bxcndd

[bxcndd]

came to have a little quick reading moment and ended up reading a masterpiece

— sanctioned, nishimura riki

wc. 24.6k

pairing. yakuza husband! nishimura riki x reader

cw. my attempt at humor and comedy, aged up riki (24), mentions of knives and weaponry, eating and food, violence, kidnapping, psychological and emotional distress, organized crime stuff duh, mature language (sexual innuendos, cursing), our pairing are essentially best friends that got married love this for them, blood and injury, trauma, plot twist (dun dun dunnnn), hurt/comfort, riki's a lil unstable but he means well

synopsis. he told you no, luckily for you—that was never anything you were used to hearing. riki, your headache and your whole damn world didn’t even want you stepping foot into the chaotic sphere that he calls his home. however, you were done playing housewife. but in a world where info is power and an achilles heel simultaneously, love (and riki's sanity) may not be enough to survive what’s next.

author's note!

ciao!! i've been working on this for some time (since may omg). it's been on my mind for some time and it feels good to get it off. i'm very proud of this. i'm down to make this into a part two because i still feel like this could be more. lmkkkk anyways enjoy <333!! OH and @hoonieyun i love you to bits!

partially proofread which is progress for me!!

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“Please?”

“No.”

You followed Riki downstairs, skirt swishing and Mary Janes clacking indignantly against the marble. The long, oversized button-up you wore—his, tailored for you—was the same deep navy as the one he was currently wearing. You always matched. It wasn’t optional. It was a language. A silent message. He didn’t look back.

He never did when he was irritated. Just kept walking, tall and terrifyingly composed, descending the staircase like a man on a mission, still calm under pressure. Black slacks sharp enough to slice, the soft sheen of luxury dress shoes hitting the floor like a metronome. Even without saying a word, Riki made the entire house hold its breath.

Kaminari wasn’t just a name. It was thunder, etched into Tokyo’s underworld like a scar. His great-grandfather had built it from blood and ash in the wreckage after World War II—when the country was fractured and men like him learned to make an empire from silence. Each generation added its layer: first muscle, then money, then myth.

And now, Riki.

Youngest leader in the syndicate’s history. Raised in marble halls and taught to slit throats with one hand while sipping tea with the other. A businessman on paper. A storm in a suit. And your husband.

Riki and you had been married for one year now, dated for three. Granted, your marriage had shocked a lot of people seeing as you married so young, both of you were twenty-three. But you were—are—in love and there’s nothing that could come between the two of you. He was your soulmate and you were his. That, you both were sure of. So as you two walked to your kitchen, passing by staff and giving your maid—Clara—a kiss on the head and a ‘thank you’ as you both sat at the island to eat, you sighed in frustration. “Baby, please.”

Riki, eyes glued to his omelette as he settled into the seat. “I said no.” His dark hair fell over his forehead until he brushed it back—another small movement that looked like art. Now slicing into his food with the shiny utensils that had the family crest carved into them. “Riki, I’m not asking to get in the field and hold a gun. I just want to…be an informant almost. Like your Oracle.” You turned to him, crossing your legs—not even wanting to touch your food now. 

He furrowed his brow incredulously, “Oracle?” He muttered with a mouthful of eggs. 

You nodded with a smile, “Mhm! Like the girl from Batman.” 

“You’ve been watching too much TV, baby.” 

You throw your hands up in frustration. “Because you won’t let me do shit besides that!” You whined, desperate to prove a point.

Since marrying Riki, you have taken up the cushy, spoiled housewife role. And while there was nothing wrong with that, after a while you started to feel antsy. You had bought every bag, every shoe, every diamond, every car, watched every show, even rented out Disneyland for you and Riki to enjoy one day just because you only wanted to go on the Radiator Springs ride. Even the Chanel Private Client Services wasn’t enough.

While you acknowledged the pleasures of being able to spend so indifferently, you started to get restless. There was something about the fact that he was able to go out every single day, going to be productive in more ways than one that made you feel almost…useless. The staff around you stopped bustling, a bit shocked to hear your raise of voice. Even Clara paused, hands folded over a linen napkin, her gaze flicking to Riki like she wasn’t sure whether to intervene or bow out of the scene entirely.

Riki didn’t even blink. He just calmly chewed his omelette like your words bounced off that thick wall of stoicism he kept tightly bolted around anyone who wasn’t you. “I’m not telling you again.”

You didn’t care, you pressed further just because you knew you could. “I know I can do it.” You frowned, “I just wanna help. Most I’ll be doing is sitting at a desk and—”

His eyes looked ahead, nodding once at Clara after she slid him his poured glass of water. But you saw his fingers clamp around the glass. Paling, but his face wasn’t. Riki was calm, tempered as always. At least on the surface but he was patient with you. Something you took for granted. “You know what’s interesting about Oracle?” He said as he sipped his water. You didn’t answer verbally but nodded for him to continue.

“She’s sharp, stubborn, always ready and willing to help. A lot like you.” He gently stabbed the strawberry from the shared fruit bowl in the middle. “She helped Batman and Robin. An amazing partner, she was.” He chewed on the fruit.

You perked up, “See! Then I c—”

He calmly interjected, still not looking at you. But the vibrato of his voice verberated throughout the room. Bouncing off the walls, glass, and stainless steel. “But then one day, Joker shot her. Right in the back. And now she’s paralyzed.”

You blinked.

The sentence lingered in the air like smoke—harmless at first, until it filled your lungs. Riki still hadn’t looked at you. Still ate like nothing had shifted. But everything had. The room was silent. Not the type of silence that asks to be broken—the kind that warns you not to try.

You swallowed. “That’s fiction,” you muttered, softer this time. “That’s not real.”

“Neither is invincibility,” he replied simply. “Not even for people who think they’re behind the screen.”

Finally, he glanced up at you—dark eyes laced with something you couldn’t name. Something heavier than anger, deeper than fear. “You think I’m keeping you out because I don’t think you’re capable?” He chuckled once, dry and humorless. “I’ve seen you lie through your teeth and charm your way out of federal security checkpoints. You’re brilliant. I’d trust you to run the whole damn empire if I died tomorrow.”

Your heart skipped.

He set his fork down. “But I’m not dead yet.”

Then he rose. Just like that.

You expected him to storm off, to make a scene. He didn’t. That wasn’t Riki. He just straightened his cuffs, softly kissed your cheek, gave Clara another kiss on the forehead, and walked out of the kitchen and to the front door with the kind of quiet command that made everyone else shrink. “I love you, angel. Love you too, Claraboo.” The guards fell in around him, black suits rippling like shadows. “I love you too…” You whispered, but loud enough for him to hear it because you knew he wouldn’t leave until he heard you say it. And within seconds, the heavy front doors whispered shut, and the house exhaled a hush that felt a lot like defeat. You stared at the imprint his coffee cup had left on the wooden coaster. Inherited empire, inherited fears. Same old script.

A gentle hand touched your shoulder. Clara. Cinnamon‑and‑steel Clara, who’d watched him grow from toddler to tycoon.

“Tea?” she offered.

You shook your head softly, leaning on the marble with your shoulders slumped and frown etched onto your face. “No thank you, Clara.” The older woman had sort of become your best friend and aunt all rolled up in one over the last few years, sitting right where Riki did. She smiled bitterly as she rested her hand on your cheek. “Young master doesn’t mean to hurt you. Just doesn’t know how to let you help without feeling like he’s failing you.” You blinked up at her, lips parting, but she beat you to the thought. “He thinks protecting you means keeping you in the dark. It’s not fair. But it’s what he was taught. The men before him—his grandfather, his brother, his father at first—they didn’t marry for love. They married for legacy. You? You’re the first thing he ever chose.”

Her thumb brushed along your cheekbone before dropping back to her lap.

“He’s scared.” She said it like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t something Riki would ever say himself. “Not of the enemies. Of what happens to him if something happens to you.”

You exhaled through your nose, scoffing softly at the bitter twist in your chest. “He could just say that.”

Clara smiled gently. “He could. But you married a yakuza, babygirl. Not a poet.”

You cracked a smile—small, but real.

“He’ll come around. Just don’t mistake his silence for stubbornness. That boy listens. Always has.” Your eyes met hers, lashes trembling just a little, because you were tired. Not tired of him—never of him—but of what came with him. The silence. The walls. The feeling that even though you slept next to each other every night, there were parts of Riki that refused to come out from behind that iron curtain in his chest.

“He talks like someone who’s already buried a wife,” you muttered.

Clara sighs, “Because he’s seen it all of his life. Colleagues dying, their wives dying. His mother…” She trailed off. Riki’s mother had been shot and killed when he was two. He hadn’t had any memories of her, just the things that his family wanted him to remember. All of his life he had heard stories of his mother’s laugh, how fun she was, and that one time she accidentally overheated the soup in the kitchen and made the pot boil over and explode all over the counter. Riki had seen no point in being upset over it, he didn’t remember her. In his mind, there was no use mourning someone he never knew. She didn’t mean much to him until he brought you to meet his dad. While you were in the parlor, leg bouncing and nearly hyperventilating, Riki and Mr. Nishimura were speaking in the hallway. Riki would never forget. 

“Her laugh reminds me of your mother’s.”

That was all his father said. Stern and weathered, voice like gravel under boots, but his eyes softened for half a second—just one—as he looked past Riki into the parlor, where you sat nervously smoothing out your dress. Riki stood there frozen. Because in all the years of funerals and retellings, of whispered stories around the dinner table and framed photographs that never moved from the shrine, not once had anyone ever made her real. He’d never known her laugh. But apparently, you sounded like her when you did that thing—laugh with your whole chest, eyes squeezing shut, hands slapping his shoulder even when he barely cracked a joke.

That was the moment his mother became real—not a figment, not folklore.

And that was when fear sunk its teeth into him.

But Clara didn’t need to say anything. You knew. He knew. Everyone did and you couldn’t forget because he wasn’t going to let you. 

So you sat there, knowingly and sighed in resignation. “I just…I love him and I want him to see me as an equal.” You brushed your hair back, jewelry cold on your warm face. “He does, sweetie.” The elder nodded with an endearing smile. “He’s just a prideful and protective man raised by a lot of prideful and protective men. And sometimes that gets in the way. They’ll do anything to ensure the safety of each other. That’s how they were raised. You’re his world, don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I know,” you whispered as you stared down at your doll-like shoes. Rubbing them together lightly and creating a creaking sound with the coated leather.

Clara stood, brushing off her apron. “But if that’s not enough, then…just talk to him. Seriously,” she lightly pinched your cheek. “You know just like I do that he’ll listen.”

She left you with that, bowing before she went to go dust the living room. And you stayed there, heart heavy and at this point, you felt like that same frown was going to become permanent. But you just turned to eat your breakfast. 

Chewing on your omelette and it was cold and bitter, akin to what you thought battery acid could taste like. You frustratedly put the fork back on the plate, and just grabbed your apple juice. Leaving everything else in your wake.

—

Later that day

—

You lay in bed, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it owed you answers. The moonlight spilled through the blackout curtains, painting silver streaks across the sheets—cold and unforgiving. Riki moved around the room with his usual quiet precision, the soft click of his dress shoes replaced by the muted sound of him slipping out of his clothes. You didn’t say a word. Didn’t even flinch when he pulled back the covers and settled beside you in just his briefs. He liked sleeping this way.

He glanced over, catching the set of your jaw, the silent storm brewing behind your eyes. His voice was low, cautious—the kind reserved for moments when words had failed too many times already.

“You still upset?”

You stayed quiet.

Your husband sighed as he stared at you, a mixture of pity and frustration. “I just want you to be safe…” He leaned up on his side as he tilted his head. An idea came to his head as he smiled softly. “I have good news.”

You tightened your arms, still looking to the ceiling and staying silent.

But he kept talking, “While I was out, I got those chocolates you liked. I know you haven’t been able to find them for months. They’re downstairs…I can have Clara bring them up for you.” He said hopefully but you still didn’t dignify it. “And…tomorrow when I get back from work we can finally watch that show you’ve been wanting to. The Vampire Diaries you said?” He reached to lightly brush your cheek with the back of his hand, to which you almost fell for it then but you had more resolve. “I promise not to get jealous when you call that Klaus character sexy.” He smiled gently, hoping to make you laugh but to no avail.

“C’mon, my love.” Riki kissed your temple, “don’t be so mean to me.” He said with near desperation. 

Your eyes flicked toward him for a split second. Just one. That was all he got.

He saw it, too.

“I’m not being mean,” you muttered finally, voice flat. “I’m just tired.”

Riki stilled. His hand dropped back to the sheets.

“That’s not what this is about and you know it,” he said, his voice quieter now, more careful. “You’re punishing me.”

You looked at him, “You’re underestimating me.” He furrowed his brows, “I…no I’m not. I told you earlier. I have no doubts. I love you more than you could ever understand but…you’re naïve.” His gaze wavered for the first time you saw in him, fear. “A-And you get in over your head sometimes. I know you won’t be in direct danger but…it’s enough and that’s all I need to make me say no to you.”

You sat up, “I am not naïve!” 

Riki smiled gently, nodding as he moved his hand to your waist. “Yes, you are.”

“Name one time.”

Riki held your gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was debating whether or not to say it. “One time?” he said softly. “Alright.” He ran a hand through his hair, then let it fall to his lap. “That day you tried to drive yourself to Ryujin’s house across town because ‘it was just lunch.’ No guards. No heads-up.” He paused. “You didn’t notice the car that trailed you for ten blocks. You didn’t notice it double back when you stopped at the café. I did. Because I had someone watching.”

You blinked, jaw dropping in disbelief.

“You brushed it off when I brought it up. Said I was being paranoid. But that same car was on our street the next night.” He leaned in a little, voice lower now. “I didn’t tell you that part. Because I knew it would scare you. And I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

He exhaled. “You’re amazing. Brave. Smarter than anyone I know. But baby…that’s what makes it worse. You think you can’t be touched.”

“Have you…been touched?” You whispered in defeat.

“Me?” He snorted, “Fuck no,” letting out a small laugh.

“Riki��” you whined as you leaned back onto the headboard with a pout.

“What?” He laughed, but quietly gathered himself for you. “I’m sorry, but no. I haven’t but that’s because this is something that I was born into?” He said it as if it was obvious—because it was. “You married into this life and this is just something you’d have to learn. But it’s been four years of me keeping you away from it and it will stay that way until we both croak over.” Riki nods affirmatively as he lays back down on his back. Eyes leering at the ceiling the same way you were. A beat of silence fell over you two. You hated to push him, but this was the last time you would. “Okay but…at least think about this. I married you because I love you.” You huffed, looking at the ceiling as well. “You, our union, this ring, our family name…it means the world—the universe and galaxy—to me. But I swore to love, honor, and respect you in sickness and health, for rich or poor. But…” You turned to him with gentleness in your eyes. “I promised to protect the integrity of the Nishimura name. That I wouldn’t shame this family, myself, or you. That by becoming Mrs. Nishimura, there’s tremendous responsibility and I’m ready for all of it.” You tenderly pecked his lips, to which he quickly reciprocated. “I love you, and if I ever do anything to make you think I cannot handle this…then pull me out. But don’t just say no if we haven’t even seen how I would do.” 

Riki didn’t respond right away. You watched his chest rise and fall, steady, like he was working through every word you’d just said.

Then, slowly, he turned his head toward you.

“…Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll think about it.”

You blinked, surprised he hadn’t shut it down completely. But before you could say anything, he leaned over and kissed your forehead—then your lips. It lingered this time. Less reflex, more emotion.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Goodnight.”

He waited until your breathing evened out beside him. Waited until your hand slipped from his chest and onto the pillow.

Then, carefully, Riki slipped out of bed and into a silk robe.

He moved quietly, barely letting the bedroom door creak open before he was down the hall, bare feet silent against the marble.

—

The door clicked shut behind him. Clara glanced up from her desk, already halfway into her second espresso. She didn’t even look surprised.

“I figured you’d come,” she said, setting her cup down. “You only knock when it’s about her.”

Riki didn’t smile. Just stood there for a second.

Then: “What do I do?”

Clara smiled fondly, “What you think is best, son.” As she sipped her coffee. 

Riki sat down on the chair in front of her desk with a sigh. “But that’s why I came to ask you.” He gestured to the elder with an annoyed expression but quickly hid it as he actually had respect for her. “She made a good point. Too good. I just don’t want her to get taken advantage of. I don’t want her to lose her light the way so many of us did.” Clara laughed, “You still have your light, Riki.” She leaned back in her chair as she adjusted her glasses. “You didn’t always have it…but she gave it back to you.” He nodded with a firm look. “She did. She’s my light. She’s my—oh gosh—” Riki exhaled firmly as he buried his head in his hands, slightly shaking as he bounces his leg. Anxiety peeking through. “I can’t lose her. I won’t. I will not end up like my dad. I refuse to.” He shakes his head vehemently, his black hair falling in his face to which he swiftly pushes it back. 

“She’s strong. You’re even stronger. Use your strength to help her get there. She just wants you to meet her halfway. That’s all she needs from you.” Clara said softly. “She’s capable and you know it. I believe so.”

Riki looks up at her through hooded lids. “You think so?”

Clara nodded, “I know so.” She stood up and beckoned him to follow her. “Come on,” 

He complied and followed her to the east wing of the home—where his office resided. She used her key to open it and walked to his file cabinet and pulled out a black folder and handed it to him. “Here.”

The tall man scanned the folder and looked up at her. “What’s this for?”

“A test.” she said simply. “Start small. Give her something to handle. If she can carry it—then you talk.”

Riki stared at the folder, thumb brushing over the edge.

“You sure?”

Clara’s eyes didn’t waver. “I’ve never been more.”

—

You sat in the living room, watching another installment of some YouTube gameplay of a horror game. After last night, you had hope. Hope that something in the universe would change the mind of your vexingly stubborn husband. That for once he’d let you have a little more agency than he’d let you have any other day. Though, please don’t misunderstand. Riki wasn’t controlling by any means. He let you do and practically say whatever you wanted. You spent his money, were able to go out at your leisure (not without security), utilize…him as much as you wanted. But especially, he let you argue. Riki never let anyone argue. Being the man he was, prideful and a leader, his word was always going to be the last one. It was his way or no way, and this was the first time he had fought you so hard on something as this only made you want it more. You wanted to help, of course. But you just wanted to be more important to him than you already were. You knew that he loved you, you had never in the four years that you were together doubted the affection he held for you. You had just wished that he let you have a little more freedom. So you adjusted yourself on the couch, your shorts twisting and crop top riding up just a little but it didn’t matter because you had a throw blanket on. Riki entered the living room with something hidden behind his back. “Hello, my love.”

You furrowed your brows, “What are you doing?”

He shrugged as he padded over to the couch and plopped beside you with a knowing smirk. You turned off the TV and turned to face him, giving him your undivided attention. “I have to talk to you about something serious.”

You frowned, “If this is about yesterday then I—” He shook his head with a smile now, “Ancient history, passé.” 

Growing suspicious, you hugged the blanket close to you. “Okay?”

He revealed a black folder from behind him and flashed it with a smile. “Ta-da!”

You shrug, “A black folder. Wow…”

He smacked his teeth with a grunt. “Take it,” he said gently, smiling with tenderness. 

You grabbed the folder reluctantly, opening it to sift through it: three different color USBs, CCTV stills, ledger excerpts, and then a sealable, ivory envelope with a Kaminari recommendation card on it. 

Your heart dropped, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him. “No…”

He nodded, smiling, “Yes, but only if—” 

You cut him off by throwing yourself on top of him in excitement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The black folder behind you now and your legs tangled with his as you held his face between your hands, kissing him once, twice, a third time just to make sure this was real. Riki laughed into your lips, arms wrapped around your waist, holding you like the choice didn’t shake him a little too. Like giving you this meant everything would be fine. “Wait, woah slow down.” He smiled, “there’s something else too. Come with me.” He stroked your cheek as he helped you up and off of the couch, grabbing the folder. Without a word, you followed him to the east wing as if you were going to his office. But then you made a strong left. This house was so big that there were rooms you hadn’t even seen yet; and you’d been living here for two years. But he handed you a key to a door, the door being right down the hall from his. 

You took it without a word and unlocked the door to see an office of your own. A pink, girly office.

You stepped inside slowly, mouth parting in a silent gasp. It was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in soft morning light. White marble floors. Blush-toned walls. Shelves already stocked with delicate file boxes, soft leather notebooks, gold-trimmed pens, and what looked like a crystal lamp shaped like a cherry blossom. Then you looked around in the corner of the room, a plush carpet and loveseat with a mini-fridge. There was a glass desk in the center, wide and sleek, with your name engraved on a pink acrylic placard: Mrs. Nishimura—but underneath, in smaller script, it read:

Behavioral Intelligence Officer

Your knees buckled a little.

“Riki…” you breathed, turning around with trembling hands. “What is this?”

He stood at the doorframe like he wasn’t watching your entire soul ascend out of your body. His smile was slow, private. “This is where you’ll work from now on. The folder stays here. You get full clearance, unmonitored access, your own contact line with everyone, and burner accounts we’ll rotate weekly.”

You stared at him, absolutely speechless.

“You said you wanted to help,” he added softly. “But more than that…you wanted me to treat you like a partner. So here you go. This is me treating you like a partner.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they didn’t sting. They shimmered.

“And I don’t have to…ask permission to come in here?” you asked, still stunned. Riki shook his head, stepping in and running his hands up your arms. “This is yours. It’s your space, your case, your decisions.” He paused. “I’ll still worry, and I’ll still protect you. That’s not up for debate. But this—” He looked around. “This is where I start learning how to let go a little.”

You threw your arms around his neck again, burying your face into his shoulder. “I’m gonna cry all over this expensive-ass marble.” He let out a breathy laugh as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Don’t. I don’t want a slip and fall one day in.” Kissing your temple lovingly, his voice softening. “I love you, you’re Mrs. Nishimura. Not just in love, but in title and it’s time we all started acting like it.”

You peeled off and pulled him down a bit to lay your lips onto his. Resting your hands on his nape as you kissed him like it was the last thing you’d ever do. 

Riki, letting out a groan as he picked you up off of your feet, grabbing your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. He smiled into the kiss as he massaged your ass in his large hands. “Should’ve done this sooner.”

“Mhm,” you hummed into the exchange as you tilted his head back to start showing his neck some attention.

Riki’s pulse thrummed beneath your lips, his head tipping back just enough for you to taste the faint salt of his skin and the trace of expensive cologne he only ever wore for you. His breath caught—low, rough, entirely at odds with the marble‑cold composure everyone else knew.

He shifted, pressing you against the edge of your new desk. The glass was cool, a soft contrast to the heat rolling off the two of you.

“Careful,” you whispered, teasing your teeth along his jaw. “That’s my desk now.”

He hummed, voice vibrating against your mouth. “Then I guess I’ll just have to get used to doing things your way.” His hands skimmed up the backs of your thighs, thumbs drawing lazy circles that made you shiver. The black folder still sat secure on the far corner—close enough to remind you why you were here, but far enough to keep from shattering the moment. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes—dark, dilated, a storm held only by sheer will. “Thank you,” you murmured. “For trusting me.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, thumb lingering at your cheek. “Thank you for demanding it.” The weight of those words settled between you—equal parts promise and permission. He leaned in again, slower this time, lips hovering at the shell of your ear.

“Lock the door, Officer,” he murmured, a smile in his voice. “We must discuss business.” You squealed in glee as you hopped off the desk and closed the door, clicking the lock and scampering to your desk chair to sit dramatically. Crossing your legs like this was your throne and you were about to speak to one of your subjects. “Behavioral Intelligence Officer speaking,”

Riki smiled at your corniness. “Woah there, Powerpuff Girl. We gotta lay down the ground rules first.” He leaned against your desk, half sitting—his long legs in his signature black slacks looked you in the eye.

Raising your brows in curiosity, you knew this was coming. “Rules?”

He nodded once, “Rules. There are quite a few.”

“What are these rules?” You grabbed the folder to open it but he quickly took it from you, barely leaning forward as his long arms made quick work. “Hey!” You tried to grab it back.

He held the folder out of reach and held his hand up. “Nope, I need your attention.”

You huffed in frustration and leaned back in your chair. “Okay, you got it.”

He nodded, something behind his eyes switching. That domestic, loving, caring husband disappeared and now thunder, cold, and firm boss made an appearance. This is how you know he was being totally serious. “Rule one: you never—and I mean ever—do anything without consulting me. You report to me, you run things by me, you address me. This goes for everyone in the organization. I am the boss, I am your leader, I will be respected as such.” Your eyes widen at his unyielding tone; unsure whether to find this scary or sexy. But you concede, “Okay. Number two?”

Riki nodded, “Number two: one-way door policy. Do you know what that means?” He tilted his head. 

You shook your head with wide eyes. “No,”

He smiled politely, “It means that whatever comes in here, stays here. That folder? Stays here. External drives, put it in the safe.” He points to the hidden safe behind the big picture frame of you two, the photo of him proposing to you in Cabo. “Don’t screenshot anything. Don’t even mention anything outside of here. The only other place that’s acceptable is my office. Understood?”

You nod, “That makes sense, I get it. Understood.”

“Good. Number three: when this button lights, pick up your phone. It means there’s an emergency and someone needs to get a hold of you.” He nods to the clear knob on your PC keyboard. “We haven’t had a situation where we’ve needed to do it for years. But it’s necessary. Simple.” He claps his hands as she slowly paces the room now. “Next rule: Every accusation needs proof. Time, place, motive. You can’t just say you have a gut feeling. I would believe you if you spat on me and told me it was rain. But here, we need proof. No baseless accusations. This goes for everyone, even me.” He put his hands in his pockets, as he looked at the marble floor. Letting himself think, doing that thing with his tongue-in-cheek. “Any questions thus far?” 

Even with receiving all of this information, you shook your head. “No, keep going.”

“Beautiful,” he half-smiles. “Number four, this is a special rule: mental health days for you. Brains work better when they’re not being fried. Take a day to decompress, all of our problems will be there when you get back. And you will stop working at midnight, every night. No exceptions—I’m not going to explain it.” He said firmly. “A few more rules.”

He stopped walking to look you in the eye. “You only break rules to save a life, not for curiosity. It’s cute in a mystery film but people’s lives are at stake everyday here, don’t just do shit for the fun of it.” He comes back to his slow pacing.

“Third to last rule: this,” He gestured around the room, “is all yours. But this position isn’t a sure thing—”

Your jaw dropped, “Riki—” you whined in protest, finding it to be unfair. 

“I’m speaking.” He held his finger up to silence you, to which you complied. Cowering in your seat as you looked at him with a pout.

“You’re going to be headed into this with little training. You’re not used to being under constant pressure, sometimes when you aren’t used to that…well…” He shrugged, “you can choke.” Riki sighed. 

“You think I’m gonna choke?” You applied pressure to your tone, tilting your head in confusion. “I thought you said I was capable.”

Riki’s jaw flexed, eyes flicking up to meet yours—and for a moment, the weight of all this vanished. He looked at you like he always did: like you were the sun wearing heels, a hurricane with heart. But even so, his voice stayed firm.

“I know you’re capable,” he corrected. “But being capable and being ready aren’t the same thing. This isn’t a trust fall, baby. If you fall, someone could die.”

You stared at him. The silence between you stretched just long enough to feel like a power shift. Like you weren’t his wife at that moment—you were his kobun, his chosen partner, sure. But still…new.

You swallowed your pride and gave a tight nod. “Alright. Next rule?”

He sighed again, knowing this one would damper you a little. “No pet names. No ‘baby,’ no ‘my love,’ no ‘babe,’ ‘babe-arsaurus.’” 

“Not babe-asaurus!” 

He gave you a flat look. “Especially not babe-asaurus. We’re not at home. You wanna call me something cute, you do it in the kitchen.”

You snorted, arms crossed as you leaned back in your chair. “So dramatic.”

“I’m serious.” He circled back behind your desk, hands coming to rest on the armrests as he leaned in close. “Pet names blur the lines. And here, we don’t blur lines.”

You blinked. “Okay, edgelord.”

He grinned against your cheek, voice dropping again into that teasing warning. “Keep it up and the next rule’s gonna be ‘no lip gloss if you’re gonna talk back.’”

You raised your brows, daring him. “You gonna confiscate it?”

He took your gloss right out of your shorts pocket like he knew exactly where it was. “First offense: warning. Second offense? I keep it. Third…” He leaned in and whispered against your jaw, “You come to my office to earn it back.”

“Ooh…” you smile as you nuzzle his neck then pull back. “Am I speaking to my husband or Kaminari?”

He smiled back, “Both…but I’m serious.” He raised his brows, “No names.”

You smacked your teeth, “Okay ba—I mean—sir.”

Riki smiled kneeling in front of your chair now. “That turns me on too, but final rule. And it’s the one I’ll break before I ever let you break it.”

He leaned forward, holding your face in his hands. His cool rings melted against your cheeks as he looked you in the eye. “No lying,” he said. “To me. Ever. If you’re scared, tell me. If you messed up, tell me. If you don’t know what to do, you come to me. We do not lie to each other.”

This was an unspoken rule, not only in your career but in your marriage too. The only lie that Riki had ever told you was that he was going to work but was going ring shopping instead. With the candor of his own family—meaning that Riki’s family physically never lied to each other—he saw that lying was the ultimate form of betrayal. The only time that lies were acceptable were under moments of extreme duress (e.g. his job). When you two had discussed deal breakers on your first date he had said ‘lying’ before the question even left your mouth. And funnily enough, he never lied to you. He just withheld things or simply never brought things up until you asked. He never spoke about work, and if you asked about his day then it was: “Today was shitty.” Or “It was good. Just work.” Or “Productive, fortunately.” He never wanted you to know anything because knowing means danger and danger means you die. And it’s not paranoia! No. Never. 

If you asked how a pair of jeans looked on you and he didn’t think they suited you then he’d give a simple “You’ve got better ones, my love.” Riki’s brand of honesty wasn’t mean—just wrapped in a velvet glove with iron beneath. Never cold, never cruel, never abrasive. He just valued the truth and gave it to you whether you liked it or not. Simply, he’d want the same thing from you. He’d rather you hurt his feelings with the truth now than hurt it even more with a lie if—and when—he found out. You never lied to him, even when the truth would hurt more. So now, as he knelt in front of you, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like you were made of glass and fire at the same time, it wasn’t just a rule. It was another vow. Not just for the sake of your marriage but your new dynamic. 

“Not even if it’ll hurt you?” You whispered, leaning your forehead on his.

He closed the gap a little, leaning to place a gentle kiss on your lips; letting it linger. “Especially then,”

“…Is this the part where I get my badge and cool-girl gun holster?” you mumbled against his mouth.

