t love. Not yet. But it was something —

Something dangerous.

Something they couldn’t walk away from. And when she whispered his name again, half-choked and breathless, he cursed under his breath like she was the sin he’d die repeating. Her nails dug into his shoulders. His breath fanned hot across her lips.

She hated him.

God, she hated how he smelled like sweat and smoke and midnight. She hated how his grip bruised. How his fingers curled around her thighs like he owned them.

“You want this?” he murmured, teeth grazing her jaw, lips ghosting over her throat.

“Say it.”

“I want you to shut up,” she spat, but her hips betrayed her — tilting closer, pulling him in.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Ni-Ki.”

“And you’re so fucking full of shit,” he growled back, voice rough against her collarbone.

“But your thighs are wrapped around me again, princess. So which is it?”

He kissed her like it was punishment. Teeth. Tongue. Bruising lips. Fingers rough, yanking the fabric of her shorts higher, just to hear her gasp against his mouth.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was war.

Their mouths clashed, teeth knocking, her hands tangled in his hair, his in the back of her shirt. The heat between them burned, reckless and unspoken, all the tension from every smirk, every stare, every insult— “You act like you hate me,” he whispered, sliding a hand under her shirt, thumb brushing skin.

“But your body? It’s fucking begging.”

“Touch me,” she dared, voice low. “See what happens.”

His mouth curved — dark, dangerous.

“I’ll ruin you.”

ꪆৎ

They never said “I love you.”

Not in the traditional way.

Not with flowers. Not with promises.

They said it through bruised lips and blood-warm hands. Through cigarettes lit in silence. Through whispered insults that bled into kisses.

He held her down — not to control her, but to steady her. She let him — not because she was weak, but because he was the only thing that didn’t lie to her face.

“Can you hold me down for one night, like I got three strikes?”

She asked once, voice quiet in the dark.

He didn’t answer. He just pulled her closer. Laid her chaos next to his. And stayed. They weren’t healing — not completely. But wrapped in each other’s vices, chests rising slow, breath hot with liquor and lust, they found something close.

“I need you to free me, it’s a prison inside my mind.”

And he did — in his own reckless, fucked-up way.

He broke her.

He tasted her.

He rolled her up like northern lights and made her feel again.

Lit up, burnt out… closer to God than we’ve ever been now.

They still cursed. Still fought. Still clawed at each other like survival.

But when the world went quiet, when the lights went low— He was hers.

And she was already gone.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Maybe we were each other’s third strike — the final hit before it all burned, but fuck, at least we went down holding on.”

FINISH

[041ahy]

ִ ࣪ ˖ ࣪ ᨰꫀᥣᥴ᥆ꩇꫀ ! ᰔ ִ ׄ to 041ahy’s masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

╰┈➤ enhypen 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

★ 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒔 (𝒃𝒂𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

★ 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

★ 3 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑲𝑬𝑺 (𝒃𝒂𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝒃𝒂𝒅𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

★ 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑶𝑵𝑬 (𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒍 𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

……. more to come ‹𝟹

041ahy’s WIP

…… coming soon ‹𝟹

[041ahy]

Crimson Obsession ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

★ stalker sunghoon x stalker reader

➤ synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ : Two stalkers, one dark obsession. Sunghoon and Y/N are drawn into a dangerous game of control, passion, and madness—a toxic bond they can’t escape, no matter how hard they try.

⭑ wc: 12.3k ┆ ⭑ tw !! ➤ stalking, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, violence(physical/emotional), psychological abuse, dark romance themes, toxic relationships, graphic descriptions of intense emotions and control dynamics, sunghoon is a walking red flag, reader is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

ᥫ᭡ hii author nad here !! This was inspired by the song “Paparazzi” by lady gaga and a mv “monster under the bed” by Emily Mei. Tried some dark romance shit and might write more!! Writing is so fun keke thank you for the support on my first story!! <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Park Sunghoon, the heartthrob everyone wants. Y/N, the sweetheart no one suspects. But beneath the charm—

“I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me…”

Obsession bleeds into love. Control twists into desire.

“Promise I’ll be kind, but I won’t stop until that boy is mine.”

Two stalkers. One dangerous love.

They think I want to be loved.
Like I’m chasing some fairytale ending, all hearts and roses.
But love?
Love is just a leash. A pretty lie people beg to wear.
Obsession.
That’s the real power.
It crawls beneath the skin, rots through reason, turns want into need and need into madness. And I don’t need him to love me.
I just need him to belong to me.

Body, mind, soul.

And the best part?
I’m not the only monster in this game.
He’s playing too.
Watching. Waiting. Wanting.

We’re just two predators circling the same kill.

Each other.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The sun is warm, golden, soft. Perfect for iced coffee and pretending the world isn’t a pit of lies and broken people. I walk through campus like usual—my smile is sweet, practiced, perfect. Girls wave. Boys look. Because I’m Y/N. The sunshine girl. Helpful. Harmless. Pretty.

And I’ve almost made myself believe it’s real. Almost.

“Hey, sunshine,” a voice cuts through the air, smooth and sugar-dipped poison. I know that voice. Everyone does.

Park Sunghoon. The campus heartthrob and a walking red flag. He flirts, he teases, he plays—but never commits. And that’s what makes the girls fall harder.

I turn, slow, innocent eyes wide like I didn’t expect it. “Me?”

He’s leaning against the locker, sleeves pushed up, jaw sharp enough to hurt. His smirk is lazy, but his eyes—
His eyes are calculating.

“Who else?” he says, looking me over like I’m already halfway unwrapped. I giggle. Just the right amount. I’ve studied girls like me. I know the formula. “Hi, Sunghoon,” I chirp, shifting my bag on my shoulder. “Need something?”

He steps closer. No space left. No hesitation.
“Just wanted to know if the campus angel ever sins.”

My smile doesn’t slip. Not yet.
“Depends who’s asking.”

He leans in, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek like he owns the air between us. His fingers linger. He’s too close. It’s not cute—it’s testing. And I see it. The need to control. To break something pretty just to see if it bleeds.

“Oh, I’m not asking,” he murmurs. “I’m inviting.”

He thinks he’s being clever. Dangerous.
He thinks I’m flustered.

But the truth?
I’m studying the way his pupils dilate. The flex in his jaw. The heat under his skin that says he likes the idea of hurting people like me. So I tilt my head, still smiling. “Then maybe I’ll surprise you.” He grins. A little too slow. Like he thinks he won. I let him think that.

Because boys like Sunghoon? They only learn when they’re bleeding.

Pretty Lies .☘︎ ݁˖

Sunghoon’s POV

The cafeteria buzzes—tray clatter, everyone too invested in their own conversation. I sit in the middle of it all. Jake’s telling some story too loud, Sunoo’s already halfway through his dessert, and Niki keeps stealing fries from Heeseung’s tray like it’s a game. Jay and Jungwon toss jokes back and forth, flawless and golden. It’s stupid. It’s perfect. It’s the same every damn day. And I’m supposed to love it. But I don’t hear any of them. Because I’m watching her.

Y/N.

Perfect posture. Soft laugh. Eyes too sweet. She’s surrounded by her pastel little friend group, sipping from a pink straw like she’s never had a dark thought in her life. But I know better. There’s something off about her. I lean back in my seat, casual, elbow resting on the table, watching her through half-lidded eyes. I’ve memorized the way she moves. Every tilt of her head. Every flutter of her lashes.

“Bro,” Jake nudges me. “You’re staring again.”

Sunoo whistles. “Crushing hard, huh? Didn’t think you did crushes.”

“I don’t,” I say. I never have. Not until her. But I don’t say that part out loud.

Heeseung laughs. “You thinking of breaking her, too?”

My lips twitch. “Something like that.” They don’t get it.
She’s not like the others. She’s quiet chaos, carefully bottled. She could ruin me. And I want her to.

I look one last time, just a glance—her laughter lighting up her table like springtime. Then I look away. And in that second—
She smirks.

It’s quick. Sharp. Vicious. A secret blooming behind her eyes. No one sees it. No one but her. Then, like a switch flipped, she’s back. Laughing softly. Stirring her drink. Talking with her friends like nothing ever happened. The picture of sweetness. But I can’t shake it. Something’s wrong. And I think I like it.

Y/n’s POV

My door clicks shut behind me. The hallway noise fades. The mask drops, and I smile. A real one this time. I lock the door. Twist the bolt. Hook the chain.

Then I turn.

My room isn’t like the others. No fairy lights. No cute posters. Just him. Every inch of the walls is covered with photos, hundreds of them. Sunghoon laughing with friends. Sunghoon walking to class. Sunghoon asleep in the library— I stood behind the bookshelf for hours to get that one. There are childhood photos, too. Birthday parties. School portraits. One of him in his mother’s arms, drooling and smiling, soft and innocent. How did I get them? Don’t ask stupid questions.
I always find what I want.

Red marker bleeds over every photo. Slashed across his name. Looped around his face. Written over and over in frantic, messy script:

mine.
mine.
mine.

My fingers twitch just looking at it. My nails dig into my palm. He’s everywhere, and still not close enough. They all think I’m sweet. Soft. Harmless. But I’ve watched him flirt with other girls. Seen the way he touches their hair, leans too close, smiles like a sin.

And I wonder how many ribs I’d have to break to make him stop. I stare at a photo of him laughing—his head thrown back, eyes shining. God, he’s beautiful.

“Why do you make me do this?” I whisper, tracing the edge of the image with my fingertip. “If you’d just look at me right, I wouldn’t have to be this way.” But he will. He has to. Because I’ve already decided. Sunghoon belongs to me. He just doesn’t know it yet.

And if anyone else tries to take him—
I’ll smile.
And smile.
And smile.
Until the blood washes the sunshine away.

The dare .☘︎ ݁˖

Sunghoon’s POV

“Wanna bet,” Jake says, grinning like an idiot.
He leans back in his chair, balancing on two legs with that smug look that means trouble.

I raise a brow. “What kinda of bet?”

“Ask her out.” He nods toward the end of the hall where Y/N is sitting on the grass, cross-legged and radiant under the sunlight like some goddess of spring. Sunoo snorts. “Bro, come on. You flirt with everyone but never date anyone. It’s getting weird.”

“I don’t date,” I say casually, watching her from behind my sunglasses. “Too boring.”

“More like too scared,” Niki taunts, tossing a chip into Heeseung’s drink. Heeseung laughs. “Exactly. He’s all bark, no commitment. You talk big, but the minute it gets real?”

Jay smirks. “You bail.”

I lean forward slowly, lips curving. “So what—you want me to prove it?”

Jake grins. “Yeah. Date her. Sunshine girl.”

“Y/N,” Jungwon says, grinning. “Campus sweetheart. The one no one’s touched. Bet she’s the only girl immune to your shit.”

They think it’s a joke. They don’t know I’ve been watching her for weeks. They don’t know I already memorized her schedule. They don’t know I wake up thinking about her laugh and go to sleep picturing her name written in my handwriting. They think this is about a dare. It’s not.

“Fine,” I say, standing. “Watch and learn.”

I brush invisible dust from my jacket and walk over, the mask slipping on effortlessly—smirk, swagger, confidence dripping like poison.

Y/N’s POV

The sun is warm on my skin. My friends are talking about something—fashion? parties? I don’t know. I’m not listening. I’m thinking about the way Sunghoon looked at me in the cafeteria. I’ve replayed it a thousand times. His gaze. His smirk. The way he looked away like he had control.

He doesn’t.

He’s mine.

“Hey.”

I look up and blink like I’m surprised. Sunghoon’s standing there, casual and cocky, with that grin that makes girls stupid. “Hi,” I say, voice light, sweet, perfect. “What’s up?”

“Just thought I’d come say hi. You looked lonely.”

I tilt my head. “I’m literally surrounded by people.”

He shrugs. “Still looked lonely.”

My heart pounds, but I keep the smile on. Because this is new. This is unexpected. He’s never spoken to me like this. Not directly. Not this close. I thought I’d have to chase him forever. But maybe the universe finally understood. Maybe he’s starting to see it, too. That we belong together. That no one else fits like we do.

“Wanna get coffee sometime?” he asks, like it’s no big deal.

I blink. “Like… a date?”

He grins. “If you want it to be.”

I pretend to hesitate. Twirl my hair. Bite my lip. Inside, I’m screaming.

“Sure,” I say finally. “Why not?”

He winks. “Cool. I’ll text you.”

He walks off like it means nothing. But to me?

It means everything. Finally, he’s mine.

