iboughtnjz

[iboughtnjz]

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[iboughtnjz]

"Is rent due?" is diabolical 😭

actor! sukuna who doesn't know batshit about social media or how to use it, accidentally posting a picture of his feet onto his story on his instagram account that has more than 53 million followers.

his replies are flooded with

'in my mouth'

and 'sukuna in his feet pic selling era'

and 'is rent due?'

so his next story is just a picture of him posing with his middle finger up and a caption that says. 'suck my dick. that pic was an accident.'

and yet the replies are still something along the lines of:

'stop bullying the elderly'

'someone enroll him in a social media class'

[iboughtnjz]

Hi we get it, plagiarism is horrible: dont fucking do it or wtv. Now back to the actually horrible actions: Gaza is still fucking starving

[iboughtnjz]

the whole of japan knows the name ryomen sukuna ; the menace of a child who grew up to become the king of curses. it's the name used to scare children into obedience, the name most feared amongst chiefs and samurai, the name that strikes fear in even outsiders when the thought of travelling to the island finds it's way into their minds.

but what they don't know is even the demon king himself has his own fear; a fear so deadly and consuming all hell is raised when brought to light. what is it, you ask..?

his wife... upset... and pregnant.

the whole estate can feel whenever you enter this state, the air is thicker, the servants work harder and more efficient, the kitchen is on edge 24/7, stocked and stationed to follow and deliver your every demand. it's as if a second sukuna replaces the sweet, compassionate woman they've gotten used to within the blink of an eye.

and sukuna feels it the most; in all his years he's never seen anyone as his equal, but now, it feels as if he's been outmatched at his own game, especially during times like this:

the king of curses watches and listens lazily on his throne as chiefs and noblemen from different provinces stand before him, trembling as they present their offerings and voice their concerns in shaky voices with a bored expression on his face.

this is what he's been restricted to for the past six months, lounging around his estate and accepting gifts and sacrifices like some simpleton as per your command request for your pregnancy.

it's only when one of the chiefs is about to offer a golden dragon sculpture that the large double doors of the room swing open and a servant bursts through, eyes wide and urgent in a way that has sukuna immediately sitting up, an inkling of worry regarding your wellbeing forming within his black, stone heart.

"what is it?" his voice is cold and rough as he speaks, casting tremors throughout the bodies of the mortals before him.

"i-it's the lady of the house, she- she's upset..."

the statement itself is enough to have him out of his seat, barking at the men to leave the estate as he thunders out of the room and through the temple halls to the direction of the garden you're residing in, a frown on his face as he trudges through the floral path leading to your favourite gazebo.

that's when he sees it, the bane of his existence; your arms crossed and a scowl on your lips.

he swallows, beginning to open his mouth to speak before you cut him off by pointing at the bowl of blueberries on the table beside you.

"sukuna," you start, no cute nickname used in your state of displeasure, "what are those?"

the curse finds himself momentarily bamboozled, are you playing a joke on him? "...blueberr-"

"exactly." your voice is clipped, eyes narrowing, "when you were about to enter your meeting, did i ask for blueberries?"

it's sukuna's turn to scowl. you did ask for blueberries, he specifically remembers you asking him for the damn fruit, "woman, what are you on abou-"

"i told you i wanted strawberries." you cut him off once more, "i'm here, building your child in my stomach, and you still never listen to me." you stamp your foot this time, a move more adorable than intimidating, but sukuna knows better than to tease.

"you asked for blueberries, brat, i remem-"

"do you think i am incapable of recalling what i said to you ten minutes ago?" your voice is louder now, eye ablaze and locked on his own. "do you think my pregnancy has rendered me incompetent?"

he's beginning to panic now, gulping as he shakes his head quickly, "i didn't say-"

"go get my strawberries, sukuna!" you bark, patience officially snapped in half as you glare daggers up at your husband.

sukuna practically scrambles away to retrieve your fruit, a storm cloud hanging over his head once he reaches the kitchen, his voice as deadly as lightening as he yells for a new ball of strawberries, snatching it from the young male servant who hands it over with shaking hands.

he mutters beneath his breath as he stomps back to your gazebo, setting it down on the table before you speak once more, pointing towards the pillow heaven on the wooden floor. "sit."

the curse sighs in exasperation before taking the bowl and plopping onto the cushions. he raises an eyebrow as you immediately make yourself comfortable on his lap, another demand leaving your lips. "feed me."

sukuna tsks in response, but ultimately relents, bringing a strawberry up to your lips and watching the pleased smile that spreads across them as you chew and lean back on him, placing on his hands to rest on your belly.

"we love you, 'kuna~"

he shakes his head, even as a slightly warm feeling begins to spread across his chest. gods help him if the little hellion in your stomach comes out just as strange as you (it'll have him wrapped around it's tiny little finger anyway).

SINCERELY Ξ ☆MISSDUVAL, 2025.

[iboughtnjz]

bsf!ni-ki but him & the reader acts more like girlfriend and boyfriend

best friends who act like lovers

PAIRING… bestfriend! Ni-ki x bestfriend! reader | GENRE… fluff | TROPE… bestfriends who act like a couple

They have “their” song

It started as a joke when "Bewitched" by Laufey came on during a walk home, and Ni-ki sang the chorus dramatically at her. Now, months later, it's their unofficial anthem. Whenever it plays, in a café, on a playlist, in the background of a TikTok, they instantly look at each other and grin. It's muscle memory now, the way she hums it when she sees him approaching, and the way he responds with a dramatic twirl or a wink.

He adjusts her hoodie string or necklace

She didn’t even notice it was uneven until Ni-ki reached over and gently fixed it, brushing her collarbone with his knuckle in the process. “Can’t have you out here lookin’ messy,” he smirked, as if his heart wasn’t thudding louder than his playlist. She blinked up at him, momentarily frozen, but the moment passed as quickly as it came.

They FaceTime every night

Sometimes they barely talk, just the soft clicks of keyboards and the occasional sigh. She once drifted off mid-conversation, and when she woke up, he was still there on the screen, eyes closed, head tilted to the side. Since then, she makes sure to say "goodnight" even if her eyes are heavy. He always replies, "Sweet dreams, brat."

She naps on his shoulder

It always starts with, "Just five minutes, Ni-ki," and ends with her head tucked into the crook of his neck, breathing slow and even. He doesn’t move a muscle, even if his arm goes numb. He just leans back, scrolls through his phone, and secretly smiles when she mutters his name in her sleep.

She steals his hoodies

Every time she 'borrows' one, she swears she’ll return it. But weeks later, he sees her wearing it at school, sleeves long over her hands. "That mine?" he teases. She just shrugs with a smug little smile. He pretends to grumble, but keeps bringing new ones just in case.

They get "jokingly" jealous

When a girl flirts with Ni-ki, she suddenly becomes very invested in her phone. Ni-ki notices. Later, when she compliments a boy’s hair, he goes quiet, then blurts, "It’s not even that cool." Their friends roll their eyes, but the tension lingers just long enough to be noticeable.

He holds her hand in crowds

It’s automatic. Busy halls, loud events, he just reaches back and finds her hand without looking. She squeezes once. He squeezes twice. They never talk about it, but neither of them lets go until they’re out in the open again.

They go on “not dates”

They’ll spend hours at a bookstore, giggling at weird titles, sharing earbuds as they flip through poetry. When the barista asks, “Are you two together?” Ni-ki answers, “Friends,” but he doesn’t look her in the eye. She just laughs and nudges his shoulder.

He fixes her eyeliner or clips her hair

“Hold still,” he says, licking his thumb to smudge the uneven wing on her eyeliner. She winces. “Ew, Ni-ki!” He laughs. “Relax, I’m doing God’s work.” Moments like these feel too intimate for two people who are "just friends," but neither of them pulls away.

Inside jokes no one else gets

They’ll burst into laughter mid-class when someone says something vaguely similar to a joke they made weeks ago. Everyone else is confused. They don’t bother explaining. Some moments aren’t meant to be shared.

Matching lock screens

They once edited a picture of their hands holding bubble tea with dumb emojis and saved it as a joke. But weeks later, when she checked his phone, it was still there. So was hers. Neither of them changed it.

He spoils her

“Didn’t you say you liked those cookies last month?” he says, handing her a box without fanfare. When she looks confused, he shrugs. “They were on sale.” She knows they weren’t. He just remembers the small things.

They share everything

He doesn’t think twice about taking a sip from her straw, and she always grabs a second fork at lunch because she knows he’ll want a bite. It's unspoken, they belong in each other's space.

He defends her

When someone teases her too harshly, Ni-ki steps in with a simple, "Not cool." His voice is calm, but his stare is sharp. He doesn’t raise his voice, but the message is clear. She never hears that joke again.

He drops everything when she’s upset

Once, she texted him, "Can you come?" after a horrible day. Ten minutes later, he was outside with a hoodie, chocolate, and a playlist. “You don’t have to talk,” he said. “Just sit with me.” And they did—in silence, under the stars, like it was their own little world.

[iboughtnjz]

☆ in which bsf! niki finds your lacy number

f!rea, crack, suggestive, niki’s cheeky pinky

•••

the moment you heard his snort coming from your room, you knew you were in for it.

arms full of snacks, you trudge to your room. there awaits a smirking niki. your lacy red thong dangling from the edge of his finger.

"that's...not mine" you try, watching his smirk grow meaner in defeat.

he only snorts again, "really? who's is it then?"

you panic internally, knowing no answer will save you (especially not this one): "my mom’s..."

he only laughs and slingshots the garment at your head, conveniently hitting your flushed face. you sigh, throwing a chip bag at his face in retaliation. of course, he snatches it out of the air, opening the bag and stuffing some in his mouth.

he flops onto your bed like he owns it. "a bit weird she would leave it on your bed, no?"

you shove his feet off the bed, already done with his teasing. "you're so annoying," was all you could get out, flustered.

a few days later...

niki watches as you bend down to pick up your phone you just clumsily dropped. your low waisted jeans giving way to show red lace he couldn't stop thinking about.

when you get up, he smooths down the back of your shirt that had ridden up. pinky finger dipping just below your waist band to lightly tease at the lace.

he doesn't say anything, silently smug as your face reddens.

"you didn't see anything, freak," your grumble, swatting at his hand to no avail.

his pinky only dips under the lace to snap it back against your skin before pulling away. his hand finding its place on your hip.

“you're the freak for wearing your mom's panties."