He snorted, pulling back. “You are so annoying.”

“Hot and annoying,” you corrected, poking his chest.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he sighed, mock-disappointed, before grabbing the case file from the desk. “Alright, dude. Let’s ruin someone’s day.”

—

Riki sat on the edge of your desk again, this time with the folder open in his lap, flipping through it casually—composed as usual. “We have a leak,” he said simply.

Your brows pulled together. “Internal?”

He nodded once. “High-level. The kind of leak that gets people killed.”

You leaned forward in your chair, pulse ticking up. “What kind of intel got out?”

“Shipment logs. Safehouse rotations. Even a few agent profiles,” he said, tapping the page with the back of his ringed hand. “All routed through dead drops in Nishiyama territory. No digital trail. Clean. Old-school.”

You scoffed under your breath, “So we’re dealing with a professional.”

“We’re dealing with a mole.” His voice hardened like concrete setting. “Someone inside Kaminari is feeding information to the Nishiyama syndicate. Which means one of ours is playing both sides.”

You blinked. “A double agent?”

He met your gaze with a heavy look. “Exactly.”

You swallowed. This wasn’t just a briefing. This was serious. “You already have a suspect?”

“I’ve got three.” He flipped to the next tab. “Some important people. Social Liaison, Yuna. Logistics, Jo. Then Sohee, the Accountant. All had access to the stolen intel.”

You reached out, but Riki didn’t hand over the folder yet. “Your objective,” he said, his tone dropping into something deadly smooth, “is to make contact with all three. Casually. I want your read on them. Behavioral patterns. Speech tells. Any inconsistencies.”

You raised a brow. “You want me to profile them.”

“I want you to read them like a book, baby,” he said, before catching himself—then exhaling. “Sorry. Not on the job.”

You smiled a little. “Slipped out. I’ll allow it.”

He looked at you, seriously now. “You’re not just my wife here. You’re the only person I trust to do this clean. No bias, no noise. I don’t need proof yet. I need instinct. Which might contradict a rule but you aren’t making a move yet. That’s up to me…or maybe you depending on how this goes.”

“And if my gut tells me who the leak is?”

He nodded. “Then we build the case. Surveillance, comms trace, movement logs. But you’re the first step.”

You inhaled. “Understood. Where do I start?”

Riki handed you the folder at last.

“Page one. Then you come to the compound with me tomorrow morning.” He smiled, tilting his head. You stood with slight nervousness, shaking your hands as if the feeling was water and you needed to let it dry. “Tomorrow?” You muttered as you paced in front of him slowly. “I’m going tomorrow?”

Riki smiled at your demeanor, “Yes, you will be coming with me tomorrow.” 

“What? So like, do I go in a disguise or something?” You stopped and put your hands on your head dramatically, cropped shirt lifting just a tad to reveal the hem of your bra. Not that you cared, Riki had seen you as naked as the day you were born. Letting out a breathy laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners and that was enough to soothe you. Hearing him laugh. “Sure.” He crossed his arms. “Your disguise will be ‘my wife.’” Riki leaned off of the desk as he approached you. “You’re just going to talk to them. Like I said…read them. Point out red flags, assess a possible motive. But even then, you are not to engage further. No strong-arming. That’s my job.” 

“Because you’re mean to people.”

Riki snorted. “I’m not mean. I’m...assertive.”

You raised a brow. “You once threatened to staple someone’s tongue to a desk.”

He held up a finger. “Because he lied. With confidence. That’s worse.”

You blinked. “You smiled while doing it.”

“And I was right,” he replied, smug as hell.

You muttered something about psycho husbands under your breath and flipped open the folder anyway. Inside were three crisp profiles: one woman, two men. All clean-cut. All smiling in their ID photos. Like one of them could’ve handed someone a kill order and then gone out for ice cream after.

Your stomach twisted just a bit.

“You good?” Riki asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just a lot to take in.” He paused, reading you again like he always did—too carefully, too much like someone who knew every version of you. The tough one. The soft one. The one who panicked over brunch menus and the one who could lie on cue if called for it.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he said quietly. “To me. Or anyone else.”

Your eyes flicked up to his. “That’s funny. I thought this whole thing was a test.”

“Oh it is,” Riki pursed his lips. “And you do have something to prove, I just wanted to make you feel better.”

“Whatever happened to not lying?” You furrowed your brows, now getting irritated that he was making a joke of you.

Riki didn’t flinch. “I’m not lying. I’m softening the blow. Totally different.”

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Feels the same from where I’m standing.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your spine straighten. “If I didn’t think you could handle it, you wouldn’t be here. I don’t hand out assignments because of marriage certificates.”

You held his gaze, jaw tight.

“So yeah,” he continued, “it’s a test. But not of your worth. Of your readiness.” Your heart beat just a little harder at that. Not because you were scared—but because you hated how much you cared about passing. How much you wanted him to see you pass.

“…Still feels like lying,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“Then lie back,” he said, almost a whisper now, brushing a knuckle down your arm. “But I owe you a receipt, though.” Riki pouted his lips mockingly. 

“A receipt?” Your eyes flitted to the side for a moment in confusion.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he sharply pulled you in by your biceps, your chest meeting his upper abdomen as he towered over you. “Don’t think I forgot the tone you took with me yesterday morning.”

Your heart raced and the breath caught in your throat like it had something to lose. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm enough to remind you: Riki didn’t bluff.

“I had to assert myself,” you said, chin tipping up even as your voice dipped lower.

Riki smirked, eyes flickering between yours. “Oh, you asserted something, alright. Had me rethinking our marriage vows halfway through my eggs.”

“Should’ve read the fine print,” you quipped, trying to deflect the way your pulse was going off like sirens under your skin.

His smile widened just a bit—dangerous and sweet, like a dare in the dark. “Fine print said mutual respect,” he murmured. “And you disrespected your superior officer, baby.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Superior officer? That’s what we’re doing now? You get off on that?”

“I get off on putting you in your place.” He stroked your cheek with his knuckle as he leaned in, grazing his nose with yours. “I think you forgot who you married.” Something behind his eyes flickered, something dark, menacing, and slightly sinister. He leaned back as he scanned your body. “Go to our room,” he said, voice low and unshakable. “Lose the attitude—and the clothes. I want both off by the time I walk in.”

—

Getting ready the next morning at six ante meridiem was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in a very long time. You don’t know how Riki did it. If it was a solid nine then that was right up your alley. And considering the events of last night, your husband wasn’t exactly forgiving. You were sore as a bitch, with every part and limb aching. Nevermind your glorious dream about riding unicorns in the rain. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t rain, it was your despicable husband shaking his wet hair in your face as your wake up call.

“Grand rising, beloved!” He beamed with a boyish smile.

You jumped up, clenching the linen sheets to your bare chest and gasping for air. “Oh my God.” You grunted as you swung on him, hitting his bare arm. “You’re such an asshole! Fuck you, you scared the shit out of me!” You’re still spent for air as you fell back on the bed and he was towering over you from beside the bed, laughing from the pit of his gut. He grinned, completely unbothered by your assault. “Don’t be mad. You looked peaceful. Like Snow White, but, like...if Snow White had a felony record.”

You tossed a pillow at him, which he caught easily with one hand, the other holding his towel around his waist. “I’m not the one with the felony fucking record.” 

“Well technically I don’t. But if I did then I’ll add something else to my list if you don’t get up.” He tossed the pillow back at your face. You launched yourself at him like vengeance itself, arms wrapping around his neck as you tackled him backward. The towel slipped just enough to make it personal.

“I hate you,” you growled, even as laughter bubbled in your throat.

He caught you mid-flight with that irritatingly perfect upper-body strength, stumbling a little before regaining balance. “Lies,” he muttered against your shoulder. “You were just singing my praises last night.”

“That wasn’t singing, that was—” you cut yourself off, groaning as you buried your face in his collarbone. “I’m too tired for this. Let’s call in rich.”

“We are rich,” he said, smug. “But we’re also very much still showing up, because I’m not digging the ‘sore and cranky’ excuse from you today.”

You sighed and looked up at him, “I would kiss you but you pissed me off and I have morning breath.”

Riki smirked, unfazed, and leaned in anyway. “Lucky for you, I have a piss kink and no sense of smell.”

You smacked his chest, scandalized. “Riki!”

He just laughed, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Relax, I brushed my teeth for both of us.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not how hygiene works.”

“It is in marriage,” he said, already walking away like he didn’t just say the most obscene things before the Lord Himself was awake. “Now move it. We’ve got a mole to sniff out.”

You stared after him. “I swear, I’m calling HR.”

“I am HR.” he yelled from the bathroom. “You have two hours.”

God help you.

—

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” You exhaled shakily, trying to rub the sweat off of your palms and onto the leather seats of black car. 

“My love, you asked like twi—”

“I don’t care, I’m asking again.” You looked out of the car window, watching the trees turn to mush and blur as the car sped through the highway. “Three people, one woman: Jung Yuna. Two men: Asakura Jo, and Lee Sohee.” He said, carefully, as he soothed your nerves, gently massaging your thigh. “Leak. You’re going to talk to them, get a feel for their personalities. Just…get to know them. That’s all.” He pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder. 

“Okay,” you huffed. “Simple enough.”

Riki gave a soft hum. “Simple, yes. Easy?” He flicked his eyes toward you, a warning there. “Not even a little.”

You glanced at him. “What’s the catch?” He didn’t answer immediately, just adjusted his grip on your thigh and dropped his voice. “One of them’s working with a third-party buyer. We don’t know who. We don’t know why. But we know it’s internal.”

Your brows furrowed. “And they don’t know we know?”

“Exactly. As far as they’re concerned, I’m bringing my sweet, unassuming wife for a fun day at work. Yuna knows me. Jo doesn’t trust me. And Sohee…” he trailed off, pausing. “Sohee thinks he’s smarter than everyone in the room.”

You clicked your tongue. “So you want me to play dumb.”

Riki’s lip curled into that crooked smirk—the one that always meant trouble. “Not dumb. Charming. A little naïve, maybe. But observant. You’re not interrogating them. You’re studying them. I want your instincts, not your analysis.”

“So this is ‘vibes-based’ intel?” You made quotation marks with your fingers.

“This is you-based intel.” His hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling gently. “You see people. You’ve always seen me—even when I didn’t want you to. That’s your edge.”

You fell silent for a beat. “If I’m the edge, what are you?”

“The blade,” he said simply. “So keep it cute. I’ll do the cutting if we have to.”

You let out a breath, heart pounding as the trees blurred past faster now. “Okay. Let’s find our mole.”

—

You entered the expansive compound, smiling and waving at the different people. At times—and the very few times you’ve been here—you forget that this is an organized crime group and not an organization, a conglomerate even. And seeing Riki walk in here was like seeing a switch flip and the light turn on. Gone was your generous, funny, doting lover and now straight-faced, strict, articulate Komichō. It was slightly overwhelming to be able to see someone just turn themselves on and off like that.

So when he walked in, every person lined up to greet him. His kobun, bloodbound kobun. Trained, loyal, and unshakably his. They bowed—not out of introduction, but acknowledgment. You weren’t a stranger here, not technically. They knew your face. They’d watched you stand beside Riki in silk and gold, watched you kiss him with a thousand eyes on your back. But none of them knew you.

Not really.

So when you walked in today—no veil, no curated elegance, no fanfare—there was a shift. A flicker in the way some of them looked at you. You were here, which meant something had changed. You weren’t just the wife anymore. You were part of the inner workings now. At least you and Riki knew that. Still, he said nothing else. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough to quiet any question before it could rise. But the way his hand hovered at your back—subtle, protective, claiming—told the whole room that you weren’t just tagging along. You were trusted.

A few of them looked surprised.

One or two looked uneasy.

And at least one looked curious.

You kept your posture steady, offering a nod of acknowledgment. Cool. Collected. Just another day casually stepping into your husband’s criminal empire. Totally fine. Absolutely fine. Zero panic. Riki leaned in just enough to brush his lips against your temple. “They remember the wedding,” he murmured, “but they don’t know you.”

“Good,” you replied under your breath.

He smirked. “That’s my girl.”

—

You strolled into one of the lounges, making decent use of your time here. You were careful to not immediately get to work as you didn’t want to make yourself super obvious. So here you were, walking around, scaring Heeseung—head of operations—every now and then just because you could. But after about thirty minutes, you decided to pull the trigger on this. Your eyes found Sohee sitting at one of the many tables, tip-tapping away at something on his laptop. Presumably not work-related because this was considered a breakroom. But Riki wasn’t that strict, he didn’t care where the work got done—as long as it was in the building and nowhere else. 

Putting on a friendly smile, you approached the table with politeness. “Hi, Sohee. How are you?”

The guy looked up from his laptop, the blank stare turning to a smile that mirrored your own. “Okaasan, I’m doing fine. You?”

You waved him off with a smile, telling him to drop the formalities and that calling you by your name was more than fine. But he didn’t comply, stating that Riki insisted that they call you Mrs. Nishimura or Okaasan.

“No, I’m telling you to call me by my first name. Please, it’s okay.” Smiling, nodding your head to ensure he felt a little more comfortable in this exchange. Being on a first-name basis establishes comfort. If there’s that then the conversation won’t be so rigid. Sohee smiled gently, being slightly flustered at your friendliness. He hadn’t spoken to you ever and only knew you in passing. He was at the wedding like most of the group but besides that there were very little interactions between you and the other affiliates. No one knew about you aside from Riki’s close friends—some of whom were a part of the group and his groomsmen, and his family by the time of the ceremony. “Of course…” He rubbed his eyes, “But yeah, I haven’t seen you since the wedding. Tell me about married life, how’s it treating you?” You slid into the seat across from him, adjusting your blouse just slightly as you crossed one leg over the other. A friendly smile stayed on your lips, but your eyes had already started their sweep—watching his fingers, his posture, how fast he minimized whatever was on his screen.

“Oh, you know,” you started, tone breezy like the back patio of a brunch spot. “We argue about whether the AC should be at sixty-eight or seventy-two, and then he kisses me. Classic honeymoon phase stuff.”

Sohee laughed politely, but you noticed the slight tug at his lip—like he was trying to decide if it was okay to really laugh. That was good. You liked that.

“It’s different though,” you continued, tilting your head thoughtfully. “Being someone’s girlfriend, and then suddenly you’re…really a part of their life. Your world is one, I guess. Still getting used to the perks.”

He snorted at that, relaxing a little. “I mean, if by perks you mean the estate and a guy named Chan who opens your car door every morning—yeah, not bad.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Exactly. And the complimentary paranoia’s cute too.”

Sohee’s eyes flicked up at you, and for a second, you saw the calculation behind the smile. He was smart. They wouldn’t have put him over logistics if he wasn’t. “You say that like you weren’t built for this. I mean, most people around here kind of expected you to be the accessory. No offense.”

You smiled wider at that. “None taken. Accessories don’t walk themselves in here and sit across from the guy who tracks where all the money goes.”

He stilled—just barely—but you caught it. Bingo.

Before he could volley back, you softened your voice, brushing invisible lint off your sleeve. “Anyway. I’m not here to scare anyone. I’m here to get to know people. Riki’s always talking about how tight-knit the team is. Family, right?”

Sohee nodded slowly, and you could practically hear the mental gears clicking. “Yeah. Family.”

“And family talks,” you said lightly. “Even if it’s just about what’s stressing them out…or keeping them up at night.”

He leaned back slightly, tilting his head. “That’s a very specific way to phrase that.”

You looked at him with a half-smile. “Well. I’m a very specific kind of person. Plus, I spend his money, I gotta make sure it gets where it has to be right?” You try to break the subtle change in vibe with a joke. He bites, somewhat relieved that the woman who has the power to either put him on the unemployment line or in a body bag wasn’t taking him too seriously. 

Despite that, you took it for what it was and whatever he was giving you. Before either of you can stretch the silence too far, the door swings open.

“Heard there were pastries in here,” a voice calls out playfully, and in walks Yuna—light on her feet, dressed like her outfit alone had a LinkedIn profile, and confident like someone who always gets the last word.

Her gaze slides over the room, landing on you and Sohee.

“Oh,” she says, lips curving upward as she closes the distance. “Didn’t know this was a members only table.”

You gesture to the seat beside you. “Not at all. I was just catching up with Sohee. Join us.”

Sohee stands halfway out of his seat in reflex—a gentleman or a little afraid, who’s to say—before awkwardly sitting back down once Yuna waves him off. “So,” she says as she takes a seat, folding her arms on the table and angling herself toward you. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding. You were a vision by the way. I mean, the ceremony? You two could’ve had a Vogue cover, just stunning.”

You chuckle, nodding politely. “Thank you. It was a blur, but I do remember crying over my lashes right before walking down the aisle.”

Yuna laughs, then tilts her head a little. “So, married life? How’s it been? I imagine being Mrs. Nishimura is…an adjustment.”

The way she says it—like she’s biting into something sweet just to test the aftertaste—tells you she’s digging. Not cruelly. Just…curious. Or pretending to be. You tilt your head, mirroring her. “We were just talking about it.” You gesture to Sohee with a smile. “It’s been good.” You always loved to overshare, but it was no one’s business what consisted of your relationship. Namely how well your husband treated you. You had to learn that lesson better now than later.

Yuna hums. “Right. He’s always had that...edge. But seeing him soft for someone? Kind of wild, honestly.”

You smile, gentle but unmistakably proud. “It’s a side of him you have to earn.”

That lands. You see it in the way her jaw shifts just slightly, like the compliment doubled as a subtle door slam.

She nods slowly, playing it off. “Must be nice—being the one person who gets let into the inner sanctum. He doesn’t really do vulnerability.”

You rest your elbow on the table, your chin on your hand. “No, he doesn’t. Which is why I don’t take him for granted.” 

And that right there—that soft, unapologetic weight behind your words—is when the intimidation really hits.

Yuna smiles, but this one doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You make it look easy.”

Sohee clears his throat, trying to reroute the conversation back to safer shores. “You always had that energy, though,” he says. “Even at the wedding. People were talking more about you than the cake.”

You grin. “Then I hope they weren’t talking about the dress fitting too tight. I ate like four slices of that cake myself.”

“Bold,” Yuna murmurs, sipping her drink. “That cake was like five hundred a slice.”

You glance at her. “When you marry a man who owns the bank the baker owes a loan to, cake isn’t a concern.”

Sohee chokes on a laugh, half trying to hide it. “She’s not wrong.”

Yuna raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “That sounds like something Komichō would say.”

“He’s rubbing off on me,” you say. 

“Definitely rubbing,” she mumbles beneath her breath as she sipped her tea again, you barely heard it but it was definitely loud enough for you to catch. Your ears perked up at the comment, “I’m sorry?” Tilting your head with a small smile, acting as if you didn’t really hear her. 

Yuna blinked, playing it off, though her smirk didn’t quite fade. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

You let out a soft chuckle, resting your elbow on the table and your chin in your hand. “You should be careful doing that around here. People might think you’re losing it.”

Sohee glanced between the two of you, sensing the invisible knife sliding onto the table. “Right, well, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear anything either.”

“No need,” you said smoothly, eyes still on Yuna. “I just thought I heard something interesting. Wouldn’t want to miss out.”

Yuna gave a small shrug, eyes cool. “Guess my mind wandered.”

“To Riki?” you asked lightly, no edge to your voice but every word precise.

Her lips parted like she might defend herself, but instead she laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re good.”

You smiled wider. “I know I am.”

Sohee cleared his throat again—less out of nerves, more out of self-preservation. It seemed so with him, Riki said he always thinks like he’s the smartest in the room but it might not even be that. Maybe, but he shrinks beneath the gaze of someone bigger. Though, intelligence and bravery aren’t mutually exclusive in this case. Or any of them for that matter. But you didn’t break your gaze from Yuna, not just yet. “Don’t worry,” you finally said, sitting back in your seat with a gracious tilt of your head. “I don’t bite unless I’m hungry.” Your eyes glinted, like the once inquisitive look was suddenly demoted to annoyance. But you knew better than to let her get the best of you. Yuna lifted her tea, trying to cover the shift in her posture—the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw tightened for just a second. “Good thing I’m not on the menu.”

“Of course not,” you said sweetly. You stand, brushing off your skirt as you slide out of your seat. “I’ll be going now, guys. Thanks for hanging out with me.” 

“No problem,” Sohee said with a gentle smile as he stood up to shake your head. To which you nodded respectfully, returning the gesture. “Hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you around here.” You laughed with a nod, “For sure, I’ll definitely be around.” Glancing at Yuna, you smiled gently. “See you around, little one?” You reached out and rubbed her arm, to other eyes it was friendly. Between you two—and maybe Sohee if he squinted—it almost seemed like you were rubbing the metaphorical snot she sneezed onto you, back on her. Sonning her, ‘little girl-ing’ her.

Nonetheless, she smiled. She nodded. And just took it. “Yes, see you around.”

And off you were.

—

Speaking to Riki after that little exchange was definitely on your mind. Seriously it was, every aching part of you was determined to run down on him and question him until he physically choked on his every word. Because for real, what the fuck was that? Why was Yuna so comfortable speaking about your relationship and Riki in such a way? How has Riki made her so comfortable? When has he done that? How did it happen? Who even brought this up to her in the first place? As the five W’s were this close to the edge of your tongue, you decided to save it for later. Not now, no. And it’s not even like you were shy about your marriage. If one couldn’t tell by now, you took any and every opportunity to mention Riki. You swore to your friends that once you got married you would ‘my husband…’ the fuck out of them and everyone else around you. But you didn’t know Yuna, hardly even. You’d known her as one of the heavy hitters—essentially the PR for the group. The Social Liaison. She was delicate, yet biting. Subtle, yet direct. She was gorgeous and that’s exactly why she was appointed, because she was easy on the eyes and no one could dare turn away a beautiful woman. You didn’t feel inferior, there was no reason to. Yuna was Yuna and You were You. Both of you were beautiful young women in a field dominated by men no matter how you sliced it. So to see her be so combative when you didn’t do that to her made you feel like you lost a friend before you could even make one. So as you were on the hunt for Jo, passing through each hallway and scouring every nook and cranny for this guy. You peeped Riki a few feet away in the broad, wide-ranging room. Speaking so firmly to one of the kobun, not making eye contact but nodding along as he walked and they briefed him on something. They were too far for you to hear but he had noticed you, almost like he felt you from ten feet away. He didn’t stop what he was doing, didn’t pause, he was slick as always. Riki kept walking and as he was listening but he made eye contact with you. His gorgeous, alluring eyes followed you as you kept moving but he didn’t smile. He just poked his tongue out—quick, barely there, a flicker of his usual mischief. The kind of look that says I see you, and I know you see me, without saying a single word. It wasn’t apologetic. It felt more like a challenge. Like he was telling you to come find him. To press him. To demand what you wanted to know. At least to you because that’s what you felt like doing. But knowing him, he was just teasing. Letting you know that beneath the hard shell of the Komichō was your childish, teasing, yet loving husband. You held his gaze for a moment longer, then kept walking. Because no matter how much your fists itched to grab his collar and ask him what the hell Yuna meant by that, you had other business to handle. Logistics came first. And Jo—well, Jo was never easy to find. Which was kind of the point.

So you tucked Riki into your back pocket for now, like a loaded question you’d pull out later.

Jo was somewhere in this damn compound, likely holed up with blueprints, phone calls, and at least five burner devices. And if there was anyone (sans Riki) who could give you the real lay of the land—or shift it completely—it was him.

Riki could wait.

You pulled out your phone to shoot him a message, though:

thorn in my side: do yk where jo would be right abt now?

He replied back in a split second.

idiotbox: should be in his office. upstairs, 5th floor. 509.

thorn in my side: thanks

idiotbox: i love you

…

???

i said i love you

i love you baby ????

now girl…

You didn’t even care to respond, you were mad at him for something you only assumed he did and that was childish, of course. You were petty, but so was he and that was how you two worked so well. He’d pick up eventually, but you hated the fact that such a menial exchange had irritated you this badly. But you knew better than to put him in a bad mood at work.

thorn in my side: i love you more babe-asaurus

idiotbox: hm

we’ll talk later

You rolled your eyes at how easily he was able to read you even without seeing you. But whatever, you have a guy to find and Riki was close to your heart as always; but the least of your worries.

Taking the elevator was intense because you hoped that it would be slower, honestly. Like how much of a rush were these guys in? You reached the first to fifth floor in less than two seconds. Now, here you are, scanning the doors and you finally reached Jo’s appointed office and you politely knocked. Waiting for a ‘come in’ or ‘enter’ or ‘who is it’ literally anything. But nothing. You scanned the hallway, peering both ways up and down. No one was around, no one seemed to be passing through and you stepped forward a little bit to put your ear to the door. Also silence. 

Racking your brain, Riki’s words kept ringing in your mind: you are not to engage further.

You are not to engage further.

You are not to engage further. 

You are not—fuck it.

Without another thought you twisted the knob to Jo’s office and as fate would have it, the door was unlocked. You pushed through the door and peeked your head in.

Empty.

So as you slipped in, gently closing the door behind you before locking it, you reminded yourself of what you came here for. It was to get a hold on behavioral patterns, but there’s no harm in scanning. With a shaky exhale, your eyes followed through the space. Very minimal. Only necessary items here: desk, chair, file cabinet, desk lamp, simply essential office gadgets. But as you neared his desk, you spied a ton of papers scattering across it. You hovered, unsure whether you should touch them, but then again, Riki did say not to engage further. He didn’t say anything about observing. Which, in your opinion, made this a grey area. And what were grey areas for, if not you skating through them with barely plausible deniability? The first sheet that caught your eye was a layout of the compound—more detailed than the blueprints you’d seen before. Color-coded zones, timestamped patrol shifts, even ventilation system routes. Jo is definitely playing chess while the rest of these guys are just showing up to the board. The next paper underneath made your stomach pull a little tighter. It was a list. Names. Some you recognized, some you didn’t. Some were marked with symbols: asterisks, slashes, question marks. What you did know was that this was the definitive roster—essentially—for everyone in Thunder. 

Sans one other: Yuna.

Weird.

Then you saw it.

A manila folder tucked half underneath a blueprint sheet. You knew you shouldn’t, but girl—curiosity is a disease. You slid it out just an inch, enough to see the label written in Jo’s tight, deliberate handwriting:

“INCIDENT REPORT — LEAK”

Then another:

“NISHI — CONFIDENTIAL”

You didn’t let your initial shock cloud your common sense. Without another thought you grabbed the two files and shoved them inside of your shirt. Dumb decision, yes. Strange, absolutely. Just as you were heading to the door to make your graceful exit (you’ve been doing a lot of those lately it seemed), you heard footsteps and jingling keys right outside of the door. 

“Fuck!” You mouthed in panic and scanned the room. A sliding closet was your best bet so you took shelter there, squatting at the floor and hugging the cloth covered folders to your chest. Knowing better, you ensured your phone was on silent and not on the hard floor to make noise. 

And not a second too soon.

The lock clicked, the door swung open, and Jo entered—as leisurely as one can be. You watched through the thin slits in the closet door as he moved with practiced ease, the way only someone who expected to be alone did.

He muttered something under his breath, inaudible, as he tossed a USB onto the desk and rolled his chair out with a squeak. You swore your heart was doing parkour in your chest, beating a rhythm so loud you were sure he could hear it.

He started typing.

Clicking, clacking, clomping. Jo hands had left the keyboard to feel for his folders—the absent ones. 

His hands patted the desk once. Then again. Slower.

You could hear the moment he realized something was off.

Click, click.

Rustle.

Click.

Pause.

“…Huh.”

He stood up. You could see his silhouette shift through the closet slats. Jo leaned over the desk again, rifling through papers, lifting one corner of the blueprint like the folders might be playing hide and seek with him.

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then he muttered, low and sharp: “Motherfucker.”

Busted. Not completely, but the clock was officially ticking.

Jo paced once, then sat back down hard, fingers drumming against the desk in a rhythm that screamed calculating. You knew Jo very vaguely—this wasn’t confusion. This wasn’t panic.

This was inventory. This was war.

And you were right there in the middle of it, like a roach under a glass.

He pulled his phone out. Tapped. You didn’t hear the call ring—probably encrypted, burner-to-burner. Probably to someone way too important to be talking about two stolen folders and a potential mole crouched three feet away.

Still, his voice was ice when he finally spoke:

“They’re gone. Both of them. Yes. Both. Folders. No. Nobody else’s been in here.”

He huffed as he slammed the device down on the desk and left without another word. Closing the door behind him. 

You didn’t move for a full thirty seconds.

Just breathed.

Slow and shallow, trying not to make even your lungs betray you. Your heart was doing a drum solo in your chest, and the folders clutched to you suddenly felt like live explosives. Your knees were screaming. Your brain was screaming.

But Jo was gone.

And you were still here.

When you finally uncurled yourself and opened the closet door like it might squeak out a betrayal, the coast was still clear. The office was eerily quiet, save for the dull hum of whatever sinister programs Jo had left running on his screen.

You grabbed his phone too, along with the USBs. Leaving that behind, what a dummy. 

You crept out like a cat burglar in a heist movie, glancing around one more time before heading to the door.

No one.

No shadows.

You slid out and shut the door behind you, just as quietly as you came.

And then booked it.

—

Muscle memory had you headed there before you could even second-guess the idea. Ninth floor, west wing, room 920. You’d memorized it months ago without even meaning to—like the curve of his signature, or the way his voice dipped when he was serious. The folders were still tucked under your shirt like contraband, stabbing awkwardly against your ribs as you power-walked. You probably looked suspicious. Not that anyone was around to clock it—yet. But paranoia was creeping in like a slow leak. Any second now, you were sure alarms would start blaring.

You rounded the corner, heart racing. Riki’s door stood at the end of the hallway, clean and unassuming. You didn’t knock. Just turned the handle and slipped inside like a shadow.

He wasn’t at his desk.

He was standing at the window, back to you, hands in his pockets like some tortured antihero. Of course. Of course he was being dramatic today.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, without turning around.

You rolled your eyes and let the door click shut behind you. “This is where my man is, this is where I’m due. Thank you very much.”

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable until his eyes landed on your shirt—and what was very obviously not a very lumpy new bra.

“You didn’t,” he said flatly.

You didn’t say anything. Just reached under your shirt, pulled the folders and phone out like a magician producing a rabbit, and dropped them onto his desk with a soft thump.

Riki stared at them.

Then at you. “...You’re insane.”

“I love you.”

He pressed his fingers to his eyes, already visibly aging five years. “I love you too. But I told you not to engage.”

“Yeah, well.” You walked to his side of the desk as he sat. “I’m starting to think you only say that when you don’t wanna deal with the fallout.” You lifted yourself to sit atop his desk, folding your legs.