And he doesn’t even know it yet.

Y/N’s POV

I stood in front of my mirror for two hours.

Not to be pretty—
I’m always pretty.
But to look the exact kind of pretty he would like.

Soft curls. Subtle gloss. Innocent dress that still clings in the right places. The kind of look that says: I’ve never hurt anything in my life. My friends squealed when I told them he asked me out. “Sunghoon? Really? He never dates anyone!”
I smiled and nodded like I was surprised, like I hadn’t already mapped out our entire future on my bedroom wall. This is my first real moment with him. And I need to be perfect.

Sunghoon’s POV

The coffee shop is warm, dimly lit, and half-empty. The kind of place you take someone you’re trying to impress without looking like you’re trying. Y/N sits across from me, fingers around her cup, smiling like she belongs in a goddamn toothpaste commercial.

And she laughs at everything. Like I’m the funniest guy alive. I flirt. She blushes. I lean in. She twirls her hair. Textbook stuff. Too textbook. For a second, I pause.

She’s sweet. Sweet as sugar. Too sweet. Her answers are always right. Always soft. Always… curated. Like she’s studied me. But I brush the thought off. It’s probably just my ego. Not everyone’s hiding something, right?

Right?

Still… her smile doesn’t crack once. And it’s the kind of smile you have to practice. The night ends with her walking beside me, clutching a warm drink, talking about something soft—childhood pets, or favorite colors, or dreams. I barely register it. I’m watching her.

She looks up at me under her lashes. “This was fun.”

I smirk. “Yeah. I’ll admit… you’re not what I expected.”

She tilts her head. “What were you expecting?” I don’t answer. Because I don’t know. And maybe that’s the problem. I walk her to her dorm. She thanks me like a sweet girl should. And as she turns to go, she gives me a smile. Not just any smile. The kind that doesn’t reach her eyes. The kind that feels like a promise. Too perfect. Too polished. Too… intentional. But I don’t stop her.

“Goodnight, Sunghoon,” she says, voice dipped in honey.

“Night, sunshine,” I reply, and watch her go.

I walk home alone. The streets are quiet. Cool breeze. No one around. But something feels off. A prickling at the back of my neck. The kind of sensation you get when someone’s eyes are on you. I stop once. Look around. Nothing. Just dark windows and swaying trees. I shake it off. Keep walking. Another block. Another glance. Still nothing. My pulse is a little faster now, but I won’t admit that. I’m not the paranoid type. It’s probably nothing. It’s probably just my mind. Probably.

Smile for me .☘︎ ݁˖

Y/N’s POV

I close the door behind me, slow and deliberate, careful not to disturb the stillness. My heart is still racing. Not from nerves. From bliss. Tonight was everything I dreamed of. He laughed. He looked at me like I was worth something. He walked me home like he cared. I twirl once in my room, dress swaying around my knees. If someone saw me now, they’d think I was just another girl with a harmless crush.

But my room is still dark.
Still covered.

Still his.

I flick on the lamp and smile at the walls. The photos greet me like old friends. Every version of him—laughing, serious, tired, messy, beautiful. I slip off my shoes, humming softly, and walk to the corner near my bed. The shrine. That’s what I call it. That’s what it is.

Carefully, I unzip my bag. Inside is the newest treasure. A fresh photo. Crisp. Taken just ten minutes ago. Sunghoon walking alone beneath a streetlight, hands in his pockets, shadow stretching long behind him. His head slightly turned, like he knew something wasn’t right.

Like he felt it.

I smile at the picture. The focus is perfect. The light hits him just right. He looks… vulnerable. I pin it to the wall, right beneath one labeled “sleeping in the library.” This one’s better. This one’s real. And underneath it, in my messy red scrawl, I write one word:

mine.

Then I step back and admire it. Everything is going exactly as planned.

Sunghoon’s POV

I sip my coffee, pretending I’m not thinking about her. But it’s hard to ignore the feeling gnawing at me. Like someone’s been watching me. Following me. The thought sits in the back of my mind, but I push it away.

“Dude, you okay?” Jake asks, leaning across the table, eyes narrowing at me. “You’ve been acting weird since last night.”

I shrug it off. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

He looks unconvinced but drops it, turning back to his drink. The usual group of idiots chat around me, half-listening, half-laughing. I’m not really hearing any of it.

Because I’m feeling it now. This sense that something’s wrong. Something’s off. The café worker glances at me as she refills our drinks. I’ve seen her before, I’m sure of it. But… where? She looks familiar. Not in a “I’ve seen you on campus” kind of way. But in a way that makes my skin crawl a little. I try to ignore it. Probably nothing.

"Sunghoon," Niki says, tapping me on the shoulder. "Did you hear me?"

I blink. "What?"

"Focus, man," he grins. "You were spacing out. We’re talking about the arcade later. You in?"

“Yeah,” I say absently, my mind still swirling. The arcade… That’s where I saw her again. Her. The girl with the dark eyes who looked too familiar. She was standing there, at the entrance. Watching. No. She wasn’t watching me. She was waiting. My heart skips a beat. No one else seems to notice. But I felt it. Her eyes on me. She was there. I’m sure of it. But then I shake it off. It’s just my mind playing tricks. I’ve been stressed lately. Not sleeping well. It’s just paranoia. Right?

The flashing lights are too bright. The clinking sounds of coins, the kids screaming in excitement, the buzz of a pinball machine. But none of it feels right. I can’t focus. The others are busy playing, but I’m still staring at that corner. The same corner where she was standing before. She’s gone now. But I can’t shake the feeling that she’s still here. Somewhere.

“Sunghoon!” Heeseung calls. “What’s going on with you? You’re acting weird. Again.”

“Nothing.” I try to smile, but it feels forced.

They all laugh, none of them noticing the creeping paranoia. The way I’m starting to feel like a victim of something I can’t explain. Like my own life is slipping away, one careful, calculated move at a time. And I’m starting to wonder if I’m being followed. And if I am—who is doing it. I’m walking home alone. The streets are quieter than usual. I keep glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see something. Someone. My stomach churns with unease. No one’s around. It’s late. Empty.
And I keep hearing footsteps behind me. I stop. I turn around, nothing.Just the distant hum of a streetlight.

But that feeling is still there. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Someone is watching me. I can feel it. But I don’t see anyone. Not yet.

Red Flags & Broken Ribs .☘︎ ݁˖

Y/N’s POV

The cafeteria hums with the usual noise. The chatter. The clinking trays. I sit with my friends, talking about nothing. The usual. But the whole time, my gaze is fixed on one thing: him.
Sunghoon. The heartthrob of the campus. Laughing with his friends. Smiling like nothing could go wrong. And yet, I feel it. That sense of ownership tightening in my chest. They all tease us. Jake, Sunoo, and the others all wink, nudging him about our date.

“Sunghoon’s got a thing for the sunshine girl, huh?” Jake grins, nudging Sunghoon with his elbow.

I smile softly, pretending to blush, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. I’m sweet. I’m innocent. That’s what they think. But under the surface, it’s all mine. Sunghoon doesn’t know it yet, but he’s already claimed. And I’m the one who will break him. But as I’m talking, I feel something shift. Someone’s walking towards him. A girl. She’s smiling too much. Laughing too loud. And she’s moving right for him. I watch as she walks straight up to his table, too confident, too eager. And in that moment, everything inside me turns cold. My grip tightens on my fork. My knuckles turning white. I hear the slight crack as I grip it just a bit too hard. They don’t notice. No one notices.

But I do.

Mine. The word pulses in my mind. And I smirk, a twisted curve to my lips. “Guess another pair of ribs to break.” she thought.

I can’t help it. I can’t let anyone else have him. Not even for a second. I shift my gaze to Sunghoon. He’s still laughing, still smiling. She’s leaning in, brushing her hair over her shoulder in that way girls do when they want attention. But Sunghoon? He’s giving it to her. The idiot. Flirting. Smiling. Too much eye contact. And he knows what he’s doing. But he doesn’t see what’s coming. He never will.

Sunghoon’s POV

I’m laughing at something Jake just said, rolling my eyes. Then I feel it. The sharp sting of someone’s eyes boring into me. I turn, casually, catching the flash of a girl coming toward my table. She’s cute. I don’t even know her name, but her smile is too bright. Too eager. Perfectly fake. And that’s the way I like it. The chase. The thrill.

“Hey, Sunghoon,” she says, voice all sugar and sweetness. “I was wondering if you’d like to… I don’t know, get dinner sometime?” She bites her lip, leaning in just enough to make it look like it’s innocent. Classic. I can play this game.

“Maybe,” I say, leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms. “I’m not into dinner, but I’m always down for a little fun.”

I see Y/N in my peripheral vision. Her friends are still teasing her, oblivious, just like everyone else. But Y/N? She’s watching me. I catch her for a split second. Her eyes? They’re darker than usual. But it’s gone before I can register it. A flicker.
She’s still smiling, of course. The same sweet, innocent smile that never seems to reach her eyes.

The girl in front of me blushes, laughing softly, a little too loud.
“I’d love that,” she says, her hand brushing my arm. I can’t help but lean closer. “I’m free tonight, if you want. Call me.”

Her eyes sparkle, thrilled. I turn my attention back to Y/N. The one I should be paying attention to. But for some reason, I don’t. I’m too focused on the game, the girl in front of me, and the fun I can have. She’s watching me. And for a moment, I think I see something in her eyes. Something… darker. But I shrug it off. It’s nothing.

Y/N’s POV

The moment passes. The smile doesn’t slip from my face, but everything inside me is roiling. Sunghoon flirts like it’s second nature. He’s playing the game. But I know him better than that. I’m going to break him. Slowly. He won’t even know it’s happening. But as I smile and laugh with my friends, I feel it. The darkness inside me wrapping tighter, pulling me closer to the inevitable.

And I’ll be waiting for the moment he slips.
Because I’m the one who controls this.

Sunghoon’s POV

The afternoon sunlight is soft, casting long shadows over the campus. I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I wasn’t planning on following her, but somehow, I’m standing in front of her, leaning casually against the wall as she walks past.

She freezes. Turns. A little too slowly.

“Hey, Y/N,” I call, flashing that usual playful grin. “Got any plans for tonight?”

She blinks at me, her eyes soft, as if she’s surprised I’m even talking to her. But she’s quick to recover, letting a smile creep onto her lips. "Not really. Why?" Her voice is that perfect, sweet tone I’ve come to expect from her.

“Thought maybe you’d want to watch a movie at my place. Could be fun.” I lean a little closer. “I don’t bite, sunshine,” I add with a wink, because I know how to make it sound playful. And she loves the attention. For a moment, there’s a flicker in her eyes, like she’s debating something. But then it fades, and she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, you want me to come over, huh?” She tilts her head, the sadness in her eyes almost too genuine.

“But I’m sure you’d rather hang out with the girl you were flirting with earlier, right? You were all smiles and sweet talk with her.” She says it so innocently, but her tone is just a touch too pointed. My stomach drops.

She knows exactly how to make me feel guilty. But I play it cool, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. “Come on, Y/N. She’s just part of the game. You should know that by now.” I chuckle, but it sounds a little hollow even to me. “You’re different. You know you’re just fun, but I need someone to keep me entertained for a while. That’s it.”

Her eyes darken for just a split second, but it’s so quick, no one else notices. She looks down at the ground, pouting harder. “Oh, I see. Just a game, huh?”

I can’t lie. There’s a part of me that feels guilty for a moment. But it’s her fault. She’s the one who can’t take the hint. She agreed, so she should know her place.

“I’ll let it go,” she says with a soft sigh, finally meeting my gaze again. “I guess I’ll just let it go.” Her words hang in the air, and I almost don’t catch it—almost. She smiles. It’s a little too wide, a little too fake, and that’s when I realize. She’s not just playing innocent. She’s playing me.

Y/N’s POV

As soon as Sunghoon walks away, I smile to myself. It worked. It always works. He’s just a game to me, after all. But he’s my game. I know exactly what he wants: to feel in control. He thinks I’m a toy. A pretty little thing he can flirt with when he’s bored. But he doesn’t know—he doesn’t have to know—what’s really going on. Tonight, I’m going to make sure he understands. But first…I have a little situation to deal with.

Sunghoon’s POV

Later that night, I’m at home, waiting. I know she’s coming. I can feel it. She’s going to walk in here like she owns the place. Like she always does. And that’s fine. That’s how it goes. She’ll sit next to me, we’ll watch a movie, and things will go back to normal. Maybe.