•••

if you liked this, go check out my other works here🧟‍♀️

[iboughtnjz]

TOKYO DRIFT — nsh.r

⋆˙⟡ SYNOPSIS: You’re new to the underground scene. No one expects much from you—until you leave one of the top racers in your dust. Nishimura Riki isn’t just pissed. He’s obsessed. Who the hell are you? Why do you drive like you’ve got nothing to lose? And why the fuck does he like it?

FEAT. racer!niki x f!reader

⋆˙⟡ GENRE: illegal street racing au, suggestive, angst, jealousy, obsession, possession, steamy tension, a lot of making out

⋆˙⟡ THEMES: rivals w benefits (?) to lovers, he’s cocky, reckless, a legend in the circuit you’re his biggest rival… and maybe his biggest weakness. cars, danger, late night drives, stolen kisses, almost-deaths and a slow, inevitable descent into need

No one knows your name.

Not yet.

You pull into the abandoned lot just after midnight, music low, engine purring like it’s daring someone to test it. The scene’s already packed—smoke curling into the humid summer air, bodies moving around sleek chrome and matte black hoods, engines humming with that familiar, dangerous rhythm.

Eyes follow you as you step out.

Too pretty to be taken seriously. Too quiet to be a threat.

Perfect.

You lean against your car, crossing your arms, and wait.

The circuit’s king doesn’t arrive until twenty minutes later.

You know who he is the second he shows up.

Black ‘99 Skyline. Low-slung. Fast. Loud.

When it cuts into the lot, the entire scene shifts. Guys straighten. Girls flip their hair. Someone whispers, “That’s Riki.”

And then he steps out. Casual. Careless.

Leather jacket sliding off one shoulder. Black tank hugging his lean frame. Jaw sharp, lip curled like he already owns the place.

He glances around.

And then—

His eyes land on you.

Slow blink. Head tilt. The faintest smirk.

You don’t look away.

Neither does he.

“You new?” he asks, stepping up to you like he’s checking out the latest toy in the lot.

You shrug. “Something like that.”

His eyes drop to your car—sleek, tuned, not flashy, but fast. You can see it in his expression.

He’s curious.

But more than that?

He’s irritated.

He hates not knowing.

“I’m Riki,” he says. “Most people here lose to me.”

“Most people suck,” you reply, sweetly.

His brows raise. A low laugh leaves his throat.

And then—he steps closer, so close you smell the faint smoke and citrus on his jacket. “You any good?”

“I’m better.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re lined up at the start.

You in your car. Him in his. The track’s a short sprint—one of the tighter setups, pure chaos in the curves.

He rolls his window down, glancing over at you with a lazy grin.

“Try not to cry when I leave you in the dust, sweetheart.”

You flash a smile right back. “You gonna kiss me if I win?”

He blinks.

You wink.

And then the light flashes green.

You eat the track alive.

He’s fast. Sure. Slippery in the turns. Clean with the shift.

But you’re sharper.

More ruthless.

You cut him off in the second drift and don’t look back.

When you cross the finish line, there’s a beat of stunned silence.

Then the crowd erupts.

Some guys laugh. Others shout. Money changes hands. And Riki?

Riki parks, cuts his engine, steps out slow.

He’s not smiling anymore.

You wait by your car, calm, heart still thudding from the rush.

He stops in front of you, jaw tight. “That was luck.”

“Nope,” you say. “That was skill. Try again sometime.”

For a second, it feels like he might say something cruel. Might spit something cocky, bitter, venomous.

But instead—

He grabs your waist and kisses you.

Hot. Rough. Dangerous.

One hand still gripping his helmet, the other dragging you forward, mouths crashing, teeth clashing, lips bruising like he hates that he wants this. Like he’s punishing you for being better.

You’re breathless when he pulls back, eyes dazed.

He leans in, voice low.

“Let’s see how long you last in my world, princess.”

Then he’s gone. Smoke trailing behind his boots as he disappears into the crowd.

And just like that?

You’re not anonymous anymore.

You’re the girl who beat Riki.

And he’s the boy who kissed you like he wanted to ruin you.

It’s been three days since the race.

Three days since you left Riki at the finish line, lips bruised from his kiss, heart pounding like an engine in your chest.

You haven’t seen him since.

But you feel him everywhere.

Eyes burning into the back of your skull during tune-ups. Silence that stretches just a little too long when people mention his name around you. Like they’re waiting for the explosion.

You just smirk and keep working.

If he wants revenge? He’ll have to earn it.

The garage is nearly empty when the door slams open.

You don’t even look up.

You know it’s him.

Riki strides in like the whole place belongs to him. No jacket tonight—just a sleeveless shirt, veins in his arms tense, jaw locked, silver chain bouncing lightly against his collarbone as he stops in front of you.

“You think you’re funny?”

You wipe your hands on a rag. “Sometimes.”

“You embarrassed me.”

“No,” you say, meeting his glare with a smirk. “You embarrassed yourself. I just drove better.”

He steps closer, inches away now.

You don’t move.

“You’ve got a mouth,” he mutters.

“You’ve got an ego problem,” you shoot back.

His jaw tightens.

Then—his hand slams on the worktable behind you, making the tools rattle.

You don’t even flinch.

“Does this scare you?” he asks, low and dangerous.

You tilt your head. “You think you scare me?”

His other hand grabs your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek in a way that’s far too intimate for how hard his grip is.

“You fucking should be.”

You stare at him.

Then—softly—you smirk.

“Then why are you breathing so hard, Riki?”

His pupils blow wide.

He looks like he’s going to kiss you again.

But he doesn’t.

He lets go like your skin burned him.

“You racing tonight or not?” he mutters.

You shrug. “Are you?”

He turns away, jaw clenching, running a hand through his hair. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

You hop off the table, grabbing your keys.

“Then I guess you better keep up.”

The race isn’t in the lot this time.

It’s in the hills.

Wider curves. Higher stakes. More ways to crash and burn.

You line up beside him—same setup, same crowd, same tension burning hot under your skin.

He won’t look at you.

You roll down your window. “Nervous, Riki?”

His knuckles flex on the wheel.

“No,” he mutters. “Just focused.”

“On what?”

He glances over.

On you.

This race is brutal.

He’s more aggressive than last time—cutting you off, swerving just close enough to scare you. But you don’t back down. You press harder, faster, nearly scrape your car against his just to prove you won’t fold.

It’s war.

And when you take the final corner, neck and neck, tires screaming, headlights blending—

You both cross the line.

A tie.

Neither of you slows down.

He follows you off the track.

Engine cuts. The silence between you explodes.

You slam your door.

“So that’s how you drive now?” you yell. “Trying to run me off the road?”

He’s already storming toward you.

“You wanted me to take it easy? Should I have let you win again?”

“You’re out of control.”

He grabs your wrist. “You’re the one who got in my head.”

Your breath catches.

“You kissed me first,” you whisper.

“You kissed me back.”

The air is thick.

Then—without thinking—he pushes you against your car.

Hands on your hips. Nose brushing yours. Breath mingling. He’s shaking.

And so are you.

“You drive like you’ve got nothing to lose,” he whispers.

“I don’t.”

He leans in. So close. So angry. So desperate.

“Let me ruin you,” he says. You kiss him.

Hard. Messy. Teeth and tongue. Like it’s another race. Another win to steal.

He groans into your mouth.

And then pulls back. Eyes wild.

“This is gonna get ugly.”

You wipe your lips with the back of your hand.

“Then bring it on.”

You shouldn’t have kissed him.

You tell yourself that all night, all morning, even while you’re tuning your car.

But your fingers are shaking.

Because now?

Everything feels different.

Riki’s everywhere.

You see him in the corner of every race. Hear him in every engine growl. Feel him in every lingering look across the lot. And it’s not soft. It’s not romantic. It’s that blood-hot, pulse-pounding kind of want that scrapes your ribs raw.

And what’s worse?

He won’t stop playing with you.

“Look who’s still walking,” he mutters, falling into step beside you in the pit lot that night. “Thought I’d wrecked you harder.”

“Wreck me?” you laugh, not slowing your pace. “You kissed me.”

He smirks. “Same difference.”

You spin to face him. “You kissed me like you were starving.”

His eyes flash.

“You kissed me like you were gonna cry if I stopped.”

Your mouth drops open. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re blushing.”

You shove past him, furious.

But he follows.

Ten minutes later, you’re both pressed up against a concrete wall near the back of the garage—barely speaking, breath shallow, the air around you burning.

“You’re always running your mouth,” you growl, fists balled in his shirt.

“And you’re always pretending you don’t want me,” he snaps back, hand fisting in your jacket, teeth bared.

You’re so close. Too close. But you refuse to give in again. You’re not going to let him win.

So instead?

You smirk.

“Let’s make a bet.”

His brows lift.

You lean in, whispering, “Next race. No rules. One lap. Winner gets anything they want.”

Riki freezes.

Then—slowly—his eyes narrow. “Anything?”

“Anything,” you repeat. “Think you can handle that?”

He leans even closer, mouth brushing your ear.

“I don’t think you can.”

You don’t sleep that night.

Neither does he.

The next evening, the crowd’s buzzing before you even show up. Everyone’s heard. Everyone’s betting. You and Riki are front page gossip now.

You line up at the start—no music, no distractions, just him in the car beside you, eyes dark, lips parted, knuckles white on the wheel.

You don’t speak.

Neither of you smiles.

This race isn’t for respect.

It’s for ownership.

You drive like your life depends on it.

And Riki?

He drives like he’s trying to outrun his own obsession.

The curves are tight. The asphalt’s slick. The adrenaline’s poison in your veins.

At one point, your cars are side by side—so close his mirror nearly clips yours—and you glance over.

He’s staring straight at you.

And smirking.

You growl and slam on the gas.

You win by a breath.

Just barely.

The moment your tires squeal past the finish, you yank the handbrake and launch out of the car, chest heaving, sweat beading on your neck.

And he’s already there.

Storming toward you.

“Not bad,” he mutters, voice ragged.

“Pay up,” you pant.

“What do you want?”

You step into his space, heart pounding so loud it hurts.

“I want you to shut up,” you whisper. “For five seconds.”

He freezes.

And then—

You kiss him.

Hard. Rough. All tongue and teeth and hands in hair. There’s no sweetness. Just heat. Need. Desperation.

You pull back, lips swollen, breathless.

He looks wrecked.

“You still hate me?” you whisper.