He didn’t argue because a part of him knew better. But he was going to ask questions.

“Before I open these, Oracle.” He smirked as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing your bare calves. “You are going to tell me how you got these.”

You tilted your head, half-smirking, half-daring him to press. “Before I tell you,” you said, voice sweet as poison, “you’re going to tell me who Nishi is.”

He paused, the playful squeeze he gave your leg faltering for just a second. Just enough for you to catch. Just enough to confirm that the name meant something. Something serious.

“That’s not how this works,” he said slowly, like he was weighing each word. “You first.”

You leaned back on your palms, eyes dragging lazily across the office like you were bored—like you weren’t high off adrenaline and one bad decision away from spiraling. “Door was unlocked. Papers were out. Your little friend Jo doesn’t have the cleanest filing system.”

“You broke into his office,” he said, amused but exasperated, like a teacher trying not to laugh while writing you up. “You hid in his closet.”

“And you told me not to engage, which is very different from telling me not to investigate,” you quipped. “And how do you even know I did that?”

His hands were warm against your skin again, this time steady. Grounding. He sighed, and there was something tired in it. Like this day had finally worn him down. “First off, you came in here winded. Which means you were running. Something you never do.” He nodded affirmatively, like he had seen this scenario a million times before. “Then you have extra padding in your bra like you don’t have enough going on there alrea—” 

You squinted at him, offended but mostly appalled. “Excuse me?”

Riki had the audacity to grin, all smug and unbothered, like he wasn’t skating on the thinnest ice imaginable. “What?” he said, lifting his hands in fake innocence. “I notice things. You weren’t exactly subtle and I’ve seen them enough to know what they do and don’t look like. The folders are poking out like a second set of ribs.”

You smacked his arm. “You are insufferable.”

“Observant,” he corrected, laughing under his breath. “And I know you. You only get this chaotic when you’re pissed or nosy. Or both.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped off his desk, pacing a few steps to blow off steam. “Well, congrats. You know me. You want a medal or a map to Jo’s shitty closet?”

“I want you to tell me why you went looking for him,” he said, the smile in his voice gone now. “What made you dig?”

You paused, fiddling with the edge of a stray paper on his desk, not looking at him. “I was just making my way down the list.” You shrug with a slight pout. “I had already spoken with Yuna and Sohee. Conveniently they were both in the same room. Then I saw you enroute to Jo, knocked on his office. Nobody home. So I took it upon myself to find what he wasn’t there to tell me.” You sighed with a firm nod. “Who’s Nishi? Is it short for Nishimura? Or short for Nis—” You paused as something in your brain had clicked, the lights weren’t dim anymore. “The Nishiyama syndicate that you were speaking of.” Humming in understanding finally as you leaned against the desk. “Is that it?”

Riki’s then blank expression shifted to a smile, not devilish. But kind, almost…proud despite the weird situation. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Somehow you felt small beneath his gaze, so your eyes shifted to the files and phone. “Are you gonna open the files?”

The raven-haired man sighed, leaning back into his chair. He was entirely too cavalier for your liking but you kept your lips glued. This was his world, not yours. At least not yet. “No.” He shook his head gently. “You’re gonna read them and tell me what you find.”

You blinked. “Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Riki leaned up and handed you a new notepad and pen. “Don’t write on his stuff. I’m sure he knows they’re missing.”

“He does,” you took the items with both hands. “Is he going to hurt me if—”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

Your breath caught—not because you didn’t believe him, but because of how fast he said it. Like it wasn’t a question. Like the very thought of Jo trying anything had flipped a switch in Riki’s brain that only lived between rage and devotion.

You stared at him. “That’s dramatic.”

“I mean it,” he said, and this time there was no smugness, no teasing. Just that low, steady tone that made your spine straighten and your chest feel way too small. “He touches you, he dies.”

Laughing him off, you waved your hand. “Again, dramatic.”

“There’s nothing dramatic about it. I have no problem putting anybody six feet under if it’s about you. I’m telling you now, I will kill him. Myself, with my bare hands.” He nods calmly. You nodded, lips pursed as this weird feeling of not believing him but absolutely believing him came over you. Now you aren’t stupid, there’s very few people in this life that have clean hands but since you never saw that side of Riki—it was hard to fully compute that. You were used to the version of him that bit you when he just found you cute. The one that whenever he ate french fries, he would put them in his mouth and act like he was a walrus. The part of him that whined whenever his food touched.

The Riki that kissed you like it was his first and last, everytime. When he made love to you it was passionate, like he cared. Savoring every part of your body and ravishing it like a starved man. And even though you’ve been together for as long as you have, he still makes you feel like you’re in high school. Both his and your inner child’s connect and that’s what makes every part of being with him so worth it. Hearing him talk about putting someone in the dirt for hurting you didn’t scare you. At all, if anything a depraved part of you loved that he was so ready and willing to take care of you. But because he had kept you so far from this life—to the point where you never saw him right when he came home from work. You only ever saw him after a shower when he got back. The house was big enough for him to avoid you and he didn’t want you to even see him in any other way aside from put-together or casual. He simply wants to keep your perception of him one way. Now he’s at the point where he doesn’t need to get his hands dirty, but he’s not above it. He knows he’s not but he doesn’t want you to know that. Maybe because you’re pure, the only clean thing in this world and he wants to honor that sanctity.

Thus you nod with a tight-lipped smile. “Aye-aye captain,”

Riki nodded curtly, “Thank you, now sit.”

“Can I take this home with me—oh wait, no, the rule.” I sighed as I sat down on his couch. 

He laughed, “Right, good, good. But…” He breezed past his desk to now sit beside you. “Why didn’t you tell me you loved me?” He leaned back against the back of the couch, crossing his arms as he peered at you with patient eyes. 

You furrowed your brows, snorting at his ridiculousness. “I tell you that multiple times an hour, Riki. I just said it when I came in. What are you talking about?”

“Babe—sorry—” He covers his mouth, trying to muffle a smile at the minor slip-up. 

You point at him, “Ah-ha! You broke your own rule, genius.” Laughing as you twirl the pen between your fingers.

Riki groaned dramatically, tipping his head back against the couch cushion like the weight of his love-induced hypocrisy had just crushed him. “God, I’m so weak,” he mumbled into the ceiling.

You giggled, nudging his leg with your knee. “You made a rule you couldn’t keep. Who does that?”

“A man in love,” he sighed, hand flopping over his heart. “A fool. A slave to your eyes and...whatever scented oil you’re wearing today. Beautiful gourmand.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly saw your past mistakes. “You suck so bad.”

He turned to look at you again, his playful expression softening slightly. “You didn’t say it earlier. In the texts. Well you did, but I just had to pull it out of you. Which is unusual because usually it happens easily. Like a nice, well-lubricated machine.”

You paused, the smile still on your lips but tinged now with something quieter. “I was annoyed.”

“I figured,” he said.

“And don’t use ‘well-lubricated’ like that ever again.” You laughed as you adjusted your position, kicking off your shoes just because you could. Placing your legs on his lap as he instinctively went to massaging your aching feet. 

Riki laughed beneath his breath, “Mmm, how else should I use it then…?” He trails his hand up your calf.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” you said, pointing the pen at him like it doubled as a taser. “I’m in work mode now. No nasty metaphors.”

Riki smirked, thumb dragging slow circles into your ankle like he was trying to hypnotize you. “You sure? I’ve got a whole glossary. Synonyms. Imagery. PowerPoint, even.”

“PowerPoint?” You quirked a brow. “Wow. And here I thought this organization was low-tech.”

“We save the advanced tech for seduction,” he deadpanned.

You threw your head back in a laugh, letting your legs go slack against him. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.” He smiled proudly, then leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your knee. “But seriously...I knew something was bothering you. I felt it.”

You nodded, brushing a bit of lint from your lap like it was your own way of smoothing down your thoughts. “I didn’t like the way Yuna talked about you. Like she knew you. Knows you. I know it’s stupid—”

“It’s not,” he cut in gently. “Whatever it is, it’s not.”

You looked at him. “I didn’t want to make it a thing while you’re working, but...she got under my skin.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing really,” You shook your head as confusion plagued your expression. “Like she was just throwing jabs at our marriage. Like—”

“Do you want her gone?”

“Wait–damn! Can I at least tell you what happened?” You put your hands out in panic.

Riki blinked, caught between his gut reaction and your clearly not-yet-finished train of thought. “Right. Sorry.” He held up his hands, leaning back slightly. “Continue. Full dramatic reenactment, if you will.”

You gave him a flat look. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am. Devoted. Foot-rubbing. Ready to commit crimes in your honor.”

You fought back a smile, exhaling sharply before continuing. “She just said some things. Made it sound like she knew you in a way I didn’t. Nothing direct, but it was all…in the way she said it. Like she was watching me, waiting to see if I’d flinch.”

Riki’s jaw ticked just slightly, and his hand stilled again on your leg. “What did she say exactly?”

“She joked about you being soft for me. About how it must be wild seeing you like that. And then she muttered something under her breath—‘definitely rubbing’—after I said you were rubbing off on me.” You rolled your eyes. “While it was funny,” you smiled as you reflected on the moment. “It was just the tone she took, it was petty.”

His voice had that eerie calm again—the kind that made you picture storms on the horizon. “And do you want her gone?”

You hesitated. “I don’t want to make you cut people loose just because they annoy me.”

“Not just anyone,” he said slowly. “Her. You disrespect my wife, you disrespect me. End of discussion.”

You sighed. “I just didn’t like feeling like I was being tested. Like I had to prove I was worthy to be here. That I deserved you.”

“No. You don’t need to prove shit to anyone. She works for you, baby. Not the other way around.” He scoffs in irritation, not at you. Just at the situation.

“You think she wants you or something?” 

Riki rolls his eyes, “Please,” he waves off.

“No, I’m being serious.” 

He furrowed his brows, “That has nothing to do with me, I chose you. I love you. Yuna is just…Yuna.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, folding your arms across your chest as your legs stayed propped on his lap. “That is the vaguest, most non-answer answer I’ve ever heard.”

Riki groaned, tilting his head back like the ceiling was somehow responsible for your suspicion. “Baby, come on. You want me to what—spell out that she probably has some weird little crush from back in the day? Okay. Maybe. Possibly. Who wouldn’t? But that doesn’t matter. I don’t want her.”

You blinked, lips parting just slightly. “Weird little crush from back in the day?”

He froze. Froze frozen. Like someone had just hit pause on his entire soul.

Then slowly—painfully slowly—he sat up straighter and scratched the back of his neck like a man about to give a deposition. “...I mean, like…a crush she invented in her head. You know how people do. Delulu culture. She’s a millennial. Or—whatever she is.”

You gave him the most unimpressed stare humanly possible. One that could suck the air out of a room if you held it long enough.

“You’ve been avoiding answering straight for two full minutes,” you said, your voice sharp but cool. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He let out a deep sigh, eyes flicking briefly to your legs across his lap—like grounding himself with you physically would make the words come easier.

“Nothing happened,” he finally said, slow and careful, like laying down a live wire. “She flirted. Years ago. Once. I didn’t flirt back. I shut it down. It didn’t become a thing because I didn’t let it become a thing. Plus by that point, I had just started seeing you.”

You stared, not blinking, not speaking. Just letting the silence stretch until it felt like your heartbeat was echoing off the floors.

“And now?” you asked at last, voice like velvet over a blade.

His gaze lifted to meet yours, firm and unwavering. “Now she’s someone on payroll who will never get that close again. You have my name, my ring, everything. And if I could give you more of me, I would. She’s noise. Vapor.”

The words settled in your chest like something warm and weighted. The kind of thing that wasn’t just sweet, but true. You didn’t nod. You didn’t smile. You just breathed—and it came easier after that.

“Good,” you murmured.

“Good,” he echoed, reaching up to squeeze your ankle gently.

Riki had never given you any sort of reason to doubt his loyalty to you. But something about Yuna just made you feel some sort of insecure. And that’s never a good feeling. “Okay, so back to work on these thingies.” You sighed as you grabbed all of your things, the files and notepad. 

—

You settled deeper into the couch, the file balanced on your knees, pen in hand. Riki stayed quiet beside you, hands behind his head like he wasn’t five seconds away from snatching the folder and reading it himself. But this was your job now. He gave it to you. He trusted you. And trust in this world was rarer than sleep.

The first folder you opened was the one labeled:

“INCIDENT REPORT — LEAK”

Your eyes scanned the top page. Neat, efficient language. Jo’s writing was all business. But beneath that business tone… was tension. A lot of it.

Summary: On 05/23, it was confirmed that classified movement data regarding the Nishiyama holdings in the Shibuya district was compromised and intercepted by an unknown third party. The breach occurred between the hours of 03:00 and 05:00 JST.

Method of Leak: Evidence points to an internal device tap. Most likely wireless, planted within the logistics room (3rd floor).

Potential Suspect(s):

T. Nakamoto (denied access two weeks prior but showed up in building security logs 24 hours before the breach)

Sohee Lee (recent behavioral inconsistencies; requires further monitoring)

UNCONFIRMED: External syndicate involvement possible (see cross-file: “NISHI — CONFIDENTIAL”)

You sucked in a breath. “Sohee?” you said aloud, almost in disbelief.

Riki’s voice was low. “Keep going.”

You flipped to the second page—grainy black-and-white images from security footage. A figure moving at 4:12 AM through a hallway near the logistics room. Hood up. Face obscured. But the time stamp matched Jo’s report exactly.

You shook your head. “This is bad. Whoever this is knew where to go. No camera catch, no chatter, just straight infiltration. Like a ghost.”

Riki didn’t speak—his jaw was tight. He already knew this. He’d probably seen the footage himself.

You flipped to the next folder:

“NISHI — CONFIDENTIAL”

Your stomach clenched.

This one wasn’t a report. It was…a dossier.

A breakdown of an entire group.

The Nishiyama Syndicate. Or, as Riki had called them before—“Nishi.” A former rival organization that went dark years ago.

Overview: The Nishiyama Syndicate—presumed inactive by 2017—has begun resurfacing under new leadership. Not confirmed, but rumored to be operating under a splinter faction using legitimate business fronts. Possible laundering through offshore holdings (Monaco, Belize, Singapore).

Recent Activity:

Acquisition of real estate adjacent to Nishimura holdings.

Shadow-bidding on construction contracts connected to your family’s public-facing properties.

Unusual surveillance patterns noted around Nishimura residences.

Notable Names:

A. Nishiyama (deceased, patriarch)

M. Nishiyama (???) — identity redacted

“Subject N” — possible mole or double agent; suspected to have contact with active Nishimura staff. (PRIORITY)

You looked up at Riki. “This reads like they’re trying to move in. Slowly. Quietly.”

He nodded, lips pressed tight. “I think the breach might’ve come from a mole inside the building. Someone feeding info.”

Your pulse spiked. “Who do you think it is?”

He looked at you carefully. “I haven’t ruled anyone out. Neither has Jo. But everyone’s guilty until proven innocent.”

“It’s inno—”

He held his hand up, “I know what it is.”

You snorted as you looked back down at the file but then suddenly looked back to him. “Hey, did Jo call you at all today on one of the burners?”

He frowned in thought. “No, why?”

Your eyes widened in slight fear, feeling adrenaline pump through your veins. “His phone is on your desk.” Pointing to it with urgency. “He called someone earlier, letting them know the files were missing.”

You felt like the floor shifted under you.

Riki stood up and grabbed the phone, unlocking it as he sifted through it. “Go. Continue, let me do this.”

Then you flipped one last page in the NISHI folder—and your heart stopped.

REDACTED TARGET LIST [photo attached]

R. Nishimura (active)

“Okaasan” (active, unnamed spouse)

Status: Tracking active; no confirmed contact attempts. Maintain passive surveillance.

There was a picture.

Of you.

A candid photo. Leaving your favorite coffee shop. Hair in a bun. Not even looking at the camera.

They knew who you were.

They were watching.

“Oh my fucking…” You whispered as your hands started to shake. 

Riki didn’t look up—yet. He was still going through the burner phone, locked in, muttering something under his breath. But the second your voice cracked, just the edge of that whisper, he froze. Your hands were trembling around the paper, your breath shallow as if the photo alone had stolen the oxygen from your lungs. “They’re watching me, Riki,” you said quietly. “They know. They know who I am.”

That’s when he looked up.

His gaze flicked to your face first—then to the folder in your lap. You didn’t even have to show him. He crossed the room in three strides, dropped the phone without care, and snatched the folder from your lap with steady hands but a murderous edge in his jaw.

He saw it. The image. The note. The label: “Okaasan – Active, unnamed spouse.”

Your face. Your fucking face. On a watch list.

Riki’s breathing changed.

Not heavy. Not loud.

But measured. Controlled. The kind of breathing someone does right before they explode.

“No contact attempts,” he read aloud, barely above a whisper. “Passive surveillance. Maintain.” His jaw flexed once. Twice. “That means they’ve been watching. But not enough to tip me off. Or you.” You still couldn’t speak. Your mind was spiraling, thinking back—every time you thought someone was staring at you too long in the coffee shop. Every car that took a little too long to pull away. The time your key fob didn’t register on the first try and you swore you saw someone standing at the edge of the parking lot.

You knew. Felt it more than anything.

Riki stepped back, slowly. “You’re done,” he said, coldly.

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re done with this.” He gestured to the papers—everything. “I don’t want you involved anymore.”

“No—Riki—”

“I said you’re done.”

His voice wasn’t raised, but it was final.

You stood, breath catching again—not out of fear this time, but out of frustration. “You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will.” He looked at you, eyes flashing with something deeper than anger. “They put you on a list. A list with my name. They put a target on your back for being married to me.”

“You said you’d pull me out if I couldn’t handle it. I can and—”

“No. You said that,” he bit out. “Thank you so much for your interpretation of how you think this works. But I’m telling you now, sweetheart. You’re finished.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. “So what, you’re just gonna hide me away like a secret? Lock me in the house?”

“If I have to,” he said without hesitation. “I’d rather you hate me than end up in a morgue. You think I give a fuck about being the bad guy in your story if it keeps you alive?”

And for the first time, you realized—he wasn’t just angry.

He was scared.

Riki Nishimura, the man who ran empires with a flick of his fingers, the one who made people disappear without batting an eye—was looking at you like he had already lost you. Like he was trying to stop the bleeding before the wound even opened.

And you didn’t know whether to fight him or fall apart.

—

Within the next hour, Riki sent you home. 

No yelling. No begging. No stomping down the hallway with your shoes in hand like you wanted to. Just a tight-lipped goodbye, a long look that said please don’t fight me on this, and the subtle pressure of his hand on the small of your back as he walked you to the elevator. Kissing your cheeks and temple as he guided you.

“I’ll be home later, I love you.” he said, eyes fixed on the elevator door as it closed, locking you in. Locking you out.

You didn’t say anything. You just nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek like it’d keep your heart from leaping up and making a scene.

And now here you are.

In the house. Your house. His too. That same massive, almost-too-silent house where the floors were spotless, the air always smelled faintly of clean linen and sandalwood, and the fridge was somehow always stocked but never truly full. You hadn’t even changed clothes. You hadn’t moved much. Just sat on the edge of the bed for a while, fingers interlaced, something so mundane like Riki’s silver watch still on the nightstand like it might grow teeth.

Because it could’ve been anyone.

Anyone watching you. Anyone taking that photo.

You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until you saw the wet spot on your blouse. And then more tears followed—not because you were scared. But because he had known. About the business. The threats. The danger.

And he kept you out of it. You were so proud. Marching into lounges. Reading body language. Toying with people like you were ten steps ahead. But the whole time, you were in a different game.

A different arena.

You weren’t playing chess. You were the queen piece. And someone had started planning your checkmate.

You wiped your face and reached for your phone.

Nothing from Riki yet. Of course. He needed time. To clean up. To cover tracks. To burn things down.

You opened your texts anyway. Clicked on the chat.

thorn in my side: i’m home

i love you, baby

Message delivered. No reply yet.

You stared at the phone until the screen went dark.

And for the first time in a long time, the silence in your house didn’t feel safe. It felt like someone else might be listening too.

—

Riki came home and the house was equally as silent. 

He’d come home to a quiet home almost everyday, nothing new. Most times you were in the bath, in the living room buried in a book, or on a good day—you’d already be in bed. And by this time, he’d shower before he came to greet you but the weird thing about being with someone for so long—you feel them everywhere. Your warmth, your mood, he feels it all. 

But this time he felt nothing. 

Immediately his mood dampened, the intuition that he had relied on so heavily over the last twenty-four years of his life already letting him know something was amiss. “Baby?” He called out as he slipped his shoes off. 

No response. 

He smacked his teeth, “My goodness, I shouldn’t have gotten her those fucking headphones.” He placed his jacket on the coat rack and skimmed the area. Your keys were by the door, as usual. The sweater you wore today, okay fine. Your Mary Janes—your favorite shoes that he always tripped over and threatened to throw away. Huh.

Again, that strange nagging feeling in Riki just never went away. He padded over to the kitchen, seeing dinner spread out on the table. Wrapped up and ready for yours and Riki’s consumption, there was a serving taken out of it which meant you ate something. Good.

But you weren’t in the kitchen. And you weren’t in the living room.

The staff not being around makes sense, he sent them home for the day. Clara wanted to spend time with her son so who was he to tell her no? 

And now, the fucking office that he had built with his own hands—empty.

This house was huge, humongous—but there would’ve been some way you heard him already.

He called your name firmly. Riki never says your name, that’s like the rule. Still, no response. He calls your phone because knowing you—it’s never too far. Straight to voicemail. 

“What the fuck.” Riki Nishimura doesn’t panic—but something cold and venomous slithered up his spine as he stood in the middle of that pristine kitchen as he now made his way back there, fists clenched, jaw ticking.

And then.

Then he saw the note.

Sitting prettily on the marble counter—in a little nook. Surprised he had missed it before. 

Simple. Clean. In all capital letters.

YOU WANTED HER OUT. SO WE TOOK HER OUT.

And on the back of the note was a photo of you. Gagged, tearful eyes, messy hair, scratched face. You had put up a fight that was for sure, it wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. 

The marble counter shattered first.

He slammed his fists down, hard enough to crack the stone. The note crumpled beneath him as he shouted, loud and hoarse, like it had been ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.

“FUCK!”

Everything after that was instinct. A storm. A full-blown implosion. He threw the nearest chair across the room. It smashed into the wall with a satisfying crack, splintering on impact. Plates followed next, flying off the table with a feral sweep of his arm. Food hit the cabinets, the fridge, the floor. A glass shattered under his heel. He didn’t even flinch.

“I told her to go home!” he roared. “I sent her home!”

His eyes were wild. Drenched in something between fear and fury. The kind of look no one ever saw and lived to describe.

He yanked open drawers. Punched the fridge. Tore the cabinet door clean off the hinge and hurled it across the room. A vase hit the floor and shattered—porcelain flowers slicing across the floor like confetti made of rage.

And then—his voice broke.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck—”

He grabbed the sink with both hands, chest heaving, eyes squeezing shut like maybe, if he tried hard enough, this would all vanish. That the note would disappear. That you’d walk out from your office and ask what the hell happened to the dining room. But all he heard was silence. All he felt was the absence of you. The kind of stillness that only existed in grief. He sank to the floor—only for a second—hands gripping his hair. And then the door creaked open.

Clara opened the door with glee, bags from the nearest arts and crafts store. “Riki—?”

She froze in place.

The kitchen looked like a warzone. Dinner ruined. Furniture destroyed. Her boss—on the floor, shaking, breathing like a wild animal trying to hold in a scream.

She didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t have to.

Because then she saw the note. 

The note.

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my goodness.”

Riki slowly stood. There was a line of blood down his knuckles—he hadn’t even noticed. His breathing was low now. Tighter. Like someone was holding his lungs closed.

He didn’t look at her as he spoke.

“Tell everyone to get on the line. Now. I want every runner, every affiliate, every fucking rat with ears in this city looking.”

Clara nodded, frozen.

“If she’s not found by midnight—” He turned to her. Eyes glassy. Voice cold. As he stepped beside her, venom in his eyes as he looked down at her with nothing but truth in his eyes.

“—Everybody’s fucking dying, Clara. You included.”

Clara didn’t say a word. Just nodded, pale as a ghost, and scrambled to grab her phone. Riki didn’t even watch her leave. He turned on his heel and stormed toward his office, blood trailing faintly from his knuckles and dotting the floor like red ink.

He slammed the office door behind him so hard the glass panel trembled.

Without hesitation, he slammed the heel of his palm down on the black switch embedded into the side of his desk—an unmarked button that immediately turned the room red. Not metaphorically. The lights literally shifted into emergency mode, casting the entire office in a crimson hue. The kind of red that let every handler in his operation know: This is DEFCON 1. Life or death. Burn everything if you have to.His jaw clenched so tight you could hear the creak in his teeth. Then he yanked open the bottom drawer, reaching for the sleek matte tablet hidden beneath a stack of decoy files. With a swipe and a facial scan, he opened a security interface. His fingers flew across the screen.

“Tracker,” he muttered under his breath. “C’mon, c’mon…” He clicked into a discreet sub-menu, one labeled ‘PRIVATE ACCESS – VELOMY.’ The screen lit up, pulling a location from a hidden signal.

Riki’s chest stopped moving for a full beat. The blinking dot that represented you was there—active. 

“You’re still wearing the ring,” he whispered to himself. A dark smirk twisted his lips, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “You stubborn little thing…”

That ring. The one he gave you at the altar when he promised to you, his family, and yours that he would love you during your highs and lows. The ring that tethered you to him forever. 

He put a chip in it. Just to be straightforward.

Riki’s paranoia ran so deep that it became difficult for him not to. And funnily enough, he remembers he didn’t tell you that it was in there until your honeymoon. 

You both were lounging on your private beach in front of the newly bought property in the Maldives. Sun setting, breeze flowing through your hair as you both laid on your stomachs. Simply gut-laughing at any and everything, everything was funny at this moment. You’re newlyweds.Riki smiles as he plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the end of a braid. “You know,” he glances down at your left hand. “I’ll be able to find you anywhere now.” His smile settles into something soft, something more than just teasing. “What do you mean?” You tilt your head in confusion. The sun hitting your face at the perfect angle. 

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing the ring. “I put a little locator in your ring.” Riki’s heart raced, using your conjoined hands to cover his mouth as he nervously awaited your reaction. “See? You can’t even tell.” You brought your hand back to inspect the enormous rock and he’s right. You really can’t tell. And you weren’t going to ask why he put it there because you knew why. Again, you knew who you married. Plus you didn’t even have the energy to be mad at him right now. You couldn’t be mad after you just swore to forever with your best friend.

“Okay, but I still need privacy, Riki. I don’t just want to be a—”

He shook his head, “No, no, no. It’s not even activated. I just…in the event that something would happen to you—hopefully that’s never—but it gives me peace of mind that I can always find you, baby.” Riki smiled gently as he carefully caressed your cheek. “Only I can activate it. It just tells me where you’re positioned but it only works if you…” His chest caves slightly as his words tremble at the thought.

“If what?” You placed your hand on his shoulder, holding yourself up on your other arm.

“It only works if you have a pulse.”

“What if I take it off?”

Riki laughs.“You wouldn’t though, and I know you wouldn’t. There’s nothing you do that warrants taking it off.” He shrugs as he lays on his back and pulls you on top of him swiftly. 

You yelp at his almost reflexive motion, putting your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. “You’re right. But it’s not like someone’s gonna want to snatch me up at the grocery store or something.”

Riki had laughed with you then.

Really laughed—head tilted back, his arms wrapping tight around your waist as if just the idea of losing you was so ridiculous, so farfetched it barely warranted a real thought.

But now?

Now that blinking dot on his screen was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into the marble floor of his office.

His hand hovered over the location map, the tracker still active. Still moving.

You were alive.

That was the only thing keeping the wrath at bay—barely. Because while the dot pulsed, it wasn’t close. It was on the far edge of the city, in one of the zones they rarely used. Industrial. Warehouses. A part of town they had all but erased from operations.

Which meant someone wanted you hidden. Not hurt. Not yet.

Still…the bloodlust was roaring now. In all of his life, he had never felt such an insatiable, primal urge to kill like he did now. It was truly like the spirit of the devil ran through his veins and possessed him. That thirst wasn’t going to be quenched until you were back in his arms. Riki stood from his desk, shoving his chair so hard it crashed against the wall. He pressed the emergency button again—just in case. Red lights flashed once in the corner of the ceiling. His hands moved on autopilot, grabbing his bulletproof vest to put on over his compression shirt, his sidearm, his second piece, and the long black blade he hadn’t used in years. The blade that had started it all. The blade they said made him infamous. The one he swore he’d never need again.

He strapped it to his back. Along with one of the embossed Kaminari guns.

Grabbed the note again from the kitchen and stuffed it in his pocket—not because he needed it, but because he wanted to burn it on whoever sent it. By now, Clara had rallied his top men. Jake was on standby, speaking through the comms with a strained voice—he had been yelling at people relentlessly within the last twenty minutes.

Riki didn’t even look at the others in the room as he walked toward the front entrance, eyes locked on the car waiting just outside.

He paused only once.

To grab a bottle of your favorite perfume.

He sprayed it twice across his collarbone, once across his wrist. Something grounding. Something to carry you with him while he burned everything else down.

As soon as he stepped outside, he made contact with the two security guards meant to get you back here. They stood at the base of the steps—nervous, unsure if they should speak first. Their eyes flicked from the tension in Riki’s jaw to the fine mist of blood still drying across his knuckles.

He didn’t blink as he approached them. “You were supposed to bring her home and ensure she was safe. I gave explicit instructions.” His voice was eerily calm, but it buzzed like a live wire underneath.

“We—we did, sir,” one of them stammered. “She went inside. We locked the door right behind her—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you did!” Riki stepped forward, face to face with the buff man that cowered in the face of his lean figure. “My wife is not in my fucking bedroom because you failed to do your job.” He leaned in now, nose hardly touching his—his cologne and your perfume clashing between their senses.

The other guard interjected, “Sir—”

Before he could utter another word, Riki placed the barrel to his forehead. Squeezing the trigger and letting a metal bullet ripple right through his brain. Watching his body fall to the ground with a thud.

The echo of the gunshot rang out like a death bell across the courtyard. Riki didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. His jaw tightened as he watched the second guard freeze, paralyzed by fear and disbelief. A splatter of red stained the granite steps, and he finally looked down—then calmly wiped the barrel of the gun with the hem of his shirt. No one moved. Not even the wind dared.