But I get a text. I’m expecting it to be Y/N. But it’s not. It’s a random number. No name. A picture of the girl from earlier. The one who made me smile a little too much, the one I flirted with. I’m about to ignore it, thinking it’s just someone trying to mess with me.

But then I see the message: You really think you can just move on, huh?

It’s followed by another message: You’re mine. Watch your back Sunghoon, before it’s too late.

I don’t know why, but the text unsettles me. My heart skips a beat. And for a moment, I feel like the world is closing in on me. I hear a knock at the door. I breathe out a slow breath. It’s just Y/N. I’ll deal with whatever this is later.

Y/N’s POV

I know he’ll be waiting for me. He always does. But I have a few things to do first. I stand outside the girl’s dorm. She’s probably inside, spilling to her friends how Sunghoon’s flirted with her. It makes me sick. The idea of her being near him. The idea of her thinking she can just waltz into his life. I knock on her door. She answers quickly, probably too quickly. She’s expecting someone. I know it’s not a surprise. She’s seen me around. She knows exactly who I am. And she knows I’m not here to talk.

“Can I help you?” she asks, smiling too sweetly, but I see the nervousness in her eyes. She knows something’s off. She should.

“I just wanted to talk.” I smile back, slow and calm. “About Sunghoon.” Her eyes flicker with panic. Just for a second. I don’t miss it. Before she can say anything, I step inside. Close the door behind me. And I lock it. I walk slowly toward her, my heels clicking on the floor.

“See,” I say, my voice turning dark, “you don’t understand, do you?” She’s shaking now, backing up into the corner. She’s scared, and that’s exactly what I want. “You think you can just play games with him. Get him to look your way. But you’re wrong.” Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t say anything. “Here’s the thing,” I continue, voice soft as silk. “You’re not worth his time. You never were.” I reach out slowly, taking her chin in my hand, forcing her to look me in the eyes. And I whisper, “You’re nothing but a distraction.” I’m not done yet.

Two Can Play .☘︎ ݁˖

Y/N’s POV

His room smells like cologne and sin. We sit close on the couch, a movie playing on the screen—but neither of us are watching it. It’s just noise. Background. The real tension hums between us, electric and slow burning. He shifts closer, arm brushing mine. His hand finds my thigh, warm and sure. A classic player move. I don’t flinch. Instead, I tilt my head, eyes wide, voice soft. “Sunghoon… we shouldn’t…” He leans in, lips inches from mine, smirking like the devil he is. “You sure, sunshine?”

I bite my lip. Not because I’m nervous. But because I know what he wants. I know how to play.

“Y-Yeah,” I whisper, barely audible. “You said I was just… for fun, right?”

His smile deepens, darkens, but he pulls away—barely.
That’s his game. Push and pull. Hot and cold. He feeds off reactions. Off the control. And I give it to him. Because I know how to give just enough. For the rest of the movie, I keep close. Let my shoulder touch his. Let him think I’m melting. I laugh when he makes comments. I lean in. I flutter my lashes. But deep down, I’m still reeling from what I did.

Earlier That Night

She begged.

That pathetic little girl—the one who dared to touch him—Lay curled on the ground behind the dorms. Gasping. Bleeding. Her ribs snapped like twigs under my knee. One. Two. Three. She screamed. Of course she did. Told me she didn’t mean anything by it. That she didn’t know. That she didn’t realize he was mine. I smiled as I leaned down, grabbing her face.

“You stay the fuck away from him,” I whispered.
“Or next time, it won’t just be your ribs.”

She nodded. Barely conscious. Good girl.

Sunghoon’s POV

She pulls away right before the credits roll.

“I should go,” she says sweetly, fixing her skirt, pretending to check her phone. “Dorm curfew.” I know she’s lying. But I don’t stop her.

“Next time,” I say with a smirk, walking her to the door.

She looks back at me, soft and slow.
“Sure. Next time.”

And then she’s gone. I don’t move right away. Just stare at the door she disappeared through. The silence wraps around me.

And then…

I exhale.
And smile.
That charming, flirty boy they all see?
Gone. I walk to the back of my dorm. To the door no one knows exists. I push it open. The light’s already on.

And inside? A wall—floor to ceiling—covered in her.

Y/N.

Photos. Clippings. Stolen selfies. Screenshots of her stories. Her smile in class. Her walking across campus. Her crying once—god, she was beautiful when she cried. Strings connect everything. A map of her. Her schedule. Her routes. Her friends. Her moods. This is my real room. This is where I watch. I step closer to a fresh polaroid. Her at lunch, laughing. The same moment I’d caught her smirking earlier. There’s something different in her eyes. Something that doesn’t match the act she puts on. I stare at it. At her.

“You’re good,” I whisper, smiling.

“But I’m better.”

The Gossip .☘︎ ݁˖

It was a typical afternoon in the cafeteria, the kind where the buzz of chatter filled the air as students laughed and exchanged stories. Sunghoon sat with his friends, as he often did, the group effortlessly occupying the best corner of the cafeteria. Jake, Heeseung, Sunoo, Jay, Niki, and Jungwon—each of them spoke with the same air of arrogance and charm that Sunghoon wore so effortlessly. They were a tight-knit group, but today, their usual banter was punctuated by something more serious. Jake leaned forward, his voice low, almost as if he was telling a secret. “Did you hear about the girl who got sent to the hospital? Apparently, her ribs were broken. It’s bad, guys—really bad.”

Sunghoon didn’t even need to look up to know they were talking about the incident that had made waves on campus. It had been circulating like wildfire. A girl, once known for being one of the more popular students in their campus, had been found in a hospital bed, bruised and battered. No one knew what happened—just that it was bad. She had been in and out of consciousness, and the rumors only fueled the curiosity. Jay was the first to speak up, his expression a mix of disbelief and fascination. “Who did that to her? They said her whole body was a mess, like someone had really gone at her. No one knows for sure, but it’s like a warning, you know?”

Sunghoon’s eyes flickered up, scanning the table. The others were sharing stories, throwing out possible suspects—some even joked about it, pretending to be detectives—but Sunghoon was eerily quiet. His mind was already elsewhere.

“That girl… the one who’s in the hospital?” Heeseung’s voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing with concern. “Does anyone know who could’ve done something like that?”

The conversation seemed to hang in the air, thick with tension. Sunghoon’s gaze drifted absently to the far side of the cafeteria, his eyes zeroing in on Y/N. She was sitting at a table near the windows, her usual bright demeanor in place, chatting with her friends. But to Sunghoon, it was like he was staring through her. There was an unsettling sense of clarity that hit him like a punch to the gut.

He hadn’t planned on it, but as if drawn by an invisible force, his eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, their gazes collided across the crowded room. Y/N’s lips didn’t twitch, her expression still as sweet as ever—but there was something about the way she didn’t look away, something chilling in her composure. She knew. She knew he was staring at her, and for a brief moment, it felt like the entire room fell away. No one else existed. It was just him and her. Sunghoon’s pulse quickened, and his friends kept talking, but his attention was entirely on Y/N. There was a strange, unspoken energy between them—like she was daring him to do something. To ask. To figure it out.

He didn't even realize he had stood up until Jake’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Hey, you alright, man?”

Sunghoon blinked, shaking his head, trying to clear the fog in his mind. "Yeah," he muttered, his eyes still fixed on her. "I’m fine."

But he wasn’t. His heart thudded in his chest as Y/N slowly turned her gaze away, breaking the stare. She didn’t flinch, didn’t make any sudden movements—just a casual glance down at her phone, like nothing had happened. But Sunghoon felt it. A cold, unsettling presence radiating off her. The way she carried herself, how easily she hid her darkness under that perfect, innocent smile—it unnerved him. Sunghoon’s thoughts raced. The gossip about the girl in the hospital? The broken ribs? He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, it was connected to Y/N. Her sudden distance, her eerie calmness in the face of chaos—it all made sense now. She was hiding something, and Sunghoon was certain he wasn’t the only one who was starting to notice.

"She's not what she seems," Jungwon muttered, noticing Sunghoon’s lingering gaze.

The words hit harder than Sunghoon expected. Not what she seems.

In that moment, it felt like the universe was playing some sick game with him. Y/N had always been the bright, bubbly girl, the campus sunshine, but now... she felt like something far more dangerous. And Sunghoon couldn’t look away. He had to know. He had to understand what had happened to that girl. And why it felt like he was drawn into this twisted, dark web Y/N had spun.

Y/N's POV

On the other side of the cafeteria, Y/N sat with her friends, pretending to listen to their chatter. But her thoughts were elsewhere, her attention split. She had felt Sunghoon’s eyes on her the moment she entered the room. She could feel the weight of his gaze, even before she looked up.

And when their eyes locked? A thrill ran down her spine—something about it felt too familiar. She didn’t turn away immediately, knowing that he was waiting for her to do so. She didn’t give him that satisfaction.

But it wasn’t just that—there was a strange undercurrent in the air, something darker. She knew Sunghoon was playing some game with her. But now? Now it was something else. She wasn’t the only one with secrets anymore. Y/N’s grip tightened around her phone. The girl in the hospital? The one who was bruised and broken? She was herdoing. Y/N had always been careful, keeping the darkness hidden behind her smile, behind the façade of the perfect girl. But that girl? She had pushed Y/N too far, and now, she was paying the price. Y/N knew what it felt like to push someone to the edge—and she knew exactly how to break them. She just never thought Sunghoon would start looking so closely.

The Letter .☘︎ ݁˖

Y/N had barely slept the night before. The strange feeling of being watched still lingered in the back of her mind. She tried to push it away, convincing herself that she was just being paranoid. But when she entered her dorm room that morning, something was off. It wasn’t the usual mess of textbooks and scattered clothes. No, this time there was a distinct stillness in the air. The faint scent of something foreign. A subtle chill that made her spine straighten.

She glanced around, eyes scanning every corner of the room. Nothing out of place. But then her gaze landed on her desk. Her heart skipped a beat. There, resting on top of her journal, was an envelope. It wasn’t hers. It was unmarked, the paper pristine and cold against the wood of her desk. Her breath caught in her throat.

Without touching it, Y/N reached for the closest thing she could find—a pencil, her hands trembling as she carefully slid it beneath the envelope to lift it. She held it in front of her, inspecting it. Nothing, not a single identifying mark. She swallowed hard and pulled the letter from its confines, her fingers itching to read it, yet her mind screaming for her not to.

The words hit her like a slap across the face:

"I know you did it."

The blood drained from her face, and for a moment, the room seemed to close in on her. Her vision blurred as she stared at the simple sentence, each word like a heavy weight pushing down on her chest.

Did what?

Her pulse was deafening in her ears. Who could have—who would have—left this? And how did they know? Y/N’s hands clenched into fists around the letter, her knuckles turning white. She paced the room, a storm of thoughts clouding her mind. Could it be Sunghoon? He had to know. There was no one else who could have figured it out. Could he have known about the girl in the hospital? The one Y/N had... taken care of? That girl had crossed a line, and Y/N had made sure she paid the price. But why would someone write this now? Why would someone confront her like this? Her breath quickened. There was no sign of a return address, no clue as to who might have sent it. But whoever it was, they knew. They knew about the incident. They knew about the violence that lurked beneath her sweet, innocent surface.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. The sudden noise almost made her jump out of her skin. She glanced at the screen. She glanced down at the screen, her heart still racing. The message was from Sunghoon.

"You’ve got something of mine."
Y/N felt her breath catch, but then she read the second part:
"My jacket, silly. You borrowed it from my place that night."

The relief washed over her in a sudden, unexpected rush. It was just a misunderstanding. Just Sunghoon being his usual playful self. He was so casual, so innocent. He didn’t know anything about the letter—or about that incident. It was just a jacket, nothing more.

Y/N chuckled under her breath, her heart slowing down as she took in the message. That’s Sunghoon for you. Always making things seem lighter than they were, as if the weight of everything could be shrugged off with a joke. She let out a sigh, her body relaxing as she typed back quickly.

"Ah, right! I forgot about that. I’ll bring it by later."

She hit send, almost laughing at how much her mind had run wild. Get a grip, Y/N. It was just a jacket. It had nothing to do with the girl in the hospital. It had nothing to do with the letter. It was just Sunghoon being Sunghoon.

But even as the relief settled in, something gnawed at the back of her mind. Why had the letter come now? Who had left it? And how could they have known?