Riki swallows hard. His voice cracks.

“More than ever.”

You lean in, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Then why are you shaking?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just grabs your wrist.

And pulls you straight into his car.

You don’t remember getting in the car.

One second you were pulling away from his mouth, breathless and cocky from your win, and the next?

His hand was on your wrist, dragging you inside.

Now you’re in the passenger seat, doors slammed shut, windows fogging up already, and Riki?

Riki’s staring at you like he’s about to do something unforgivable.

He’s not speaking.

Just breathing hard.

Like kissing you made him lose control of his whole damn body.

“You’re shaking,” you whisper.

He doesn’t deny it.

Just stares.

“You still mad I won?” you ask, smirking.

He leans in so fast you gasp.

His mouth brushes your jaw, slow. “I’m mad you didn’t kiss me like that before.”

Then—his hands grab your thighs, drag you into his lap, and you’re not even pretending to fight it.

Your lips crash again.

Messy. Loud. Desperate.

It’s not gentle—it’s all heat and friction, like you’re trying to erase the other. His tongue licks into your mouth like he owns it, his teeth scrape your bottom lip, and you moan into him without meaning to.

“You hate me,” you pant between kisses.

“I fucking do.” he growls, gripping your hips tighter.

“You want me.”

“I can’t stop,” he gasps, head falling back as your lips trail down his throat. “You’re making me insane.”

You suck a mark into the side of his neck and his hips buck up hard—too hard—grinding into you like he can’t hold back.

“Fuck—” he moans, shaky and flushed. “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna stop.”

You freeze.

Eyes meet.

His chest is rising fast. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair. Your heartbeat’s pounding in your ears.

“…Don’t,” you whisper.

He nods, jaw clenched, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Yeah. Okay.”

Neither of you moves.

His forehead drops against yours.

You can still taste him on your tongue.

You close your eyes.

“I don’t even like you,” you murmur.

Riki laughs—bitter, breathless. “Yeah? Then why are you still on my lap?”

Silence.

You hate this. You hate him.

But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t obsessed with the taste of his lips. The way he whispers your name like it hurts.

You pull back slowly. He doesn’t stop you.

Just watches you slide off him and back into your seat, still flushed, still panting.

You stare out the windshield.

“Don’t make bets you can’t win next time.”

His voice is quiet.

“You’re not gonna kiss me again?”

You glance at him.

Then grin.

“Make me.”

You shouldn’t want him.

You tell yourself that every night.

Nishimura Riki is cocky. Arrogant. Full of himself. Always smirking, always showing off like the whole world revolves around the roar of his engine and the sharpness of your tongue.

You hate that about him.

And he hates you for the exact same reasons.

You’re reckless. Sarcastic. Sharp. Unpredictable. You don’t flinch when he growls in your face, don’t fold under pressure, don’t look away even when he’s breathing down your neck.

You’re fire and gasoline, and he’s the match.

But tonight…

Tonight, it’s different.

The air tastes like sweat and adrenaline. Your hands are still shaking from the race. The engines have cooled, the streets are quiet, and the city lights blur behind you as you both sit on the hood of his car—sweaty, silent, too close.

Your leg brushes his.

You don’t move.

He doesn’t either.

“…It’s not just the kisses anymore,” he says suddenly, voice low.

You turn.

His eyes are already on you—tired, dark, surprisingly soft in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“It’s not?” you ask, pretending to be unaffected.

He shakes his head.

Then shrugs, voice barely a whisper.

“No. I fucking wish it was.”

Your breath catches.

He leans in, slow this time. Not like the angry post-race makeouts. Not like the rough tug of your collar or the bite of your lip.

This kiss?

It’s softer.

Gentle.

Like he’s scared of how much he wants it.

You freeze. Then melt. Fingers tangling in his hair, lips parting, letting him in.

He kisses you like he’s trying to undo all the things he’s done wrong. Like he’s still angry at the world but not at you—not tonight.

You pull back first. Just enough to breathe.

“…This is gonna ruin everything,” you whisper.

Riki’s eyes fall shut.

“I know.”

You stare at him.

“Then stop kissing me.”

He opens his eyes.

“Can’t.”

You’re standing near your car, wiping oil off your hands, jaw clenched, heart still aching from the last kiss. From the way he said he couldn’t stop.

Riki’s pacing across the lot, restless, agitated. Talking to Heeseung about car parts and lines and brakes, but you know he’s just trying not to look at you.

Because if he does—he’ll give in again.

And if you do—you’ll never walk away.

But then it happens.

A guy from a newer crew. One you’ve never seen before.

Tall. Cocky. Rotten grin. Leaning against his beat-up Supra like he’s waiting to be punched.

“You’re the one with the Evo, right?” he asks, eyes raking you head to toe.

You nod, wary.

He whistles. “Shame a girl with a body like yours wastes her nights on racing. I could think of better uses for those thighs.”

You go still.

He smirks. “Bet they’d look real nice wrapped around—”

CRACK.

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Because Riki’s fist crashes straight into his jaw.

The guy stumbles back, blood dripping from his mouth, wide-eyed.

Riki doesn’t stop.

Grabs him by the collar. Slams him against his car. “Say that shit again. I dare you.”

“Riki—!” you try to pull him back, but he’s burning.

Unhinged.

The guy groans something inaudible, and Riki shoves him harder. “You think you can look at her like that? Talk to her like she’s just—what? A body?”

He throws another punch. Harder.

You finally yank his arm, shouting, “That’s enough!”

He freezes.

Breathing hard.

His knuckles are split.

The guy’s collapsed on the ground.

And everyone’s watching.

Later, after his crew take the guy and the lot starts to clear, Riki disappears. No one knows where he went.

But you find him.

In the garage. In the shadows. Hands on the edge of his car, head down, bleeding slightly.

“…You didn’t have to do that,” you whisper.

He doesn’t turn. “I did.”

Silence.

Your voice is quiet. “Why?”

He finally looks at you.

And for the first time tonight—he looks scared.

“…Because I care,” he says. “And it pisses me off. Every time someone looks at you like that. Every time you act like none of this means anything.”

Your heart stutters.

He steps closer. “It means everything to me.”

You shake your head. “No. No, Riki, we’re not—this isn’t who we are. We race. We fuck around. We ruin each other, we don’t—”

“Love?”

Silence.

He’s too close now.

His eyes flicker to your mouth.

And your chest aches because you’ve imagined it.

Not just the kissing.

Not just the fights.

But the mornings.

His hair messy on your pillow. His voice rough with sleep. Holding your hand when no one’s watching. Waking up next to him, sunlight instead of streetlights.

You didn’t want to imagine it.

But you did.

Every fucking night.

And now you’re tired.

Of pretending. Of running. Of lying.

You grab his hoodie. Push him against the wall.

“…Tell me you don’t want me,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He stared at you.

“Tell me.”

Silence.

Tell me you don’t want to kiss me again.

Tell me you haven’t thought about mornings, about quiet breakfasts, about holding me when I’m not gripping a steering wheel with blood under my nails.

Tell me this is just lust.

Just adrenaline.

Just the danger.

But he doesn’t say a word.

You shove him.

“Fucking say it!”

His hands shoot out, gripping your arms like you’ll vanish. “I can’t!”

Your throat tightens.

You knew it.

You knew it, but hearing it makes your legs weak.

“I can’t,” he says again, softer now. “I think about you all the time. When I race. When I sleep. When I’m losing. When I win. I’ve imagined you in my passenger seat for life, not just a lap.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes. You blink them away.

He steps forward again.

“You keep saying we’re just chaos, but it doesn’t feel like that to me anymore.”

You look at him.

At the cut on his lip, the grease on his shirt, the fury in his jaw—and the quiet love in his eyes.

And finally, finally—

You kiss him.

Not fast. Not rough. Not like the others.

This time, it’s soft. Slow. Real.

He pulls you in, forehead resting on yours after, breath shaky.

“Stay,” he whispers. “Just for tonight.”

You nod.

But even as you lie next to him in the quiet dark of the garage’s back room, curled under a worn blanket, you both know—

This wasn’t just for tonight anymore.

It’s quiet in his room.

Just the soft thrum of rain outside, and the slow, uneven rhythm of his breath behind you.

You’re in one of his old shirts. Still smells like engine oil and sandalwood.

He’s curled against your back, arm around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You should go. You always do.

After the high. After the kiss. After pretending this is just physical.

But tonight… you don’t move.

You stay.

And it terrifies you.

He speaks first.

Voice cracked. Barely audible.

“…What are we doing?”

You stare at the wall. “I don’t know.”

“This doesn’t feel like hate anymore.”

You close your eyes. “I know.”

He shifts, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

You don’t either.

Because this isn’t part of the game. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to care.

The next night is chaos.

You’re both racing. Different heats. Same lot.

You’re watching his final round when it happens—he goes too fast.

Too sharp on the turn.

He overcorrects—

And slams into the barrier.

Your heart stops.

The crowd screams.

You run.

You don’t even feel the pavement under your feet.

Don’t feel the way your voice shreds as you shout his name.

You just see the smoke—

And his crumpled car.

You pull the door open with shaking hands.

He’s alive. Bleeding. Dazed. A stupid smile on his face at the sight of you.

You grab his face. “Are you fucking insane?! You could’ve died—”

“I know.”

“You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t,” he snaps. “Because every time I think, it’s you. It’s you, and it hurts, and I don’t know how to shut it off!”

You go still.

His hands shake when he tries to hold yours.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

You blink. “What?”

“This mess,” he breathes. “This half-thing. Lust and anger and pretending we don’t give a shit. I’m tired.”

You swallow hard.

He’s trembling. Eyes glossy.

“I want more,” he says. “I want you. Not your body. Not your smart mouth. You.”

Your voice is hoarse. “Then say it.”

“I love you.”

Silence.

Racing doesn’t feel like freedom anymore.

But this?

This might.

You nod, tears stinging your eyes. “Then stop running.”

“I will,” he whispers. “If you stay.”

Later that night, in his bed, after he took care of his luckily fairly small injuries, he kisses you like he’s never kissed anyone before. No noise. No hurry. Just slow, breathless press of lips like you might fall apart if he stops.

He holds your hand while you lie there chest-to-chest.

And for once, there’s no fight left in either of you.

Just peace.

You haven’t been to the lot in weeks.

Your car’s under a cover now. Parked in your garage like it’s never known speed.

And Riki—

Riki still races.