“Let this be the part where you realize,” he said slowly, eyes locked on the remaining guard, “that I don’t make idle threats. I don’t give second chances. And I don’t tolerate incompetence.” The man nodded furiously, hands trembling at his sides.

“Good. Now get your shit together and get in the fucking car. If she loses a single hair on her head, I’m putting a bullet in your mouth. Understand me?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Riki exhaled sharply through his nose, holstering his weapon. His knuckles were cracked and bleeding again from how tightly he’d gripped it. It didn’t matter. He turned back toward the house and grabbed your scent once more—letting it wrap around him like armor. The tension in his shoulders didn’t loosen; it hardened. Sharpened. Weaponized.

He climbed into the car.

Clara’s voice came through the comms again: “Riki. We’ve found the tunnel entrance. Sealed off, looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. But the tracker’s pinging beneath it.”

His fingers tapped against his thigh—once, twice—before he answered. “Good. Blow it open.”

“Already on it.”

Riki leaned his head back, eyes half-lidded. “And tell someone—I don’t care who it is—to get rid of what’s-his-name from in front of our door. I don’t want her seeing that when she gets back.”

—

The floor was frigid as ever. To which you didn’t understand, it was springtime. But Earth’s crust wasn’t something you took time to worry about. The left side of your head was throbbing and you were barefoot. Only your white nail polish is visible in this dark room. Your arms were bound to some wooden chair with…you jostled in the chair as best you could. Zip ties. Of course they were zip ties. Your feet too but your mouth wasn’t covered, big mistake on their end. 

You smelt of debris, cinders, and a bit of blood. But none of that mattered, you had to get the fuck out of here despite you not being able to see shit. Before you could concoct some sort of plan, the lights were turned on. Stinging your eyes as your pupils had to adjust to the new sensation. 

“Oh, babygirl. Are you okay? I know it’s been a long day.”

That voice. Sweet. Familiar. The kind that once called you baby while handing you fresh towels. The one that scolded Riki for forgetting to eat. The one you trusted.

Your blood ran like ice. 

“Clara?!”

It didn’t compute at first. Your brain tried to reroute it, convince you that maybe she’d been kidnapped too. Maybe she was checking on you. But then you saw her. Heels clicking across the concrete. Calm. Clean. Untouched.

Her hair was neatly pinned up, her blouse spotless, not a wrinkle in sight. She looked like she just came from brunch—not your kidnapping.

You blinked. “Clara?” you croaked. “What the hell—”

“Shhh.” She crouched down in front of you, cupping your chin like a parent checking a child for fever. “You poor thing. That gash on the head looks awful.”

You were too stunned to move but you quickly snapped out of it and jerked your head out of her grasp. “The fuck is this?”

The older lady stood up straight, towering over your torn figure. “This is retribution,” she gestured around the shithole bunker you were in. You stared up at her, heart pounding so loud it nearly drowned out her words. “Retribution?” you echoed, like your brain was lagging ten seconds behind. “Clara, are you out of your fucking mind?”

She chuckled softly. Not like a villain. Like a teacher. Like a mother. Like someone who believed she had the moral high ground. “Don’t worry, your knight in shining armor is on his way here. Right to where you’re sitting. I can’t wait to inform him of his wonderful test results.”

Clara’s voice lilted like she was presenting a prize at a company banquet—like this wasn’t some underground dungeon and you weren’t zip-tied like a prop in a cautionary tale.

You scoffed, full of disbelief and blood in your mouth. “You’re sick.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said with mock sympathy, “you’re not the first girl who thought she was special.”

She circled you slowly now, her heels echoing through the cold, damp space.

“You think I didn’t know about the tracker in your ring? You think I didn’t let him find you? This is about control, baby. Not chaos. I want him to come. I need him to.”

You snickered, “Yeah well, I like it when he does.” If nothing else, you were great at pissing people off.

Clara paused mid-step.

And then she laughed. But not in amusement—in disbelief. A short, sharp sound, like a knife testing the surface before a deeper plunge.

“You’re really going to joke?” she said, turning toward you slowly. “Tied up like a pig in a butcher’s shop, and you’re making sex jokes. You really think you matter that much?”

You leaned forward as far as the zip ties would allow, blood crusting against your temple and your vision still swimming slightly. But your smirk was solid as a rock.

“He’s killed for less, Clara.”

Her nostrils flared, but she kept her composure. Barely. There was a twitch in her jaw now. You’d landed a hit.

“He loved me first,” she hissed. “He respected me. I built him. I made him.”

“No,” you said calmly, with that lethal kind of clarity only someone truly protected by love can wield. “You trained him. I made him human.”

For a beat, the only sound was the hum of the overhead lights and the crackle of Clara’s rage simmering just below her ribcage.

Then she smiled, too wide.

“Let’s see how human he stays when he finds your body,” she said sweetly, almost like she was offering a bedtime story. But you didn’t flinch. You nodded for her to come closer. Closer. Now your nose was nearing hers. “I fucking dare you to touch me.”

Two of her personal goons come in behind her, standing on either side of the door Riki was due to come in through. Clara’s eyes flickered to the guards like a general surveying her troops—calm, collected, but every muscle ready to snap. She stepped back, smirking like she’d already won some invisible game.

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” she said, voice silky but dripping with menace. “But this is my battlefield.”

The two goons cracked their knuckles, eyes cold and hungry, shadows stretching long across the concrete floor. The tension in the room thickened like fog, suffocating and heavy. You kept your breath steady, every nerve screaming fight or flight—but you knew better. The fight wasn’t here. It was coming. And it was coming fast. Outside the heavy steel door, you could almost feel the air shift—the calm before a storm that would shake foundations and burn everything to ash.

Clara glanced toward the door, lips curling.“Tick tock, babe.”

The door exploded inward, steel shrieking on its hinges as Riki stormed through like a bullet—rage crackling in his bones like wildfire.

His eyes locked on you instantly, wide with fury and fear, scanning your face for injury. “Baby—”

“Riki, watch out!” you screamed, voice cracking.

But it was too late.

One goon came at him from the left, the other from behind. Riki ducked, twisted, managed to land a vicious punch to the first one’s jaw—crack—but the second was already swinging with a steel baton, catching him in the ribs with a sickening thud. Riki stumbled, grunting through clenched teeth, his fury barely contained. He went for the blade tucked in his boot—only for a third man, hidden just outside the door, to grab his arm and twist it savagely behind his back. Another punch came flying, this one straight to his jaw. The force knocked him to the floor.

You cried out, struggling against your bindings, your wrists screaming in protest.

Clara watched it all unfold with the elegance of a queen watching gladiators bleed for sport. “Tsk. You boys and your dramatics.”

“Don’t fucking touch him!” you yelled.

They did anyway. Stripping him of every weapon on him—blades, a small pistol, even the tracker cuff on his wrist. Riki didn’t stop fighting, even as they dragged him up and slammed him into the chair beside you. Blood was already trickling down the corner of his mouth, but his glare was wildfire—aimed directly at Clara.

One of the goons zip-tied his hands to the arms of the chair with force, tightening them until his skin burned red.

“I should kill you right now,” Riki growled through grit teeth, eyes trained on Clara like a blade.

She approached slowly, as if savoring his fury. “You’re not in a position to make threats, Riki.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” he snapped. “Touch her again and I swear to God—”

Clara only smiled sweetly. “Swear all you want, son. You’re both right where I want you.”

You turned to look at Riki, both of you battered, bound, but alive.

And somewhere beneath the weight of adrenaline and bruises, your fingers brushed the edge of his chair.

Even now—your pinky searching for his.

He found yours. Linked it. Tight. 

You were still here. And so was he.

Clara sent the men out with a wave of her hand as she pulled up a chair to sit down and face the both of you. After a few moments of silence between both of you, she finally spoke. “Wow, fine couple.”

“Bitch, shut the fuck up.” You spat out, rolling your eyes. “What are we doing here? What do you want? More money? We got that. Status, you have it. What more do you want?!”

The older woman smiled at your state. “I want Riki.”

You turned to Riki, who was so far removed from any place you’ve seen him. Your husband was right next to you but the troubled, anxious boy that he’s done such a good job at hiding was making an appearance. But you didn’t know which version of it was.

He bounced his knee up and down with extreme fervor, so fast that you had hardly even seen it moving. Hunched over, the top of his head facing Clara as he shook his head with his eyes glued shut. Lap dampening as what you could only perceive as angry tears misted his eyes and relentless, incessant thoughts bombarded his brain. Riki’s breath was shallow as ever and you could only hear him mutter threats that stemmed from that same fury. More to himself than anyone in the room.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” 

“You’re dead.”

“You fucking—”

“I swear on everything I love, I’m putting you in the fucking dirt.”

His voice cracked beneath the gravel, barely audible through the grind of his teeth. Every muscle in his arms strained against the zip ties, his body trembling like he was trying to hold back an earthquake. The air in the room grew thick, like the moment before a downpour—or an execution. You watched him, heart breaking and raging all at once. You’d never seen Riki like this. Not even close. The man beside you wasn’t your husband—not the one who made silly faces behind menus or kissed your shoulder every time he passed you in the kitchen. This was the version buried deep inside. The one he kept scrubbed clean and locked behind five layers of steel. The version built from years of betrayal and bloodshed. The boy no one ever loved right.

And Clara had dragged him out.

“I want Riki,” she repeated calmly, as if she were choosing an entrée off a menu. “Not the man you married. Not this polished little husband of yours. I want the real him. The one I raised. The one who knows how to destroy.”

“You didn’t raise him,” you snapped. “You groomed him.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Tomato, tomahto.”

“Let her go,” Riki muttered, voice low and vibrating with rage. “Let her go, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You turned your head so fast it nearly gave you whiplash. “Riki—”

He still wouldn’t look at either of you. His shoulders trembled, breaths sharp and quick.

“Just let her go,” he said again, louder this time. “This isn’t her world. She doesn’t belong in it.”

Clara leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Oh, honey. She entered this world the moment you put that ring on her finger. And now she’s in it until the end.”

Then she leaned forward slightly, that same maternal voice dripping venom: “Tell me, Riki…do you think your daddy would be proud of the little house pet you’ve become?”

That did it.

The room cracked open.

Riki lifted his head—slowly, deliberately—and his eyes found Clara’s with a fire that could level nations.

And for the first time since you met him, you were afraid of your husband.

You interjected quickly, “Seriously. Why are you doing this?”

Riki glanced at you with calmness behind his eyes momentarily, but something about hearing Clara’s voice sent the wrath of the scorned through him. 

“I want my son back.” She hummed as she folded her hands on her lap. 

Your brows furrowed, “He’s not your fucking son.”

Clara’s lips curled into a slow, venomous smile, like she was savoring every drop of poison she was about to pour.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she began, voice dripping with sickly sweetness, “you’ve been living a lie your entire life.”

She stood and paced slowly, every step echoing like a death knell in the cold room. “The woman you thought was your mother? The one who died when you were two? She was nothing but a convenient story.”

Your eyes locked on Riki’s, watching his jaw tighten, his entire body tense like a coiled spring.

Clara stopped just inches from him, voice low and deadly. “I am your mother. Your father’s mistress—the other woman. The one he never wanted you to know about.”

Riki’s fists clenched so tight the veins in his forearms pulsed visibly. “That’s a goddamn lie.”

“Is it?” Clara’s laugh was cold and bitter. “You want the truth? You’re my son, Riki.” She fished in her skirt pocket for a photo of her holding baby Riki as she had just delivered him. 

You swallowed hard, staring at the photo like it was some kind of sick puzzle piece finally clicking into place. The baby in Clara’s arms had the same sharp eyes and yes—the unmistakable mole just below his lips. “I was able to hold you for fifteen minutes before you were taken from me, son.”

His eyes screwed shut, “I’m not your son! I’m your child. I am not your fucking son! Oh my go—baby you better say something before I—” 

“What happened after? Why was Riki taken from you?” You chimed in, in an effort to calm your seething man. 

“Because, I was the mistress. In love with your father, wanted a future with him. But he was married. And…” 

Clara’s voice cracked just a little, the only crack in her otherwise steel mask.

“He made me promise to keep quiet, to stay in the shadows. But when my pregnancy came to light, everything exploded. The wife…she found out.” Her eyes darkened, haunted. “She made sure I lost you—took you away before I could even hold you properly again.” The more you looked at her, the more Riki favored her. The same mole, the same unwavering determination in their eyes. The eyes that can be kind when they want to be. “It was either I disappear from your life completely or I stick around as the help and swear to secrecy. And I couldn’t lose you again, Riki. Do you know how much it hurt me to see you call someone else ‘mama’ for the first two years of your life?” 

“I don’t give a fuck what hurts! It hurts that you had three big ass men jump me. It especially hurt that you had my wife taken from the safety of my fucking house—that I pay for you to live at—and lay a finger on her when you know how much she’s relied on you.” Clara’s eyes glazed over, “But you did too. I was like a mom. You came to me all the time, I was your Claraboo. Remember?” She shrugged as she resigned, tears in her eyes. “When Fumiko died, I thought it was a blessing in disguise.” She stood up. “But then you found her!” She gestured to you with unadulterated disgust. “Saying how great she was, wanting advice on how to dress for dates. So I thought, ‘Okay, this is his first time really taking someone seriously, it’s fleeting. No big deal.’ But then she started coming around. Family dinners, game nights. Then it became her spending the day, then sleepovers, then hearing you two go at it like rabbits when you thought no one could hear you. Fucking disgusting.” She snarled. 

You looked at Riki from the corner of your eye, as did he. Both of you purse your lips to refrain from laughter during this serious moment. Lives are at stake here. “Then, you got on one knee, Riki. At twenty-three, just throwing your best years away for one girl. And I kept thinking, ‘why does my son keep being taken from me? Why, why, fucking why?!” She grabbed one Riki’s pistol from a nearby table and whipped you with it. 

The crack of metal against your cheekbone rang out louder than your gasp. Your head whipped to the side, pain blooming instantly along your jaw, your vision fracturing for a second. But you didn’t scream. You didn’t give her that.

Riki did.

“NO!” His chair thrashed violently beneath him, muscles flexing so hard the wood creaked. “Don’t you fucking touch her! Clara, I will fucking gut you—DO YOU HEAR ME?!” His voice cracked with fury, something animalistic and unhinged bubbling up from his core.

You spat blood, your lip split open now, and still you turned to Clara and hissed, “You’re not a mother. You’re just some bitter bitch who couldn’t let go.” Clara’s hand trembled around the gun as she stepped back, her mask cracking further. “I raised him. I wiped his tears. I was the only one who gave a damn when he cried himself to sleep when his dad would be too hard on him. And you? You think your soft little hands and pretty smile can compare to that?”

Riki had stopped shaking. Now he was still—dangerously still. “You’re right,” he muttered. “You did raise me. Which is exactly why I know how to destroy you.”

Clara froze.

“You forget who you trained, Clara,” he said lowly. “You made me this way. You taught me how to survive. How to outsmart. How to kill.” And then he smiled. Sharp. Unforgiving. Blood drying on his lip.

“So congratulations,” Riki growled. “You just signed your own fucking death certificate. Maybe I really am your son.”

Clara blinked, eyes glassy. The gun trembled again in her hand. And then she raised it. But it wasn’t pointed at you. 

It was aimed at herself. 

You froze. So did Riki.

Clara’s finger hovered over the trigger, her eyes blank. “If I can’t have you,” she said softly, voice almost childlike, “then nobody will. Not her. Not the world. Not even you.”

“No.” Your voice dropped, pleading “Put the gun down.”

Riki sighed, looking down and mumbling to himself. “Damn bitch let me do the shit myself at least.” Rolling his eyes, knowing only you heard him and you refused to laugh at this moment. You clenched your jaw to keep the smile from betraying you, even as the absurdity of Riki’s comment floated in the air like a cracked window letting in too much cold. Clara’s hands trembled now. The gun shook between her fingers, and though it was aimed at her own temple, the tension in the room wrapped around all three of you like barbed wire.

“You think this is funny?” Clara snapped, eyes darting between you and Riki. “I’m baring my soul, and you’re making jokes?”

“Clara,” you said gently, the steel in your voice only thinly veiled by the concern beneath. “This isn’t the answer.”

“I gave up everything,” she whispered. “Everything. For him. For a son who looks at me like I’m a stranger—like I’m some monster.”

“You are some monster,” Riki muttered under his breath again, then louder, “but we don’t need a whole song and dance about it. Just...step away from the trigger, Broadway.”

You shot him a look this time. “Riki, please.”

Clara’s expression fractured—like a mirror that had been held together too long by spite alone. “I could’ve been someone,” she whispered, lip trembling. “I could’ve had a life with your father. With you. But I was the side note. The servant. Claraboo. Never mom.” Her voice broke. “You don’t understand what it’s like to watch someone else raise your baby. To be called help by the child you gave birth to.”

Silence. Then—

“I’m sorry,” Riki said quietly.

Clara froze.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” he continued, gaze steady. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the life you wanted. I’m sorry no one protected you when you needed it most. But this—” he nodded toward the gun, “—isn’t gonna bring any of that back.”

You took a breath. “Please,” you added. “Don’t make us leave here with another scar.”

You heard a low snap from your left where Riki was sitting, your eyes flitted that way. He had made free of the ties. Then, with every ounce of strength in his legs, jutted his calves out to free his legs. He slowly rose to his full height. Clara’s sobs only intensified, shaking as her eyes squeezed shut and pumped out tears. Her breathing shallow as she trembled, hardly able to even line the barrel up with her chin anymore. She pointed the gun at him mindlessly. Riki slowly edged to her, “Clara…please.” He nodded, “give it to me. I have a vest on, and I’m not going to let you do something you’ll regret.” His voice was low, steady—like a lifeline in the dark. Clara’s trembling hands faltered, the gun wobbled, and then, with a choked sob, she dropped it. The metallic clatter echoed in the cold room as it hit the floor.

You exhaled, relief crashing over you like a wave.

Riki quickly swooped up the gun as Clara plopped down on the chair in complete dejection. She looked up at her son, “are you going to kill me?”

He sighed, “I am,” he nodded with another smile he tried to smother.

She huffed out a laugh despite her tears and mucus, because if she taught Riki anything—it was that sometimes, survival meant knowing when to play the long game.

“Not today, son,” she whispered, voice raw but steady. “You’re smarter than me. You’ll make sure I pay in ways that cut deeper than a bullet ever could.”

Riki’s eyes flickered—half respect, half warning. “I’ll make sure you regret every breath you take until then.”

She nodded, somehow at peace with her fate. “Plus, if it makes you feel better—there was no real leak. I just used Yuna, Jo, and Sohee as pawns. Just distractions when I knew that Ms. Prada—” She nodded to you.

“Chanel.” You and Riki corrected simultaneously.

“...Whatever. But I knew that she was itching to get involved, I made you hyper aware of a leak. When there wasn’t anything to find. A perfect smokescreen to send you chasing ghosts while I set the real trap.” 

“So how does that explain their weird behavior?” You leaned forward despite your restraints. 

The older woman shrugs, “Sometimes people tell on themselves. But I did tell Jo to keep it from you. Said that you had other obligations and that if anyone got in the way you’d deal with them.”

Riki frowned, “Oh that pisses me off,” he pointed the gun lower and shot her kneecap. Eliciting a blood-curdling scream from the elder.

“Riki!” You yell, eyes wide as he just looks at you with humor in his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?!”

He waves you off, “Sorry,” he holsters his gun as he comes up behind you to free you. In oh-so-convenient timing, here comes Riki’s men down the bunker and into the room

The heavy metal door groaned open, and a squad of Riki’s men flooded in, their faces grim but ready. Flashlights cut through the dimness, illuminating the mess Clara had made trying to stall for time.

Riki didn’t waste a second—he tugged sharply at the zip ties binding your wrists, his hands steady but fierce. “You okay?” His voice was low, but laced with raw urgency.

You nodded, heart still hammering, eyes locked on Clara who was now clutching her injured knee, glaring daggers despite the pain. “Where were they?”

“The perimeter, you really thought I came solo?” He snickered, “I’m impulsive, not stupid.”

Riki’s men quickly secured the perimeter, eyes scanning every shadow. One of them whispered into a radio, “Target secured. Extraction ready.”

Riki glanced back at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “You’re safe now. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

You exhaled, relief flooding through you even as adrenaline kept you wired. Riki called out to all of them in the room as well as on the walkie-talkie he grabbed from one of the men. “Kobun! Clean up the mess. No loose ends. Take the old lady to the infirmary—alive. She’s got answers we’ll need later.”

He turned to you, voice low and steady, “You did good. Too good.” He brushed a stray hair from your face, the heat of his touch grounding you after the chaos. As the team moved efficiently, Riki’s eyes locked with yours—fierce, protective, and full of unspoken promises.

You smiled, “How did you break free?” 

Riki smirked, the tension easing just a fraction. He opened his mouth and lifted his tongue to reveal a tiny razor, glinting silver against the dark warmth of his mouth.

Your eyes widened. “You kept that in your mouth? What if you cut yourself?”

He shrugged, “Tongue is the fastest healing muscle. Plus, I’ve done it enough times to not get hurt.”

You blinked, “That’s not comforting.”

He took it out of his mouth and tossed it to the ground. “There. Let’s go home.” 

—

Later that night

—

The dust had settled a bit, the kitchen was still destroyed but that was tomorrow’s problem. You and Riki had been patched up on the way here. The moonlight spilled through the blackout curtains, painting silver streaks across the sheets—cold and unforgiving. Riki moved around the room with his usual quiet precision, the soft click of his boots replaced by the muted sound of him slipping out of his clothes. You didn’t say a word. Didn’t even flinch when he pulled back the covers and settled beside you in just his briefs. He liked sleeping this way.

But you didn’t let it simmer, you sat up. “Are you okay, my love?” You whispered in the still room—the still house.“Mhm, just another day at work.” He yawned as he turned to face you with a gentle smile. But you didn’t buy it. He always did this so he could be a big-bad-strong boyfriend, now he’s a big-bad-strong husband. 

“Riki, seriously?” You tilt your head in concern as you run your hand through his freshly washed hair.

He nodded, “Babe-asaurus, I’m cool as a cucumber.” 

You snorted softly, the nickname breaking through the tension like a warm breeze. “Cool as a cucumber? More like a slightly burnt pickle after today.” He chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand behind your ear. “Yeah, maybe a little crispy around the edges. But I’m here. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You purse your lips, you knew what he was doing. But you didn’t pry, you never liked to. “I love you.”

He sat up, pulling you in for a hug as he kissed your lips gently. “I love you more. You know I do.”

“I know,” You kissed his bare collarbone, nuzzling his smooth skin courtesy of the body scrub you made him use. 

“Let’s sleep, yeah?” He laid down on the smooth, clean linen.

You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat sync with your own. “Yeah. Sleep sounds good.”

—

But for some reason, cuddling wasn’t on the agenda. Subconsciously, you two had parted—but it wouldn’t be you or him if you didn’t touch at least. But somehow, you felt the bed tremble a bit—shaking and quivering in the midst of the silence of the room. You sat up, turning around with furrowed brows. Feeling a little groggy from the meds you were given but still cognizant enough to know what was happening around you. 

And with that, your husband is lying down with his back turned to you, on his right side. Chest caving in, breath shallow. You blinked, confusion curling into worry. That tremble wasn’t just from the meds—it was something else. Something deeper.

Riki’s shoulders shook slightly, the kind of subtle, silent tremor that only showed when no one was watching. Your heart tightened. The big-bad-strong husband was cracked open and raw underneath the armor you both pretended was unbreakable.

You reached out tentatively, fingertips brushing the edge of his arm. Before you could open your mouth, he turned around and fell right into your arms. Wrapping his arms tightly around you as he buried his face into your neck. Letting a sea of twenty-four years worth of pollution fall down your neck and onto your chest. 

Finally the dam broke, the iron curtain. The wall of stoicism was no more.

And this one time, you said nothing. You let him have it.

His bare skin pressed hot against yours, every tremble shaking through the thin sheets. The cold night air met the heat of his body, exposed and raw in nothing but his briefs—the armor stripped away, leaving only a man unraveling.

You felt the wetness against your neck before you saw it—the slick, hot tears silently tracing down his cheeks, the first you’d ever seen. His breaths hitched violently, chest rising and falling in ragged waves, his shoulders heaving with a grief he’d never let surface before.

He buried his face deeper, clinging to you like you were the last piece of solid ground. Your fingers trembled as they traced the curve of his spine, as if trying to stitch together the pieces of a broken man. You held your love through the quiet like you promised—the good, the bad, the ugly. And this was the worst of it and even then you’d rather die than give it up. Give him up.

You rubbed his back as you scooted back to lie down. Letting him put half of his weight on you as his grip didn’t relent. Not that you wanted it to. Your cold hands pressed against his warm body in effort to cool him down. But you couldn’t as seeing the strongest man in your life was at his weakest.

Tears pooled in your eyes.

You kissed the crown of his head, silent and steady—a quiet promise without words. The night held you both close, broken but unbroken, fragile yet fierce. And in that stillness, you understood something true: love isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s just holding on when everything else falls apart.

And you married a yakuza, but most importantly you married a man who lets you see the cracks—and still chooses to stay.

fin.

Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[bxcndd]

── .✦ such a mess together - p. sunghoon

summary: the cute little girl you tutor is always going on about how you should date her smart, good-looking older brother, so why is your annoying, cocky classmate opening the door instead of her? ────── academic rival Sunghoon x reader || sfw, tension, can you tell i love the enemies to lovers trope LOL. || w/c: 3.5k (everyone clap jet is finally writing full length fics !!!)

a/n: ok whos shocked yet another enemies to lovers fic from yours truly - but i cant help that this trope is the most fun to write !!!!!!!

Shocked doesn’t even come close to describing how you feel right now. 

You feel as though if you widen your eyes anymore they’ll pop right out of your head, but the thought of him seeing you make such an embarrassing expression forces you to calm yourself. Slowly, he narrows his eyes, clearly not any less confused about this than you are. 

“The hell are you doing at my house?” he spits, thick brows furrowed as he looks you up and down. 

You’re about to reply with something equally as snarky, but you’re interrupted by a small head popping out from underneath his arm - which is outstretched to hold open the front door. 

“You’re here!” Yeji squeals in excitement, ducking past him to throw herself around your waist. You stumble backwards a bit, putting on her head to steady yourself as you laugh softly. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, though your eyes don’t leave those of the man in front of you, whose confusion only grows. “I’m here to tutor her,” you say curtly,  almost in disbelief that you’d have to spell it out for him this much. 

Though it’s not like you’re in much of a position to say much else because, really, you should’ve put the pieces together a long time ago. Being young and uninterested in her studies, Yeji had managed to spend most of your lessons together chatting about her life instead of doing her homework and so you had been told a lot about her - and her mysterious older brother who was rarely around because he was always busy working part-time or studying at university. At the time, you didn’t think twice about the fact that he went to the same university as you or that the times she mentioned him having exams always coincidentally lined up with yours - though now you’re beginning to think maybe you should’ve. 

Details like that were easy to forget though, especially when Yeji paid far more attention to the other details about her brother which she deemed far more important. You had spent many afternoons passively listening to her talk about how smart, sweet and tall he was, how he was “practically a prince” - all the while trying to get her to finish her algebra questions. You had even brushed it off when she mentioned that the two of you would make a good couple, and how it was a shame you had never met before. 

But Yeji couldn’t have been more wrong, because you actually had met her brother, and far more than you would’ve liked to for that matter. In fact, prior to today, Park Sunghoon had been nothing more than a nuisance in your university life. The one to constantly challenge your points in discussions, to steal your perfect front-row seat or to beat you by a singular mark in final exams. In your eyes, he was nothing but a cocky, good-for-nothing know-it-all who had been unfairly blessed with unnatural good looks which he used to trick your poor female classmates into liking him. 

All the details matched up though, times, places, hell they even had the same last name - but it had never occurred to you to put two and two together. Despite this, the shock of the initial realisation pales in comparison to the fact that you now how to continue with your lesson - whilst he sat in the next room over, glaring at you the entire time. 

You shifted in your seat nervously, eyes darting between Yeji’s exercise book and the strict gaze of her brother. Seriously, just what was his problem? - you’d never done anything to seriously wrong him, and if you did, you figured the fact that you were helping out his younger sister would be enough of a reason for him to let down his guard for once. But still, he sat there, completely uninterested in the video game he had loaded up as an obvious excuse, eyes locked on you. 

The weight of his gaze only made you more anxious and when you brought a hand up to hold your pencil you noticed the slight tremble in it. You couldn’t help but feel irritated, not just at him for being so distracting, but also at yourself for letting him get to you so easily. 

“I think he’s looking at you because you’re so pretty,” you heard a small voice mutter beside you catching you off guard. You let out a small laugh, about to calmly tell her to focus on her work but when you raise your eyes to look at her brother in the next room you notice that, for once, he’s avoiding your gaze, clearing his throat out of what almost seems to be nervousness. 

“Nice try Yeji, but I think your brother just doesn’t trust my tutoring skills.” 

She tilts her head, considering this for a moment - then with the same innocent bluntness as before, she shrugs. "Or maybe he's just grumpy because he got dumped."

A deafening silence falls over the room, and your pencil freezes mid-scratch as you glance up just in time to see Sunghoon's entire expression shift. His eyes widen for the briefest moment before his features twist into something between horror and annoyance. "Yeji," he hisses in warning, eyes shooting daggers at his sister, "shut up."

But it's too late, your interest is piqued and despite the harshness in his tone you can't help the smirk tugging at your lips at the thought of finally having some leverage against him.

"Wait," you say, tilting your head as you look at him, "Park Sunghoon ... got dumped?" 

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand across his face. "It wasn't- I didn't-" he stops himself, visibly irritated at the two of you. "That's none of your business."

Yeji, completely unaffected by her brother's obvious distress, hums to herself as she flips a page in her book. "She was really pretty too, she muses, "but she said he was too emotionally unavailable and always busy with school."

You blink in disbelief, then, unable to stop yourself, you laugh. "Shocking," your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

Sunghoon snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as if daring you to continue. "What did you say?"

You press your lips together, feigning innocence, but Sunghoon knows you too well for that and his glare only deepens. And for the first time, instead of just irritating you, the sight of him so obviously affected by your words is a little entertaining.

Interesting you think to yourself as you continue with the lesson, now far too aware of how the tension in the air has shifted ever so slightly. He doesn't move from his spot in the other room, or stop staring at you two, but now whenever you look up at him, instead of being able to meet your gaze he quickly looks away, pretending to be occupied with his game. You can't help but find it just a little amusing. 