Still, she pushed those thoughts aside. For now, she could pretend everything was fine. For now, she could keep playing the part of the sweet, innocent girl—the girl who wasn’t hiding anything at all.

Sunghoon’s POV

As Y/N sent the message back, a smile tugged at Sunghoon’s lips. He knew exactly what she was thinking. She was probably nervous, imagining all sorts of things. He liked that—liked the control he had over her, the way she would sometimes get tangled in her own thoughts. But something about the way she responded felt... too calm. Almost too perfect. Sunghoon put his phone down, a thought lingering in his mind. He hadn't meant to make her paranoid. But maybe that was the point. Maybe it was time to test how far he could push her—see just how much of her darkness was hiding behind that perfect smile.

Y/N had decided to do the right thing—return the jacket to Sunghoon. He was playful, charming, and she liked to believe that his messages had been nothing more than him being his usual, teasing self. She told herself there was no harm in stopping by his dorm for a quick drop-off. It would clear the air, and maybe she could get a bit more of a sense of where she stood with him.

Sunghoon’s dorm was what you'd expect—clean, tidy, but with that signature feeling of someone who didn’t really care about the space. It was a little more lived in than most dorms, with papers strewn across his desk and his bed half-made. As Y/N stood there, she couldn’t help but think about how different his space was compared to hers. His confidence seemed to ooze from every corner, every misplaced book, every random hoodie lying around.

She glanced at the jacket in her hands, letting out a breath. This was a simple, innocent thing. Just returning the jacket. No big deal. Yet, as she made her way toward the door to his room, she noticed something strange at the end of the hallway. A door. It wasn't like the others in the dorm, the usual white, sterile doors. This one was older, with chipped paint, almost like it had been tucked away and forgotten.

Y/N's curiosity piqued. She’d been to Sunghoon's dorm a once, but she’d never seen this door before. It was slightly ajar, like it was inviting her in. She could feel the tug of something dark, something she couldn’t name, but it pulled her closer.

Her feet moved without thinking, and before she realized what she was doing, she was standing in front of it. The door felt wrong. It was too quiet, too hidden, like it was a secret Sunghoon had kept from everyone—like it was a place no one was supposed to know about. Y/N reached for the door handle, her hand hovering just above it, her heart beating loudly in her chest. But before she could touch it, a voice came from behind her, smooth and teasing, but with a tinge of something darker.

“Looking for something, sunshine?”

Y/N froze, her pulse jumping in her throat. She turned, her eyes meeting Sunghoon’s, who was leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk playing on his lips. There was a strange gleam in his eyes—like he already knew what she was doing. She swallowed hard, trying to mask her surprise. “Ah, just coming to return your jacket,” she said, her voice too light, too carefree. She quickly tried to smile, but it felt forced, her thoughts still caught on the strange door.

Sunghoon took a step closer, his eyes flickering from her face to the door behind her. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Y/N nervously laughed, trying to play it off. She didn’t want to seem too suspicious, but the air between them had changed. The playful, teasing Sunghoon she was used to now felt a little more... calculated. A little more dangerous. Her eyes kept darting toward the door, despite her best efforts to focus on him. Sunghoon noticed, his smirk deepening as he stepped forward, blocking her view of the door entirely.

“Don’t go poking around in places you shouldn’t,” he said, his tone suddenly lighter, but with a sharp edge to it. “You’ve returned the jacket, and that’s all you came for, right?”

Y/N tried to laugh again, but the unease was bubbling up inside her. Sunghoon was standing just a little too close now, the warmth of his presence almost overwhelming.

“Yeah, of course,” she said quickly, feeling her heart race. “I was just about to leave it here. No need for me to—”

But before she could finish, her eyes caught a glimpse of the door once more, just a sliver of what was hidden behind it. It was enough to stop her in her tracks.

The walls behind the door were plastered with photographs. Hundreds of them. The room was dark, she tried to see what was inside but failed it was too dark. Sunghoon, noticing her distraction, moved quickly to block her view, his eyes locking onto hers. “Don’t make me say it again, Y/N.” His voice was still smooth, but there was an undertone of something darker, more commanding. “There’s nothing you need to see in there.”

His body pressed just a little closer to hers, and for the first time, Y/N felt a coldness radiating off him. He was holding something back—something important—and she was too close. Too close to seeing too much.

"Let’s not make things complicated, okay?" he said, the smile still plastered on his face, but now it felt forced, almost too perfect. He wasn’t the playful Sunghoon she knew anymore. Her heart raced, and she could feel the walls closing in around her. She had almost seen it all. As Sunghoon took a small step back, still blocking the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. Something she couldn’t name, but something that was about to break wide open.

Sunghoon’s POV

After Y/N left, Sunghoon remained standing in the hallway, staring at the spot where she’d stood moments ago. His lips curled into a slow, satisfied smirk as he watched her walk away, the door clicking shut behind her. The moment she was gone, the facade faded. The playful, charming Sunghoon disappeared, leaving only the shadow of the man who had been waiting for this. Slowly, he turned and walked back toward the door, the weight of what he’d hidden behind it pressing down on him like an unspoken promise.

He slipped into the dimly lit room, the smell of stale air and the metallic scent of something unsettling lingering in the atmosphere. As he closed the door behind him, he moved to the wall, where the photographs of Y/N were plastered.

His eyes scanned them slowly, lovingly, as though they were pieces of a puzzle he had been piecing together for months—no, years. His fingers brushed the edges of the pictures gently, almost reverently, caressing the faces, the moments of her life he had captured without her knowing. A soft, almost possessive sigh escaped his lips as he traced the red words that covered every inch of her face, each picture speaking to him in a language only he understood.

Mine.

He whispered it to himself, his voice low, hypnotic, as his thumb ran over the sharp, red letters. He could almost feel her in these images—her innocence, her light, her brightness that he had to dim, that he had to make his. He leaned in closer, inhaling the scent of the photos as if they were a drug, his mind whirling with thoughts too dark to express. A laugh escaped his lips, quiet and cold, as he let his fingers press harder against the paper, crushing it against the wall.

"Mine, sunshine," he whispered, his voice thick with hunger, with obsession. "Mine to keep... mine to ruin."

His eyes darkened as the smirk deepened, a shadow crossing his face. She thought she could walk away, that she could stay in control. But she was already his, and soon, she’d understand that. She’d understand that every move she made, every step she took, led her closer to him.

The room around him felt like it was closing in, the walls pressing in with the weight of his obsession. Every inch of this space was a part of him now, a part of the game he was playing—one she didn't even know she was part of yet. And the game was just beginning.

Y/N’s POV

Back in her dorm, the quiet of the room was deafening. Y/N stood motionless, her body frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. Her breathing was shallow, her heart hammering in her chest.

It had been a long day, but something in the air felt different now. She had barely even realized when she’d walked into her room—her mind too clouded by the interaction with Sunghoon and the strange weight of the photo she had seen earlier in his dorm. It was oddly familiar, as if it was her in those pictures.

But as her eyes roamed the room, the dread settled over her like a suffocating fog. The wall in front of her was filled with photographs of Sunghoon. Every single photo was of him—at school, at practice, in the courtyard, caught off guard, eyes locked with the camera, sometimes smiling, sometimes lost in thought, sometimes unaware. The photos were all pinned to the wall, covering it in a disturbing collage. The red words scrawled across each one: Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The letters were bold, harsh, smeared across his face like a claim—an undeniable declaration of possession. Her mind spun as she took a few steps closer, the weight of the images pressing down on her chest like a suffocating force. Her breathing quickened, and her eyes darted across the room, scanning the wall, her fingers lightly brushing against the edges of a photo of Sunghoon standing in front of a classroom window, the sunlight casting shadows across his face. He looked... perfect. Too perfect. Too close.

And then there were more: the ones from the campus café, the ones from outside her dorm. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she took a step back, her mind racing. She had felt it before—her own growing obsession with him, her own quiet stalking. But this? This was different. This wasn’t just obsession. This was something else. Her fingers tightened around the photo, crumpling the edges as she stared at it. The connection she had with him—was it mutual? Had it always been like this? The thoughts were too much. The room felt like it was closing in on her, just as it had for Sunghoon, just as it had for both of them. The walls, the photos, the words—they all felt like a cage.

She wasn’t just obsessed with him. She wasn’t just playing at this game. She had crossed the line.

And now, there was no turning back. But she knew, deep down, that this was no longer just about Sunghoon. It was about the darkness that had taken root in both of them—the darkness they were both feeding into. And somewhere, buried in her mind, she realized it wasn’t just his obsession anymore.

It was hers too.

Twist of Fate .☘︎ ݁˖

The night had started out ordinary enough, with Sunghoon out with his friends at the campus bar, laughing and enjoying the usual banter. The usual crowd surrounded him: Jake, Heeseung, Sunoo, Jay, Niki, and Jungwon—carefree, loud, and easygoing.

But there was something about tonight, something that gnawed at him just beneath the surface.

As he leaned back in his seat, nursing his drink, his gaze flickered to the waitress behind the bar. She was walking toward their table, and for a split second, everything in the room seemed to slow. Her face. That face. He couldn’t place it, but it was too familiar. The curve of her jaw, the way she moved—it felt like he'd seen her before. No, it wasn’t just familiarity. She looked too familiar. Almost like a ghost, like a phantom he couldn't quite shake.

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. Maybe it was the alcohol—or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. He was tired, a little too caught up in his thoughts lately, and maybe his brain was conjuring things that weren’t really there. He took another swig of his drink. But that feeling stayed. Minutes later, after a few more drinks, something wasn’t right. The room around him felt like it was tilting, shifting unnaturally. He felt dizzy, like the air had thickened, and his vision started to blur.

He excused himself from the table, murmuring something about heading back to his dorm. His friends barely noticed. They were too busy with their own chatter, as always. His steps faltered as he made his way outside. The cold air hit him like a slap in the face, but it did nothing to clear the fog in his mind. The world around him seemed off balance, colors smearing together in a kaleidoscope of disorientation. He needed to get back to his dorm. He needed to sleep this off.

A yellow cab rolled up beside him, its headlights cutting through the foggy night. He didn’t think twice before opening the door, slumping into the back seat. He wasn’t in the mood for the usual awkward small talk with the driver, and honestly, he didn’t even care who it was at this point. All he wanted was to be home.

As the cab drove off, his vision faded further, his mind clouded. His head felt heavy, like he couldn’t quite hold it up anymore. He blinked slowly, trying to focus on the world outside the window, but it was all just a blur.

But then something caught his eye—the driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

A flicker of recognition.

The figure behind the wheel... it was too familiar.

He squinted, his heart picking up a beat. The dark hair. The posture. The eyes that seemed to gleam with something he couldn’t place. His mouth went dry. No. It couldn’t be. The car swerved slightly, and Sunghoon's vision finally gave way to blackness. The last thing he saw, before everything went dark, was the faintest of smirks pulling at the corners of the driver’s lips.

It was her. Y/N.

Y/N’s POV

The cab slowed to a stop in front of a dimly lit building. Y/N looked into the rearview mirror, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as she observed the still figure in the backseat. Sunghoon was unconscious now, his body slumped against the seat, barely responsive.

She took a deep breath, the smirk on her face widening as the weight of her plan settled over her. Everything had gone exactly how she wanted it to.

Sunghoon was hers now.

The thought echoed in her mind as she finally put the car in park, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence. The night had gone just as she’d envisioned. She had watched him carefully, tracked him from the bar to the moment he had stepped into the cab. Everything had aligned perfectly. She leaned forward, her fingers brushing against the edge of the rearview mirror, her reflection staring back at her with a look of quiet satisfaction.

Sunghoon, with all his arrogance and charm, had no idea what was coming. He had no idea who he was really dealing with. She had played the part well—the sweet, innocent sunshine, the girl everyone adored, the one everyone thought was incapable of anything dark. But that was the perfect disguise.

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as her thoughts turned darker.

It wasn’t just about him anymore. It wasn’t just about the obsession, the games, the cat-and-mouse. She had crossed a line, and now, there was no going back.

Her voice, soft but filled with malice, broke the silence as she spoke to the unconscious Sunghoon, almost as if she were savoring the moment.

"Welcome to the game, Sunghoon," she whispered, the words heavy with promise. "Now, you’re mine."

The smirk on her lips deepened as she opened the door, stepping out of the car. This wasn’t just an obsession anymore—it was her control, her possession over him, just as he had once claimed to have over her.

Now, he would learn what it meant to be truly controlled.