You hear it in the way he calls you at 3AM, voice scratchy and breathless, asking if you’re awake.

You always are.

But tonight, you ignore the call.

Because every time you pick up, he sounds farther away.

He shows up at your door the next morning.

Smelling like gasoline and guilt.

Eyes tired.

Hands in his jacket pockets, like he’s trying not to reach for you.

“You weren’t there,” he says softly.

You cross your arms. “You said you were done.”

“I never said that.”

“You did,” you whisper. “In your own way.”

Silence.

He steps closer. “I’m trying.”

“No, you’re not.”

You hate how your voice breaks.

“I gave it up,” you say. “For this. For us. And you… you still choose the street every time.

“It’s all I’ve known.”

“I know that. But I’m not gonna wait around hoping you come back in one piece. Not anymore.”

He flinches. Looks away.

You step back, heart hammering. “Tell me something, Riki. When you’re racing—do you ever think about what you’d leave behind if you crashed again?”

He doesn’t answer.

You nod. “That’s what I thought.”

You close the door.

And it kills you.

Because he looked like he wanted to say everything.

He doesn’t race that night.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

You find him at the garage on Friday.

Covered in grease. Sitting on the hood of your car.

Not his.

Yours.

“I tuned it,” he says, eyes on the floor. “New plugs. Brakes. Fluids. You haven’t driven her in weeks.”

You don’t speak.

He glances up. “I missed you.”

“Bullshit,” you say. But softer than before.

��I miss us,” he corrects. “Not the way we were. The way we could be.”

You look at him—

Really look.

There’s oil on his cheek. A healing bruise on his jaw. The black hoodie you always steal from him in the mornings.

And in his eyes—

Regret.

Something warm.

You step forward. “You’re scared.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah,” you admit.

“But I’d rather be scared with you,” he says, “than safe without you.”

Your breath hitches.

Then he reaches out—

Not to kiss you.

But to hand you the keys.

“You drive,” he says. “Anywhere. I’ll follow.”

You stare at him.

And for the first time,

There’s no streetlight.

No finish line.

No screaming crowd.

Just him.

You smile.

“Buckle up, asshole.”

He laughs, eyes lighting up. “Yes, ma’am.”

And as the engine purrs and the sun starts rising,

You know one thing for sure—

This time, you’re racing forward. Together.

[iboughtnjz]

HYBE-boy

Pairing: Niki x Solo-idol!Fem!Reader

(5k) Definitely the shittiest thing I’ve written but I needed to get it out of my head. I have a habit of starting fics off strong but loosing interest near the end. Gotta fix that. Anyways, enjoy! Also I just copy paste my tags and I’m way too lazy to change it like tags are so annoying and my spelling errors every time are insane.

Summary: you debuted as a solo idol in HYBE not long ago, quickly rising to fame. And soon, you’d started a variety show where many other idols joined as guests. On one episode, a few members of ENHYPEN join you, including Niki. And that, you suppose, is when everything started.

There were rumours being whispered in the halls of the HYBE building- rumours, these days, amongst all the idol groups that had debuted, became common. The staff assumed it was a way of entertainment. With everyone’s schedules being so busy, not being able to interact between groups and time being lost in either practice or sleep, gossip inevitably became the most interesting thing that idols could giggle about. 

It was like high school, really.

You debuted as a solo-artist in HYBE recently. It was a rare event, almost unheard of. But HYBE had been experimenting lately, with their international groups, various concepts for each group and even starting variety shows on Youtube. And when the other idols heard of your debut, a lot of them poured in support. The support was never direct though, as followed by the many rules and regulations placed by the company and staff. The support came through silent nods while passing each other in the hallways, during interviews when asked about the hot new singer and with the occasional like on an Instagram post.

You were young, really, but you weren’t the youngest debut in history or something. There were a lot more idols more capable than you, with a support system from their group member’s that you didn’t have access to. You were alone as a solo-artist and you had only your management and manager to lean on- always following you like a shadow, pointing cameras at you because they needed content to pump out.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a break.

A few months into your debut, maybe close to a year, your management pitched an idea for a variety show on Youtube. It wasn’t very complicated- it was simple, cute and allowed you to interact with more people personally and that was something you’d been craving for a while. Every week, an idol or two would be invited as a guest. You would interview them for sometime before diving into the main event- they would pick out your outfit for whatever your next big event would be. And you had to wear it, without fail. And the clothes would come from all the brands that you’d signed brand deals with- it was safe to say that, by then, you'd become quite famous and desired by the industry.

Sometimes, the outfits were perfect, fitting to your tastes and the event. Other times, they were deliberately picked out to be embarrassing- and it wasn’t like these idols meant harm, it was all just fun and games. Some people did it out of love, showing the little friendship you shared and others did it just to get a laugh out of it.

But where had these rumours come from, the ones about Y/N that were being spread for the first time since her debut? She’d heard a bunch of rumours before, that some idol was mad at another idol from another group or that someone had stolen something that wasn’t there. But these were… petty rumours, really. Something people could laugh about because they weren’t even true most of the time.

But this rumor? If it reached the ears of tabloids and netizens? It could lead to scandals and idols being cancelled on the internet. And that wasn’t doing anyone’s career good. 

Every idol has had a dating rumour about them at least once. It was something their management would prepare for- disaster control of some sorts. And your manager had once joked about how it was surprising you’d never gotten a dating scandal yet, already so far into your debut.  It was the fact that you were always so shy and meek, so polite with everyone you met, always within boundaries and keeping your eyes to yourself.

Your manager’s joke would come back to bite everyone in the ass.

It started when ENHYPEN’s Niki, Jay and Sunghoon came onto your variety show. 

You’d filmed it on a rainy Thursday afternoon, squeezed between rehearsals and a sponsorship shoot. The energy had been light. Familiar. You’d run into ENHYPEN plenty of times before- award shows, shared green rooms, occasional company dinners- and though you weren’t close, there was a mutual comfort. Enough for laughs. Enough for easy conversation.

You talked about their recent comeback, their tour schedule, and the way the internet never seemed to stop talking about them. Standard questions, standard reactions. You joked about age, how Jay and Sunghoon were basically old men next to you and Niki. You asked about movies, and the answers were chaotic in the way that only idols with too little sleep and too much media training could be.

And then came the main event: the outfit.

Jay and Sunghoon had been on a mission to ruin you- stylistically, at least. Loud prints, absurd layering, glitter where glitter didn’t belong. All in good fun. The kind of bit that played well on camera and made the editors' jobs easier.

But Niki? He surprised everyone.

“No, no,” Niki said, voice firm but light as Jay waved around the feather blazer and Sunghoon insisted on pairing it with glitter boots. “She has a fansigning. Don’t you think she should feel confident?”

Jay blinked at him. “Since when do you care about confidence? Didn’t you make Jungwon wear socks with sandals once?”

“That was different,” Niki replied. “She’s alone. No group to back her up. She needs to own the room.”

The same Niki known for his pranks and deadpan sarcasm stood there calmly, adjusting hangers and suggesting neutral tones, subtle accessories, respectful silhouettes. It was odd. Not uncomfortable- just… unexpected. The usual culprit of chaos, the youngest prankster, was suddenly... sweet? Respectful? Calm?

No one laughed. Because no one quite knew what to make of it.

The management noticed first. Not just yours, others as well. The ones who stood behind the cameras and barely blinked, the ones who didn’t say much but noticed everything. And they didn’t miss the way Niki had looked at you- not flirtatiously, not overtly. Just… differently, focused, controlled; his tone low and even, his words deliberate.

And then, the whispering began.

It wasn’t malicious, at first. Just hallway noise- the kind that filled the space between rehearsals and late-night meal breaks. Idle speculation that came out of boredom more than belief. But it was enough to shift something. A few too many glances exchanged backstage. A few too many questions buried inside jokes.

The rumour was that maybe the youngest of ENHYPEN had taken a liking to you. That maybe something had sparked. That maybe, quietly, the two of you had started… something.

You hadn’t.

You hadn’t even seen him since the filming ended. There had been no texts, no run-ins. Just silence, like every other guest once the cameras stopped rolling.

But it didn’t matter.

The story had already formed. Not outside, not online- yet. But within, inside the walls of the building, passed between stylists and choreographers, echoed in shared elevators and passed notes. It was a story being crafted where there wasn’t one to begin with.

And if it ever left the building? If someone from the inside decided to push it forward?

It wouldn’t just be a rumor anymore. It would be damage control. For you. For him. For everyone in between.

But for now, it was still just noise. High school gossip in expensive clothing. Quiet enough to ignore. Loud enough to linger.

Nothing really changed.

No one treated you differently. No warnings from management. No tense meetings. No cryptic text from your label. The world kept spinning. You went to work. Filmed another pilot. Ate cafeteria tteokbokki with your team and nodded along in meetings where no one really listened. The rumour, whatever it was, stayed tucked behind other, louder things.

You almost forgot about it.

Almost.

Until you ran into Yuna from ITZY in the hallway one evening, both of you ducking out of practice rooms for water, bowing politely at each other. You’d known her a while- similar schedules, adjacent debut timelines. She was a kid, a familiar, older face.

“Hey Y/N,” she said lightly. “Didn’t know you and Niki were close.”

You blinked. “We’re not.”

“Oh.” She blinked back, all wide eyes and casual curiosity. “Oh, it’s just people were saying... never mind.”

She waved it off, already turning toward the self-checkout, but the question stayed with you like static. You barely remembered what you'd bought. You just kept replaying that moment over and over. Didn’t know you and Niki were close. Like it was a fact. Like you were the last person to hear it.

It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

But then came the elevator.

It was a rainy Monday, and you were late. Wet hair, damp hoodie, earbuds half-falling out as you rushed through the HYBE lobby. You hit the elevator button without thinking, checking your phone, trying to remember if you’d missed any rehearsals.

The doors opened.

Niki was already inside. His hair was damp, likely from practice, skin dewy and flushed. He wore a zip-up jacket with the ENHYPEN logo barely visible on the sleeve and headphones dangling around his neck. He blinked at you once, like even he hadn’t expected this timing. Then he nodded, quiet, and stepped in.

The elevator doors sealed shut.

Silence.

You were both good at this. Being quiet. Being still. The kind of stillness that idols learned to perfect in packed rooms, in interviews where every word was potential headline bait. You focused on the glowing numbers overhead. B3. B2. B1.