Soon your lesson draws to an end and you begin to pack your materials away into your bag, thanking Yeji for working hard and listening to you - though you're interrupted by a deep rumble in the distance, followed by the sound of light rain. By the time you make it to the front door though, it's gotten much heavier and the plans you had to catch the bus home seem bleak. It isn't like you have much choice though, and you pull your hoodie over your head with a defeated sigh.

"You can't walk home in that," Yeji announces dramatically, clinging to your arm as she looks out at the heavy rain. Suddenly she perks up as if met with a great idea, and turns to her brother - who has been pretending not to listen from the living room. "Hoonie, can you drive her?" 

He barely looks up from his phone, though there's a slight delay in his response. "No."

"Why not?" she pouts.

"Not my problem," he mutters.

You roll your eyes, typical you think to yourself as you step towards the door. "It's fine, Yeji, I'll just-"

"You're seriously going to make her walk in this rain?" Yeji cries out as she walks over to her brother on the couch, "What if she gets sick? Then I'll be sad, and when I'm sad I don't do my homework. And if I don't do my homework, I'll fail and when I fail-" 

"Fine," Sunghoon groans, rubbing his temple as he pushes himself off the couch in a swift movement. He walks past you, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger coolly. "Get in the car before I change my mind," he says sternly.

You narrow your eyes at him and are about to deny his offer but the rain doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, and you're not stupid enough to reject a free ride out of pride alone. 

"Alright," you sigh, shooting Yeji one last thankful look before following her brother out to his car. 

"You live in the dorms on campus, right?" he asks casually. The rain hits the windshields of his car with a harsh rhythm, filling the silence between you two as you get in. The hum of the engine is the only other sound as he pulls out of the driveway, one slender hand lazily resting on the wheel. 

"Yeah," you say curtly, not even stopping to wonder how he could've known that. You're too busy holding a grudge against his ability to make every move seem so gracefully effortless, even turning a steering wheel. 

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat beside him, eyes fixed straight on the road ahead. You'll admit the car is nicer than you expected - spotless, the faint scent of something clean, a little floral, in the air - but you refuse to acknowledge it, just like you refuse to acknowledge that being here, alone with him, feels weirdly intimate. 

It doesn't help that he hasn't said another word since you both got in, not that you were expecting him to, but still - the awkward silence feels heavier than it should. You steal a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye once the car reaches a red light - only to find that he's already looking at you. 

Your breath hitches for just a second, but you recover quickly in hopes that he won’t notice your reaction. “What?” you huff, raising an unimpressed brow. 

His eyes turn back to the road just as quickly, expression unreadable as the light turns green. “Nothing.” 

You sink back in your seat and the silence resumes, but with its temporary break, you feel compelled to keep up the conversation, even if it means more childish bickering. 

“I hope you don’t expect anything in return for this,” you say, turning to face forward again - but your attention piques once you hear a faint noise from him. It’s something you’ve never heard before, something just quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it over the drumming rain, but you’re glad you did because you swear you just heard Park Sunghoon laugh. 

"When have I ever expected anything from you," he spits, but the usual malice in his tone is tinged with amusement.

"I'm just saying, don't think that just because you're doing this for me that anything's going to change," you huff, "if it weren't for Yeji you probably couldn't care less about me anyways." 

Sunghoon hums, the corners of his lips twitching as if he's holding back another laugh - he doesn't deny it, which somehow annoys you more than if he had outright agreed. Instead, he just shifts gears smoothly, eyes fixed on the road and you hate the way you find your gaze lingering on his profile for just a little too long.

"You sound disappointed," he muses after a beat.

You scoff defensively, crossing your arms. "Yeah, right." You've always hated how easily he could read you.

He just nods ever so slightly and doesn't press for more but the silence that follows feels a little different now, less tense. You shift in your seat and try to ignore the way your heart is starting to beat just a little too fast or the fact that you're waiting for him to say something. 

After a moment, he exhales, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "For the record," he sighs, his tone almost confessional, "I don't not care about you."

You crane your neck, searching his face for any sign that he's messing with you right now, a glint in his eye, his signature cocky smirk - but his expression is again unreadable. Instead, you watch the outline of his jaw shift slightly, almost as if he regrets his words, but he doesn't take it back.

You swallow nervously, unsure entirely of what to do with this new information. "Good to know," you say slowly, looking away before he can see how much that single sentence has affected you. 

As you do, you're suddenly desperate for an opportunity to change the topic. "How come this whole time I never knew you had a younger sister?"

"Well it's not exactly like you know much about my personal life," he scoffs - and you have to admit he's right.

"I mean, it's not like you're an open book or anything," you reply, "takes me ages just to figure out what you're thinking half the time with that blank expression. It's hard to believe you and Yeji are even related."

"Right because a guy my age should totally be acting like a middle school girl," he nods mockingly.

"You get what I'm saying," you sigh, going quiet for a minute as you think about what to say next. "She looks up to you a lot, you know," is what you land on, trying to balance your tone between sounding casual and earnest. 

You watch as he scoffs, and shakes off your comment with a slight shake of his head. "I'm serious," you say, "she talks about you like you're a superhero or something, even when she complains about you, it's obvious you mean a lot to her."

Even though his expression barely changes, you watch his fingers tighten slightly on the wheel - and the beat of silence before his response is enough to tell you that he's not used to hearing things like this. You find it interesting how even though you're practically complimenting him, he responds as if he's unsettled.

"Whatever, she's young and annoying," he finally mutters - though for the first time, there's no real malice to his tone, only something defensive.

"You're deflecting," you point out. This side of him, the one that's quiet and easily affected by your words, is one you've rarely gotten to see and if you're being completely honest, you're enjoying this far too much to let it go. "I think you like knowing she looks up to you." 

He huffs, clearly growing tired of your prying. "And I think you like hearing yourself talk."

You roll your eyes, but before you can shoot back with another remark, he beats you to it. "And whilst we're prying into my personal life, Yeji mentioned something interesting earlier."

You pause, suddenly wary. "Oh?"

He flicks his turn signal on, voice infuriatingly casual. "Apparently, you remind her of my ex." 

You feel your stomach lurch, followed quickly by a heat creeping up your face. "Excuse me?" is all you can manage to say.

His lips curl slightly, and it becomes clear that he only mentioned this to see your reaction. "Not in looks or anything," he clarifies, glancing briefly at you before focusing back on the road. "Personality-wise, she said you both have a way of getting under my skin."

You scoff, feeling an odd mix of feeling, irritation and something you don't really want to name. "Wow, should I be flattered or insulted?"

"That depends," he muses, "my ex was kinda terrible."

"Seriously?" you gape, shocked at how bold he's being in sharing this with you, "sounds like you're just butthurt from being dumped." 

He actually laughs - fully this time, not just the ghost of a chuckle he let out before. It's still short, and a little quiet, but for some reason it makes your chest tighten.

"Relax," he says, tone laced with amusement, "she wasn't all bad, but she did have this habit of always arguing with me, nitpicking things I did just for the sake of it."

You avoid his gaze, picking up on his signals just a little too quickly. "Sounds familiar," you mutter as you look out the car window at the rain.

You don't need to turn back to know his smirk depends, "Exactly."

The air has shifted completely now. The tension is still there, humming under the surface, but it's now covered by something else - something lighter, more playful, and charged in a way that makes you hyper-aware of how close the two of you are.

Then, just as you think the conversation is over, he speaks again - this time softer, almost absentmindedly.

"But I guess the difference is, I never really cared what she thought of me." 

It's such an offhand comment, something he's thrown out just to fill the silence. But something about it sticks to you, lingering in your mind as you nod, unsure of how to respond, and so you don't.

You spot the familiar sight of the dorms approach in the distance and even though you're compelled to feel relieved that this torturous car ride is drawing to an end - a tiny part of you can't help but feel a little disappointed that this seemingly rare opportunity is ending. Swiftly, he pulls up to the front entrance, parking smoothly and effortlessly.

As you move to undo your seatbelt, he stops you once again with his words. "Hey, I hope you're not going to stop tutoring Yeji, by the way," he's turned to face you now, but his eyes are avoiding yours. 

You furrow your brows, both at his words and his unusual expression. "Why would I?" you say slowly.

"Well, I mean, I just figured because of me and everything-" he begins to ramble, and it's the first time you've seen him stumble over his words like this.

"Relax, I hate you, not her, remember." You say it in the same teasing tone you've always used for him, but it seems to land heavier than you expected with how he turns back to face the steering wheel, his lips forming a thin line.

You linger for a moment, and something about the air between you feels different - like you're standing on the edge of something neither of you can name. Sunghoon's hand is still resting on the gear shift, his fingers drumming against the leather in a steady rhythm. 

"Right," he replies curtly, almost to himself and you can sense just a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You should leave it at that, you know you should. But something about the way he's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, or how his jaw is tensed ever so slightly, makes you want to press just a little further.

"Unless," you hum, tilting your head slightly, "you'd actually miss me if I stopped coming around?"

"Yeji would," he replies almost immediately - but you don't miss the way his shoulders go rigid for just a fraction of a second before he speaks.

"You didn't deny it," you smirk.

At this, he finally looks at you and there's something about the way he does it - something heavier than the usual irritation or exasperation you're used to. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable and for a split second, you wonder if you've pushed too far. 

But then, he exhales, something softer flickering across his features before he quickly pulls them back into indifference. "Just get out of my car before I start charging you for emotional distress."

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open just as the rain continues to pour outside.

"See you next time, Park," you say, "and drive safe."

"Don't tell me what to do," he huffs, though there's a playful tone in his voice as he smirks at you.

You return his look, satisfied, and finally push the door shut - watching as he shifts into gear, headlights illuminating the street. You know you should get inside and out of the rain immediately but you can’t help but watch as he drives off, heart thrumming in your chest as you find the beaming smile on your face lingering. You shake your heard at yourself, almost as if to shake away your thoughts, before turning to head into the dorm. 

What you don’t see though, is the way Sunghoon glances in his rearview mirror one last time before turning away, just to catch a glimpse of you before you do. 

[bxcndd]

saw someone posting a fic and one person commented saying “ it has too many grammar errors to be a good fic”

OKAY MR POLICE LIKE? THEN DO IT YOURSELF LIKE ANNOYING YOIRE NOT WRITING JUST JUDGING

[bxcndd]

hiiiii... can u write something like, doctor jungwon with nurse reader... and the reader suffers an accident...

Dr. Yang, Can You Not?

Pairing: Surgeon! Jungwon x Nurse! Fem! reader

Synopsis: Being a nurse means long hours, short breaks, and trying not to stare too long at Jungwon, or so we call, Dr. Yang Jungwon, during rounds. No one said falling for a surgeon would be part of the job description, but here we are.

Author's Note: This was honestly the hardest thing I’ve ever written 😭 It took so much time and research because I wanted to reflect the reality of hospital life. Writing a story where the characters are both grounded was a challenge, but I learned a lot from it. Huge thank you to the anon who requested this. I’m so sorry it took forever to finish. I poured my heart into it. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I struggled writing it 😭💉 Happy reading! 💗

Content Warning: Please note that this is a fictional story. While I did a lot of research to make the hospital setting feel real, this does not accurately represent actual medical procedures or protocols. This was written for entertainment purposes only. This story mentions blood, injuries, fainting, medical emergencies, and heavy emotional moments. Also includes cursing and unfiltered language at times. Please read with care!

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Being a nurse isn’t easy. It’s not like the shows, and it’s not like what people outside the hospital think it is. There’s no time to breathe when you’re responsible for lives. You learn to control your emotions, move fast, and think faster. And even then, mistakes happen.

You knew something was off the moment the shift slowed down. The patient was fine, but the chart wasn’t. There’d been an update, a new dosage written in right after you made the rounds. Jungwon, or so everyone calls, Dr. Yang, had caught it. He said nothing then, only glanced at the chart and walked off. He asked to speak to you in the staff lounge an hour later. He didn’t sit. He didn’t lecture. “Walk me through what happened,” he said, arms crossed. He seemed calm but unreadable.

You shifted your weight. “It was bed 14. The chart was updated, but I didn’t double-check. I was covering trauma for Jina, running back and forth. I saw the old dosage and went with it. I didn’t mean to cut corners. I…I missed it.” He didn’t interrupt. You continued, “The update must’ve come through after I’d already prepped, and I know that doesn’t excuse anything. I was responsible for checking again, but I didn’t, Dr. Yang.”

For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then he exhaled lightly. “Patient’s fine. No harm done. I logged it as a near miss.” You nodded, but it didn’t feel like relief. Only a confirmation of what you already feared, that it had been close. Too close. “You’re not careless,” he added. “You’ve been consistent. One mistake doesn’t change that. But next time, don’t rush. Even if you’re covering, you say something.”

“I will,” you said. You meant it. He looked at you for a moment longer and asked. “Are you alright?” You hesitated, “I’m just mad at myself.”

That seemed to land with him. Not sympathy, he wasn’t the type, but understanding. “Good. You should be. Means you won’t let it happen again.” He turned toward the door, paused with his hand on the knob. “If it starts feeling too much, don’t wait until it breaks you. Say something sooner.”

And that was the thing with Jungwon. He wasn’t that warm, but when it mattered, he was present. And in a place where lives hang by a thread daily, that meant everything.

🚑

You were slumped on the break room couch with your wrinkled scrubs and hair clipped up with zero effort. Jina had her feet on the table, unbothered by hospital etiquette, while Ara tried to get the vending machine to accept her crumpled bill for the fourth time. “Just accept your fate. No snacks for you,” Jina mumbled while eyes half-shut. “I just want a chocolate bar,” Ara said, pressing the buttons with the desperation of someone clinging to hope. “This hospital is cursed.”

“I could’ve told you that,” you muttered. “I almost gave the wrong dosage to bed 14 today.” That woke Jina up. “Wait, what?”

You shrugged. “Dr. Yang caught it. He asked me to walk him through it. No yelling, though. It’s only that terrifying calm voice.”

“Oh no,” Ara groaned, flopping onto the chair beside you. “The ‘walk me through it’ is worse than yelling. It’s like guilt, shame, and a midlife crisis all in one sentence.”

“I kept waiting for the part where he tells me I’m off the schedule next week,” you said.

“And did he?” Jina raised an eyebrow.

“No. He said I’m not careless. Which somehow made me feel worse.”

“Because now you have a reputation to protect,” Ara said, poking your leg with her foot. “Welcome to hell.” She added. “Nurses from the third floor were hanging around the corridor again.” You didn’t look up from your notes. “What for?”

“Dr. Yang was in OR 3. Apparently, the supply room suddenly became the most visited place in the hospital.” Jina gave a tired laugh as she unwrapped her sandwich. “It’s funny. The way they pretend to be casual with clipboards in hand.” You shook your head. “They’ll be disappointed. He barely even looks up unless it’s patient-related.”

“That’s what makes him kind of intimidating,” Ara said. “Not in a mean way. He’s just strict and focused.” Jina nodded. “Still better than the others. He won’t call you out in front of a patient. He corrects you once, and that’s it. But you remember.

You responded, “It’s the way he talks. He never raises his voice, but you know when he means business.”

Ara smirked. “The ‘walk me through it’ line?”

You smiled faintly. “Exactly.”

“I swear, we’re running on caffeine and instinct at this point,” Jina muttered. “Mostly instinct,” you said. “Barely any caffeine left.” Ara sighed. “Two more hours. Let’s make it.” You all stood up slowly, the weariness showing in the way your bodies moved. No complaints, though.

Someone mentioned a patient needing to be checked on in the ICU, but no one asked who would go.

You were already moving.

🚑

Everyone looked like shit but the thing was, no one complained too much. Because this was real work. Messy, exhausting, nonstop and honestly, no one had time to be pretty at 4 AM. Jina was slouched in the nurse’s station chair. “If I die, make sure they clean my brows before the funeral.”

“You’re not dying,” Ara said. “You’re just decaying slowly.”

You leaned your head against the counter. “Why does this shift feel like three years?”

“Because it is,” Ara answered. “Time bends here.”

Someone was wheeling a portable vitals cart down the hallway with one squeaky wheel screaming for help. Another nurse was trying to untangle IV tubing. Then, Jungwon walked past.

Everyone straightened, not because he was scary in a mean way, but because, somehow, he made you want to be on your A-game. He wasn’t the type to raise his voice or humiliate anyone. He only had that stare. You weren’t feeling any fear. It was only respect… and fine, a lot more fear. Jina whispered, “I swear I saw four nurses almost break their necks earlier just watching him.” Then, you sighed, grabbed your tablet, stood up, and headed down the hall to follow up on a urine output. Another hour in the hospital.

🚑

You were replacing the ECG leads on Mr. Choi, the elderly patient in room 305, again, for the third time this week. He’d somehow peeled them halfway off while adjusting his pillow and now acted like the whole thing was a crime against his freedom. “They itch,” he grumbled, crossing his arms as you prepped new stickers. “They always itch, Mr. Choi,” you said, not looking up. “But you don’t pull them off unless you want a lecture and a delay in meds.”

“I wasn’t pulling, I was just adjusting.”

“Mmhmm,” you muttered, pressing the last lead down. “Try adjusting your expectations next time.” The monitor beeped back to normal. You were currently logging the change when footsteps approached. You didn’t have to look up. Jungwon stepped in, making a quick scan of the room. “What happened?”

“Monitor alarm. Leads were off,” you answered. “I reattached and checked his rhythm. Stable, Dr. Yang.”

Jungwon nodded once. “Noted. Thank you.” Then to Mr. Choi, “Please avoid touching anything connected to your heart.”

“I was itchy,” Mr. Choi replied while unfazed. Jungwon raised a brow but said nothing. Mr. Choi snorted and asked you something, acting as if Jungwon wasn’t still in the room. “He always like that?”

“Like what?”

Mr. Choi said, “Serious and stern. He looks like he hasn’t slept since med school.”

You shrugged while double-checking your chart. “He works harder than anyone here.”

“Still,” Mr. Choi leaned in slightly. “You two close?”

You gave him a confused look. “Close?”

Jungwon was already turning to leave when Mr. Choi piped up,

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Jungwon stopped walking for half a second, then glanced over his shoulder. “She has standards, Mr. Choi.” And with that, he walked out. You rolled your eyes, more at Mr. Choi than anyone else, as you adjusted the blanket over him. Mr. Choi chuckled. “I didn’t say he was a bad pick.”

You grabbed the used gauze wrappers off the tray. “You need sleep, not gossip.”

🚑

You walked alongside Jungwon. Both of you were fresh off the emergency. Then, “You didn’t hesitate,” Jungwon said after a while, eyes ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Your hands were steady.”

You responded. “Only because I wasn’t thinking. If I did, I’d probably pass out.”

“Still, you didn’t.” His voice wasn’t praising, though, and you could tell he was honest.

You glanced sideways at him. “I thought you were gonna snap when the interns froze.”

“I was too busy watching you fix it,” he replied, catching you off guard. You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you pushed the med room door open with your shoulder. Inside, a couple of nurses were slumped in chairs. You sank into the chair near the sink and muttered, “We all look like expired yogurt.” Someone snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’m aged cheese.”

Laughter broke out softly among the tired group. Mr. Choi, poked his head out from his door down the hall, despite clearly being told to stay inside and rest. His voice carried just enough. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asked, pointing a bony finger toward Jungwon, who was still standing and looking like he was re-running the code blue in his head. You rolled your eyes before anyone else could speak. “Mr. Choi, that’s Dr. Yang.”

But before you could add anything else, Jungwon glanced straight-faced and said, “That’d be inappropriate, Mr. Choi. She hasn’t even bought me dinner.” A few of the nurses choked on their drinks. You were more surprised than anything, but he was already walking off, as if he hadn’t just dropped a line like that mid-shift.

Mr. Choi gave you a smug little grin. “He’s funny. Keep that one.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and muttered again, louder this time, “That’s Dr. Yang, Mr. Choi.”

You didn’t like to admit it, but fine. Dr. Yang was handsome. Everyone knew it. He had that put-together look that didn’t fade even after sixteen-hour shifts. Smart, obviously. Strict, but not in a way that made nurses cry in the break room. He never raised his voice. He never embarrassed anyone. He just had this way of watching, of waiting for you to catch your mistake, and that alone was enough to make your palms sweat. People either avoided eye contact or found excuses to hang around him. Neither was a good look. Not here, especially not when you were trying to survive the night without mislabeling another patient chart. Besides, it’s not like you saw him in any new light. You’d always known what he was like.

That didn’t mean you weren’t hyper-aware of how he had just made a joke… wait, was it really a joke? ugh, Dr. Yang is so unreadable.

You shook it off, reaching for the clipboard again.

🚑

You had been rushing. Everyone was. It was one of those nights where the ER felt like a war zone, and every second counted. You didn’t double-check the medication. You trusted the label and moved on, but it wasn’t the correct dose. And now, Mrs. Han was in respiratory distress.

The room was already tense. Monitors blared, voices raised, and people rushed around. Jungwon stepped in, glanced at the scene, and didn’t hesitate. Orders flew from his mouth. You followed them silently, your hands moving even as your stomach twisted. It wasn’t until after Mrs. Han had stabilized, wheeled off to the ICU, that it hit. The error. Your error.

You were the last one left in the trauma room, standing beside the cart, staring down at the vial.

“(Name).”

You turned. Jungwon was standing by the door.

“Walk me through it.”

You swallowed. “I-I grabbed the vial from the backup tray. I didn’t recheck the dosage. I thought it was-“ You shook your head. “I was wrong.” He didn’t interrupt. “I know I should’ve rechecked,” you finished. “I didn’t. That’s on me.” There was a long silence.

His eyes were unreadable. “Do you know what could’ve happened if we hadn’t caught it?”

You nodded.

“You’re lucky we were in a room full of capable staff,” he said. His voice wasn’t cold, though disappointment was obvious. “But next time, we might not be.” You looked down. “I don’t expect perfection,” he continued. “But I do expect care. And tonight, you were careless.” It stung. Not because he was yelling; he wasn’t. That would’ve been easier. But because he sounded like he meant every word, like he’d expected better from you and trusted better.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I know,” he replied. “But don’t make me say this twice.” Then he turned and left, not slamming the door, not throwing a glance back. Gone because he had patients to check and didn’t have time to carry your guilt for you. You stood there longer, trying not to let it show on your face: frustration and shame. Then you squared your shoulders.

There was still a shift to finish.

🚑

You didn’t mean to cry. You told yourself you’d hold it together until the end of the shift. But after the adrenaline wore off, it hit you all at once. The weight of what happened and what could’ve happened. You found an empty supply room. No one ever checked here unless they were restocking. You slid down against the wall, hidden behind metal shelves stacked with gauze and tubing. Your shoulders shook before you realized you were crying.

You weren’t afraid of being scolded again. That already happened. You were worried that you’d become a nurse people didn’t want to work with. That Jungwon wouldn’t trust you again. The door creaked. You wiped your face quickly, seeing Jungwon, but it was useless. Your eyes were red. Your breath gave you away. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood at the entrance, silent, before gently closing the door behind him. “I figured I’d find you here,” Jungwon said.

You didn’t look up.

“I’m not hiding, Dr. Yang,” you muttered.

“I didn’t say you were.” He walked closer.

“I’m fine,” you added, quietly. He crouched down, not too close, enough so you wouldn’t have to raise your head to see him. “You made a mistake,” he said calmly. “And it scared you. That’s normal.” You didn’t reply. “I was hard on you,” he continued. “Because I know you’re better than that.” That made you look up at him, surprised. “If I thought you weren’t capable,” he said, “I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”

The tears started again silently, not because of the mistake, but because he still believed in you. He noticed. You could tell, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he stood up and reached for a box of gauze on the shelf. Pulled a piece from the sterile pack and handed it to you as if it were a tissue. You laughed barely as you took it and dabbed at your face. He didn’t smile, but his voice was gentler now.

“Come on. They’ll start thinking you passed out in here.”

You stood. As you opened the door, he paused beside you.

“(Name).”

You glanced up.

“I’m not giving up on you. Don’t give up on yourself.” Then, he walked away. You followed him out of the supply room minutes later, face wiped clean but eyes still swollen. You thought he’d already disappeared into his rounds, but when you turned the corner by the nurses’ station, he leaned slightly against the counter. He looked up the moment he heard your steps. He said, “Drink some water and eat something, if you can.” You gave a slight nod, ready to keep walking, but then he added, “If you’re not steady, I don’t trust you next to my patients.”

It was teasing, almost.

Was he…?

But before you could respond, he reached behind the desk and placed something on top. A granola bar. You stared at it. Then at him. “You carry snacks now?” you asked cautiously.

His lips curved upwards a little bit. “I carry them for nurses who forget to eat.” That wasn’t in the manual. That wasn’t part of any protocol. And suddenly, despite your pounding head and sore feet, you felt something, not from shame or pressure, but something else entirely. “Thank you,” you murmured. He gave a slight nod. And as you walked away, that granola bar in hand, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps you didn’t see him in the same light anymore.

Maybe… he didn’t see you the same, either.

🚑

It’s your day off. Yey!

You were halfway through reheating leftovers when your phone buzzed. An unknown number. You almost declined it, assuming the hospital admin asked if you could cover another shift because, of course, something told you to pick it up. “Hello?”

“It’s Jungwon.”

Your back straightened. You stared at your microwave as if it had betrayed you. “I got your number from admin,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting. “You left your ID. I figured you’d need it before your next shift.”

“Oh. Right,” you said. “Thanks, Dr. Yang. I didn’t notice.”

“You’re off today, aren’t you?”

“Yeah… I barely got out of bed.”

You could hear a street in the background. He wasn’t at the hospital.

“I’m passing near your neighborhood. You want me to drop it off?”

That was embarrassing. You almost said no. Almost. But you didn’t.

Ten minutes later, you opened your gate, and there was Jungwon in jeans and a jacket. Of course, his hair is still neat because even off-duty, the man probably came with auto-pressed laundry. You, on the other hand, looked like a glitch in the system. He handed the ID over. “Here. Try not to leave it next time. You’ll get locked out of med storage again.”

You took it, trying not to cringe too hard at how you probably smelled like instant noodle seasoning. “Thank you, Dr. Yang.”

He looked at you with a tinsy tiny bit of amusement. “You look like you lost a fight with sleep.”

You snorted. “Sleep won.”

He chuckled softly, then nodded toward the small garden beside your gate. “Nice plants.”

You did a sheepish smile. “They’re mostly dying.”

“Well, it’s still nice.” Then he stepped back. “See you on Monday.” Then he left.

🚑

You clocked in early. After last week, you weren’t about to give anyone a reason to question you again, especially not him. “Early,” came a voice behind you. You turned to see Jungwon standing a few steps away, watching you with that unreadable expression he always seemed to wear in the mornings.

You didn’t falter. “I had things to double-check.”

He nodded, stepping closer to glance at the tablet in your hand. “That’s good.”

You turned your attention to the patient notes again. And it’s as if he could read your mind. “We all make mistakes, but most people don’t take responsibility the way you did,” he continued. “That matters more than pretending to be perfect.”

Your throat felt tight, but you managed, “I don’t like being anyone’s disappointment.”

“You’re not,” he said. “Not to me.”

You didn’t respond. Well, you couldn’t, but something inside you loosened. You didn’t need to smile. He didn’t need to stay. He turned to go, but as he passed, he said. “I’ll see you on rounds.” And just like that, he was gone.

Mid-Morning Break.

You walked down the hallway with two other nurses, Suho and Mei, equally sleep-deprived. “My feet are about to give up,” Mei groaned, adjusting her ponytail. “I swear one more emergency, and I’m just gonna roll myself into a supply closet and nap.”

“You already did that last week,” Suho pointed out, bumping her with a shoulder.

“I wasn’t caught, was I?”

You smiled faintly, their banter pulling you out of your head. The conversation changed between patient updates and who had the worst shift this week. It was a tie between Suho nearly getting puked on and Mei assisting during a dislocated shoulder pop-in. Then Mei slowed her steps, nudging you lightly. “So,” she said, dragging out the word like a tease. “You and Dr. Yang?”

You look at her confused. “What?”

“Don’t play innocent,” Suho added. “He doesn’t talk to anyone like that. I’ve seen him reduce interns to dust with just a stare. But with you? I mean, that voice of his went down an octave.”

“Probably because he was giving feedback,” you muttered.

“Yeah, feedback with undertones,” Mei said, raising a brow. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t notice how he looks at you.”

You exhaled. “He’s strict. He’s focused. He’s not the type to flirt in the middle of a hospital.”

Mei laughed. “Maybe not the type to flirt but the type to admire.”

“Guys, it’s Dr. Yang,” you reminded them, emphasizing his title. “And we’re all professionals.”

“Sure,” Mei said, smug. “But don’t act surprised when he offers to ‘professionally walk you to the vending machine’ again.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer because no matter how much you told yourself not to think about it… You were.

🚑

You were reviewing the chart for Mr. Yoon’s post-op medication when Dr. Kim stormed in. He was loud, always had been, but today, he seemed on edge. “Nurse,” he barked, slapping a clipboard on the desk. “Why wasn’t Mrs. Han’s dressing changed on time? It’s written here that it was scheduled two hours ago.”

You momentarily were thrown off. “I- I was assisting Dr. Nam with Mr. Yoon’s complication. I had already prepped the materials for Mrs. Han, but I asked Jeongmin to-”

“Don’t pass the blame,” Dr. Kim snapped. “If you can’t keep up, maybe you shouldn’t be here. Patients don’t wait on excuses.” You clenched your jaw and swallowed your pride. You knew you worked hard, but it felt like your chest shrank right there in front of everyone. And then, like timing written into the day itself, a new voice cut in. More calm and instantly commanding. “Dr. Kim,” Jungwon said as he stepped into view. “I asked her to stay with Mr. Yoon.”

Dr. Kim stiffened. “That’s not relevant to-”

“It is,” Jungwon interrupted. “He was crashing. She stabilized him. I’m the one who pulled her from the schedule. If you have a problem, bring it up with me.” The whole station went quiet. Damn. Dr. Kim mumbled something about “communication” before turning and walking off, still grumbling under his breath. You stayed frozen for a second. Then you turned to look at Jungwon.

“Thanks,” you said. You could feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“I told you,” he said. “You care. You make the right calls. That matters.” You gave a weak nod. He looked at you for another second. Then: “Don’t skip water just because you’re busy.”

“Huh?”

He held out a paper cup. “Coffee machine’s still broken.” You took it without protest. Then he turned, walking off without another word. And though people surrounded you, somehow, the only thing you noticed was that paper cup in your hand.

🚑

You’d finally clocked out, hands still smelling faintly of alcohol swabs, and your back sore from standing too long. You opened your locker slowly, half-asleep, when a soft knock at the door made you turn. It was Jungwon. He didn’t walk in fully. His hair looked a little messy; clearly, he hadn’t gotten a chance to rest. “I figured you were still here,” he said. How was he able to know where you are every time?