The Unfamiliar Room .☘︎ ݁˖

Sunghoon’s eyes fluttered open, the bright, sterile light above him blurring as his head throbbed with pain. His vision was still hazy, his limbs heavy, as if the world was pressing down on him from all sides. He tried to lift his hand to his face but found his body uncooperative, a sense of disorientation washing over him. Where was he?

He blinked several times, struggling to focus. The room was cold, unsettlingly sterile—nothing like the warmth of his own dorm. The walls were lined with photographs, his photographs, each one capturing him in moments when he hadn’t even realized he was being watched. His breath hitched in his throat.

The images were haunting. There he was in the library, mid-laugh in the cafeteria, walking across campus at night, unaware of the camera following him. Some of them were blurry, hastily taken, but others were impossibly clear. They showed every detail—every flicker of his expression, every motion of his body. He couldn’t breathe. His body trembled as his eyes scanned the walls, the ceiling, the floor—his pictures were everywhere.

This wasn’t just a room. This was a trap.

A laugh echoed through the room, soft at first, but growing louder. It was familiar. A dark, twisted laugh that made his skin crawl. He turned, and there she was. Y/N. But not the Y/N he knew. Not the sunshine girl, the sweet, innocent campus darling. Her smile was gone, replaced with something darker—something twisted. The sweetness that had once defined her was now replaced by something far more sinister. Her eyes gleamed with an unsettling light, and the laugh that left her lips was nothing like the cheerful sound he had heard on campus. It was cold, empty, filled with a sickening malice. The laughter stopped abruptly. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing at him as she took a step closer. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with something he couldn’t quite name.

“You’ve been a good little pawn in my game, Sunghoon,” Y/N said, her voice dripping with something darker. “You thought you were in control, didn’t you? You thought you were the one calling the shots, the one pulling the strings.” She laughed again, but this time it was bitter. “But you’re not. You never were. I’m the one who’s been playing you.”

Sunghoon’s heart raced as he tried to make sense of everything, but his mind felt like it was being twisted in knots. He tried to sit up, his body feeling heavier than ever, but he couldn’t escape the suffocating grip of the room. The photos of him, the images of his every move, mocked him, suffocated him.

He looked at her, his mouth dry, his eyes wide with shock. “W-What… What is this?” His voice was shaky, raw, the panic rising in his chest. “Y/N...”

But the person before him was no longer the girl he’d known. Her smile was gone, replaced by something far colder, more dangerous.

"You've been so predictable," she purred, stepping closer, her presence overpowering. "You thought you were the hunter, stalking me, controlling the game. But you were just a pawn, just like everyone else. I was always the one pulling the strings."

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he tried to process her words. His mind screamed in protest, but the fog in his head made everything feel unreal, like he was sinking into something he couldn't escape from.

His throat tightened as his emotions boiled over. The weight of it all hit him at once—the manipulation, the stalking, the twisted game they were playing.

And then, a sob ripped from his chest. A gut-wrenching, broken sound that shook his entire body. Tears stung his eyes as he let his head fall into his hands. He couldn’t understand it—none of it made sense.

But as the sobs wracked his body, something inside him snapped.

Y/N’s cold hand gently cupped his face, her fingers trailing down his cheek with a tenderness that only made the moment more unsettling. Her thumb brushed against his skin, and for a brief second, it almost felt... comforting.

But Sunghoon’s sobs suddenly stopped. He raised his head, his eyes now gleaming with something far more unsettling—something that sent a chill down Y/N’s spine.

A low chuckle escaped his lips. He laughed. A deep, twisted laugh that sent shivers through the room, a laugh that was far too dark to be comforting. His eyes glinted with a manic light, and his lips curled into a twisted grin.

Y/N froze, her expression faltering for the first time. “What—what is this?” she whispered, confused by the sudden change in him.

Sunghoon’s laugh grew louder, more manic. “You think you’re the only one who’s been playing this game, Y/N?” His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with darkness and malice. “You think you’re the only one who’s been stalking, who’s been controlling? You’re wrong.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold as Sunghoon’s grin deepened. The truth hit her like a punch to the gut.

“I’ve been watching you, Y/N. Every step you’ve taken, every move you’ve made,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with a predatory gleam. “I knew you’d slip up eventually. I knew you’d show me exactly who you are.”

Y/N took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn’t comprehend it. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Sunghoon smirked, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ve been in control this whole time. I’ve been the one pulling the strings.” He leaned in closer, his voice low and dark. “I knew what you were doing. I knew what you were after. And I let you. I let you think you were winning. But now, you see… you see who’s really been playing the game.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as his words echoed in her mind. She stepped back, suddenly realizing the truth of his words. Sunghoon wasn’t just a victim in this twisted game—he was just as dark, just as sick as she was.

His laugh filled the room again, and for a moment, everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.

“You’re mine now, sunshine,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice full of promise and something much darker. “Mine to break. Mine to ruin. Just like you’ve done to me.”

Sunghoon’s POV

The night air was thick, and the city lights blurred together as I sat there with my friends. The loud chatter and laughter around me felt distant, as though I were floating just outside of it. My mind was far away, lost in thoughts of her—the one I couldn't stop watching, no matter how hard I tried to focus on something else. The waitress came to refill my drink, and something caught my eye. Her. Y/N.

But this wasn’t just a passing glance. No. I could feel her presence even before I saw her. There was something in the way she moved, the subtle way she lingered around the edges of the room, as though she was waiting for something, or someone.

She was watching me. I knew it.

I casually glanced up, pretending to be engaged in the conversation with Jake. But I saw it then—the familiar flicker in her eyes as she quickly looked away. It was like a jolt through my body. She thought I didn’t know. She thought I didn’t see her. But I always saw her. I had been watching her for so long that it almost felt like second nature.

I let the conversation drag on for a few more moments before I made my move. I pretended to down the drink the waitress had given me, the bitter liquid burning as it slid down my throat. My head grew heavy almost immediately, the familiar sensation creeping up from the pit of my stomach.

It worked. I could feel it starting to cloud my thoughts, the edges of my vision going blurry, and I allowed myself to lose control, letting the world spin around me in a haze. I felt myself slump slightly, letting my body go limp as I ‘stumbled’ to my feet, giving the perfect excuse to leave.

"Guys, I’m not feeling too well," I muttered, forcing a weak smile as I excused myself. The moment I left the bar, I could already feel her eyes on me again. I smiled inwardly, knowing what she would do next.

I didn’t even need to look back to know she would follow me. She did. I waited outside for only a moment before the sound of a car approaching met my ears. A yellow cab rolled up, and without hesitation, I slid into the backseat. She was driving. Y/N. She had taken the bait. As soon as the door closed behind me, I let out a breath I’d been holding. My vision was still blurry, my head spinning, but I controlled my breathing. She was watching me through the rearview mirror, trying to gauge whether I was truly affected by the drink, but I saw it in her eyes—she thought I didn’t know.

The car started moving, and I faked it. I faked the disorientation, letting my body sway gently, my hands going limp at my sides as if I were losing consciousness. I felt her eyes on me the entire time. She thought I was weak, vulnerable—just like every other prey she’d stalked. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t weak.

Her gaze flickered to me, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was playing her role perfectly. She thought she had outsmarted me. But she hadn’t.

As I “slipped into unconsciousness,” I made sure to keep my senses sharp. My ears tuned in to the sound of her breathing, the soft hum of the engine, and the way her hands gripped the wheel just a little too tightly. I waited for the moment when I would catch her off guard. It came when she made a sharp turn, the sudden motion throwing me forward slightly. In that split second, I opened my eyes—just a fraction—and saw her. She was watching me, her eyes scanning me carefully, trying to confirm if I was really out.

But I was already watching her back.

Her face froze for a moment as she saw the glint of my eyes meeting hers in the rearview mirror. It was a brief moment, barely a blink, but it was enough. Her breath caught in her throat. The facade she had so carefully crafted cracked just a little.

I didn’t let her see the grin spreading across my face.

She quickly looked away, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel, trying to regain control of the situation. I let the silence stretch between us, the tension thick and suffocating.

The night passed in a haze as we drove further and further from the city, and I could feel her trying to maintain the upper hand. But she was getting careless. I could see the cracks in her calm demeanor. She was trying too hard to hide it now.

And that’s when it hit me—she never knew I knew.

The irony was too delicious.

Y/N had been stalking me, watching me from the shadows, just as I had done to her. She thought she was the one in control, pulling the strings from the sidelines. But the entire time, I had been watching her—watching her as closely as she thought she was watching me. I knew exactly what she was doing. I knew everything. It was almost laughable.

I slowly allowed my body to go limp again, letting my head roll back as if I were completely unconscious. She would take the bait, pull into some secluded spot, and then—then I would see what she would do next.

I couldn't wait.

The game was mine. Always had been.

Y/N’s POV

Y/N glanced into the rearview mirror, watching Sunghoon carefully as the road stretched ahead. She thought she had him. He was out of it, drugged, completely unaware. She was finally going to take him, trap him in a way that made him hers—he would never know she was the one pulling the strings.

But as she caught his eyes through the mirror for a split second, her heart skipped a beat. Had he... had he seen her?

No. It couldn't be.

He was out cold, right?

But the flicker in his eyes—the brief, knowing look—made her breath hitch in her throat. She couldn’t believe it. Could he have known all along?

No. It’s impossible. She forced herself to focus on the road, trying to ignore the sudden wave of anxiety threatening to overtake her. No. She had everything under control. She just needed to finish the game.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t.

Or could he?

The Truth is Revealed .☘︎ ݁˖

The silence between them was suffocating, as thick as the tension hanging in the air. Both of them, locked in a quiet battle of wills, stared across the room at one another. The realization was dawning, the truth settling in like a weight on their chests. There was no hiding it anymore. Y/N looked at him, her gaze intense, unwavering. There was no pretending now. No more games. She had thought she was the one pulling the strings, but she could see the darkness in his eyes now—the same darkness she had been hiding all along.

Sunghoon didn’t break eye contact, a twisted smile curling at the corners of his lips. His eyes were like a storm, swirling with hunger, possessiveness, and something darker. Something real.

“We both know it now,” he said, his voice low, like a whisper meant only for her. “No more pretending, Y/N. No more games.”

Y/N felt a strange, sick satisfaction stir inside her. She knew it too. She had always known it deep down. She wasn’t the only one obsessed. They were both consumed by it. By each other. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. The truth—raw and ugly—was choking her. She wanted to deny it, to say that she could walk away, but deep down, she knew there was no escape. There would never be a way out. They were bound together by something darker than love, something more twisted, more dangerous.

The truth lingered like smoke in the air between them.

And then, in a flash, it all clicked.

He wasn’t the one who had been trapped. She had been the one stuck in his web. But she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t want to be saved. There was something intoxicating about the way he watched her, the way he claimed every inch of her without even touching her. It thrilled her, terrified her, and ruined her.

Sunghoon stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, as if every step was calculated. He was in control, even now. Even after everything. He walked toward her, and she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

“You wanted me, didn’t you?” His voice was low, seductive, but it held a dangerous edge. “You watched me. You followed me. You made me yours before you even knew it. But I was always watching you, Y/N. Always.”

His breath was warm against her ear now as he leaned in closer, his fingers brushing against her jawline. “And now we’re both trapped, aren’t we? Trapped in this... beautiful mess.”

Her heart raced, a sickening thrill running through her veins. She was trapped. And she didn’t want to leave. She wanted him. She needed him. But there was no way back now. No way out. Their world had become so tangled, so tangled in obsession, in control, in power, that there was no separating them. There was no walking away. There was only the madness they had created together. And as they stared at each other, the silence thickened.

Suddenly, a soft hum of music filled the space between them. The song Paparazzi by Lady Gaga blared from her phone, the eerie beat syncing perfectly with the pounding in her chest.

"I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me," the lyrics seemed to taunt her. The words were almost like a prophecy—their prophecy. They had both been obsessed, had both stalked and wanted something from the other. They had both become each other’s paparazzi.

“You’re my star now, Y/N,” Sunghoon murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “I’ll never let you go. Never.”

Y/N smirked, the edges of her sanity slipping away. Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, soft and light. But what if I don’t want to be let go? Her lips parted slightly, the words barely a whisper, but they were all that needed to be said: “I’m yours, Sunghoon. Always have been.” The music swelled louder, the haunting melody matching the chaos in their hearts.

“I’ll be your paparazzi," she said, her voice a dark promise, the thrill of it all consuming her. "I’ll follow you until you love me."