He pulled out one earbud. “You’ve been busy.”

You shrugged. “Kind of. You too?”

“Yeah.”

More silence. More air between you than the square footage allowed.

Then, he looked over.

“Did someone say something to you?”

You turned, slowly. “What?”

“About me,” he said. “Or... about us.”

Your stomach dropped, just slightly. “Someone mentioned it.”

He nodded like he already knew. “Yuna?”

You exhaled. “Yeah.”

Another beat. The elevator dinged. Floor 6.

Neither of you moved.

Niki leaned in slightly, hands in his pockets. “It’s weird,” he said, voice low. “People talk like they know things. Like eye contact means something.”

You didn’t respond. Because what could you say?

And then, as the doors opened again, he added, “For the record, I haven’t seen you since that episode because of my schedule. Not because of the rumour.”

You didn’t reply, and he didn’t wait for one. He stepped out and the doors started to close. He stared at you, the way your expression shifted at his words- that maybe you weren’t overthinking this. And you stared back, the way his hair fell over his face, the way his lips stretched into something mischievous, that sparkle in his eyes.

But just before the elevator shut completely, he chuckled again. “And maybe I did want you to notice.”

A week had passed. Rehearsals, fansigns, photoshoots- the usual blur of idol life. Everything was routine. But somewhere in between, your mind kept returning to that brief elevator conversation. The way he looked at you, the way his words hung in the air. You tried to push it aside, but it lingered, like an unfinished song.

Today, you were running late again. A tight schedule, another packed day. As you hurried through the halls of HYBE, eyes on the clock, you found yourself almost at the elevator before you realized- Niki was already inside.

The doors were halfway shut when you spotted him. You paused for just a second.

He looked... different. Not in a big way, but enough to make you notice. His usual headphones were absent, and his hoodie was replaced by a simple black jacket. No flashy logos or branding, just the unbothered, effortless cool he seemed to exude.

He looked up when he heard your footsteps. The second your eyes met, something shifted. It was subtle, but it was there- a shift in the air between you, something unspoken, but not unfamiliar.

You stepped forward, the doors now fully open.

"Running late?" Niki asked, his voice casual, but with a certain warmth you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded. "Yeah, it’s been a long day."

He gave a small, understanding smile. "Yeah, same. Can’t catch a break."

For a moment, there was that comfortable, almost too familiar silence. You stood beside him, both of you staring ahead as the elevator descended. The usual routine, except this time... it felt different.

Then, without warning, Niki glanced over. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I meant what I said the other day. About noticing you.”

Your heart skipped just a little. He said it so nonchalantly, but it was loaded with a kind of intent that made your breath catch in your throat.

You didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t. Instead, you met his gaze again, searching for something.

Another moment of silence.

He didn’t seem to mind it, though. Instead, his lips curved slightly, and he leaned back against the elevator wall, giving you a relaxed, almost teasing look.

"You seem like you’re always in a hurry," he said after a beat, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Maybe we should slow down sometime. Talk outside of elevators."

The suggestion was casual, light, but there was an undeniable weight to it.

The elevator doors dinged open to the next floor, but neither of you moved.

Niki took a small step back, clearly ready to leave, but before he could turn, he shot you one last look- something warm, something more than just a glance.

"Think about it," he said, voice a little lower now, a little more sincere.

And then, with a nod, he was gone- his footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving you standing there, the air between you still heavy with something unspoken.

You didn’t expect to see him again so soon.

It was another hectic afternoon, and you were grabbing a quick snack before heading to your next rehearsal. As you walked through the cafeteria, scanning the crowded tables for an empty spot, you saw him. Niki, sitting alone, his usual relaxed air about him. He was playing with his phone, earbuds in, but the second he caught sight of you, his eyes lit up, and he lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it- an eagerness you hadn’t expected. “You came.”

You hesitated for just a moment. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about his suggestion, but something about being here, actually sitting across from him, made it all feel more real. You nodded, making your way over to his table.

You sat down slowly, feeling the weight of the moment, like it was one of those rare, unspoken decisions in life that changed things, even if you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” Niki said, grinning. "But I’m glad you did."

You chuckled softly, adjusting your drink in front of you. “I wasn’t sure myself. But you seemed... serious.”

“I am.” His smile softened, and for a moment, he looked more... himself. The mask of idol life was gone, replaced by the guy who liked to play games, listen to music, and maybe- just maybe- wanted to see you more than as just a colleague.

You both took a few moments to settle into a quiet, but comfortable rhythm. The usual banter started up, but it was different this time- less forced. There was a strange kind of honesty in his words that made you wonder if he was starting to let his guard down, too.

“So,” Niki said, breaking the silence between bites of his food, “what’s the real reason you agreed to come sit with me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I need a reason?”

He shrugged, looking like he was trying to figure you out. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. You’re not exactly the type to go for small talk.”

You set your cup down, choosing your words carefully. “Maybe I’m just tired of running into you in elevators.”

His eyes twinkled at that. “So you came here to escape the elevators?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile. “Or maybe just to see if you’re as good at talking outside of them.”

His expression shifted for a moment, something unreadable crossing his face. Then, he chuckled softly. “I think you’ll find I’m better in person.”

You didn’t know why, but the way he said it felt... different. As if he wasn’t just making a joke, but giving you a glimpse of something beneath the surface.

Before you could reply, the sound of footsteps approached the table. Neither of you looked up immediately, but you both knew who it was. Someone from the team- probably coming to pull you back into the chaos of schedules and rehearsals.

But as they came closer, Niki glanced at you with a small grin, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Next time," he said, standing up as the person reached the table, “we can skip the cafeteria. Just you and me. Somewhere quieter.”

You watched him walk away, his words echoing in your head. You hadn’t expected this meeting to be anything more than casual, but now... you weren’t so sure.

A lot of people on the internet loved speculating about the idol life and you liked reading it as entertainment. There were netizens that were convinced that no way some of the most attractive people in the country are single, obviously they’re all dating, we just don’t know it. You laughed at it because, well… you didn’t exactly know the answer to it. And perhaps it was due to your introversion. 

You didn’t know if some of your friends were dating. And even if they were, it was definitely in secret because if the company found out, they were pretty much dead meat. And you yourself had never really experienced it. No one had ever approached you for a date or for any romantic interest.

Well, that is, not until Niki came along.

Nishimura Riki, he told you to call him that- Riki. Because Niki felt too fake, felt too impersonal. Behind closed doors, even his members called him Riki. 

“Is Niki meant to be a persona?” You’d asked him.

“What do you mean?” He asked with puzzled eyes. 

“Niki as in… the fake ass emo kid. And then there’s Riki with all the embarrassing pictures from pre-debut,” you couldn't help but laugh.

Niki rolled his eyes, hanging head low as he tutted. Then he looked at you, kicking your feet from under the table. “I forget how much you know about me… being a host for your own variety show and all.”

“I saw the interview with DOPE CLUB, by the way,” you continued laughing but Niki was annoyed that he couldn’t see your mouth behind the mask you wore. It was just your eyes he had access to. “The strawberry underwear…” you choked on your laughter.

Niki grinned but you probably couldn’t see. He was wearing a mask too. But the glint in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “Keeping tabs on me already, huh?”

And you looked to your side, gaze shying away from him.

This was the third time the pair of you met outside of the HYBE building, disguising yourselves in layers of clothes just to sit in a cafe somewhere and talk. And for the most part, you liked it- you liked the pace, the slowness and steadiness of it all. You liked that both of you knew exactly where this was going but chose to take it a day at a time, anyway. He said it was important for him to know you, and that it was important that you got to know him. 

And you did- for the most part, you did. You learnt about his hopes, his dreams, his worries and everything in between. And in his stories, you learnt more about the rest of his members. But a part of you hoped for more- it was a naive, childish wish. You wanted to be able to see his face, his expressions, his teeth when he smiled or the weight in his brows. But you could only see his eyes which were sometimes covered by his hat or his bangs. It was almost frustrating, that during work, all you could offer each other was a nod of acknowledgement and a glint of yearning and when you were alone, you could barely see him.

But you would never admit that to him. You were too scared, too shy and too wary of the predicament of it all.

Niki, on the other hand, was basking in the light of your company. And perhaps people around him noticed it- well, his members did, at least. They saw the way he’d sneak off to restaurants without telling them (which as unusual because he was always pestering one of them to buy him food), and they saw the way he was on his phone more often than usual, and the saw the way his eyes lit up when Sunoo would play one of your songs in the car.

It was obvious, too obvious. And it wasn’t that his Hyungs were against love… it was just that it was too risky.

“You’ve gotta be careful, Riki,” Jay said to him one night over dinner while everyones chopsticks moved awkwardly, hovering over the topic they all wanted to talk about.

“I am being careful,” he grumbled, hanging his head low and rolling his eyes.

“Do you realise what will happen if you get caught?” Jungwon said, voice almost threatening- he was the leader, afterall. It was his job to keep his members in check.

“This is dangerous. You’re so young… young love can be reckless,” Sunghoon chimed in as though he had all the experience on earth about love.

“Are you sure this is worth it?” Jake continued, pointing his chopsticks at him.

“Guys,” Heeseung sighed, clapping his hand over Niki’s back. “Cut him some slack. If you think about it, he’s really lucky he’s even found someone to feel this way over.”

Niki was surprised by the way his oldest Hyung was defending him- but he didn’t react. He simply fell quiet.

“It’s a bit harsh to say love isn’t worth it,” Sunoo said to Jake. “You’re gonna hurt his feelings.”

“It’s better than getting in trouble,” Jake defended.

And as his Hyungs found their way into an argument, Niki couldn’t help the anger and annoyance that bubbled in him. He knew they were just looking out for him and they knew they were only saying all this because they cared about him. And to be honest, if another member was in the same situation as him, Niki would probably tell them to be careful as well. But most of his Hyungs didn’t care much about feelings- it was always about the rules and logic and the best thing to do. 

It seemed criminal to Niki, to look at you like you were a decision to be made over logic

He simply wanted to follow his heart.

“But I really like her,” he whispered and his voice was almost inaudible, easily drowning in the others’ voices. 

But they all heard him. And the table ceased into silence.

It started with a joke.

A joke about how the two of you were basically spies- cloaked and masked, passing coded messages, scheduling rendezvous in tucked-away cafés and back entrances. You’d laughed about it, brushing the idea off like it wasn’t starting to wear on you. The secrecy was necessary, but exhausting. And somehow, the more time you spent with Niki, the more suffocating the masks felt.