You tried not to look too startled. “Yeah… decompressing.”

He nodded once. “Me too.” Then he stepped forward, holding out something in a napkin.

You squinted. “What’s that?”

“A red bean bun. They were giving them out in Pediatrics. I grabbed one. Then grabbed another one. I don’t know why.” He shrugged, setting it down near your things. “Thought maybe you’d want one. He continued, “You were good today.”

You let out a half-scoff. “I almost got chewed out again, Dr. Yang.”

“And you still stood your ground,” he replied. “That’s why I said good.” His voice wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t overly kind, either. It was sure like he believed it completely.

You didn’t mean to, but your eyes watched him a little longer this time. You always thought of him as composed, brilliant, slightly intimidating but right now… he only looked human. Tired, real. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

He gave a faint smile. “Eat then go home.” And as he turned, he added without looking back, “You always forget to take care of yourself. Don’t make me keep reminding you.”

The door swung shut behind him.

🚑

The breakroom felt alive for once. Eyebags and half-buttoned uniforms didn’t stop the nurses laughing like it was payday. You sat slouched between Jina and Ara, poking at a plastic-wrapped sandwich you weren’t planning to eat. The three of you had just finished a rough rotation. “Okay, but tell me the truth,” Ara whispered loudly. “Would you say yes if Dr. Yang ever asked you out?”

You groaned, “Don’t. Ask. Don’t start.”

Jina snorted into her mug. “You didn’t even deny it.”

“I’m tired,” you deadpanned, dragging your hand down your face. “This is harassment.” You continued, “He’s literally right there,” you added through clenched teeth, glancing toward the corner where Dr. Yang was washing his hands post-surgery, sleeves rolled. He looked like a health campaign poster. Unfortunately, Jina smirked. “Watch this.”

“Dr. Yang!” Ara called sweetly across the room.

You nearly slammed your forehead on the table. “I swear if you say-”

“If someone like her asked you out,” Jina said, jerking her thumb at you, “would you say yes?”

The room went silent. Jungwon dried his hands calmly. “I don’t date coworkers.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Exactly. See?” you muttered.

He turned, tossed the towel aside, and added coolly, “But I never said I wouldn’t make an exception.”

The breakroom erupted.

“OH MY GO-”

“Okay, but WHAT-”

“I need air-”

Ara threw a pillow across the table. Jina screamed. You stared blankly ahead. “Unprofessional,” you muttered, cheeks burning, but the smile tugging at your lips said otherwise.

🚑

You were eating out with Dr. Yang.

Yeah. You read that right.

You were sitting across from Dr. Yang Jungwon, chopsticks in hand, in some little restaurant that he, of all people, apparently knew about. He was the same man everyone in the hospital either feared, admired, or had an embarrassing crush on. Now here he was, casually dipping grilled meat into sauce like he hadn’t just invited you out.

Okay, don’t look at me like that. I know what this looks like. But you don’t get to judge me. It’s Dr. Yang, hello?

You cleared your throat, forcing your eyes to stay on your plate. “I still think this is kind of… inappropriate.”

He didn’t even stutter. “Inappropriate?”

You nodded. “We work together.”

He shrugged. “We’re not in work right now. We’re off-duty. Technically, we’re just two people eating lunch.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Do you always say stuff that conveniently works in your favor, Dr. Yang?”

Jungwon smiled, a little smug. “Only when I want to make a point.”

You tried to hide the way your heart was beating so fast. This man. This frustrating, composed, dangerously intelligent man. You poked at your rice. “Just to be clear, this is lunch. Not a date.”

He met your eyes. “Sure.” And then, right as you sipped your drink, he added, “Unless you want it to be.”

You nearly choked.

“Dr. Yang-.”

“It’s Dr. Yang on duty,” he said. “But right now? It’s Jungwon.”

SHITTT. You hated how warm your face felt, but couldn’t even deny it anymore. This man was dangerous. You leaned back in your seat. “You know…” You began, “You’re always so hard to read.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, sipping his water. “Am I?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, tapping your chopsticks against your bowl. “So tell me then. What were your thoughts on me?”

“The first time we met?”

“Yeah.”

He set his glass down slowly. “You were…fast.”

“Fast?”

“Quick on your feet. Quicker with your mouth,” he said with his lips twitching. “I thought you were a bit arrogant.”

You gave him a look. “That’s rich coming from you.” Which, to your surprise, he laughed. Woah. That was the first time you’ve seen him laugh like this. “But,” he added, “I also saw how you handled that mess on the third floor. I remember thinking, ‘Okay… she’s not just talk.’”

You raised a brow. “So you didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t know you,” he replied. “But I was curious.”

You paused for a moment. “And now?”

He didn’t answer right away. He properly looked at you. Not in the way people do when thinking of the correct answer, but he already knew it and was deciding if he should say it aloud. “Now I think I want to know more.”

You stirred your iced drink lazily.

“I used to think you were married,” you said out of nowhere.

Jungwon looked up from his plate. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. When I first met you years ago.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

You shrugged. “You walked around like someone with a ring on his finger. You look like you have a family waiting at home.” Jungwon let out a low chuckle and answered. “That’s one way to describe me.”

“Well,” you added, smirking slightly, “I was wrong. Obviously.”

He leaned back in his seat. “So what else did you assume about me back then?”

You took a sip of your drink. “I thought you were distant. The type who wouldn’t remember anyone’s name unless they were on your level.”

He was amused. “That bad, hm?”

“But,” you said, letting the words slow down, “then I watched you work. The way you talk to patients’ families. The way you don’t raise your voice when you’re mad… And you always back up the people, even when no one’s around to see it.”

His eyes were on you. “So what do you think of me now?”

You matched his tone. “I think you’re nothing like I assumed.”

He smiled. “And you? I assumed you were all walls. Smart, yes. Efficient but distant.”

You looked at him.

“And now?”

He shrugged gently. “Now I know better.” He picked up his drink again, eyes not leaving yours. “You know,” he said, “you surprised me too.”

You tilted your head. “How so?”

“At first, I thought you hated me,” he admitted. “You never smiled when I passed by. You were always busy avoiding eye contact.”

“That’s called being professional,” you shot back with a small laugh.

“Mm,” he hummed. “That, or you were trying really hard not to fall for me.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

He leaned in just slightly, wearing that maddeningly calm expression of his. “It’s only a theory. No judgment.”

You were trying to play it cool. “Your ego’s showing, Jungwon.”

He smiled. “Perhaps or probably I’m finally saying what we’ve both been thinking.” You opened your mouth to argue, maybe to deny it, maybe not, but the waitress arrived with dessert, breaking the moment. He picked up his spoon, but his eyes didn’t leave you, and just before digging in, he said, “But if I’m wrong… you’re free to prove me wrong next time. Over dinner again.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh, blush, or throw your spoon at him. All three, probably.

Dr. Yang, your foot. This man was trouble.

It has been a few, maybe longer, minutes. You were halfway through your dessert, still mentally reeling from Jungwon’s earlier comment, when a hacking cough cracked. You looked up, and just a few tables away, a woman clutched at her throat, her face already beginning to swell. Her husband jumped from his seat, panic in his eyes. “Help! Someone, please! My wife- she’s having an allergic reaction!” he shouted, knocking his chair over.

Your spoon clattered onto your plate. Jungwon was already standing. Without a word, you followed. The moment snapped both of you into motion. You weren’t just a nurse, and he wasn’t just a surgeon. You were trained professionals. This was instinct. “Do you have an EpiPen?” Jungwon asked immediately, crouching beside the woman.

“N-No,” the man stammered. “She didn’t know-this hasn’t happened before-”

“Call an ambulance,” you told him. “Now.” Her breathing was wheezing now, hands clawing at her throat. You gently eased her back against the booth seat while Jungwon checked her pulse, his voice calm. “We need antihistamines,” he muttered. “Fast. See if the staff has a first-aid kit.”

You ran to the counter, flashed your ID, and barked quick instructions. By the time you returned with the kit and a rushed dose of diphenhydramine, Jungwon had her stabilized as best he could, loosening her collar, elevating her legs slightly, keeping her from collapsing into unconsciousness.

You administered the antihistamine carefully. She was still gasping, but the panic in her eyes had softened. The ambulance sirens wailed in the distance. Jungwon kept speaking softly to her, assuring her she would be okay. And when the EMTs finally arrived and loaded her into the stretcher, the husband turned to both of you, breathless and shaking. “Thank you. Oh god, thank you so much.”

You nodded, brushing your hair back, heart still pounding from the adrenaline. When the commotion cleared, Jungwon looked over at you. “You were quick,” he said.

You exhaled. “You were calmer than I thought you’d be outside the OR.”

He smiled faintly. “We’re not just good in scrubs, apparently.”

The restaurant had returned to calm after the chaos. You sat back down at the table across from Jungwon, now half-empty, the plates barely touched. He was quiet, and so were you. “Are you alright?” he asked, pulling you back from your thoughts.

You nodded. “Yeah…a little surreal.”

“That’s the thing about emergencies,” he murmured, looking out toward the restaurant doors where the paramedics had wheeled the woman out. “They don’t care if you’re on a day off.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Guess we never really clock out.”

He folded his arms. “Seems like fate has a cruel sense of humor. Just when I thought I might get through dinner without someone collapsing.”

“Dinner,” you repeated. The dessert was melting into the plate now. “Right. This was supposed to be… normal.” Before he could reply, a paramedic re-entered the restaurant, scanning the tables until their eyes landed on him. “Dr. Yang?” they said, half-breathless.

Jungwon stood. “Is she stable?”

“She’s responding to treatment now. We’re monitoring her vitals en route. Allergic to shellfish. First time reaction. You saved her life, sir.”

“And the nurse,” Jungwon added, glancing at you. “She helped just as much.”

You nodded politely, still seated, feeling your ears grow warm under their praise. The paramedic smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you outside the hospital. I’ll, uh… let admin know you intervened. They’ll probably want to document it.”

“Of course,” Jungwon said with a light sigh. “No such thing as off-duty, I guess.”

With one last salute of gratitude, they left. Then it was just the two of you again, in the now strangely quiet restaurant corner. You broke it. “Sorry,” you said, half-laughing. “I think I cursed this night.”

“Don’t apologize,” he replied smoothly. “You handled that better than most would. You didn’t hesitate.”

You shrugged. “It just kicked in. Probably out of habit.”

He tilted his head. “Instinct. That’s not something you teach. That’s something you are.” He added. “And for the record… it was still a nice dinner.”

You glanced at him. “Even if it ended with chaos?”

He smirked faintly. “Of course. It proves I picked the right person to spend it with.”

“You didn’t pick,” you teased a little. “You cornered me in the hallway and guilted me into eating on our day off.”

“And yet,” he countered, “you didn’t say no.”

You gave him a look. “That’s not fair.”

He smiled at you. “It’s not untrue, either.” You glanced around the restaurant again. Everything had settled into normal again, but your heart hadn’t. You looked back at Jungwon, sitting across from you, his usual professionalism softened enough that it unsettled you in the best way. He didn’t look away. “You know, you’re too pretty for your own good.”

That shut you up.

You stared at him.

He was already smiling, already reaching for the check. “You still want coffee?” he asked. “Or should we call it a night and let the world surprise us again tomorrow?”

You said, “Let’s see if the next emergency lets us finish a cup first.” And with that, the two of you stood and left.

🚑

The rain hadn’t let up all morning; strangely, neither had your luck. It was supposed to be a quick errand. A quick stop, and then home, but fate never warned you before it turned cruel. The screech of tires. And then-

Nothing.

A blur of sirens and panic. Then suddenly, darkness.

…

Back at the hospital, the very one you called your second home, the emergency doors slammed open. “She’s one of ours!” a nurse cried, rushing alongside the gurney. “It’s her- it’s (Name)!” Chaos was everywhere in the ER. A resident dropped her clipboard. A tech gasped. The head nurse’s hands flew to her mouth.

“She was hit near the corner by the pharmacy. Driver ran a red light,” the paramedic reported quickly as they wheeled you in, blood already staining the sheet beneath you. Then someone whispered, “Has Dr. Yang been told?” They didn’t have to wait long.

Because Jungwon came running.

His coat wasn’t even fully on. His tie was loose, his ID still dangling from his collar. The moment he saw your face. Bruised, unconscious, and barely breathing, his expression collapsed. “No- what happened?!” he demanded, eyes scanning every inch of you.

“Dr. Yang, you need to stand back,” one of the surgeons said, placing a hand on his chest.

“She’s going into surgery,” another voice called. “Internal bleeding. We need the OR now.”

“I’ll go in,” Jungwon said instinctively, reaching for gloves, but a hand gripped his arm. “You can’t,” said Dr. Nam, one of the senior staff.

“What?” Jungwon snapped, not even trying to hide the shake in his voice.

“You’re too involved.”

“She’s a nurse!” he shot back. “She’s my nurse-”

“Exactly,” Nam said quietly. “You care too much. You know the protocol. You know what it risks- your judgment, her outcome.” Jungwon’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving you as your unconscious body was wheeled toward the OR. “She needs me.”

“She needs a surgeon with a clear head,” Nam said gently but firmly, and it broke him. He didn’t argue again. He was rooted in place, his hands curled into fists, watching the doors close. All he could do was watch.

🚑

In the hallway, time didn’t pass. Jungwon sat slumped against the wall. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every time someone walked by, he looked up, hoping. And all he could hear was the last thing you’d said to him, two days ago over dinner:

“Let’s see if the next emergency lets us finish a cup first.”

Now here you were unconscious. On the other side, he couldn’t cross, and for the first time in his life, Jungwon felt utterly powerless. And completely terrified of losing you.

The clock ticked. Hours bled into each other. Jungwon sat just outside the operating wing. His elbows were resting on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. His white coat was discarded somewhere, forgotten. He wasn’t wearing his pager. He wasn’t in rounds. He wasn’t answering calls. The nurses knew better than to ask.

Dr. Yang, poised and always on time, was now the man who hadn’t moved in three hours. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t blinked when your bloodied ID badge slipped from a nurse’s tray and landed near his feet.

He picked it up, his fingers closing around it as if it were made of glass. Your picture was still perfect. “You should rest, Dr. Yang,” someone whispered. He didn’t look up. “Do you want something warm? You haven’t moved-”

“I’m fine.”

He wasn’t.

A clipboard fell behind the station; he flinched. One of the interns passed by and muttered, “Isn’t that Dr. Yang? Why’s he just-”

“Shut up,” A nurse hissed. “That’s her. The nurse he-”

Everyone knew. Jungwon stared ahead, eyes bloodshot, skin pale from stress and cold. The man who held steady during surgeries and cardiac arrests was now coming apart at the seams, silently. Every second he waited, he replayed everything. The way your smile looked over coffee. Your voice teasing him. And now… Now you were behind a door he couldn’t open.

Please wake up.

Please stay with me.

Please don’t let this be the end before we even began.

🚑

“Dr. Yang,” came the voice he barely registered. Jungwon didn’t look up at first. He was still sitting in the same spot. His leg had bounced unconsciously for the last half hour. “Jungwon.”

He finally glanced up. It was Dr. Nam, his colleague, and more importantly, someone who knew him well enough to speak past the professional wall he always wore. Nam’s face softened when he saw the state Jungwon was in. “They stabilized her. Surgery was a success.”

“She’s okay?”

“She’s not awake yet. But she made it,” Nam said. “She’s in recovery. I thought you’d want to-” Jungwon stood up so fast before he could even finish. His hand trembled slightly as he pushed the hair out of his eyes. The color returned to his face in waves. “You can go in,” Nam said gently. “Only one visitor. The nurses know.”

He didn’t say thank you. He couldn’t.

Jungwon was already walking.

The heart monitor beeped steadily. You were there, pale against the hospital sheets, an IV in your arm, your breathing soft and even. The oxygen mask fogged slightly with each exhale. Jungwon stopped at the door. He wasn’t prepared. He swallowed hard and stepped inside. Then, his knees gave in. He bent beside your bed, one hand grabbing the rail for support, the other reaching finally to hold yours. His forehead dropped to your hand, his shoulders shaking as the tears came. “You scared me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You stupid, reckless…-you.” He pressed his lips to the back of your hand and held it there. “Don’t do that again. Don’t ever make me feel like that again.”

He laughed bitterly, brushing away a tear with the heel of his palm. “You haven’t even woken up, and I’m already lecturing you.” He stayed there, crouched beside you, refusing to let go. The strong, untouchable Dr. Yang is now just a man breaking beside the person he was so close to losing.

🚑

You woke up slowly, blinking against the lights. The scent of antiseptic and the distant sound of chatter told you exactly where you were, but you didn’t remember how you got here. Then you turned your head. Jungwon was there.

Slumped in the hospital chair. His hair was pushed back messily, seemingly where he’d run his hands through it too many times. His coat was folded over the armrest, and an untouched paper cup of coffee was sitting on the small table near him. He hadn’t noticed you were awake yet. He looked… tired. No, worn out. So you spoke first, voice scratchy.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

His head shot up immediately. His eyes met yours and just for a moment, they widened. Then came a breath of relief. An almost whispered-

“You’re awake.”

He stood.

“…you’re truly awake.”

You tried to smile, though your face barely moved. “I was out that long?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just sat beside you and shook his head slowly. “You scared the hell out of me.” You glanced at him, his dark circles, the crease between his brows, the exhausted worry in his eyes, and mustered a dry joke. “You look terrible.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Everyone’s said that.” Then he leaned forward. “But I’m not the one who almost…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

You swallowed softly. You could see it now, all the weight he’d been carrying while you were unconscious. “I thought you’d be the type to keep calm under pressure,” you teased.

He smiled faintly. “I am unless it’s you.” Your breath caught, but he carefully reached out and took your hand before you could say anything. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Don’t do that again,” he whispered. “Don’t make me wait like that again.”

🚑

You’d been back to your shifts, back to the same elevator dings. People still gave you longer glances than usual. It’s not every day a nurse almost dies in the middle of her day off and ends up back in her hospital bed. But things were starting to feel normal again or something like it. It was late. Most of the lights on the floor had dimmed, save for the nurse’s station and the glow from a few patient monitors. Finally, you were done with your rounds and just about to log out when Jungwon showed up by the lockers. It looks like he’d been waiting. “Shift ended?” he asked.

“Ten minutes ago,” you replied, tugging your ID off. “You?”

He nodded. “Technically, but I stayed.”

You gave him a look. “Why?”

He hesitated, then said, “Thought I’d walk you out.”

“Seriously?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” He shrugged a little. “Hospitals look different at night.” So you walked past the pharmacy, through the hallway with the vending machines, and then out the staff exit where the breeze was gentle and the parking lot half-empty. “Are you alright?” he asked as the two of you stood by the bike rack, neither in a rush to leave.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m back.”

He looked over at you. “Back, but you’ve been different.”

You raised a brow. “How?”

Jungwon hesitated. “You’re more careful with your words.”

You looked away. Maybe you were.

“You, too,” you said.

He smiled. “I have something I’ve been holding back. Protocol says I probably shouldn’t say it,” he added. “But I’ve been thinking about you before the accident and after.” You turned to him slowly. “I don’t want to make things weird,” he continued. “And I know we’re not supposed to… cross lines, but whatever happened that day, when I thought I might lose you, it made it pretty clear I’d regret not saying anything.”

“…You’re not making things weird,” you said.

He looked up at you. “No?”

You shook your head. “Scary.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Terrifying.” Then he spoke again. “You know, Nam’s been asking if we’re seeing each other.”

You raised a brow. “And what did you say?”

“That if we are, we’re both incredibly good at pretending we’re not, and if we’re not, maybe we should stop pretending we don’t want to.”

You sighed. “This place has a lot of rules.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m not asking for anything messy. Only clarity.”

“You’re doing this here?” you said while looking around.

He shrugged. “Would’ve done it over dinner, but someone already agreed to that and didn’t seem to regret it.”

🚑

It didn’t happen in a moment with fireworks, or a sudden realization under a rainy sky. No. It happened calmly and quietly, like most things between you and Jungwon did. You were both sitting in the lounge during a lull, not technically on break, but not in a rush to move. Your legs were folded on the couch, a tablet in your lap. Jungwon sat across from you, reviewing a report, hair slightly messy from hours in the OR. You glanced at him. “You know you could sit here, right?”

He looked up. “You mean next to you?”

“Unless you’re afraid of proximity.”

He chuckled, stood, and made his way over. “Is this one of those times,” he murmured, “where we pretend we’re not already something?”

You tilted your head toward him. “Depends. What are we?”

He glanced at you with a slight smile on his lips. “I think I’d like to stop pretending we’re not together.”

You look at him a little surprised. “That simple?” you asked.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he replied. “Unless you want it to be.”

You looked down at your hands for a second. “You’re not worried? About the hospital. About how it’ll look?”

“I’ve thought about all of that,” he said. And I still want you.” It’s been years of tension, glances, late-night shifts, near misses, and unspoken feelings. So you nodded, which made him smile. Jungwon put his hand on top of yours. “So, you’re my girlfriend now, right?” he said.

You scoffed, but your smile betrayed you. “If you’re going to act like that, I might change my mind.”

He leaned back on the couch with one arm lazily draped behind you. “It’s too late. I already mentally updated your name in my phone.” You nudged him gently with your shoulder. You were his and he was yours. Simple as that. Even in a hospital full of rules, something between you had finally gotten its own space.

🚑

You were both jotting notes outside patient rooms. The hall was full of chatter, but it was clear that no one interrupted when it was you and Dr. Yang. He glanced sideways at you, but you caught it. You always did. “You missed lunch,” he said while his eyes never left the file in his hand.

“So did you,” you muttered back.

“I’ll ask the cafeteria to send something up,” he replied as if he hadn’t done it for you three days in a row.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask.”

You allowed yourself the faintest smile. Behind you, two new residents whispered in awe.

“They’re so-like-is that even allowed?”

“They don’t even act like a couple, but also? You feel it.” Someone else chimed in, “That’s the Dr. Yang. You think anyone’s gonna tell him who he can or can’t date?”

And no, no one ever did. You stood beside him in the conference room later that day as he presented a case to the department heads. His voice didn’t change when he quoted your observation. There was no favoritism and no tells, but when the meeting ended, as everyone went out, Jungwon stayed. “You handled that case well,” he said softly, packing his laptop.

You raised a brow. “Professional compliment?”

He glanced up. “Strictly professional.”

Then, he added: “Come over later.”

“To your place?” you asked.

“Where else would my pretty girlfriend go?”

You whispered, “We have early rounds tomorrow.”

“Then come early.”

After that, he walked off.

Why does he always get to walk off after ending a conversation with smooth lines?

🚑

Later that evening, you stood in his apartment. He walked over and set a glass of water beside you, then stood before you, hands bracing the counter on either side of your hips. “You look tired,” he murmured.

“I am.”

“You should lie down.”

You looked up at him. “So should you.”

Jungwon gave a dry laugh. “Are you suggesting we both rest?” In which you leaned forward, and he met you halfway. His lips pressed to yours. A few slow kisses here and there. He pulled back, “I missed this,” he said quietly. “Even when you’re right next to me at work… It’s not the same.”

Your voice was soft. “I know, but we can’t afford to slip. Not there.”

“No,” he agreed, “but here? I can love you as much as I want.” You closed your eyes and kissed again, deeper this time. The closeness contrasts with how far you kept apart during the day. No one else got this version of him, and you had it.

🚑

You were the only one left at the nurses’ station. Your fingers moved slower with every letter you typed into the patient charting system. Most of the night shift hadn’t made it in and was short-staffed again. You didn’t even bother complaining. What was the point?

You tried to focus, but your eyelids felt like sandbags. “Why are you still here?” a familiar voice asked gently behind you. You didn’t even turn; you knew it was him. You shook your head. “Don’t start. We’re two nurses down. I couldn’t just walk out.” You felt him step closer, then saw a hand reach around you to press the ‘Save’ button on your screen. The screen dimmed.

“Charting can wait.”

You finally looked up. Jungwon was there with his clean coat. He looked at you like you were the only thing in this building that mattered. “I don’t want you pushing yourself to burnout.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Touché,” he said with a smirk.

You let your head fall against his body as he moved behind your chair, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You exhaled, closing your eyes for just a second. “I didn’t even realize I was this tired,” you whispered.

“I did.” He kissed the top of your head.

You smiled weakly. “This is inappropriate.”

“Then fire me.”

You let out a tired breath. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

He squeezed your shoulders gently. “That makes two of us.”

🚑

You and Jungwon walked side by side, hands intertwined, his thumb caressing over your knuckles occasionally. It was one of the rare nights you both got off early, and you made a promise not to talk about the hospital. For tonight, you were just two people in love. “I still can’t believe we’ve made it this far without anyone forcing us to do another 48-hour shift,” you joked softly.

Jungwon chuckled. “Don’t jinx it. Someone from scheduling might be hiding behind that hotdog cart.” You laughed. Then-

“Help! Please! Someone help!”

Your head turned at the same time. A small crowd had started to form near a bench just across the street. A woman was kneeling beside someone collapsed on the ground, panic rising in her voice.

You looked at Jungwon. He was already looking at you. There was no hesitation and no words. The two of you took off in sync, cutting through the street. Your heels hit pavement hard, your heart already in nurse mode. Someone stepped back to give space as you and Jungwon moved in. You slid down to your knees beside him, checking for vitals while Jungwon crouched opposite you. “Mid-50s,” he murmured quickly. “Breathing?”

“Yeah. Weak pulse. His skin’s clammy, might’ve triggered a vasovagal response,” you said, lifting his legs to restore blood flow. “Could’ve been pain or standing too long.”

“He’s coming to,” Jungwon said after a few moments. “Eyes fluttering.” The man stirred, groaning lowly. You leaned in. “You fainted, sir. Don’t sit up yet.”

When it was clear the man was stable and help was on the way, you and Jungwon stood. He looked at you, chest rising and falling. His hand reached instinctively for yours again. You took it. “Didn’t we say no work talk tonight?” you said with a tired smile.

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied. “You’re the one who ran first.” You rolled your eyes, your fingers tightened around his. Then, he looked at you as he always did.

You were the one thing in this world he never wanted to lose.

[bxcndd]

nobody loves moka the way i love moka she’s so pookie help

moka + minju + rei = my girls

[bxcndd]

*ೃ ✧˚ —𝑭ive 𝑺tars - n.rk

You just hooked up with Nishimura Riki. You're not a party girl, and he's not a player— Yet here you two are. Messy, ruined, and asking for seconds.

pairing: nishumura riki x fem!reader

genre: college au, smut?(extremely suggestive)

word count: 1000

This content is only for readers 18+

content warning: post-hookup intimacy, riding (implied), filthy talk, scratching, aftercare vibes, one-night-stand energy, college au, picks up right after the smut

soundtrack: after hours- the weekend

m.list! ✧ * : ･ﾟ

"So uhh—I don't even know your last name..." Riki chokes out nervously, his hands hesitating before they slide up your thighs.

You pant, sweat running down your brow and chest, hands still resting loosely on his broad shoulders.

You glance down at him in the dim light, noticing how the shadows dance across the pale complexion of his face.

And that's when it hits you.

You just hooked up with Nishumura Riki.

"I think we're a little past introductions, don't you think?" You say with a nervous laugh, tearing your gaze away from his to look at the mess between your bodies.

Your heartbeat tugs at your ears as you nervously shift on top of him. Still naked. Still straddling his hips. His dick still buried inside you.

The smell of sex mixed with the faint scent of his cologne fills your head. Your mind works overtime to try and figure out when—and how you got here.

It all started with a party you didn't really care to go to. Your roommate had a habit of dragging you around to those things.

Half an hour in, she was gone, leaving you alone in a sea of people you didn't know.

But there's one familiar face that caught your attention in the crowd.

Nishumura Riki, you recognized him from your chemistry lab. You watched as he fought his way through the messy crowd to the balcony to catch some fresh air.

And now? He's inside you, and he doesn't even know your full name.

"Better late than never, I guess.." He says as he smiles up at you, his fingertips tracing small circles mindlessly above your hip. The cold silver metal of his rings brushes against your hot skin, making a shiver shoot through your spine.

"So, um—chemistry..right?" you whisper, your hands sliding from his shoulders down to the top of his chest. Your eyes tracing the planes and outlines of his figure as you follow it with your hands.

The silver chain around his neck catches pieces of the moonlight coming in the room through the crooked blinds.

"Yeah, it's my second time trying to pass that class." He says awkwardly with a self-deprecating chuckle. His hands were still gently running over the curves of your body.

You laugh softly, the sound of your voices mixing together cuts through the otherwise quiet dorm room.

"So do you usually...do this kind of thing on weekends?" You whisper, voice cracking slightly as his hand slides to your lower back, keeping you straddled in his slick lap.

"No—no. I'm not that type of guy." Riki says with another soft smile at the confession.

"This is a first for me, actually...I don’t ever do this on a whim" He looks away, chest rising and falling as he struggles to steady his breathing with you still on top of him.

"Same...I mean, come on, do I look like a party girl? That's all my roommate." You complete, hands still tracing his body as you subconsciously bite your bottom lip out of habit.

Riki chuckles, his hard hands pulling your naked body into his even more. The warmth and slickness between you feels euphoric. Your breath catches as your bare chest brushes against the warm skin of his own.

"So I think we're usually supposed to get up now—" He trails off as he looks back into your eyes. One of his hands slides away from the curve of your back to gently brush some of your hair behind your ear.

You pause. This usually isn't included with the hookup package.

"Is it weird that I don't want to get up yet?" He whispers, pulling you down to melt into his body even more.

"I guess that makes us both weird." You say as your heart beat spikes when his arms pull you in closer. It feels like you've known Riki for longer than you actually have.

"So, how was your service?" You tease the moment between you, still charged and playful.

"Five fucking stars, and a cracked bedframe. Would definitely recommend." Riki says with a playful laugh.

"Sorry about that." You confess. The broken bed sinking awkwardly underneath the weight of you two.

Riki looks up at you, his mouth opening and closing like he wants—needs to say something, but the words are caught in his throat.

"Was that—good for you? The sex, I mean.." Riki asks.

"I probably sound stupid—"

"It was good, better than good," You interrupt, eyes scanning over the mess, over the scratches left across his shoulders and back.

"That's a relief...I totally didn't almost lose consciousness or anything." Riki says sarcastically in reply.

"Oh About sounding stupid—" you interrupt.

“Shit..." Riki whispers weakly. His shoulders shift as he maneuvers to get a better grip on you.

"Woman, you ruined me—" Riki confesses, wincing slightly at the stinging sensation left from your marks.