And just like that, the world outside them disappeared. There was nothing but each other—two souls, twisted and bound together by obsession. No boundaries. No lines. Just madness, lust, and need. There was no escape from this. They were both trapped. In each other. In their darkness. And they were both happy about it.

And so, their Crimson Obsession continued—bloodied, tangled, and unbreakable—until all that remained was the dark, twisted love that neither could escape, nor wanted to.

[041ahy]

Pretty Girls Don’t Kiss Rebels ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

✮ bad boy ni-ki x good girl reader (highschool trope)

➤ synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ : Good girls don’t kiss rebels—but she was never that good. ➤ forbidden romance ⭑ wc: 4k ┆⚠️ tw !! verbal abuse / parental emotional abuse, toxic family dynamics, violence / physical injuries, runaway / escaping from home , sexual content – implied, smoking, classism. Pls lmk if missing any tw!! Umm not proofread keke, only proofread the first half 😭

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

ᥫ᭡ hii author nad here !! This is my first fic that I’ve ever written so please show some love!! I may not be the best writer as this is all very new to me !! Decided to give the reader a name instead of y/n !! ( keke ) wc may be off cus I forgot to double check !! Forgive me if spelling or grammar errors <3

Decelis Academy — The prestigious school in South Korea , built on legacy — not dreams . Only those with exceptional academic can enter. There are the elite, polished students and the rebellious, troubled ones — a school of class and status. Students are placed by pedigree — known the “Upper Tier” — the children of CEOs , senators , and legacy scholars. They don’t just get good grades. They expect success — because anything less would be scandalous. The students walk like they’ve already made it. Their uniforms tailored , transcripts spotless and future secured. In Decelis Academy, class and status rule everything.

And then there’s Nishimura Riki — the one name that doesn’t fit.

Teachers flinch when they call his name.

Girls whisper when he walk past.

And the rest of the class? They pretend he’s invisible.

He sits in the Upper Tier , but only because his father is a billionaire CEO , face of international media. On paper , Nishimura Riki belongs. In reality ? He’s a storm in designer boots. He’s tie’s always loose , his shirt untucked , and his knuckles usually bruised from fights that never make the official record.He doesn’t play by their rules , and he sure as hell doesn’t care about his appearance. Because while the rest of Decelis Academy fight to live up to their families , Nishimura Riki fights to burn his legacy down.

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

Beauty and brains. That was the only way to describe Sim Aera.

Sim Aera — The daughter of the CEO of Sim Enterprise. Aera glide through the hallways in polished shoes and tailored skirts, always smiling ,always poised. Students look at her and see something unattainable. Untouchable. But what happens behind door , are to remain unknown. Everything about her life is designed , controlled. She’s allowed freedom , but only within line drawn in gold. She’s allowed to choose her clique…but only the one who fit her “level”. That’s how her father says is.

“Stick with people who match your worth, Aera. You’re not like the rest of them”

That only meant no parties unless they’re at a country club and no real conversations with anyone who might “lower the standard” Aera been asked out more times than she could count — by boys with rich last names,perfect status and empty eyes. They all want the same thing: the shiny , high-version of her. The name , the image , the idea.

But she’d never say yes. Not once.

Because none of them makes her feel anything.

Not the way rebellions does.

Not the way he does.

────୨ৎ────

Their First Encounter .☘︎ ݁˖

The smell of bleach and burnt coffee always clings to the science wing. Everything in the lab smells sterile. Aera took her usual seat , her notebook is open as she carefully took notes on everything the lecturer says. Around her students shuffle in , laughter , whispers and gossips filled the lab.

She feels someone watching her. She always do.

Not because she’s interesting — but because she is Sim Aera.

Mr Park walks in, drops a stack of lab worksheets. And clasp his hands. “New partners today, randomised. Check the list on the board” Aera’s mind raced in a blur. Aera only sits with Dain— the only person who she’s comfortable with. They both work well together. Aera glanced at the board , she sees her name and her partner was no other than Nishimura Riki.

The door creaks open , and Aera knew who it was.

Nishimura Riki.

He strolls in, twenty minutes late with a busted lip looking like the rules never applied to him. His blazer’s slung over his shoulder, tie undone, and his sleeves rolled up veins popping. Aera expected him to be seated at the back but no — he stops beside her. “Looks like we’re partners pretty.” he said. Aera hated this feeling , the way her heart does that thing when she sees him. She shouldn’t feel this way, not for people like him , especially not for him.

He’s reckless.

He’s rebellious.

He’s the son of my father’s biggest rival.

And yet, when he sat beside her , she feels it. The butterflies in her stomach. The one she pretends doesn’t exist. His legs spread wide open — almost too inviting. Aera shook of her thoughts. He smells like mint and smoke and something else she can’t name. “Relax, “ he say low. “I don’t bite.” Aera turned her head just enough to glare. “Keep your distance” he just smirks.

God, he’s insufferable.

And yet….

Aera feels her heart rise in her chest. She forces herself to sit straighter. Calmer. Like she’s not thrilled and terrified by how close he is. Like how she doesn’t know exactly how many times she took a quick glance at him during lessons. Aera focus shifted on the worksheet in front of her.

He’s nothing.

He’s dangerous.

He’s not my type.

He’s—

Looking at me.

I glanced up— and he’s already watching me , one eyebrow raised like he can read Aera thoughts. “You always this tense pretty,” he murmurs, “or is it just me?” Aera scoffed. “You’re not that special.” But he just leans back, grinning.

The cafeteria buzzed with quiet chatter and the clinking of trays. Across from her , Dain was mid-rant about the latest drama. Aera half-listened, mind still stuck on him.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m always quiet”

“No, today you’re weird-quiet. Like you’re thinking about something you shouldn’t be.”

Aera rolls her eyes, turning away.

“Let me guess,” Dain says, voice teasing but not cruel. “Tall, trouble. Smells like smoke and bad choices?”

Aera froze. That’s all Dain needs.

“Oh my god it’s him, isn’t it ?”

“It not— It’s nothing.”

“Sureee, you know you’re allowed to want things, right ? Even if they aren’t picture-perfect.” Ava stays silent, lips tight. Aera continued to eat her lunch brushing her thoughts away. Dain shrugged and just sighed. Aera’s attention drifted to the loud, troublemakers across the cafeteria. Where her eyes are on him. His laugh right and real. He’s sitting on the edge of a table, playing with the cigarette packet.

She watched the way he moves — so completely unbothered, so alive.

And then…

He looks up.

His gaze meeting hers.

He doesn’t smirk this time. Just looks back. Calm. Curious. Like he’s waiting to see what she’ll do. Aera forces herself to turn away. Smiles at something Dain was saying, pretending to be invested in the convo. “Stop. It” Aera reminded herself. But her heart’s still racing.

Rain suddenly poured down , Aera’s driver is late. She ducks into a a covered alcove near the side entrance. But she’s not alone.

He stood there, leaning against the wall like he was born to haunt it. Hoodie up, wet hair curling against his forehead. He doesn’t move when she walks in— just tilts his head slightly.

“Lost your throne ?”

Aera exhales slowly.

“Waiting for my ride.”

“Of course you are.”

The silence stretches.

He flicks his lighter open. Closed. Open. Closed.

“You always this tense pretty?”

“You already used that line.”

“And you’re still tense. Guess it didn’t work.”

Aera lets out the smallest laugh. It surprises even her.

He notices.

“There it is,” he murmurs. “A real laugh. I was starting to think your whole life was pre-recorded.”

Aera hates it — how that one sentence makes her fell seen and exposed all at once. But the worse part ? She doesn’t walk way.

🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Undesirable tensions .☘︎ ݁˖

We’re only here because of the chemistry assessment.

And no — the irony isn’t lost on me.

Mr Park paired us up for the practical write-up after the lab, and of course, he didn’t care. Just grinned and said “Guess you’re stuck with me, pretty.” Now here we are — highest floor of the library. Quiet. Dim. Private enough for concentration. Or at least that’s what Aera told herself. He’s sitting beside me. Again. Legs stretched out, his knee just barely brushing her under the table — like he wants me to notice. But she won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Do you even have your notes?” She ask, flipping through her labeled binder.

“You mean these?” he says, pulling a crumpled worksheet from his hoodie pocket like it’s a joke.

“Wow. Revolutionary.”

“I am to impress.” he says it lazily, but I feel the weight in the way he watches me.

Aera clicks her pen and focus on the paper in front of her. Photosynthesis and chemical reactions. It’s nothing new. Nothing she can’t handle.

Except…. he’s still watching me.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, tapping his pencil against the table. “You’re just really intense when you’re trying not to look at me.”

Aera blinked, lips parting — stunned he’d say it out loud.

“I didn’t mean—.”

“It’s fine.” he cuts in. “I’m used to it. People looking at me like I’m dangerous.” He leans towards me, slow, elbows on the table. The space between them shrinks.

“But not you,” he adds. “You look at me like you’re scared I’ll see something you’re trying to hide.”

And God help me — he’s right.

I forced my gaze to the paper again.

But the words blur. He’s too close. Too calm. Too aware of me.

“You know this project is due Monday.” I say, trying to recover.

“Right,” he says, voice low. “Lets be professional.”

Still feeling his gaze Aera looked up, their eyes met. Silence taking over them. There’s something about this silence that feels heavier than usual. It’s not the weight of books or deadlines.

It’s him.

Nishimura Riki.

Still watching me like I’m a puzzle he dying to ruin.

Aera should’ve said something. About the project. Anything.

But she didn’t.

Because he’s closer now. Leaning forward just slightly, that half-lazy grin gone. His gaze softer,sharper. Curious. Dangerous. Aera breath hitches. The library is quiet. Too quiet. The type of silence that makes every breath feel loud, every heartbeat felt heard. His hand grazes hers on the table. Just his knuckle brushing against hers. Barely anything. But she felt it like a shockwave. And she doesn’t pull away.

Neither of them speaks. They just watched each other like their on the edge of something their not supposed to fall into. Aera’s lips parted slightly. His eyes flicker down — just for a second.

Then she leans in.

Slow. Like she’s hesitant.

Aera’s heart is pounding against her chest.

His breath brushes her cheek.

Their close. Too close.

And then—

“Pretty girls don’t kiss rebels.”

It hits Aera like ice water.

She froze.

He’s smiling, barely — but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Like he’s daring her to prove him wrong. Or maybe warning her not to.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t have him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she inhale, slow, calm, like her heart isn’t shattering against her ribs.

She cleared her throat.

Picked up her pen.

“Good thing we’re lab partners then,” she said flatly, eye fixed on her notes.

He doesn’t say anything.

But she feels it— that pause. Like maybe he expected her to crumble. But she doesn’t. Because Sim Aera doesn’t chase boys who come with warning labels.

Even if her whole body just tied to.

🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The house is spotless. Always is. It has to be. A reflection of the Sim Family. Clean. Sharp. Controlled.

Just like Aera.

She walk thought the front door and barely get a breath before hearing his voice.

“You were late.”

She turn. Her father stood at the base of the staircase, arms crossed.

“I was in the library. Study group.”

“Watch who you surround yourself with, Aera.” he says flatly. “You know what happens when good names get dragged down.”

The implication hangs in the air like a loaded gun.

Stay perfect.

Stay clean.

Stay away from boys who looked like Nishimura Riki.

Aera nodded.

“Yes, dad.”

No room for emotion. No hint of the heat still burning under her skin from earlier. She climbed the stairs. She changed out of her uniform, removed her makeup, and crawl to bed — limbs heavy with exhaustion and something she can’t name. She reaches for her phone just to check the time.

And there it is.

A single text.

Unknown Number:

➤ Hey pretty, it’s me Ni-ki

No emoji. No explanation. Just five words that shouldn’t make her heart stutter, but do.

How exactly did he get my number ?

Doesn’t matter.

She stare at the screen for a long time. Her fingers hover the keyboard… then retreat.

Instead, she just smile. The first real smile she’d had all day.

She lock the phone, tucked it under her pillow. And close her eyes.

No reply.

But her heart’s still racing.

🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It starts with footsteps. Confident, loud, deliberate ones echoing down the hall.

She instantly knew who it was.

She kept her eyes on her locker, pretending not to notice the tulle of whispers as Ni-ki walked into the senior wing. He always draws attention, but this time ?

This time, he’s coming straight towards me.

“Good morning, pretty.” he says, like we’re friends. Like they didn’t almost kiss last night and like the text didn’t mean anything.