So when he said, half-joking, “Let’s get a hotel room next time. Somewhere we can actually breathe,” you’d rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead- but you didn’t say no.

And that’s how you ended up here, hours later, in a dimly lit hotel room in the quiet part of town- no cameras, no curious eyes, no managers on call. Just you, Niki, and the slow humming silence between you.

You stood by the window first, arms crossed loosely over your chest as the city glowed outside. From this far up, it all looked gentle- like the world had quieted just for the two of you.

Behind you, he was taking off his hoodie, shaking out his hair.

You turned when you heard the soft thud of fabric hitting the floor, and for the first time, you saw him- really saw him. No cap tugged low, no mask, no layers of fabric hiding the sharp lines of his jaw or the soft curve of his mouth.

It was Niki. Just Riki.

And he was beautiful in a way that felt almost fragile in the quiet.

He blinked at you, unsure for a second, like maybe he was waiting for your reaction. You swallowed.

“Seeing you like this feels so different,” you said, voice almost a whisper.

He laughed, low and quiet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do I look disappointing?”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “You look… like you.”

A beat. Then he looked up at you- really looked- and for a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just stared, like this was a kind of discovery. Like you’d uncovered something sacred.

“Your turn,” he said gently.

You hesitated, then peeled off your cap and tugged the mask down from your face. You suddenly felt bare, like being seen would split you open.

But Niki stepped closer.

He didn’t say anything dramatic or poetic. He just said, softly, “Hi.”

And you smiled. “Hi.”

You didn’t remember who leaned in first- maybe it was him, maybe it was you- but soon your foreheads were pressed together, breath mingling between you. There was no urgency, no rush. Just warmth.

His hand found yours.

“You make me nervous,” he murmured.

You looked up at him. “Why?”

He shrugged, thumb brushing your knuckles. “Because… this feels real. And I’m not used to real things lasting.”

You opened your mouth to respond but couldn’t find the right words. So instead, you stepped forward and hugged him.

He held you back like he’d been waiting to do it forever.

It was the kind of embrace that said everything your mouths were too shy to admit. The kind of closeness that made time stall. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest. 

And then he pulled back just enough to look at you again- and he kissed you.

It was soft at first, really gentle. A question more than a declaration. But when you didn’t pull away, his fingers found the side of your face, and he kissed you again- deeper this time.

It wasn’t just physical. It felt like trust.

Your hands moved on their own- sliding up to his shoulders, burying into the fabric of his shirt. He smiled against your mouth and leaned into you like gravity was tugging him forward.

And then you both started laughing. Quiet, breathless laughter against each other’s mouths.

“This is crazy,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“But I don’t want to stop.”

He looked at you like you’d given him permission to breathe.

“Neither do I.”

“We kissed,” Niki shut the door behind him faster than he’d pushed Jay into his room.

“What?” Jay blinked, struggling to comprehend.

“We kissed- like, solid, made out,” Niki breathed and carded his hands through his hair. Suddenly he couldn’t look at his Hyung anymore, a bit embarrassed. His cheeks turned red.

“You kissed?” Jay blinked again, mouth hanging agape. His thin lips curled into surprise, then disbelief, followed by confusion. “What?”

“We booked out a hotel room-”

“You what?”

Niki immediately regretted the way he phrased it, immediately letting his hands fly in front of him in defense. “No, no, it’s not like that-”

“Do you have absolutely any idea how inappropriate this is Nishimura Riki?” Jay started- and his scolding didn’t stop. He pointed his finger at Niki in a warning- he was actually scary this time. “Do you have any idea what will happen if the management finds out? Fuck that, when your parents find out this siw ho you’ve become, booking out hotel rooms for girls, they’re gonna whoop your ass-”

“It’s not like that!” Niki yelled, almost whined. “I’m not taking advantage of her here- I’m being serious, Hyung. I really like this girl.”

At that, Jay closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a ragged breath. “What’s your plan, Niki?”

Niki’s eyes lit up, hope building in his chest. Because, even if it was one Hyung, it meant there was some sort of support he was receiving right? And perhaps Jay could convince the rest of the members to help him out- take pity on him, the youngest, to maybe get the girl and keep her in secret.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m gonna do everything in my power to make this work.”

“Alright,” Jay sighed again.

Just then, Jake entered the room, unbeknownst to the conversation happening. He was holding a sweater in his hand, one that belonged to Niki. “You left this in my room- oh,” he looked between the two, wide eyed and surprised. “Am I disturbing something?”

Niki shook his head violently. “No-”

“It’s about Y/N, don’t worry,” Jay rolled his eyes. 

Niki groaned.

Jake’s eyes widened further. “What now?”

“They kissed,” Jay said.

“Hyung-”

“And he’s whipped.”

Jake chuckled. “You’re sure about this?” He asked, gaze fixed on Niki. Jake Hyung was usually the funny one, always light hearted but he had his moments where he took charge- made the decisions, weighed the pros and cons.

“Yes,” Niki raised his chin firmly.

“Alright.”

“Guess what?” Niki came running to you in excitement, finally catching sight of you near the cafe you agreed to visit. 

You google at his enthusiasm. “What?”

“I told my members.”

You froze, staring at the boy in front of you- the boy who was towering over you, bending his neck to hear you better, a smile spread behind his mask. “What?”

“I told them,” he said. “About us.”

You blinked. “What… what did they say?”

“A lot,” Niki nodded. “All their MBTI is type T except for Sunoo Hyung. They were all scared and concerned-”

“Very valid.”

“But I want you, Y/N,” he sighed, almost like it was prayer. “I want this- I think… I think this- you and I- it means something bigger.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[iboughtnjz]

your laces are untied

PAIRING… student! Ni-ki x student! reader | GENRE… fluff, romance, cutesy| TROPE… bf x gf | WC… 1.0k

The bell rang, echoing down the school hall like a starter pistol. Lunch.

You closed your locker and turned around, only to find Niki standing there, holding a juice box and a smile.

“Strawberry or mango?” he asked.

You reached for the mango, but he pulled it back slightly, teasing. “Mango, huh? Basic.”

“You bought it.”

He grinned and handed it over. “Only because I knew you’d pick it.”

You both walked out toward the courtyard, where the benches were slightly warm under the sun and everyone had scattered into their friend groups. The usual. You and Niki always sat near the tree, just far enough to avoid the noise, but close enough to hear it if something entertaining happened. Like Jungwon’s dramatic reenactments of teacher meltdowns.

Niki stretched out, legs extended like a cat, and poked your shoulder with his juice straw.

“Wanna skip sixth period?”

You squinted at him. “We have math.”

“Exactly,” he said, tossing his head back. “Let’s go get ice cream instead. It’s hot.”

You shook your head, laughing. “You literally failed the last test.”

“Only because I was thinking about you the whole time.”

You smacked his arm with your notebook, but he caught your hand and held it. Just like that. No dramatic music. No slow motion. Just fingers in fingers like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Your heart did the thing it always did around him. It fluttered and dropped at the same time. He was ridiculous, annoying, and sometimes too loud in the hallways—but also the only person who remembered what snacks you liked and could tell how your day went just by looking at your face.

“You looked tired this morning,” he said, still not letting go of your hand. “Stayed up late?”

You nodded. “I had that stupid bio project.”

“I told you I’d help.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Science is a scam.’”

“It is,” he said, dead serious.

You rolled your eyes. “Still. I got it done.”

He leaned his head on your shoulder. “You’re smart. It’s annoying.”

“You’re smart too,” you said, even though he probably wouldn’t believe you. But he was. Maybe not in the academic way, but he noticed people. He knew when your mood dipped even before you did. He remembered anniversaries like the day you first became friends, or the day you confessed with shaking hands behind the school gym.

“You wanna hang out after school?” he asked suddenly. “I found this arcade near the station. Thought it looked fun.”

You smiled. “Only if I get to beat you at Dance Dance Revolution again.”

He made a fake gasp. “That never happened.”

“It literally did. You tripped over your own shoelace.”

He looked down at his sneakers, then at yours. “Funny. Yours are untied right now.”

You blinked. “Wait, wha—”

Before you could react, he bent down and actually started tying your shoelace. You looked around, mortified. “Niki!”

“What?” he said, all innocent. “It was a safety hazard.”

Your face flushed as people walked by, barely noticing, but still.

He tied it slowly, deliberately, and when he stood up, he looked a little too proud of himself.

“There,” he said. “Boyfriend duties complete.”

You stared at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Damn right I am.”

You both sat in silence for a moment. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward at all. Just easy. Soft.

A breeze blew past, and your hair tickled your face. Niki gently tucked a strand behind your ear without saying anything. Like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“You always do that,” you mumbled.

“Do what?”

“Touch my hair like it’s a normal thing.”

He leaned in a little. “It is a normal thing.”

You looked down at your shoes. Still tied.

He nudged your arm. “Hey.”

You looked up.

“I like you. Like... all the time,” he said. “Just so you know. Even when you're mad at me. Even when I suck at math. Even when your shoelaces are a mess.”

Your face broke into a smile you couldn’t stop.

“I like you too. Even when you drink all my milk carton without asking.”

“That was one time!”

“Twice.”

“Okay, maybe twice.”

He squeezed your hand.

The bell rang again.

“Math?” you asked.

“Ice cream,” he replied.

You both stood up at the same time, walking away from the building with no real destination, just the warmth of the sun, mango juice, and your hand in his.

And really, that was more than enough.

[iboughtnjz]

ㅤㅤ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ random enha texts

[but it's actually just things I have said]

tw :: crude humor, silly enha, bsf enha or bf enha (whatever u want <3)

note :: this is honestly just me being unhinged in my friends dms (they love me I swear) ALSO FIRST SMAU?? Hope this is entertaining for at least 1 person !

hyung line || maknae line

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© heeikeuu | likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[iboughtnjz]

can i request a sunoo fic where its basically just sunoo as himself—sweet, caring, nice, etc—but he seems to hate you. Like his face/mood visibly sours when you see him and you want to find out why:0

What's Your Problem? ✧.* K.SN

pairing: 'mean'!sunoo x confused!reader (feat. friends!ot6)

wc: 1.8k

content: college au (hope that's okay lol), misunderstanding, emotionally constipated sunoo, ot6 chaos

a/n: this was funny to write ngl, thanks for the req anon

taglist: @adriftingsnowflake @norihoyeon

-

The lecture hall was buzzing with pre-class chatter when you slid into your usual seat next to Sunoo in Psychology 101. He was already there, looking adorable in his cream-colored hoodie, taking neat notes from the textbook.