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask playfully,

"Not in the slightest—I'd let you do it again," Riki confesses as he leans in more, smiling as his nose brushes against your own.

You subconsciously lick your lips before smiling back. The smell of his cologne fills your senses again.

"How's next weekend sound?" You blurt out before you can even fully process the words.

"How about you get off my dick first before trying to make another appointment." Riki teases as he leans in.

He hesitates as his hands tangle in your hair as he pulls you closer.

Then he closes the distance.

His lips melt against your own, soft, pliant, and warm.

Your hands slide to the back of his neck as you kiss him harder, lips gasping for breath between messy kisses. Your heart races as he matches your effort with equal favor.

You break away breathless, his forehead resting against your own.

"Fuck..." You gasp, your chest tightening as you pull away to breathe.

"Yeah. Fuck..." Riki finishes, giving you a knowing look.

This is far from over.

"So I mean, we could shower, have sex again, or just lie here and talk for the rest of the night..." you suggest boldly.

"How about all the above?" Riki says before capturing your lips between his again.

You kiss him back, choking on a moan as you pull away to breathe out.

“All of the above.”

© brokenengene

kate's note: HI HI! This little thought came to me randomly, so decided to whip it up for Ni-ki’s brokenegene debut. PLEASE let me know if you guys like the shorter format fics! I'm more than happy to take requests for more!

Take care!

xoxo kate <3

perm. taglist: @aggarwaldrishti @kristynaaah @vanillaxbambi @ninistranaut @dulcetnostalgia @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @nesquikluvr @osakinanadesu @m1kkso @yazmike @lovcheol @luvksnn

[bxcndd]

MY BIAS LINE CAME HOME💞💞💞🙏

[bxcndd]

“i’m just a girl” not cleaning my room bc i’m busy making a beaded phone charm for my penpal

ps: if you want to be my penpal PLS I WANT MOREEEEE it’s my new obsession

[bxcndd]

my stepfather just asked if he could adopt me😭😭😭😭

i’m crying like a baby omg

[bxcndd]

only ever you. [jakehoon x reader]

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: You're mad at your boyfriends over something dumb, and they make it their mission to make you forget why you were even mad.

Warnings: established poly relationship, smut, soft doms!jakehoon, kinda bratty reader at first but she melts, brat taming? (not really, idk like its so vague), mxm (just kissing and a finger sucking :p), abs riding, looots of praising, brief tit play, worshiping, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, your honor they're so in love.

a/n: this work is a purely self-indulgent fic, born from my deepest desires yall. which is: me wanting two boyfriends who love me and each other... is that really too much to ask? 😞 btw ts is nasty but like in a very loving kind of nasty, so beware.

"So this is how you're gonna act? Ignoring us?” Jake said as he followed you upstairs like a puppy. 

“I am not ignoring anyone.” 

“Uh-huh, because you ghosting all of my texts was my imagination, of course, baby.” Sunghoon remarked, he was also following you, just behind Jake. 

You sighed, barging into your room like a teen that just argued with her parents. Your intention was to slam the door in their faces but Jake caught it with the sole of his sneaker, wedging his foot between the frame and the door before it could crash shut. You sighed harder this time, throwing yourself on your bed to slide reels. 

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that. You knoo that’s just our job, none of it meant anything.” Sunghoon crawled on the bed towards you. You shrugged, keeping your focus on your phone. 

Jake climbed onto the bed next, kneeling at your feet and facing you like he was trying to get into your line of sight. His pretty hands were braced on your knees, thumbs absentmindedly stroking over the fabric of your sweats like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Still, you didn’t look up. Not even when you could see, out of the corner of your eye, that Jake was pulling his best puppy eyes and pout combo. 

“Pretty girl, stop that, hmm? We didn’t intentionally ghost you. Our phones were taken, that’s why we couldn’t text you.” 

You didn’t doubt your boyfriends. You trusted them, you knew where their hearts were, who they came home to, who they whispered goodnight to over FaceTime when schedules got crazy. Of course you knew that, and of course you knew you shouldn’t be petty about these things anymore. But it never helped that seeing your boyfriends smile at other girls still got under your skin. It was stupid, you told yourself. Immature. You weren’t seventeen and insecure anymore. And yet, there you were, scrolling through the videos of engenes from today’s event with a tight knot in your stomach and a petty little scowl on your face.

You were right in the middle of zooming in on a photo of one of the girls touching Jake’s arm when Sunghoon snatched your phone clean out of your hands.

“Hey–” you started, but he was already frowning at the screen like it offended him personally.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he muttered, locking the phone with a dramatic press of his thumb before tossing it somewhere behind him on the bed.

You lunged forward to reach for it, a glare already forming on your face, but Sunghoon was faster. One hand caught your wrist mid reach, the other pressing flat against your shoulder as he gently shoved you back down against the pillows.

“Nu-uh,” he said, voice low as he hovered over you slightly, palm flat against your stomach to keep you in place. “You’re dropping that brat act right now, baby.”  

You thrashed beneath him in frustration, your legs kicking uselessly at the mattress, arms squirming under his weight, but Sunghoon didn’t budge an inch. If anything, he looked mildly entertained, his brows raised like he was watching a particularly dramatic toddler throw a tantrum. Jake stayed quiet at your feet, eyes flicking between the two of you, but not interfering.

“Let me go, you asshole,” you snapped, wriggling harder. “You said – you said – I could have space! I literally walked away and then you followed me and now Jake’s all pouty, and you’re acting like some – some manipulative parent, and I swear to God, you two are the most annoying shitheads–”

Your rant didn’t get to finish. Sunghoon leaned down and kissed you. 

The kiss wasn’t sweet or slow. It was firm and a little rough, the kind of kiss that silenced you mid-sentence and made your breath hitch. His hand was still splayed across your stomach, keeping you pinned just enough to let you know he wasn’t playing around.

By the time he pulled back, your breath had hitched, your glare had softened and your voice was nowhere to be found.

“Better.” he muttered, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. “Now, do you want to keep yelling, or are you gonna let us fix it?”

You scoffed, turning your head to the side like you weren’t already breathless from the way he kissed you. Your glare might’ve softened, sure, but you weren’t about to hand over the reins that easily. Especially, not when Sunghoon thought he could kiss the attitude out of you.

Your brows stayed furrowed, lips pursed in defiance. Sunghoon smoothed a thumb between your brows anyway.

“Stop scowling,” he said softly, still hovering over you. “You’ll get wrinkles.”

You gave him the flattest look imaginable. “You literally just kissed me to shut me up.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” he said with zero shame, glancing back at Jake, who was still kneeling at your feet with his chin resting on your knee, clearly waiting for his turn to speak.

Jake shifted finally, crawling up from where he’d been stationed at your feet, the mattress dipping as he shifted to hover beside you. His knee brushed beside your hip, and soon he was hovering over you too, shoulder to shoulder with Sunghoon, their presence overwhelming in the way you secretly liked.

Your eyes flicked up, ready to shoot him a warning, but the moment you did, something else caught your attention: Jake’s necklace, the silver chain swaying ever so slightly, dangling down as he leaned over you. The little charm brushing against your collarbone when he leaned just a bit closer, smiling gently, eyes searching yours.

You hated how your eyes followed the chain, distracted for half a second too long.

“You’re really mad at us, pretty?” 

You blinked, your eyes darting between his necklace, his eyes, and the way his hand settled just beside your head on the pillow. God, they were so annoying. And kind. And pretty. And yeah, maybe you were still scowling. But it was getting harder to pretend you’re not affected by them. 

Jake’s hand rose to your throat, thick and long fingers wrapping around. But he didn’t squeeze, not even a little press. He just let his hand rest there.

At the same time, Sunghoon’s hand began to move slowly, sliding lower where it had been resting against your stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, letting his fingertips trail just above the waistband of your sweats.

You swallowed hard, your throat shifting under Jake’s palm. He, of course, felt it, and his thumb ghosted across your jaw in response – so soft it made you shiver.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively the moment you felt it, that warm, sticky sensation beginning to pool between your legs, heat blooming low in your stomach. You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your face neutral, but Sunghoon’s eyes flicked down. He noticed.

His hand didn’t stop this time. It dipped lower, fingertips skimming past the waistband of your sweat. He moved slowly, too fucking slowly, giving you every opportunity to stop him. But you didn’t.

Jake leaned down, his necklace brushing your collarbone again, and his breath fanned across your cheek as he spoke, “How about you let Sunghoonie check if you are mad or not?” 

Your lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

Sunghoon didn’t need your permission at that point, your body had already given him everything he needed. His fingers slipped past the band of your panties until they met bare skin. You sucked in a sharp breath, your whole body tensing as he found exactly what he was looking for.

You were soaked, your pussy hot and slick against his fingers. His fingers moved further, parting your lips gently. Your breath hitched again, squirming a little. 

He hummed, pleased, like he was proud of you. Like this was exactly the confirmation he wanted. “Thought so.” he muttered, the smirk in his voice practically audible. 

Sunghoon’s index finger and middle finger scooped up your wetness before slowly pulling back. You shivered at the sensation. His hand hovered in the air for a moment, your slick glistening faintly on his fingers, catching the low light in the room like something holy and obscene all at once.

He tilted his hand slightly, inspecting it with a smug smile before glancing sideways at Jake. “She’s dripping down there, want a taste Jake?” 

Jake’s tongue peeked out, barely wetting his bottom lip, his eyes dropping to Sunghoon’s hand. Sunghoon turned toward him fully and pressed those same fingers to Jake’s lips. 

Jake didn’t even hesitate, lips parting obediently as Sunghoon pushed his fingers past them. He sucked them in slow, cheeks hollowing, eyes fluttering shut, a low moan slipping from the back of his throat like he was tasting something sweet.

You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. Jake’s lips wrapped around Sunghoon’s fingers so willingly, so prettily, his lashes fluttering like he was savoring every drop. You could hear the faint, wet sound of it, could feel the heat pulse harder between your thighs just watching the two of them.

And just when you thought that was the peak of it, Sunghoon leaned in.

You barely had time to process the movement before his fingers slipped free from Jake’s mouth, only to be replaced by something hotter, wetter.

His mouth.

His hand curled behind Jake’s neck, pulling him closer, and you swore you felt the air leave your lungs as their mouths moved together. Tongues tangling.

Sunghoon chased the taste of you now lingering on Jake’s tongue. You watched Jake melt into it, his free hand sliding up to fist in Sunghoon’s shirt, both of them kissing like they were starved, like you weren’t even in the room, and yet everything about it was for you.

It was filthy. And so, so beautiful. You even forgot why you were mad. 

Your breath came faster, the room was getting warmer. Your clothes started sticking to your skin. The sight of them kissing like that with your taste between them, made your hips shift involuntarily, like your body was trying to reach for something, anything. You were sure your panties were ruined by now. 

Jake pulled back first with a wet pop, his lips swollen, his eyes hooded. He looked dazed and wrecked yet he smiled. 

Sunghoon turned to you, expression almost the same as Jake’s. “Are you still mad at your pretty boyfriends, baby?” 

You didn’t answer with words.

Instead, your hand reached up and curled into the collar of Sunghoon’s shirt, tugging him down with enough force to knock the air out of both of you. He barely caught himself on his elbows, chest hovering over yours, his breath catching as your mouth crashed into his.

It was messy. Hungry. Just as fevered and wild as the kiss he’d given Jake moments ago, maybe more.

Sunghoon groaned softly into your mouth, the sound melting into you like smoke. His lips moved eagerly, parting for you as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. His body pressed into yours, the full weight of him almost collapsing on top of you as he tried to keep himself steady.

Then he bit your lower lip. You gasped, and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your moans bled into the kiss, your thighs clenching again at the sound, the feel, the need.

And somewhere in the haze of it, while your hands were tangled in Sunghoon’s hair and your lips swollen from his bite, you felt Jake shift beside you. You couldn’t see him fully because of Sunghoon’s body. 

Then came the tug at your waistband, his big hands on your hips. You lifted your hips without thinking, without breaking the kiss, offering yourself up wordlessly.

Jake pulled your sweats down inch by inch, and your panties followed, sticking to the heat between your legs before peeling away. The cool air met your skin and you shivered.

Jake’s fingers brushed your thighs as he tugged the clothes down to your knees, then further, until you felt the soft drape of fabric being discarded somewhere across the room.

Without warning, sunghoon broke the kiss.

His hands slid down to your waist, and before you could blink, he was moving, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him in one smooth, powerful motion. You gasped, a startled yelp escaping your lips as your body was lifted and shifted like you weighed nothing.

You didn’t even register what happened until it was done.

One moment you were pinned beneath him, and the next you were straddling him.

You sat atop his abdomen, your thighs spread around his torso, your bare heat pressed against the hard plane of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. Your hands had flown to his chest to brace yourself, fingers splayed over the fabric, your eyes wide with shock.

“Sunghoon—” you started, breathless.

But he just smirked, looking up at you with that maddening calm, as if he hadn’t just manhandled you into place like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he wasn’t just making you go insane. 

Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes dragging lazily down your body and back up, voice dropping into something quieter.  “Why don’t you take my shirt off, baby?” he murmured. “Let you ride my abs properly.”

Your breath hitched.

Your fingers twitched against his chest, your mouth parting slightly in surprise. That... wasn’t something you’d ever said aloud. Not to him. Not to Jake. Not to anyone. But you had thought about it. You’d fantasized about it more than once, imagined exactly what it would feel like, pressed and grinding against firm muscle, nothing in between but skin and slick heat.

You didn’t even try to hide your eagerness. Your hands flew to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up his torso in one motion, and Sunghoon sat up just enough to help you pull it over his head. You tossed it aside, your eyes immediately dropping to his now bare chest. 

And fuck. 

Your mouth went dry. Your thighs instinctively squeezed tighter around his waist at the thoughts creeping in.

He smirked again, lazily, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Go on,” he said softly. “I’ve been working out just for you.”

God, he didn’t need to say, it showed. Your gaze stayed fixed on the cut lines of his stomach, his v-line disappearing beneath his sweats. You could see the way his muscles flexed subtly beneath your weight, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. Your wetness started to drip down your inner thighs now, sliding against his skin, hot and humiliating and unbelievably arousing.

Somewhere from behind you, Jake let out a soft groan. “Pretty girl making a pretty mess on you Sunghoonie.” 

Your cheeks burned.

Sunghoon’s hands stroked slowly up and down your waist, each pass of his palms dragging your shirt with it, lifting the hem ever so slightly, then letting it fall again. He wasnt urging you to move, just holding you there. Letting you take your time. Letting you look. Letting you want.

The friction of the shirt sliding against your torso made your skin hypersensitive, your breath hitching with every pass. But it was his eyes, the way he looked up at you that cocky smile still pulling at his lips that made your body move before your brain could catch up.

Your hips shifted. Lower. You pressed your bare cunt against the warm, hard plane of his abdomen, the ridges of his abs prominent beneath your slick folds. You let out a breathy whimper at the contact and your body reacted instinctively.

You started to move.

Slow at first, almost shy, rolling your hips in tentative little circles. Your wetness smeared against his skin, glistening on the taut muscle beneath you. The more you moved, the messier it got. Sticky, warm, heavenly, whatever you want to call it. You felt everything, the slight drag, the ridges of his body, the smoothness of his skin just enough to make it feel good.

Sunghoon hummed under his breath. His fingers gripped your waist a little tighter. “Baby... you look so good like this.”

You kept going, your pace picking up, the friction enhancing, so hot, so dirty, so unlike anything you’d ever let yourself do before. Shameless little moans fell from your lips, your body shuddering with each drag of your clit against him. But it wasn’t enough. 

Yes, you loved it, loved the way it made you feel, the way it made Sunghoon look at you. But the friction was shallow, teasing, just barely scratching the edge of the ache building inside you.

You needed more. 

As if Jake could read your mind, he came up behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth and sturdiness of him against your back. His hands slipped under your shirt in one smooth motion, palms warm and wide, sliding up your ribcage until they found your plush breasts.

You gasped, your back arching slightly into his touch. Jake’s hands molded around your breasts, the pads of his thumbs teasing over your nipples until they were stiff and aching. Each little pass sent jolts of pleasure down your spine, making your hips twitch harder against Sunghoon’s abs.

“ Knew you needed more.” he whispered into your ear. 

He kissed your shoulder first. Then the next kiss was open mouthed, wetter. His tongue traced along the dip where your neck met your collarbone before his lips latched on, sucking until you whimpered. You tilted your head without thinking, giving him more access, your body pliant under his touch.

He hooked his fingers under the hem of your shirt and began to lift. The fabric rose inch by inch, grazing your stomach, your ribs, until it bunched just beneath your arms. He didn’t stop there. He pushed it higher, baring your breasts completely.

Jake groaned, low and proud. “Mmmh, she’s so so soft.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes dragged up from your cunt to your tits, now fully on display as Jake cupped them again from behind, this time slower, more deliberate so could Sunghoon see every curve, everything. His fingers traced that curves, teasing the sensitive peaks, tugging lightly.

“She’s gorgeous.” Sunghoon murmured, and Jake agreed with a hum. 

He pinched one nipple between his fingers and tugged gently, while his mouth found your neck again, licking the spot he’d just marked.

One of Jake’s hands left your tit, slipping lower, trailing down your stomach in a slow, torturous line. You knew what he was about to do before he even got there. Your hips stuttered in their rhythm for half a second before resuming, grinding harder against Sunghoon’s abs.

His fingers dipped lower, lower, until they found the mess between your legs.

“Shit…” he breathed, almost to himself. “Love how you get so wet every time.” 

Jake didn’t tease, thankfully. He found your clit immediately, his middle finger rubbing slow circles over the swollen bud, syncing his movements to the rhythm of your hips.

The combination was instant, overwhelming. The friction of Sunghoon beneath you, the pressure of Jake’s finger just right, made your head fall back against Jake’s shoulder with a choked moan.

“Yeah, there she is.” Jake murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re close, pretty, don’t stop now.” 

You couldn’t even think about stopping.

Your nails dug into Sunghoon’s chest as your hips rocked harder, chasing the way Jake’s finger rolled against your clit in perfect rhythm.

You whimpered when Jake added a two fingers, dipping low and pushing inside without warning, stretching you open with an obscene slick sound that made both of them groan.

“Fucking hell” Sunghoon muttered, his hands tightening on your waist so hard that it hurt.

But Jake kept going, his palm pressed firm against your mound while his fingers curled inside you while you rode both of them. Rode the drag of abs against your clit. Rode Jake’s fingers pressing up into that spot inside you. Rode the edge that had been building in your gut from the moment they laid hands on you.

Your thighs trembled. Your moans spilled out faster, desperate, helpless. You were almost crying now. You were so close.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go. Let Hoon feel how hard you fall apart for him.”

You chased it with everything you had, grinding messily, erratically until your body locked up, your breath caught in your throat, and your orgasm hit you so hard it knocked the wind from your lungs. You cried out, hips jerking uncontrollably as your pussy clenched around Jake’s fingers, soaking his hand and Sunghoon’s stomach in the same breathless wave. 

You collapsed forward, panting, still twitching through the aftershocks, your head falling against Sunghoon’s chest. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your figure. 

You felt Jake leaning in against your back, his lips were at your ear when he whispered, “That’s our girl.” 

They let you breathe.

You laid there, trembling, chest heaving against Sunghoon’s bare skin. Your forehead rested just above his heart, the beat of it was calming. His arms tightened around your back, holding you to him like you were made of something precious and breakable.

“Did so good for us,” Sunghoon murmured, lips brushing the crown of your head. “So fucking beautiful, baby.”

His hand rubbed slow, soothing circles along your spine, easing the tremors still rippling through your limbs. He pressed soft kisses into your hair, onto your temple, and then just above your brow. You let yourself melt into him, every inch of your body boneless, content, loved.

You barely noticed the soft sound of rustling fabric behind you. Barely registered the shift of the mattress, the sound of a zipper, the thud of clothes being discarded onto the floor.

Until you felt something hard. 

The thick press of something undeniably real nudging against your ass, the slick head brushing your skin. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and you felt Jake, again, behind you, one large hand running up your spine. He exhaled a quiet groan at the sight of you sprawled like that, ruined and pliant between them. His other hand was wrapped around the base of his cock, lazily pumping himself as he leaned forward, lips brushing along the back of your shoulder.

`Ready for me?” He guided his length against your ass without waiting for a response, the tip brushing the swell of your cheek, dragging up and down slowly, deliberately, just to feel your skin shiver against him. His cock was heavy, hard, veins prominent along the shaft, the head flushed and leaking against your backside.

Sunghoon chuckled softly beneath you, feeling your breath hitch. “She’s so sensitive still,” he said gently, his fingers stroking your hair. “But I think she can take it, can’t you, baby?”

You just shifted your hips slightly, a soft movement of your ass pressing back into Jake, your legs spreading instinctively, inviting him in without a single word.

Jake cursed under his breath. “Fuck. I think we got our answer.” 

His hand smoothed up your spine again, and then gently,so gently, he guided your hips to arch, pressing the curve of your back just right, making you rise onto your elbows against Sunghoon’s chest. He leaned forward, letting the head of his cock nestle between your cheeks, then lower, until it pressed against your already soaked entrance. He ran the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness, groaning softly at how slick and warm you were even now.

Next, the thick head of his cock breached you, stretching you open inch by inch until your eyes fluttered shut.

“Ohh my god, Jake–” you choked, the fullness making your limbs tremble.

Jake’s hand gripped your hip tighter. He didn’t stop until he was buried deep, every inch seated inside, snug and hot and overwhelming in a way that made your whole body quake.

Your mouth hung open, a moan spilling out as your arms trembled against Sunghoon’s chest. His hands cradled your ribs gently, his thumbs stroking soft, comforting lines as if to say, You’re okay. You’re doing so well.

“Jesus, baby,” Jake rasped behind you. “I love your cunt so much.” 

Then he began to move.

A deep, fluid pull and a slow thrust back in, making your entire body lurch forward just slightly. Every time his hips met yours, the wet slap echoed through the room lewdly.

You cried out at the sensation, your head tilting back instinctively, spine arching deeper. You couldn’t restrain the sounds you were making even if you wanted. 

The pressure. The pace. The sound of slick skin meeting slick skin. Your body rocked between the two of them, Jake’s thrusts driving into you from behind, your chest pressed to Sunghoon's as he whispered praises between kisses to your temple. All of it was mind blowing. 

Your moans came in broken bursts, lips parted against Sunghoon’s skin, your fingers digging into his biceps like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Hey.” Sunghoon’s voice cut through the haze. His fingers cupped your jaw, guiding your gaze up to meet his. “Look at me.”

Your lashes fluttered, your lips trembling around another moan as you forced your eyes open, your vision blurred with tears from the intensity. You barely managed to focus on him, but his expression was impossible to miss; stern and adoring all at once.

“Who’s fucking you right now, baby?” he asked, his voice deadly smooth.

You whimpered, the question sinking deep into your already overwhelmed brain. You opened your mouth to answer but all that came out was a helpless, choked moan. Feeling Jake deep inside your gut didn’t help either. 

Sunghoon leaned closer, his nose brushing yours, his voice even quieter now. “No, no. Use your words,” he whispered. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

Your mouth moved soundlessly for a second, lost in the chaos of your body’s pleasure. Jake was relentless behind you, his hand tightening on your hip, other hand tightly squeezing your shoulder.

“I–ah” yet you tried. “Jake–”

Sunghoon smirked, but his eyes stayed locked with yours, his thumb brushing your cheek gently.

“Yeah, he’s fucking you so good, isn’t he?”

You whimpered in response, unable to do much else, your body still jerking forward with each of Jake’s thrusts behind you. You were barely hanging on, your breath catching every time Jake’s hips slapped against your ass.

Sunghoon tilted his head, brushing his lips against yours, not quite kissing you yet, just breathing with you. 

“You know he doesn’t fuck anyone else like this, right?” he murmured, the words threading into your ears like silk. “You’re the only one we come home to.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, then the other, then finally pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “The only one we fall asleep beside.”

Jake groaned behind you, slowing just enough to make every deep push feel like a claim. “The only one we dream about.” he added, voice wrecked.

Sunghoon’s fingers found your chin again, tilting your face to look at him. “So don’t even let that pretty little head of yours worry about stupid shit like that again, yeah?”

You blinked through tears, your chest tightening at how gently he said them, how true they sounded even through the blur of pleasure.

“Only you,” Sunghoon whispered. “Only ever you, alright?”

Jake’s pace faltered after a couple of rough thrusts. His hips slowed, dragging through your walls with an almost unbearable languidness, giving you nothing but deep, shallow rolls that made your insides clench around him desperately.

You let out a broken sound, hips trying to follow him back, chasing more. “Jake…” you breathed .But Jake didn’t give in.

Instead, you felt both his hands wrap firmly around your waist. You gasped as he dragged you backwards, gently but firmly, shifting your body off of Sunghoon’s abdomen. Your cheek brushed the wrinkled sheets as Jake settled you on all fours in the middle of the bed, your thighs already trembling beneath you from all the sensations going on in your body. 

You gasped and braced yourself fully on your arms, elbows digging into the mattress, shaking slightly. 

Without needing to speak, Sunghoon seemed to understand exactly what Jake was doing.

He sat up slowly. Wordless, he moved up the bed until his back rested against the headboard, knees bent and legs spread. Just enough for you to see the sharp line of his erection pressing up against the front of his sweats.

Then he reached for you, his fingers brushing gently through the messy strands of hair that had stuck to your damp skin. He smoothed them back, tucking them behind your ear like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

After making sure your hair wouldn’t be in your way, Sunghoon pulled his sweats down just enough. His cock sprang free, hard, the tip wet and angry. One hand stayed tangled in your hair, the other wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking himself slowly.

Sunghoon's thumb brushed over your bottom lip as you blinked up at him, your eyes glassy, lips parted in anticipation. 

“Open for me, baby.” 

You did and he guided the tip of his cock to your mouth, smearing the wetness across your tongue before slowly easing in. Inch by inch, he fed it to you, watching your lips stretch around him, his jaw clenching the deeper he went.

“Just like that.” he dragged the words, hand tightening in your hair as he held your head still, not forcing, just… guiding.

Behind you, Jake moved too.

You barely had a moment to adjust before his hips snapped forward again, pulling a ragged moan from deep inside you, muffled by Sunghoon now. Jake’s grip on your waist returned. His pace began to build gradually.

Their rhythm was intoxicating. Jake thrusted harder now, each snap of his hips sending your body forward right onto Sunghoon’s cock, which glided deeper into your mouth every time you were rocked. And yet… they were careful with you. Gentle, in all the ways that made your body feel safe even in this situation. Worshipful, you could say that.

Jake’s fingers squeezed your hips, thumbs stroking over the bruises he was no doubt leaving behind. “You’re doing so good for– for me, oh fuck!” he rasped, the strain in his voice impossible to hide.

Sunghoon groaned softly, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, his other hand petting your hair.

Your legs were trembling, your arms no better, and the pleasure was building again. The stretch of Jake inside you, the salty taste of Sunghoon, the fullness, the heat, it was too much and not enough all at once. Your moans grew frantic, muffled.

“That’s it, pretty. Let go for us. Let go all over my cock. Let me feel how much you love being loved like this.” 

You did as if his words were your cue. Your whole body locked up, a sob of pleasure escaping around Sunghoon’s cock as you came. Your body trembled more violently, walls fluttering around Jake, pulling him in deeper, squeezing him tight.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Jake cursed loud, the rhythm of his hips faltering until he came to a stop. Hips pressed against your ass as he let his cum paint your insides. He leaned over your back to kiss your spine, panting against the sweaty skin.  

And just as you were coming down from your high, Sunghoon exhaled sharply above you. His fingers tightened in your hair.

“I’m– fuck, baby, I’m gonna–ah–ah”

You looked up, your eyes still glassy, mouth still full, and you didn’t pull away, patiently waiting for him to release his seed down your throat.

Sunghoon moaned your name as his hips jerked, his head hitting back against the headboard with a thud. You tasted it before anything else, the warmth, the salt, his pleasure spilling onto your tongue as he held you close through it. You swallowed it all, Sunghoon’s hand finally left your head, dropping beside him mindlessly. His cock popped off your mouth with a wet sound, and your head lolled against his inner thigh to rest there. 

You all stayed like that for a while.

Jake eventually slid out of you with a low grunt, his hands still holding your waist, gentle this time, as he caught his breath. The absence made you shiver.

Sunghoon didn’t speak. He just moved as if your body belonged in his arms. He leaned forward and scooped you up from all fours into his lap, cradling you sideways against his chest like you weighed nothing at all. His hands held you so carefully, one arm beneath your knees and the other at your back.

You melted into him, cheek pressed against the curve of his shoulder.

He kissed you softly, lazily, tasting the lingering salt on your tongue with a hum of satisfaction. Then he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath still warm and slightly uneven.

“Now, give us an actual answer, baby. Are you still mad?” he asked, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, the kind that only came when every inch of you was boneless and loved. “I don’t even remember what I was mad about.”

Sunghoon chuckled, nose brushing yours. He looked so pretty like this, sweaty, flushed, pupils wide.

From behind, Jake’s voice joined, a little rough, a little smug. “Good. Isn't worth remembering anyway.”

He leaned down, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as he pulled the blanket up over the three of you, wrapping you in warmth.

“You two are so annoying.” you mumbled into Sunghoon’s chest, but there was no real bite in your words.

“Yeah,” Jake murmured, settling in beside Sunghoon, hand draped over your thighs. “But we’re yours.”

a/n 2: tumblr glitched the fuck out while formatting this. if it ruined the writing, i'm throwing hands. hope you enjoyed ˆˆ

[bxcndd]

* ༘𐙚 THE RULE OF FLOWERS ✿˖˚ || 박성훈 x fem!reader || fic

summary: sunghoon thinks he’s about to get an early grave, or finally achieve his inner rebel’s dream of having a brush with the law, all thanks to your darling daughter and ... her “husband”??

genres: tired girl dad!sunghoon x mum!reader, fluff, crack, slice of life, parents!au,

warnings: attempts at humour, pet names, a little skinship (kissing), not much swearing for a change but sunghoon does say the word ass like once (the child is not present dw), silly dad!sunghoon, protective dad!sunghoon, kids taking everything literally, ref. to classic kids media (finding nemo, curious george), the kid doesn't have a name bcs ... deciding names is hard

w.c: 5.5k

[archive]

Sunghoon’s plan for the night was simple. After making your daughter’s lunch for preschool tomorrow, he’d wash the dishes, brew up two nice, warm mugs of tea for himself and his lovely wife, and then kiss his daughter goodnight before binging some ridiculous drama, until you pulled him into the bedroom to go to sleep.