Aera glanced at him — sharp, dismissive.

“Don’t.”

He just smirks.

“Don’t what? Talk to you? Breathe near you?”

A few people turn their heads. Girls lean into their friends. Guys start whispering.

“Ni-ki,” she hissed. “Stop talking to me.”

“Why not pretty.” he flirts.

That does it.

She doesn’t even hesitate. She grabbed his wrist and pull, fast and hard, weaving through the murmuring crowd and yanking open the janitor’s closet. The moment were inside, she slam the door shut and whip around.

“Do you even know what you just did?”

He shrugs. “Said hi?”

“Someone could tell my father. Anyone. Everyone saw that, Ni-ki. You don’t get it— he’ll have me pulled out of this school so fast—“

Aera sigh heavily. “Do you get what he’s do if he knew I was talking to you?”

Ni-ki’s expression shifts — just for a second. The smirk fades, like he’s weighing what she’s saying, like maybe it’s not so funny anymore.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to have someone waiting for you to screw up?”he says, quieter now. “Please.”

Aera pause, thrown off by the rawness in his voice. It catches her off guard.

But only for a second.

“This isn’t just about me getting grounded, Ni-ki,”she snapped. “This is my entire life— my name, my family, everything I’m supposed to be—.”

“And yet,” he cuts in, stepping closer, voice low, “here you are. Pulling me into closets. Letting me get this close.”

His hand brushes the shelf behind her, caging her in without even touching her.

“Why do you care so much?” Aera whisper, hating the way her breath hitches. “You don’t care about school. Or rules. Or anything.”

“You’re right,” he mutters. “I don’t.”

His eyes drop to her mouth.

“But I care when you look at me like that.” The air snaps between them, tight and hot.

“Like what?” she manage to breath.

“Like you’re about to kiss me and hate yourself for it.” He’s too close. “That’s not going to happen,” Aera whisper.

“Then why aren’t you moving?” She doesn’t have an answer. Aera doesn’t move. And neither does he.

They just exist in that breathless space, toeing the line between disaster and something neither of us wants to admit feels good.

“You should go,” Aera say finally.

“You first,” he says, but doesn’t budge.

They stare at each other for another full second — maybe two — before she push the door open and slip out.

Aera did not look back.

But she knew he’s still standing there.

Waiting.

🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The bell rang, loud and sharp, snapping her out of the moment. Students flooded the hall like a wave. She kept her head down as she moved through the parking lot, trying to ignore the stares, the whispers about the incident. Her phone buzzed, it was her father.

“You’ll be alone until Sunday. Don’t open the door for anyone and stay out of trouble.”

She shoved the phone into her jacket, annoyed at the way her hands were shaking. That’s when she saw him. Nishimura Riki. Just across the street, near the rusted old fence behind the gym. Ni-ki leaned against it like he could barely stand. His hoodie was soaked in something dark. Blood? His lip was split, and there was a smear of red across his cheekbone.No one else seemed to care. Maybe they were used to it. Maybe they were scared of him. But she wasn't. For a second, she stood frozen. Then she made his way towards him. She had to, she needed to.

“Nishimura Riki !”

He looked up slowly, one eye already swelling shut. For a second, he didn’t say anything. Just watched her like he couldn’t figure out if she was real.

“You shouldn’t be out here pretty,” he muttered, voice rough. “Your little royal family’s gonna flip.”

She ignored that, stepping closer. “What happened to you Ni-ki?” her tone filled with concern.

“Does it matter?” He tried to laugh, but it cracked into a cough. He winced, clutching his side. “You should go pretty, wouldn’t want anyone to see you here with a rebellion like me..”

“Not happening.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “You’re hurt. You need help.”

He glanced down the street like he was waiting for someone—or something—to show up. “I’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.”

Her fingers hovered near his arm. He flinched slightly, not from pain, but from surprise. Like he wasn’t used to kindness.

“Come with me,” she said, softer now. “My parents are out of town.”

His eyes locked onto hers. “You serious?”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I wasn’t.”

He hesitated, then gave a small, bitter smile. “Guess I’m breaking into enemy territory, huh?”

She smirked, tugging her sleeve over her hand before looping it gently around his. “Guess we both are.”

They stepped into the house, the door clicking shut behind them like it sealed them into a different world—one where rules didn’t matter. Ni-ki paused in the foyer, glancing around at the pristine marble floors and modern furniture.

“Damn,” he muttered, smirking. “Didn’t know I was walking into a luxury rehab center.”

Aera rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Sit down on the couch before you bleed all over it.”

She disappeared into the hallway, rummaging through a drawer until she found the first-aid kit. When she came back, Niki had sprawled out on the edge of the couch, one hand pressed lightly to his side. She dropped to her knees in front of him, unsnapping the kit, pulling out alcohol wipes and gauze with practiced hands.

“You’ve got to stop getting into fights,” she started, voice rising with each word. “You think bruises and blood make you some kind of legend? It’s reckless. One day it’s gonna be worse than a split lip or fractured ribs and—.”

She stopped mid-sentence when she looked up. He wasn’t listening. He was just watching her—head tilted, a slight smirk playing on his face.

“Thought you didn’t care, pretty.”he said quietly.

The words hit her like a soft punch to the chest. Her breath caught. Their eyes locked, and for a second, neither of them moved. The tension stretched thin between them, pulsing.

She blinked first, looking away too fast. “You need to lift your shirt. I need to… clean your wounds.”she cleared her throat.

Ni-ki didn’t say anything. Just grabbed the hem of his hoodie and lifted it up, revealing a trail of bruises, cuts, and muscle that made her mind short-circuit.

Her throat went dry. She tried to focus on the injuries, on the blood—but her eyes kept betraying her, dragging back to the lines of his abs, the way his chest rose and fell so calmly despite everything.

“Everything alright, nurse?” he teased, voice low and smooth.

She blinked again and shook her head as if snapping herself out of a trance. “Yeah. Just hold still.”

As she dabbed at a cut on his ribs, her fingers brushed his skin. It was warm. Tense. He didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze stayed fixed on her face, and she could feel it—feel him—watching every move she made. The room felt suddenly too quiet. Too still. Like something unspoken was hanging in the air, waiting for one of them to break it.

Her fingers lingered just a little too long as she pressed the gauze to his side. The bleeding had slowed, but her pulse hadn’t. Niki’s eyes never left her. There was something different in his gaze now—softer, sharper, like he was seeing straight through every version of her she tried to be at school.

“You always like this?” he asked, voice low.

She glanced up, startled. “Like what?”

He gave a half-shrug. “Bossy. Brave. Breaking all your little golden-girl rules to save a someone as rebellious as me.”

She was about to say something—something snarky, maybe,—but the words caught in her throat when she looked at him again. The teasing was still there, but it was fading. Replaced by something slower. He was close—too close now. She could see the cut above his brow, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheek, the curve of his pink plump lips.

And then he leaned in—just enough that she forgot how to breathe.

“Pretty,” he murmured, her name barely a breath.

She froze. Their faces were inches apart. Her heart was a riot in her chest. She could feel the heat of him, the pull.

And for one second—just one—she swore he was going to kiss her.

But then she pulled back.

Just barely. Just enough.

“I—I should finish this,” she whispered, eyes dropping to the cotton swab in her hand.

His smile was crooked. Knowing. “Right.”

The moment passed, but the air between them stayed charged. Like a wire had been lit and neither of them could put it out.

She focused on the last cut near his ribs, trying to steady her hands. But she could still feel his gaze on her—intense, unreadable.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he said suddenly, voice quieter now.

Aera glanced up. “Yeah, well… someone has to.”

He gave a soft snort, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. He looked away for the first time since he sat down.

“I’m used to handling it myself,” he said after a moment. “No one usually cares enough to notice. Or if they do, they don’t ask.”

Her hands slowed. “Is that why you fight so much?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened on the edge of the couch.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe. Feels better than being invisible, I guess.”

“You’re not invisible,” she said softly.

He looked back at her. And for a second, he looked almost… unsure.

“You just saw me bleeding out behind a fence and dragged me into your rich-girl mansion. That’s not normal.”

“No,” she said, offering the smallest smile, “but neither are you.”

They stared again. But this time, it wasn’t tense. It was quiet. Real.

She reached up without thinking, fingers brushing gently across his forehead to move a strand of hair away from the cut above his brow. He stilled at her touch—like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of softness.

“There,” she murmured, eyes tracing the line of his jaw before quickly flicking away. “Way better.”

His eyes held hers, and for once, there was no teasing, no sharp edges. Just him. Raw, tired, real.

She stood slowly, grabbing the folded towel and clothes she had set on the armrest earlier—an old hoodie and sweatpants that had to be her dad’s. Didn’t matter. They were clean. Warm.

She held them out to him.

“Go to sleep, Ni-ki,” she said, voice softer than it had been all night.

He took the clothes, his fingers brushing against hers as he did.

“You always this bossy?”

She gave a small smile, already turning to leave the room. “Only to you.”

Behind her, she heard the faint sound of fabric shifting, of him settling into the unfamiliar comfort of her world.

And for a moment, even with the storm of consequences waiting outside those walls, everything felt still.

Safe.

The next morning, the scent of pancakes and sizzling bacon filled the kitchen.

Niki’s eyes cracked open, the weight of last night pressing down on him. He was still in the hoodie she had given him, sprawled out on the couch. He rubbed his face and yawned, looking around for her. But the soft sounds of cooking pulled him toward the kitchen, curiosity guiding his steps.

He crept up behind her, and crouched down, quietly slipping his arms around her waist.

Aera froze, the spatula halting mid-air.

“What—what are you doing?” she stammered, spinning around, eyes wide with panic.

Niki smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Just making myself at home, pretty girl.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She pushed him away, flustered, her face turning crimson. “You can’t just—” She was at a loss for words. “What are you doing in my kitchen?!”

He laughed, low and teasing. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”

“Maybe you should go sit down before you start biting something else.”

Her words had barely left her lips when she realized what she’d just said. She went quiet, her hands busying themselves on the stove again, trying to ignore the blush creeping up her neck.

Niki, on the other hand, only smirked wider, stepping back to lean casually against the kitchen counter. “You really know how to make a guy feel at home.”

Aera muttered something under her breath as she finished cooking, but the tension still clung to the air. Neither of them said anything more as they ate, and for a while, they just existed in the moment, the conversation light but charged with unspoken words.

Later, they were on the couch watching a movie Aera has just picked out. Aera had chosen something light, romantic, nothing too intense. They were comfortable, shoulders brushing, her hand close to his. The movie rolled on, some comedic banter playing on the screen, until that scene came. It was one of those moments—steamy, slow, intimate—just enough to make both of them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Ni-ki immediately reached for the remote, fumbling with it before quickly pressing the buttons to change the channel. “Right. Yeah, we don’t need this.”

Aera didn’t even look at him; her face was burning. “Yeah, definitely not.”

He chuckled, trying to keep things light, but even he couldn’t deny the heavy tension in the room. The awkwardness hung between them like a thick fog. Neither of them knew what to say. Instead, they both settled back in silence, the movie forgotten, the space between them thick with something unsaid.

Saturday night has came to end too quickly. It was time for Ni-ki to leave. He had mentioned it earlier—something about his father needing him back, about the mess he’d gotten into that still needed cleaning up. The thought of him walking out of that door again left a pit in Aera’s stomach, and she couldn’t ignore it. They were sitting on the porch, the cool night air drifting in around them. The stars seemed too bright, almost too perfect for how imperfect things felt.

“Guess this is it, see you soon pretty.” Niki said, his words heavy with something Aera couldn’t quite place. He stood, stretching out his arms, but didn’t move toward the door. His eyes remained on her, like he was waiting for something—anything. Aera swallowed hard. She could feel the cold creeping in from the night air, but the heat between them kept her skin warm.

“No,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “You don’t just get to leave like this.”

Niki looked at her, a flash of confusion crossing his face, then understanding. She was afraid. Afraid he’d disappear into that dangerous world of his, and she’d never get to understand him, never get to see him without the walls he put up. She needed to do something. She was scared, seeing the image of his wounds still haunts her, it made her protective of him. She couldn’t help it. Without thinking, Aera stood up and stepped toward him. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. The motion was impulsive, a mix of wanting to hold on and needing to let go. At first, Niki stood frozen, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. But then, after a moment, he relaxed into it, his arms slowly coming around her.

Aera closed her eyes, breathing him in, and for a second, everything felt safe—untouchable. He was here, and for this brief moment, he wasn’t running away.