"Morning, Sunoo!" you said brightly, setting down your iced coffee. "I brought you your usual—vanilla latte with oat milk."

He glanced up, and for a split second, his face lit up with that beautiful smile you'd fallen for. But then it was like he remembered something, and his expression completely soured—his smile dropping, his brow furrowing, his whole face twisting like you'd just ruined his entire day.

"Thanks," he said curtly, not quite meeting your eyes as he took the coffee. "You didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to—"

"Y/N." His voice was strained, almost pained. "Can we just... not? Today?"

The words hit you like a slap. Around you, other students were laughing and chatting, but you felt frozen in place.

"I... okay," you whispered, pulling out your own notebook with shaking hands.

For the entire fifty-minute lecture, Sunoo didn't look at you once. When class ended, he packed up his things quickly and left without a word, leaving you sitting there with a half-finished coffee and a chest full of hurt.

That's how you ended up twenty minutes later, flopping dramatically onto Jake's bed in their shared dorm room.

"I'm telling you, he definitely hates me," you groaned.

"And I'm telling you, you're being ridiculous," Jake replied, not even looking up from his gaming setup. "Sunoo doesn't hate anyone. The guy cried watching a commercial about abandoned puppies last week."

"Then explain why he looked like he wanted to throw his coffee at me this morning when I said good morning to him!"

"Maybe he's not a morning person?" Heeseung offered from his desk, spinning around in his chair. "I know I want to throw things at people before 10 AM."

You sat up, fixing him with a look. "Heeseung, I've seen him at 7 AM dance practice looking like literal sunshine. That's not it."

The door burst open and Jungwon walked in, followed by Ni-ki who was animatedly explaining something with wild hand gestures.

"—and then the professor said my essay was 'creative' but I'm pretty sure she meant it as an insult," Ni-ki was saying before he noticed you. "Oh hey, Y/N! Still trying to figure out why Sunoo-hyung acts like you have cooties?"

"I do NOT have cooties!" you protested.

"That's exactly what someone with cooties would say," Jay commented, appearing in the doorway with his arms full of snacks.

"You guys are the worst," you muttered, but accepted the bag of chips he tossed your way.

Jungwon settled cross-legged on the floor. "Okay, let's think about this logically. When did he start acting weird around you?"

You thought back. "Beginning of the semester? We were all hanging out at that party at the Sigma house, and everything was fine. We were actually talking a lot that night—about movies and music and stuff. Then the next day in our shared psych class, he completely ignored me."

"Ooh, plot twist," Ni-ki said, wiggling his eyebrows. "What happened at the party?"

"Nothing! We just talked!" You paused, trying to remember. "Although... he did walk me back to my dorm. And we maybe almost—"

"ALMOST WHAT?" Jake finally turned around from his game, suddenly very interested.

"It was nothing! We were just standing outside my building and we were really close and I thought maybe we were going to kiss but then his phone rang and he got all weird and left."

The room erupted in chaos.

"OH MY GOD," Heeseung yelled.

"HE'S BEEN PINING THIS WHOLE TIME," Jay cackled.

"This is better than my Netflix shows," Ni-ki said gleefully.

"GUYS," Jungwon shouted over the noise. "We need to investigate. Jake, you're his roommate—has he said anything?"

Jake shook his head. "He's been weird lately though. Keeps sighing dramatically and staring out the window like he's in a music video."

"That's so Sunoo," you couldn't help but smile a little.

"Okay, new plan," Jungwon announced, his leader mode activating. "We're going to figure this out. Y/N, tomorrow you're going to—"

The door opened again and everyone went suspiciously quiet. Sunoo walked in, looking effortlessly pretty in his oversized sweater and glasses, hair slightly messy from the wind.

"Hey guys, have you seen my—" He stopped short when he saw you, his expression immediately shifting. The warm smile that had been on his face disappeared, replaced by something guarded and distant. "Oh. Hi, Y/N."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Hi, Sunoo," you said quietly.

He grabbed his textbook from Jake's desk without making eye contact with you. "I'll see you guys later."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind an awkward silence.

"Okay, that was painful to watch," Jay said finally.

"Right?" You slumped back onto the bed. "See what I mean? He's fine with all of you, but the second he sees me it's like I personally killed his pet goldfish."

"This is ridiculous," Ni-ki declared, jumping up. "I'm staging an intervention."

"Ni-ki, no—" Jungwon started.

"Ni-ki, YES. This has gone on long enough. They're both being idiots."

Before anyone could stop him, he was out the door, presumably chasing after Sunoo.

"We're all going to die," Heeseung said cheerfully.

"Nah, just Y/N and Sunoo," Jake grinned. "Ni-ki's surprisingly effective when he wants to be."

Twenty minutes later, Ni-ki returned, dragging a very reluctant-looking Sunoo behind him.

"Sit," Ni-ki commanded, pointing at the bed next to you.

"I don't want to—"

"SIT."

Sunoo sat, but as far away from you as possible while still technically being on the same piece of furniture.

"Now," Ni-ki clapped his hands together. "We're not leaving this room until you two figure out whatever this is. The rest of us are tired of the weird tension."

"There's no tension," Sunoo said stiffly.

"Sunoo," Jungwon's voice was gentle but firm. "You literally just ran out of here like Y/N was contagious."

A flush crept up Sunoo's neck. "I didn't run."

"You definitely ran," Jake confirmed.

"Look," you said, turning to face him properly. "I don't know what I did to upset you, but can you please just tell me? I miss being friends with you."

Something flickered across Sunoo's face—surprise, maybe, or hurt.

"You... miss being friends with me?"

"Of course I do! You're funny and sweet and you always remember my coffee order and you give the best hugs. But lately you act like you can't stand to be in the same room as me and I don't understand why."

The other boys were watching like it was their favorite drama, not even pretending to give you privacy.

Sunoo was quiet for a long moment, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater. When he finally spoke, his voice was small.

"You really don't know?"

"Know what?"

He looked up at the ceiling, then at his hands, anywhere but at you. "That night at the Sigma party... we almost..."

"Yeah?"

"And then my mom called and I panicked because I realized I was about to kiss my friend and that would change everything and I didn't know if you wanted that or if you were just being nice because you felt bad for me and—"

"Wait," you interrupted. "You've been avoiding me because you thought I was going to kiss you out of pity?"

"When you put it like that it sounds stupid," he mumbled.

"Kim Sunoo," you said, and your voice was fond despite your exasperation. "You beautiful, ridiculous boy."

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I wasn't going to kiss you because I felt sorry for you. I was going to kiss you because I've had a crush on you since freshman orientation and you looked really pretty in the moonlight."

The room was dead silent except for Jay choking on his energy drink.

Sunoo's eyes went wide. "You... what?"

"I like you, you idiot. I've liked you for two years. Why do you think I always sit next to you in psych class and bring you coffee and laugh at all your jokes?"

"I thought you were just being nice!" he protested. "You're nice to everyone!"

"I don't memorize everyone's coffee order," you pointed out.

"Oh my god," Sunoo buried his face in his hands. "I'm so stupid."

"Yeah, you are," Heeseung agreed helpfully, earning himself a pillow to the face from Jungwon.

"So," you said, gently tugging Sunoo's hands away from his face. "Now that we've established that we're both idiots who like each other, can you please stop acting like I have the plague?"

Sunoo's face was tomato red, but he was smiling now—that bright, genuine smile you'd missed so much.

"I can't promise I won't be weird around you," he said. "But it'll be good weird instead of bad weird?"

"I can live with good weird."

"FINALLY," Ni-ki shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "Do you know how painful it's been watching you two pine over each other? Sunoo's been sighing like a Victorian maiden for weeks!"

"I do not sigh like a Victorian maiden," Sunoo protested.

"You literally do," Jake said. "Yesterday you stared out the window for twenty minutes and then said 'alas' unironically."

"I did not say alas!"

"You definitely said alas," Jay confirmed.

You couldn't help but laugh at the indignant look on Sunoo's face. "For what it's worth, I think Victorian maiden sighing is very romantic."

The look he gave you was so soft and fond that it made your heart skip.

"Okay, this is getting disgustingly cute," Ni-ki announced. "But before you guys start being all couple-y, Sunoo owes Y/N a proper apology for being a jerk."

"I wasn't a jerk!" Sunoo protested, then paused. "Was I a jerk?"

"You were kind of a jerk," you admitted. "But I forgive you. On one condition."

"Anything."

"You have to buy me dinner. Actual dinner, not cafeteria food. And it's a date."

Sunoo's smile was brighter than the sun. "Deal. But I'm picking the place since I have two years of being an idiot to make up for."

"I'm holding you to that."

"Good," he said, and then, because he was apparently feeling bold, he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

The room erupted in wolf whistles and exaggerated gagging sounds from the peanut gallery.

"GET A ROOM," Ni-ki yelled.

You just smiled, watching Sunoo laugh at his friends' antics, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently.

Maybe Victorian maiden sighing wasn't so bad after all.

[iboughtnjz]

SHAMELESS, yjw

💌 your boyfriend is hopelessly inlove with you ✶ bf!jungwon & fem!rea ─── cursing est rs

ㅋㅋ happy eighteenth to my baefyru @bywons i hope you enjoy this even though i’m a little late .. TT

[iboughtnjz]

f!r mentions of injuries oblivious!bsf!jake

ㅤ ︵︵⠀𓈒⠀𓏵 ㅤ you're standing in front of him, lips pressed together, and JAKE still has no explanation for his actions. he doesn't know what came over him tonight; all he knows is that he got into a fight with a guy he barely knows over you.

his best friend, the girl who he grew up with, the one who knows all of his secrets. the girl who's now wiping the blood off of his bruised knuckles, even though he insisted that he could do it himself.

the silence is almost unbearable for him. it's different than the other silences the two of you sometimes find yourselves in; this one is.. heavier. he knows that it's his fault and it tears him up inside knowing that you're upset with him (even if you're not acting like it—he knows you are).