It was the perfect plan to wind down. It was relaxing enough. And he was looking forward to it as he dried his hands of dishwater after placing your daughter’s colourful dinner plate in the drying rack.

But nothing could have prepared him for the scene that would enter the kitchen and adjoined living room.

“Stop running, you little monkey!”

Shrieks of laughter echoed off your quaint apartment walls. Sunghoon had barely sat down before jolting at the sight of his four year old girl, bright eyed with a mischievous grin on her face, running towards him at full speed. You were hot on her heels.

Her fluffy panda bathrobe was wrapped tightly around her, the hood falling back to reveal dark, slightly damp hair.

Sunghoon opened his arms wide and braced, ready to catch the cannonball he had for a kid. “Woah! Hold it,” reaching forward, Sunghoon scooped her up, laughing at the way she shuffled to escape his grasp but ultimately gave up, curling into him. “Now, where do you think you’re going?”

You slowed down, your own hair and hands a little damp from playing the family favourite Finding Nemo game in the bath with your little girl.

The same little girl who was grinning widely at you, safe in the arms of her father. “Mama’s chasing me.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “I can see that.”

“Because it’s bed time,” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling. “And your Little Miss Monkey book isn’t gonna read itself.”

Your daughter frowned. “Why not?” She asked with genuine seriousness.

“Because it’s not that kind of book, sweets.”

You watched the way you daughter gave her father a glance. “Why not?” She asked again.

Shrugging, Sunghoon tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I guess there aren’t any self reading books at the store.”

You took a few steps froward, a hand out for your child to hold onto. “We can look for one in another book shop sometime, okay? But right now, it’s time for bed.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Appa needs to come too.” She then proceeded to bury her face into Sunghoon’s chest.

All Sunghoon could do was smile at you. His uncontrollable grin had your heart leaping at the sight. Fatherhood had him melting at your daughter’s every request.

He would go to the convenience store during the middle of work just because he thought about his little girl and wanted to buy her favourite pocky. He would mute work calls just to take a few minutes to watch her twirl in the new fairy dress that your mother had bought her. He’d have an almost Superman-adjacent sense of hearing when it came to her small whimpers in the middle of the night, calling out for the two of you amidst a nightmare.

He was playing Superman again, holding your daughter as if she was flying, her bathrobe’s hood as her hero’s cape, doing a full loop of the world (your living room) before heading to her bedroom. As the three of you walked past the kitchen, Sunghoon felt a small hand tug on the material of his shirt’s collar.

Twisting around in her father’s hands, your little girl had her eyes glued on the kitchen island. More specifically the bouquet arrangement that Sunghoon had brought home yesterday. They were placed at the centre, in a lovely glass vase, reflecting little sparkles onto the countertop from the lights.

“Wait, wait.” Your daughter pointed at the flowers. “I want to do flower face time.”

You breathed out a little laugh, the endearing nickname for the act of smelling flowers had stuck with your daughter through the years. She’d watched you bury your nose into the fragrant petals every time Sunghoon handed them to you.

Sunghoon was just as aware of the nickname. Didn’t stop him from pouting in a comically confused manner, though. “You want to video call the flowers?”

Giggles started to bubble out of the kid that was beaming in his arms. “No!”

“Hello? Flowers?” Sunghoon waved a hand at the bouquet, fighting back a grin. “Can you see me?”

You leaned against the kitchen island, laughing behind your hand at the sight before you.

“Appa!”

“What?” Sunghoon’s dimple peeked through as his smile widened. “I thought we were face timing the flowers.”

“I want to smell the flowers.” The sheer power of your daughters eyeroll had you shaking your head in amusement. An all too familiar reaction to Sunghoon’s teasing.

You’d been on the receiving end of his teasing many times. Fighting back smiles as you tried to remain annoyed, and yet were incapable of staying in a dull mood when it came to the man before you.

The same man who was stroking his chin in a dramatic act of realisation. “Ah, right. Of course.” He manoeuvred your daughter so she could lean closer to the bouquet. “Here.”

Smiling, she took a deep inhale and nodded very officially. “Mm, they’re lovely.”

“Just like you?” You asked, poking her cheek lightly.

“Yep.” Her smile widened and just like that, a tiny dimple blossomed, right where your finger was, just moments ago. A perfect mirror to Sunghoon. As he held her closer, their faces smushed together, side by side, all you could see was a mini version of him.

Unbeknownst to you, all Sunghoon saw when he looked at your daughter, was you. Your warmth, your laugh, the way you see brightness in mundanity and appreciate any gesture of kindness or love, no matter how small.

Like the flowers. For as long as you could remember, Sunghoon had been gifting you flowers.

There was never a standard type or a pattern that he followed, he always said that he just entered whatever flower shop was nearby and picked up the prettiest bouquet he saw.

Sometimes it was for a special occasion, sometimes it was just because, and you quickly came to realise that your kitchen island was never bare — there was always a lovely arrangement in the vase. And the minute the old, wilted stems had to be tossed, Sunghoon arrived home that afternoon with a new bouquet in hand.

Every time, he would hand them to you with a smile, one hand behind his back. Like a prince.

You’d hold them closer and breathe in the scent before sighing, and you’d say, “Thank you. They’re lovely.”

And every time, Sunghoon would lean forward, kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear, “Just like you.”

“Appa likes flowers.” Your daughter mused to herself as Sunghoon carried her towards her bedroom. You were following behind them, smiling up at your girl.

“Mama likes flowers.” Sunghoon made a point to turn and look at you as he spoke. “Appa likes making Mama happy.”

Humming as a response, your daughter giggled to herself quietly. “My husband likes making me happy too.”

It wasn’t normal to see person freeze mid-step like in a cartoon. But that was exactly what Sunghoon did. In an instant you felt your eyebrows crease together, utter confusion flooding your face. But for Sunghoon? His shoulders tensed, he turned and looked at you with an expression of pure panic and what could only be described as befuddlement.

You cleared your throat. “I- What?”

“Excuse me?” Sunghoon moved his hold on your child, propping her up between the two of you so that you both could see her face.

Ironically, her own face held confusion. She patted Sunghoon’s arm. “You didn’t burp, Appa,” she said, reassuringly.

It was anything but reassuring to Sunghoon. “No, no, what husband?”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” You reached forward, your thumb gently stroking her soft cheek.

“My husband.” She said it so matter-of-factly. Like the very sentence didn’t just drop a bombshell into the middle of your conversation. Instead, she simply blinked at the two of you, “He gives me flowers. Just like you and Appa.”

Sunghoon leaned a little closer to you. “I think I just forgot how to breathe,” he whispered.

“You did not forget how to breathe”

“How do you know, Y/n? I’m imploding.”

Your daughter leaned closer too. “Who’s mimloading?”

“Who‘s your husband?” Sunghoon countered.

“Taesan!” You watched the way Sunghoon mouthed the name, as if committing it to memory. On the other hand, your little girl was still all smiles and excitement. “His flowers are in my backpack. I’ll show you!”

She started to wriggle out of Sunghoon’s hands, excitedly skipping towards her room once he placed her down. All you could do was watch her as she walked past the doorframe before you turned to each other.

“She has a husband?” Sunghoon tried his best to keep his voice low, a hushed yell that could only be heard by you.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples with your hands. “She does not have a husband.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “She said it with way too much confidence.”

“She says everything with way too much confidence. She’s four.”

“What are we gonna do?”

As he started to pace up and down the hallway, you slid in front of him to get his attention. “First step is to take a deep breath and calm down.”

He frowned. “I’m perfectly calm.”

“Two seconds ago you said you forgot how to breathe.”

“Well, five seconds ago our daughter was just our daughter, but now apparently she’s someone’s wife!” He gestured wildly in the direction of her room. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he had a point.

“Things are escalating here, Y/n,” he went on. “We need to keep up.”

“Okay, I get what you’re saying, but—”

Straightening up a little, Sunghoon gave a nod of pure determination. “I need to see the evidence.”

You shut your eyes tiredly. “Evidence? Really- Sunghoon!” You hadn’t even finished the thought before you opened your eyes to see him already walking towards your daughter’s room. So you hurried after him.

“What took so long?” She was sitting near her preschool backpack, one hand grasping a few green stems, some with small purple flowers.

Sunghoon crouched beside her “Sorry honey.”

“What did you wanna show us?” You asked.

She pushed her hand forward, showing off the small garden flowers. “Look!”

“Wow!” You gave her hair a small ruffle while waiting for Sunghoon to react.

“They’re…” He glanced at you hesitantly, but it took only one warning look from you for him to get his act together. “Pretty. They’re really pretty.”

Standing up, your daughter pointed at an empty green stem. “This one was a dandylier.”

“Dandelion.” You corrected her gently.

“Yeah, dandelion. And this one’s a- …I don’t know. But it smells lovely.”

Sunghoon nodded. “And, um, Taesan gave these to you?”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you watched Sunghoon fight every urge to switch from the usual soft expressions he gives his little girl, for a more stoic one. One that would actually fit his mood at that moment.

Your daughter nodded. “Yep. So he’s my husband, right?”

Sunghoon lost his balance and ended up sitting down, turning a little to meet your eyes. “I’m imploding again,” he muttered.

His wide eyed stare, basically begging you to figure out what to do, it was a little adorable. You sat down next to him, cross legged, and reached to pull your daughter closer. “Not everybody who gives you flowers is your husband, kiddo.” You placed her on your lap.

“Oh. Why not?” The genuine confusion in her voice was palpable as she leaned against your collarbone. “I thought that was the rule. “

For the first time since the corridor outside the bedroom, Sunghoon finally cracked a small smile. It was a look of amusement and endearment, wrapped together, as he gently took her small fingers into his larger ones. “I don’t get Mama flowers because there’s a rule,” he explained. “I get her flowers because I want to see her smile.”

Your daughter sat up a little. “If that’s it, then why are you her husband?”

“Oh my god.” You hid your smile behind your hand, stifling back laughter and failing to do it successfully.

“Mama smiles at a lot of people.”

Your eyes creased shut as you looked away, still finding the complete seriousness of your daughter’s tone to be hilarious.

Sunghoon just blinked a few times. The learning curve of parenthood had struck again and in the last few years, as your child picked up words and sentences and opinions properly, you each had been subjected to a lot of harsh truths told in a devastatingly cute voice.

“How do I answer that?” Sunghoon asked you.

You tapped your daughter’s nose, causing her to turn to you. “He’s my husband because we love each other and want to keep loving each other forever.”

“Oh.”

“Appa getting me flowers is like, an added bonus, you get me?”

She started nodding slowly. “I guess. But Appa said he likes making you smile, and Taesan likes making me smile too, I think.”

Sunghoon muttered something incomprehensible under his breath before standing up. “Who is this kid?”

“Sunghoon.” Once again, your eyes shut, a little tired of Sunghoon being so typically Sunghoon.

When you turned to look at him he was at the other end of the room, near a small bookcase. It had numerous bedtime stories, picture books, interactive music books, photo albums. Sunghoon was crouched in front of it, his fingers running across each spine as he tried to look for something.

“You kept her preschool class photos in this room, right?” He asked over his shoulder.

You scoffed in disbelief. Amused and yet equally concerned. “You are not seriously scoping him out right now.”

“I’m just getting an idea of what I’m up against.”

You wanted to laugh. “There is no up against, Sunghoon!”

“I’m just curious, babe.”

“Just like George!” Your daughter smiled over your shoulder.

Sunghoon smirked. “Exactly. I’m just like George.” He gestured to your child with his eyebrows. “She gets me,” he said to you.

“Yeah, I get you, Appa.”

Shaking your head, you held your kid closer and shuffled to her dresser. “Okay, why don’t you and I focus on bedtime.”

She hummed. “Okay.”

Sunghoon seemingly gave up his search and came to join you as you both worked in tandem to get your daughter ready for bed. Sunghoon helped her tiny hands through the sleeve holes of her pyjamas, while you gently brushed her hair. The whole routine feeling like a ritual as she relaxed against you.

You figured it was a perfect moment to talk to your daughter. “I’m sure Taesan likes seeing you smile, love. You have an incredible smile.”

Sunghoon stilled ever so slightly but let you continue, focused on hanging her small panda bathrobe on one of the tiny chairs in the room.

You carefully applied a little night time moisturiser to her cheeks as you spoke. “But you need to understand something; just because someone is nice to you, and gives you flowers, and likes your smile, doesn’t make them your husband. There’s a lot more to it than that. That’s the reason why all the husbands you’ve met are adults. Remember?“

“Oh. Yeah,” she drawled out in realisation. “So Taesan can only be my husband when he’s an adult?”

“Exactly.”

Sunghoon frowned, pouting a little. “Don’t encourage that!” He whisper-yelled at you.

“Oh, what? You think we’re gonna revisit this exact situation in twenty years?”

“We might?”

“And if that happens, I’ll owe you one. How about that?”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I have no doubt.” You rolled your eyes.

You felt a small tug at your shirt. “Mama?”

“Yeah?”

Your little girl looked deep in thought. “Taesan can still be my friend, right?”

“Of course he can. If you want him to be.”

“Yeah!” She said, excitedly. “He let me win at hopscotch yesterday and his mama makes really yummy cheesecake.”

“She’s in it for the cheesecake?” Sunghoon muttered dryly as he came to sit back down next to the two of you.

Smirking at him, you shrugged. “I can’t even blame her. It’s cheesecake.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t need Taesan for that.” He pouted again. “I’ll make her cheesecake.”

That immediately caught your daughter’s attention. She clambered over your legs to get into Sunghoon’s lap. “Right now?” Her eyes and smile were the hook, line and sinker.

“Sure—”

“No!” Your hand shot out and clasped over Sunghoon’s mouth. “Not right now.” You looked between both of them, pursing your lips to prevent a smile at the sight of their pleading eyes. “Later, okay? Soon,” you said, softly.

Sunghoon chuckled as your daughter practically deflated against him. “Fine. I wish it was now.”

You giggled. “I’m sure you do, baby.”

Carefully getting off her dad’s lap, she made her way back to her backpack.

“Where’re you going?”

At Sunghoon’s question, she held up the empty stem of the dandelion. “Is my dandyliar finished?”

“Well, it looks you already blew out your wish so, yeah.” You took the empty stem in your hands and placed it on her small drawing table. “But it’s ok. We can look for another one tomorrow morning.”

“Aw.” She deflated all over again. “I wanted to wish for Appa to make a cheesecake.”

“I’ll make you one.” Sunghoon groaned a little as he stood up before he took a few steps to cross the distance between them. It always made you smile at how your daughters many little steps to get from one point to another would take you and Sunghoon only one or two to bridge the gap.

Even just the sight of him standing beside her had your cheeks stinging with that good kind of pain where you feel yourself smiling longer and longer with each second, unable to suppress the warmth erupting from inside of you.

Sunghoon ruffled his fingers through your daughter’s hair. “I promise, I’ll make you one.”

“Pinkie!” She held up the single finger expectantly.

And Sunghoon responded readily. “Pinkie.” Sealing the promise with her thumb meeting his. “Perfect. Now,” he snapped his finger, pointing across the room. “Get in bed.”

“Carry me.”

You scoffed at the utter dramatics. Her hands thrown up, eyes closed as if defeated by a tiring day of colouring and hopscotch.

But Sunghoon didn’t complain. He never complained. If anything, he was hoping she would ask. “Of course,” his voice was soft, you could barely hear it.

“You know, you can climb into bed on your own, little miss.” You tried to chastise her. Your heart wasn’t really in it, but, it felt like something you were supposed to do.

She wasn’t having it though. “I don’t want to,” she said over Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to,” Sunghoon repeated, giving you a smug smile.

“Fair enough.” Joining Sunghoon at her bed, you sighed while crouching down to level with her. “Seems like you’ve had a nice long day.”

Nodding, your daughter laid back and shuffled into her pillows. “Did you have a nice long day, Mama?”

You thought for a moment. “Hm, sorta.”

Pouting, she looked at her dad. “Appa.”

“Yes, princess,” Sunghoon mused while he brought the soft covers up to her chin.

“Carry Mama to bed.”

Sunghoon grinned at the authoritative tone of a four year old, but couldn’t pass up on such an easy task. “It would be my pleasure.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. At the way his eyes still held the same love and affection and desire that he had years ago. That it hadn’t changed with time but rather aged with care.

Sunghoon’s hand snuck across the carpeted floor to rest on top of yours.

You could see the way he was ever so slowly leaning closer, out of pure habit if nothing else, but you needed to put your little girl to sleep.

“Before that, it’s time for Little Miss Monkey.” You gestured with your eyebrows to the bookshelf behind Sunghoon and giggled at the way he snapped back to the present before turning to get your daughter's favourite bedtime story

“Yes! Wait, I need Puddles.” She searched among her many stuffed animals to pick out the soft yellow duck. Her best friend, according to her. She held it close, getting back under the covers.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, opening the storybook. “Is Puddles ready?”

“Yep!”

And so began the nightly routine of Little Miss Monkey and her quest for the the perfect jungle party present. An odd story that seemed to stick with your daughter, whether it was the various different animals or the various different voices that Sunghoon insisted on using when reading for each animal, you knew the day was never really complete without Little Miss Monkey successfully reaching her jungle party.

As Sunghoon closed the book and placed it back on the shelf you leaned forward and gave your daughter a kiss on the forehead. “Get some sleep,” you whispered.

“But Puddles said she wants to stay awake.” Her stubbornness was still fighting with her exhaustion.

You had to admit, it was pretty cute. “Puddles said that, did she?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh.”

Sunghoon placed a hand on the small of your back, you could hear the quiet huff of amusement he let out.

But you weren’t one to give up that easily. “Well I’m sorry, sweets, but you and Puddles are gonna feel tired in the morning if you don’t sleep now.”

“Puddles won’t feel tired. She only feels tired if I tell her to.” Apparently your daughter got her stubbornness from you.

Sunghoon gave you a smirk, a sort of challenging grin as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“Oh, that’s right.” You nodded. “So she wants to stay awake right now because you told her to?”

“…No?”

Sunghoon bent down to whisper to her. “Mama’s gonna win this, princess.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

“Besides, you‘ll want enough energy to win at hopscotch tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Exactly.”

“So,” You leaned down next to him, your fingers trailing down your little girl’s forehead, following the bridge of her nose. “Close your eyes.”

“That tickles,” she giggled.

Sunghoon gave her hand a gentle kiss. “Keep them closed.”

“No peeking?”

“Nope.” Taking your hand into his, Sunghoon started to slowly pull you towards the door.

As you tip toed towards the door, you heard her gentle sigh. “Okay. Goodnight.”

You smiled, looking back to see her eyes still shut. Puddles held tightly as she curled on her side.

“Goodnight, baby,” you called out.

Sunghoon carefully opened the door to not be too loud. “We love you.”

You both waited for her reply. She always replied back.

“Mm, love you.” Soft and wispy, sleep was slowly catching up to her and you could hear it from her voice. So you did your best to shut the door extra slowly, waiting for the subtle click before quietly walking off.

You leaned your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder as you entered the kitchen. “Are you still imploding?”

“I’m fine. Cool as a cucumber.” He was doing his best to ignore the look of amused disbelief that you were giving him.

“Ya know, someone who’s actually cool as a cucumber wouldn’t use that kind of phrase.”

“Look, I just…” You chuckled at the arbitrary hand flails he was doing, incapable of articulating his feelings exactly.

“You freaked out?”

Sunghoon squinted at you a little. “I think my freak out was perfectly sound, given the circumstances.”

“Perfectly sound, huh?”

His hands went up to plead innocence. “Objectively speaking.”

“You wanted the kid’s mug, Sunghoon.” You scoffed as you walked towards the cabinets, getting yourself a glass of water.

“Again, a perfectly sound request.”

You paused after taking a sip, giving Sunghoon a blank stare while you wondered whether your daughter’s stubbornness really came from you or her father. “You should rethink your definitions.”

Reaching across the kitchen island, Sunghoon took a few sips of water from your glass. “Taesan should rethink his decisions.”

“My god.” You muttered under your breath as Sunghoon straightened up, already preparing to explain his point.

“No, no, babe, it starts with flowers and cheesecake and then the next thing you know, it’s February 14th and he’s gotten her a be-my-valentine chocolate box.”

“You’ve got be kidding me.”

“She loves chocolate, Y/n, she won’t be able to resist. That kid is scheming.” He pointed his thumb at the direction of your front door, as if poor little Taesan was waiting out there.

You laughed quietly to yourself. “My love, he’s a four year old child. He does not have that kind of speed.”

“Did you just black out and forget the way our own daughter was bolting around this house? Kids have speed, Y/n”

“That’s not- You know what I meant.”

Sunghoon slouched down on one of the counter chairs. “I’m coping with humour right now, okay? It’s either this or I eat a tub of ice cream.”

“You’re kinda cute when you’re like this,” you smirked.

“I’m glad my spiralling is entertaining to you.”

“Oh, very. But I hope this isn’t gonna be your attitude if she actually does get married in the future.”

“By that point in time, I’ll be alright with it.” He spoke with a lot of unearned confidence which had you raising an eyebrow. “I’ll try to be.” Your expression was unmoving. “It’s the thought that counts, okay?”

You shook your head, unable to hold off the smile as you got started on putting the dry dishes away. Sunghoon instinctively came to help, still trying to find a way to explain exactly what he was feeling.

“Look,” he started. “I just don’t think that she should be calling every flower-gifting-guy her husband.”

“Well, no. But we did our part in telling her as much.” You handed him the ceramic dishes that had to go on the higher shelves. “I think you can relax a little bit now, right?”

“I’ll relax after she deems my cheesecake better than Taesan’s mum’s.”

You smirked. “So we’re beefing with his mum now too?”

“It’s her kid.”

“Right,” You put the dish in your hands back on the rack. turning Sunghoon by his elbow to get him to face you. “Her sweet kid, who gave our daughter flowers because his mum probably taught him to treat girls nicely. And let them win every now and then. And share yummy food with them.”

He frowned. “Ok, so, I see your point. But—”

“Didn’t your mum teach you the same?” You crossed your arms, walking back to lean against the counter, a little smile on your face. “I specifically remember a scrawny teenager holding a lovely bouquet of lilies.”

“I- Scrawny?”

“You’re gonna look me in my face and tell me you weren’t scrawny at nineteen?”

“I was,” Sunghoon smirked, walking closer to you. “But I was hoping you remembered more about our first date than just lilies and my scrawny ass.”

You tried to bite your lower lip to keep from smiling wider. “I remember every moment of it, Sunghoon.”

“Good.” He leaned down slowly, his breath was warm against your lips right before he kissed you. Firm hands held your waist, lifting you on top of the counter as he pulled you against him. But then he froze and leaned back. “Mm mm,” he shook his head, “Back to point.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead against his chest, tired of the topic already.

Sunghoon was determined though. “That was a date, Y/n. Getting your date flowers isn’t life changing, okay? It’s law- Oh my god.”

“What?” You raised your head.

“I think she might be right about the rule of flowers…”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his low murmurs of realisation. “Aw, Sunghoon.” You reached up and cupped his face, brushing his hair back as he returned your smile.

“I just got scared there for a minute,” he whispered. “That’s all.”

“I got scared too. It’s normal.”

“Yeah, but you handled it like a pro, unlike me.”

You stroked his cheek. “Again, very normal for us.”

He frowned, trying to remain serious despite your playful smile, the teasing glint in your eyes. His resolve only lasted about three seconds before he sighed.

“Yeah.” Nodding, Sunghoon admitted defeat, pulling you closer once more as he wrapped his arms around you, his head slotting itself into the crook of your neck.

He felt the way you seemed to decompress in his arms, your own hands stroking his hair, lighting scratching his back. It was unreal how relaxing it was to hold and be held by you.

“You tired?” He murmured against your neck.

You hummed. “A little.”

“Alright then.” Stepping back, Sunghoon slid one arm under your knees and other around holding your waist as he lifted you.

“Woah, what—” Your hands clasped around his neck, confused, as he gave you a light kiss on the cheek.

“I believe I promised our daughter that I would carry you to bed.”

Your gentle laughter became a little muffled as you curled your face into his chest, listening to the steady beat of your husband’s heart while he carried you to the bedroom.

“Alright.” Carefully laying you onto the mattress, he propped up the pillows for you to lean against. “You get comfy. I need to head out for a moment, but I’ll be quick.”

You frowned. “Where to?”

“Convenience store.” He headed into the closet, as he spoke. “She wants a cheesecake so I need to get a few more ingredients. And I’d ask you to come with, but, someone’s gotta be here.”

“Sunghoon,” you sighed. “She doesn’t need it first thing in the morning.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sunghoon gave you a deadpanned expression as he walked back out, pulling on a coat and some gloves. “If I was her, I’d want it first thing in the morning.”

There was no point trying to convince him otherwise, so you simply did as he asked and got comfy. “You should get blueberries.”

“Already on the list.” He gave you a wink as you leaned across to your bedside table for the novel you were currently reading. “Can never have enough blueberries in this house,” he muttered.

“She gets it from you.”

Sunghoon just shrugged, walking closer. “They’re the perfect snack. Well, besides you.” He bent down to give you one last kiss, letting it linger a little longer than you’d have expected. The book had almost slipped out of your hands before he stepped back, smirking, like he knew exactly what he just did.

“Be quick.” You looked down at the page, not really reading anything but just not wanting to give him any satisfaction.

“Or you’ll miss me?”

“More like you‘ll miss me.”

“Right, cause that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.” He waved before walking out the room and soon, you heard the faint sound of the front door shutting.

You settled into the bed, bringing the covers up to your waist, and you’d just started to get into the novel when you heard the gentle buzz of your phone beside you. You breathed a little sigh, already expecting it.

You didn’t even bother checking who it was when you picked up. “Did you forget something?” You asked.

“Nope,” Sunghoon responded and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “I just missed you.”

a.n: this feels diff to my other fics bcs it’s so dialogue heavy but . i didn’t know how else to write the idea that i had. i feel like a family’s dynamic is seen really well through both verbal and non verbal communication but for a fic where the kid is so young, verbal communication just sorta made the most sense? hopefully people like this as much as descriptive/prose-y fics 🤞🏽

perm taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf — @itsrinsdrs — @enjakey — @kissmete — @jaylaxies — @tobiosbbyghorl — @hoondrop — @chaeneu

2025 © yourislandgirl

[bxcndd]

When a man is good with kids I feel my ovaries screaming at me

[bxcndd]

AND WIPS ARE HERE

( i have yet to work on navigation but we ignore that)

Not another 90s Cliché

Coming straight from Catholic school, college is a catastrophe waiting to happen. New experiences, unexpected friendships, heartbreaks, and the newly found freedom can be both terrifying and exciting. One thing that was definitely not counted for was the annoyingly hot, off-limits Sim Jaeyun

Sorority member!fab!Reader x Frat boy president!Sim Jaehyun

Backseat confessions

It was always easy with them, no matter the ungodly hours or random pickup locations, they'd leave together in the same car. The model didn’t matter, nor did the license plate they pretend to check as they jumped into the backseat. It was their safe place. One Uber ride at a time, their love story slowly left the backseat and hit a new road of teenage love.

Fab!Reader x Yang Jungwon

Wrong key, right tempo

In quiet practice rooms and between the scribbled margins of shared sheet music, something new begins to unfold. The most prestigious guitar player in the school finds himself drawn to a quiet saxophone player whose tempo always seems just a little off. But maybe that’s the harmony he didn’t know he needed.

Park Jay x saxophonist!fab!Reader

A Deck of chances

In the chaotic streets of Shibuya, Nishimura Riki finds himself trapped in a dangerous world where deadly games are the only way to stay alive. But surviving the games isn’t his only challenge especially when there's also an annoying sports committee president working as his personal shadow.

Nishimura Riki x Sports committee president!fab!Reader ( alice in bonderland au)

Shared Dreams

Park Sunghoon, an elementary school math teacher, is just trying to keep his job and his crumbling marriage intact. Things get more complicated when his wife Y/N, an art teacher, is suddenly transferred to the same school as her partner. Now they must navigate a shared workspace, old wounds, and new dynamics, all while figuring out what’s left of their relationship.

Elementary school teacher!Park Sunghoon x Teacher!fab!Reader (Established Marriage)

I’m only going to start working on these after my exams ( pls save me) so release dates aren’t a thing yet😭😭

[bxcndd]

Not another 90s Cliché

Coming straight from Catholic school, college is a catastrophe waiting to happen. New experiences, unexpected friendships, heartbreaks, and the newly found freedom can be both terrifying and exciting. One thing that was definitely not counted for was the annoyingly hot, off-limits Sim Jaeyun

Sorority member!afab!Reader x Frat boy president!Sim Jaeyun

Backseat confessions

It was always easy with them, no matter the ungodly hours or random pickup locations, they'd leave together in the same car. The model didn’t matter, nor did the license plate they pretend to check as they jumped into the backseat. It was their safe place. One Uber ride at a time, their love story slowly left the backseat and hit a new road of teenage love.

afab!Reader x Yang Jungwon

Wrong key, right tempo

In quiet practice rooms and between the scribbled margins of shared music sheets, something new begins to unfold. The most prestigious guitar player in the school finds himself drawn to a quiet saxophone player whose tempo always seems just a little off. But maybe that’s the harmony he didn’t know he needed.

Park Jay x saxophonist!afab!Reader

A Deck of chances

In the chaotic streets of Shibuya, Nishimura Riki finds himself trapped in a dangerous world where deadly games are the only way to stay alive. But surviving the games isn’t his only challenge especially when there's also an annoying sports committee president working as his personal shadow.

Nishimura Riki x Sports committee president!afab!Reader ( alice in bonderland au)

Shared Dreams

Park Sunghoon, an elementary school math teacher, is just trying to keep his job and his crumbling marriage intact. Things get more complicated when his wife Y/N, an art teacher, is suddenly transferred to the same school as her partner. Now they must navigate a shared workspace, old wounds, and new dynamics, all while figuring out what’s left of their relationship.

Elementary school teacher!Park Sunghoon x Teacher!afab!Reader (Established Marriage)

Notes: I’m only going to start working on these after my exams ( pls save me) so release dates aren’t a thing yet😭😭

tags: @s1rawb3rry

[bxcndd]

🫦🫦🫦🫦

성훈 : Sunghoon ੈ♡

ENHYPEN | Walk the line in Bangkok

[bxcndd]

WOOF WOOF

성훈 : Sunghoon ੈ♡

ENHYPEN | Walk the line in Bangkok

[bxcndd]

MAMAAAAA

aaaaaa

성훈 : Sunghoon ੈ♡

ENHYPEN | Walk the line in Bangkok