Niki spoke into her hair, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re something else, pretty.”

When they finally pulled apart, neither of them seemed eager to break the silence. Niki stepped back slowly, his gaze lingering on her. “You take care of yourself, okay?” His words were soft, but there was something else behind them.

“I’ll be fine,” Aera said, her voice steady but with an edge of vulnerability. She smiled, trying to cover the ache that suddenly threatened to consume her.

He gave a small nod, his usual cocky grin gone. “Yeah. I know you will pretty.”

He turned, walking toward the gate, but before he crossed it, he looked back one last time. Aera stood still, watching him leave. And with every step he took, the tension in the air stretched thinner, like it might snap at any second.

🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Aera walked through the front door, exhausted from another long day of school, she didn’t expect much when she stepped inside, just the quiet of her empty house. But what greeted her wasn’t silence. It was her father, standing in the living room, his hands clenched at his sides, his face stormy.

“Aera!” he barked, voice sharp. “We need to talk.”

She froze. Her stomach dropped, not knowing what was coming. She set her bag down slowly, her heartbeat quickening in her chest.

“Dad, I just got home—can it wait?”

“No, it cannot wait,” he snapped, his eyes dark with frustration. “What’s going on with your grades? You used to be at the top of your class, and now—” His hand swept over the papers on the table, the grades slowly slipping over time, still good, but not perfect enough. “What is this? Useless. You’re wasting your potential on these... distractions.”

Aera’s throat tightened. She didn’t answer immediately, knowing that anything she said would just make it worse. She bit her lip, feeling the weight of the words sinking deeper into her chest.

“Are you really so stupid that you can’t see what’s happening here?” her father continued, pacing now, his voice rising. “You’ve been slacking off. Hanging out with people I don’t approve of. And now your grades are slipping because you’ve got your priorities all wrong.”

She could feel the sting of every word, her face burning with embarrassment, frustration, and a sickening feeling of defeat.She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when the next words hit her like a punch.

“You’re useless. A complete disappointment. No one deserves a shitty daughter like you, you’re ruining my reputation.” The words broke through her composure, and she could feel the hot, tight sting of tears forming behind her eyes.

"STOP IT DAD!,” Aera shouted, her voice trembling.

Her father’s expression hardened, but she couldn’t stand it anymore. She couldn’t breathe. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. “I’m done,” she whispered, before turning and walking toward the door. She couldn’t hear him calling her name. She couldn’t stay in that house one more second.

Aera grabbed her phone and sent a quick message.

Ni-ki 🐥 ➤“Where do you live? ➤“Are you alone? I need to get out of here. I can’t do this anymore.”

It didn’t take long for a response to light up her screen.

Ni-ki 🐥. ➤“I’m at my place. I’m alone. Come over.”

That was all she needed to see. She didn’t wait hesitate. She grabbed her jacket, slipped out the front door, and into the night, the sound of her father's voice fading behind her.

When Aera finally arrived at Niki’s house, her heart still pounding from the chaos she’d just left behind. She didn’t knock, didn’t wait for an invitation—she just pushed the door open, eyes welling with tears.

Niki was in the living room, but the moment he saw her standing there—hair a mess, red-eyed and trembling—he was up in an instant.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice serious, though there was a flash of concern in his eyes.

Before she could answer, Aera felt the tears rush forward, too much for her to hold back. She collapsed into him, her body shaking as she buried her face into his chest.

Niki didn’t say a word. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, pulling her close, the warmth of his embrace grounding her. He let her cry, letting the storm inside her crash without interruption.

“I... I couldn’t take it anymore,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. “He just... he doesn’t get it. He’s always yelling, always blaming me. Telling me I’m useless.” She choked on the words.

“You’re not useless,” Niki said firmly, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were softer now, filled with something Aera hadn’t seen from him before. Something tender. “Don’t let him make you think that. You’re so much more than that pretty.”

Her chest tightened, but the comfort of his words calmed her just a little.

“I just want to get away from all of it,” she whispered.

Niki’s grip tightened around her, as if holding her was the only thing he could offer her right now. “You don’t have to go back there. Not tonight. You can stay here, you’re safe here.”

For the first time in so long, Aera felt like she could finally breathe. She didn’t have to be strong. She didn’t have to fight for anyone’s approval. Not here. Not with him.

Her voice was small when she spoke again, but it was laced with gratitude. “Thank you. For being here, for everything.”

Niki’s thumb brushed her cheek gently, wiping away a tear that had slipped down her face. “I’m not going anywhere, pretty. Not unless you tell me to.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Aera knew she didn’t have to be alone. Not anymore.

Aera stirred, the faint morning light peeking through the blinds, warmth wrapped around her like a cocoon.There was something soft… warm… safe. She instinctively nestled deeper into it, her cheek pressed to a solid chest, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath her ear.

Wait.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Chest?

She blinked, reality crashing in as she realized she was curled up against Niki—his arm thrown lazily around her, their legs tangled under the blanket.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, barely above a whisper.

In her panic, she jolted up—and that was all it took to wake him.

“What is it pretty?” Niki blinked, hair messy, voice raspy. “What—what happened?”

Aera was already scrambling out of bed. “Nothing! I—I didn’t mean to—it��s not—uh, I’ll be back!”

She bolted to the bathroom before he could say another word, slamming the door behind her and pressing her hands to her burning face.

What just happened?!

A little while later, wrapped in a towel, steam still curling in the air, Aera was brushing her damp hair in front of the mirror—finally starting to calm down—when the door suddenly opened.

Niki stepped in, mid-sentence. “Hey, I forgot my—”

His voice stopped cold.

She froze, eyes wide, towel clutched tight to her chest.

“Oh—shit.” Niki’s eyes darted away, face instantly flushing as he slammed the door shut. “Sorry! Didn’t know you were still in there!”

Aera stood frozen for a beat, her heart doing backflips. “It’s fine!” she called out, voice a little too high. “Totally fine! Just... never happened, okay?”

“Yeah,” came his muffled voice from behind the door. “Definitely didn’t happen.”

The silence that followed was louder than either of them could handle.

Later that evening, the mood had shifted—but the tension still lingered. They were back in the living room, a movie playing on low volume, the flickering screen doing little to distract from the fact that neither had acknowledged what happened that morning. Aera got up mid-way to grab some water, needing an excuse to calm herself. But as she turned back to the couch, she tripped over a loose corner of the rug.

“Ah—!”

She stumbled forward, falling—straight into Niki’s lap.

Her hands landed on his chest, her face inches from his, and time just… stopped.

Both froze.

His hands instinctively caught her waist to steady her, but when their eyes met, it was like the air caught fire. The space between them narrowed, heat crackling in the silence. Niki’s eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes—and then back again.

His jaw tightened.

“I—uh—” His voice broke as he quickly lifted her off of him like she’d set him on fire and stood up in one smooth motion. “Bathroom. Yep. Be right back.”

And just like that, he vanished down the hall, leaving Aera on the couch, breathless, face blazing red, and utterly stunned.She buried her face in her hands, letting out a tiny, mortified groan. “What is happening right now?”

By the time night settled, the world felt quieter. Softer.They sat outside again, the stars above glowing just as they had the night before, but something between them had shifted. There was still tension—but now, it was mixed with comfort. Trust. Maybe even something more. When Niki stood to head inside, Aera followed without thinking. At the door, she paused. He turned. Without a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled her close, his hand settling gently on the back of her head. The embrace lingered—not urgent, not awkward, just… needed.

“Thanks,” she whispered against his hoodie.

“For what?”

“For being there.”

He didn’t answer right away, but when he finally did, his voice was low, warm.

“Anytime, pretty.”

🪼⋆｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The ballroom sparkled. Stiff handshakes, and hollow smiles. Aera stood near the edge of the crowd, dressed in a silk gown her father had picked out—not for her, but for the image it painted. He’d barely looked at her, aside from a few whispers about posture and the importance of staying away from him. Across the room, Niki leaned against a marble column, all black suit and lazy defiance. His father talked to some executive, trying to make him seem like a business asset, not a threat. But Niki’s eyes—burning, bored, and sharp—never left her. They hadn’t said a word all night. They didn’t need to. Aera’s phone buzzed against her palm.

Ni-ki 🐥 ➤ Meet me outside. Left side terrace. Five minutes.

Her heart skipped. The smile she gave her father as she slipped away was picture-perfect. She walked calmly through the crowd, out into the cold night air.

He was already there.

Leaning against the railing like he belonged to the dark, moonlight kissing the curve of his jaw. When he saw her, something in his posture changed—subtle, but there.

“You wore that on purpose,” he said, his voice low. “Trying to kill me?”

She smirked, her heels clicking softly against the stone. “I needed a reason to survive tonight.”

He stepped closer. “Did it work?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

They stood in silence for a breath, the party noise distant behind them. Her father’s voice. The pressure. She looked up at him, her eyes stormy.

“I can’t stay here,” she said. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“Then don’t,” Niki said simply. “Come with me.”

She didn’t answer. She just nodded, slipping her hand into his.

His house was dark when they arrived.
No guards. No eyes. Just them.

Inside, it was quiet—just the soft hum of the city outside and the buzz in their chests. Aera moved first, her heels echoing on the wooden floor as she dropped her coat and walked past him. He followed, quiet, gaze unreadable. She stopped in the center of the room, the silence between them stretching, breaking, melting into something hot. Then she turned. Her voice was soft—but broken, full of everything she was trying to escape.

“Ni-ki…” She hesitated, breathing in deep. “Make me forget tonight.”

The look in his eyes changed instantly—dark, careful, as if checking her for doubt.

“You sure?” he asked, voice husky, serious now.

She nodded, stepping toward him, placing her hand on his chest. “Make me forgot tonight, please fuck me.”

That was all he needed.

Niki pulled her in slowly, his hand resting on her waist like she was fragile glass. His lips brushed her forehead, her cheek, her jaw—everywhere but her lips—drawing her in without taking. His fingers trailed down her back, sending chills through her silk dress. Every movement was deliberate, slow, like he wanted her to feel every second of it. And she did. Her breath hitched when he whispered her name, his mouth finally finding hers in a kiss that wasn’t gentle—but needed.

“Ni-ki.” Aera moaned

“Ri-ki , the name you will be screaming tonight is Ri-ki.”

When they finally collapsed against the mattress, tangled in warmth and moonlight and breathless laughter, nothing else existed. Not their families. Not the consequences. Not the rules. Just two people, lost in each other, trying to quiet the world.

Morning light slipped between the curtains, Aera stirred first, her body sore in places she hadn’t expected, warmth still lingering on her skin like a memory she never wanted to forget. She blinked up at the ceiling, the vivid memo of their intimacy hits her first. Her face flushed instantly. She was still tucked against Niki’s chest, his arm slung over her waist, their legs still tangled like they hadn't moved at all. She slowly tried to shift, slipping out of the bed as quietly as she could, grabbing one of his oversized shirts off the floor and padding toward the mirror.

That’s when she saw them.

The marks. Soft bruises and mark marking her pale skin. A reminder of how deeply she'd wanted to forget—and how fully she had. Just as she reached for her phone, she heard his voice—rough from sleep but laced with mischief.

“You trying to sneak out, pretty?”

Aera jumped, spinning around. “I—I wasn’t sneaking, I was—”

Niki sat up, shirtless, hair messy, a lazy smirk spreading across his face as his eyes found the marks along her neck and shoulder.

“Damn,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “I did not hold back.”

She flushed deeper, covering her neck with the collar of his shirt. “You monster,” she muttered, half-joking, half-mortified.

He grinned wider. “Wanna press charges?”

“Only if they come with breakfast,” she mumbled, trying not to smile.

He moved closer, hands resting on her waist, voice dropping. “Or... round two?”

Aera’s eyes widened. “Niki—”

He chuckled, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Kidding. Unless you’re into that kind of criminal activity.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart was racing again, the memory of last night thick in the air between them. They stood like that for a moment, her wrapped in his shirt, his arms around her, both knowing they’d broken every rule—and neither regretting it.

Eventually, she pulled back slightly, her fingers brushing his chest. “What now?” she asked, quieter now. “Our dads... the company...” He looked at her with a calm defiance in his eyes. “Let them talk,” he said. “Let them throw whatever they want. I’d do it all again.”

She bit her lip, and before she could say anything else, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was slow and lingering—less fire, more promise.

When he pulled back, his voice was low and teasing.

“I guess pretty girls do kiss rebels.”