"i'm—"

"don't."

he shuts up.

you continue taking care of his wounds in silence, each second making jake feel sicker and sicker. surely, you're not that mad—right? you barely knew the guy, you looked uncomfortable with the way his hand was rubbing your arm. did you look uncomfortable? he can't remember, the only thing he remembers is the uncomfortable feeling blossoming in his chest.

when you finish wrapping his knuckles, you pull away, an exhausted sigh leaving your lips. he perks up, waiting for you to speak.

"you're genuinely so stupid."

immediately, "i know."

"like–i don't get why you did that. he was literally just minding his business before you came and jumped him."

"i know."

you glare at him and he frowns.

"if you know, why'd you do it? you're lucky the cops weren't called."

jake hesitates. he can tell you're irritated and he has no idea what to say to make you less so. if he apologizes, you'll tell him to shut up again. if he says that he doesn't know, you'll probably walk out without giving him a chance to make things right with you.

"he just—" he runs a hand through his already messy hair, "you looked uncomfortable, i guess. i wasn't thinking about how stupid it was."

you scoff, "yeah, obviously."

jake's thinking of what to say next when you speak once more. your voice is 10x softer than it was before and his heart speeds up.

"thank you, though. he wasn't making me uncomfortable, but it's the thought that counts." you ruffle his hair, holding back a laugh.

it almost distracts him enough to ignore your last sentence. almost.

"you wanted him to flirt with you?"

you blink, "what?"

"it looked like he was flirting with you, that's why i thought you were uncomfortable."

he watches you experience almost every emotion in a span of seconds. the most prevalent ones being shock and then, to his surprise, amusement. he's even more surprised when you actually begin laughing so hard that you have to hold onto his arm so you don't lose your balance.

"oh my god—there's no way." you say into between gasps of air, "what about our interaction gave flirting?"

he feels his face heat up, "um, i don't—he was touching you, i don't know."

calmed down, you straighten up. he tries not to notice that you're still holding onto his arm.

"he was drunk, jake, he was trying to hold himself up. he has a girlfriend and why would i flirt with him when i like.." you trail off.

"when you like?"

he almost stops himself from asking. you like someone? how did he not know? and why, god, does it make a hard-to-ignore pit form in his stomach?

"come on, you know."

he makes a face, pulling away from you. "no, i don't?"

"jake, seriously, it's so obvious. everyone knows."

he fully takes a step back from you. everyone knows? he's your supposed best friend and he's the only one out of the loop? he's friends with everyone you're friends with and he hasn't gotten any inkling of you liking one of them. he feels like he got punched again.

jake watches the realization that he really doesn't know set in on your face and you sigh again. he tenses.

"you're genuinely so, so stupid." you repeat your earlier words. he's about to protest when you cut him off, "i like you. did you really not know? riki's been making fun of me for it for, like, weeks now."

jake has to do everything in his power to not fall to the floor out of shock. you like him? even after he beat up a guy for no reason?

"are you—wait, i like you too, but are you serious?"

"yeah, i'm pretty serious." you smile at him for the first time tonight and he swears his heart swells up.

"can i be your boyfriend then?" he winces at how awkward he sounds, "sorry, i have no idea how to act right now."

giggling, "i can tell, however, you can't be my boyfriend." before he can overthink everything that just happened, you press a kiss to his cheek. "i'm still mad at you for fighting someone. ask me in the morning."

pulling away, you ruffle his hair again. he's in a daze for a few seconds, finding it difficult to remember how to speak, but he eventually does.

"stay the night?"

"duh."

hi my coworker pmo so i wrote this to cope idk. jake lost the fight btw! he can't fight sorry :/ also apologies oblivious jake is a tired out trope from me..

[iboughtnjz]

Spotify Points (20%)

1. — 115M (+55k)

2. — 92M (+195k)

3. No Doubt — 85,7M (+210k)

‘No Doubt’ is catching up FAST — 210k streams in a day, now at 85.7M. It's getting real attention in Korea. The gap to #2 is just 6.2M, and only 29.7M to reach #1.

The gap with 2nd is only 6.2M, please keep streaming. We need 29.7M more to surpass 1st place and reach at least 120M before October.

If we don’t push harder now, they’ll take the lead. Keep streaming before it’s too late

[iboughtnjz]

wrong number ✶⋆.˚ NRK

in which . . . . niki sends a message to the wrong number, unaware that a simple mistake will cross two fates. What begins as a stray text blossoms into an unexpected connection — a love story written by chance, guided by something greater

• ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ authors note — i got a lil bored wit my jake smau so i js made a lil smth else! anyways hope u enjoy 😇😇

[iboughtnjz]

STOP YN ASSURING NIKI IS SO ADORABLE HE IS JUST HER BABY

OPERATION : MAKE YOU MINE ☆ sim jaeyun smau

❪ 09 ❫ ── may the best veterinarian wins

IMPORTANT NOTE: this is a ONE WEEK TIMESKIP. so along the week, yn has been getting revenge on jake for the coffee incident n jake is js bearing it while trying (and failing) to get her to listen to his apology. brace urself this might be one of the longest chps LOL

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AERNOTES -> MY HEAD IS A MESS I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE (guys plz share ur thoughts on the smau so far i need to know bc im alr like planning the chps ahead so i still can change stuffz if u guys feel it's too rushed) 🙏🏻🙏🏻

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©️ AERNX 2025

[iboughtnjz]

OBLIVIOUS ， 𝗇𝗋𝗄

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗒𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾

𝟏𝟎𝟗𝟏𝒾──── childhood bestfriend!riki 𝗑 f!rea ✿ fluff 𓂋 kissing skinship ❞ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡

reblog for ！ ✶ 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 ◜ ᴗ ◝

having a crush isn’t easy. riki knows that.

now, try having a crush on your childhood best friend who is oblivious to any of your flirting.

riki thinks you are doing it on purpose. you must be doing it on purpose. there is no other reason.

the boy flirts with you like it’s an olympic sport. he is restless and limitless when it comes to it.

he grins all teeth and gleaming eyes, asking you to compare hands size like you are in middle school, removes imaginary remaining food under your lips, tuck your hair behind your ear.

he even buys you things. from plushies to snacks — his bank account might as well be yours by now.

he uses every petname in the book. sweetheart, baby, princess, doll — even in front of his embarrassing friends.

damnit, you even got him use the most embarrassing emoji combinations too: “i’ll be there in a few, love ❤️😘” and all you do is send a thumb up back.

riki’s dignity is slowly slipping through his fingers and you never once actually took him seriously — or filtered back.

you won’t even give him a eyelash bat.

and now he is listening to you complain about the rain. your nose scrunching as you tell him how expensive your new socks are and how you’d rather die than get them wet. riki laughs quietly, your dramatic reaction is understandable.

without a word, he crouches.

“get on,” he tells you, without looking back at you at all.

you don’t say anything for a moment, which makes him more nervous by the second. “…huh?”

riki sighs, forced to tilt his head back to look at your surprised face. “i’m offering you a piggyback ride so your precious socks won’t get wet.”

he looks like it’s a perfectly reasonable idea to him.

“what?” is all you can say. riki can’t help but laugh at your confusion.

“don’t make me beg, sweetheart,” he answers, looking back at the road in front of him.

you give in.

wrapping your arms around his neck, your cheeks brushes his and rest your weight on his back. riki rises like you weigh nothing, which makes you yelp. he grips one of your thigh, adjusting the umbrella so it protects you both from the rain.

“since when are you this nice?” you chuckle, tightening your embrace a little, just so you won’t fall flat on the floor.

riki is a little offended, he won’t lie. “i’ve always been nice,” he retorts, a little pouty.

he recalls when he would carry your bag on the way back home in kindergarten, when he would write your notes for you when you were sick in middle school or when he would land you his hoodie when you were cold in highschool.

“c’mon, you know what i mean,” you tease. “you did things for me but you always seemed like it was a second guess.”

riki eyebrows furrow, he turns his head to look at you and notice the sudden proximity. he doesn’t back off, “what do you mean?”

“you know, you were nice because it was convenient to you,” he hums, it’s not like you are lying anyway. “these days it’s different, like you are doing it willingly and seem very happy to.”

it’s slightly ridiculous how the thing you notice is how he got nicer and not is incessant, shameless, loud flirting.

he decides to give you the bait, “you think there is any reason to that?”

you don’t look like someone who thought about that. “is there any?” you ask and he shrugs. “i’ll think about it.”

and you do, in fact, think about. during the entire piggyback ride to your home, you stay silent. reminiscing all the nice things he did the past few months that you thought were weird, he guesses.

maybe you’ll even wonder why he went blonde after you told him you liked blondes or why he started to wear more jewelry after you said it was cool.

perhaps, you’ll notice how obviously he has been flirting with you.

he starts to worry when you are close to the destination and you haven’t spoken yet.

it’s only when you are in front of your door that you break the silence, “are you dying?”

he almost drops you on the floor as you get off his back, “what? no!”

he turns around, watches your furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips as you think.

“am i dying?”

riki huffs. seems like you won’t find out why tonight — it’s like him liking you is forbidden.

he puts one of his hand in his pocket, the other still holding the umbrella, “good night, pretty.”

you don’t give up, even when he starts walking to his house, right in front of yours.

“is it like a bet or something?” you yell. he continued walking.

you have to take a break, replay everything that has happened in this week alone and take a deep breath before saying your thoughts loud enough for him to hear.

“do you like me?” the rain doesn't prevent your words from reaching his ears. you feel nervous suddenly, when he stops in his tracks.

you start to fidget with your fingers, playing with the chrome hearts ring riki gave you as you continue to fill the heavy silence, “i–i mean, do you like like me? i could be wrong and that’s fine b–but with the way…”

immersed in your rambling, you don’t notice how close riki has got, nor the fact he dropped the umbrella on the floor in front of your door.

it’s only his hands cupping your jaw that makes you shut up. he is so close, it makes you absolutely red in the face, mouth draw and knees wobbling.

“you got it right this time, baby,” he whispers, close enough to have his breath fanning over your mouth.

riki kisses you so gently that your entire body goes warm despite the rain. he rests his lips against yours — makes the contact linger to have a great taste of your cherry chapstick.

he smiles against your mouth when you put your hands on his wrist and gets on your tiptoes to kiss him harder.

your eyes flutter open a little after the kiss ends. riki is already looking at you, “i like you.”

funnily enough, you are taken aback by his confession. as if the kiss didn’t tell you everything you needed to know already.

still, you smile, “i like you too.”

hard work was really worth it after all.

분지 ܃ i haven’t wrote anything for riki in a hot minute TT

taglist open 。