G

The soft golden light of sunrise filtered through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, casting a warm glow over the chaos you'd created.

Clothes were scattered across the floor, skincare products lined up on your desk, and your open suitcase sat like a gaping mouth waiting to be fed.

It was barely 6:15 AM, and the house was already alive with the sounds of your mom calling out instructions from downstairs.

You stood in the middle of the mess, tossing another pair of denim shorts into the suitcase while Riki lounged on the edge of your bed like he had zero worries in the world.

He looked unfairly good for this early hour. ash blonde hair with sandy blonde undertones tousled just right, that signature silver streak catching the light. he wore an oversized Chrome Hearts hoodie, the cross necklace you loved dangling against his chest, baggy black cargos, and a couple of silver rings on his long fingers.

To everyone else, Nishimura Riki was the definition of a bad boy— nonchalant, cocky, always pushing boundaries. but here, in your house, he played the role of the perfect, polite boyfriend flawlessly.

Riki tilted his head, watching you with an amused smirk.

"Babe… you're actually packing right now?" he asked, voice low and teasing. "we're leaving in like two hours, dwarf. i packed everything a week ago."

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, grabbing a stack of bikinis. "and? not everyone is obsessed with being early like you, Riki. chill."

He let out a quiet laugh, leaning back on his elbows. "nah, i'm just responsible. you've been hyping this beach cabin trip for two months straight and you're still throwing random shit in a suitcase at the last minute. classic dwarf behavior."

"Call me dwarf one more time and i'm throwing this straight at your head" you warned, holding up a hairbrush.

Riki grinned, completely unfazed. "dwarf."

You threw the hairbrush. he dodged it effortlessly, laughing under his breath as it landed on the bed beside him.

"See? violent. this is why you need me around— to keep you in check" he said, picking up the brush and tossing it back to you lightly. "hurry up though, for real. your mom's gonna lose her mind if we're late."

Before you could reply, the door opened and Seonghyun —your 13-year-old brother— shuffled inside, still in his pajamas, hair a complete disaster, eyes barely open.

"Mom's already screaming downstairs" he groaned, immediately collapsing face-first onto your bed like it was his personal territory. "she said if you're not done in ten minutes she's dragging you out by your hair."

Riki reached over and ruffled Seonghyun's messy hair with a smirk. "told you, dwarf. even the kid knows you're slacking."

Seonghyun lifted his head, grinning as he looked between you two. 'Yeah. Riki-hyung finished packing forever ago. he showed me his suitcase yesterday. everything was folded and organized. yours looks like a bomb went off."

You crossed your arms, staring at the two boys now teaming up against you. "oh, so this is how it's gonna be? you two ganging up on me at six in the morning?"

Riki shrugged innocently, that cocky smirk still firmly in place. "we're just stating facts. you've had two months to prepare and you're doing this now? crazy work."

Seonghyun nodded enthusiastically, still sprawled across your bed. "mom's gonna yell at you so bad. she already told me to bring my suitcase down ten minutes ago. Riki-hyung helped me zip it."

You threw another shirt— this time at your brother. "traitor. go help Mom instead of lying on my bed like you pay rent here."

"But it's comfy" Seonghyun whined dramatically, hugging your pillow. "and Riki-hyung is right. you always do this. last time we went to grandma's you forgot your phone charger and cried the whole way there."

Riki laughed quietly, clearly enjoying himself way too much. "see? even your little brother remembers. you're such a silly girl sometimes, dwarf."

You pointed at him. "you're supposed to be on my side, idiot."

"Nah" he replied in a lazy tone "i'm on the side of truth. and the truth is you suck at packing."

Seonghyun snickered into the pillow. "burn."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. "both of you can leave my room if you're just gonna bully me. especially you, Riki. Mr. 'i don't care about anything' but somehow super excited to be stuck in a beach cabin with my entire family for two weeks."

Riki raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes sharpening. "what? can't a guy be excited to spend time with his girlfriend's family? your parents like me. i'm charming."

"Yeah, because you fake it so well" you muttered, stuffing more clothes into the suitcase. "out in the streets you're all bad boy this, tattoos that… but the second my dad walks in you turn into 'yes sir, no sir, would you like help with the bags sir?'"

Seonghyun sat up suddenly. "wait, is that true? Riki-hyung, are you fake?"

Riki shrugged, completely unbothered. "gotta make a good impression, kid. your sister's the real menace here."

"Menace?" you scoffed, zipping your suitcase with more force than necessary. "you literally got three new tattoos after your mom told you not to. you're the definition of shameless."

"And you love it" he shot back with a wink, voice low enough that Seonghyun didn’t catch the full tone.

Your brother groaned loudly. "ew, stop flirting. i'm literally right here."

The sound of your mom's voice echoed up the stairs again. "Seonghyun! come down and help with the coolers! and tell your sister if she's not ready in five minutes we're leaving without her!"

Seonghyun jumped up dramatically. "told you! good luck, sis. Riki-hyung, save me a seat in the car."

"Bet" Riki replied, doing a small fist bump with the younger boy as he left.

Once the door clicked shut, Riki stood up and walked over to you. he placed his hands on your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder for a moment as you tried to close the overfilled suitcase.

"You're really testing me already, dwarf" he murmured, amusement clear in his voice. "two weeks with your family around… and you're gonna keep being a brat the whole time, huh?"

You leaned back into him just slightly, smirking. "maybe. what are you gonna do about it?"

He pressed a quick, soft kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away, ever careful not to get too handsy with your family awake and moving around. "you'll see. now finish packing before your mom actually comes up here and drags both of us downstairs."

You finally managed to zip the suitcase. Riki, ever the gentleman when it mattered, lifted it effortlessly for you.

"Ready?" he asked, that signature nonchalant expression back on his face.

You nodded, grabbing your backpack. "let's go before i change my mind and stay home just to annoy you."

He chuckled, opening the door for you. "after you, dwarf."

As you both headed downstairs, the chaos of your family preparing for the trip filled the air— your dad loading the car, your mom organizing snacks, Seonghyun complaining about having to sit in the back seat again. Riki slipped seamlessly into his well-behaved boyfriend role, greeting your parents politely and offering to help carry more bags.

But every time he passed by you, that mischievous glint in his eyes promised that the real Riki— the teasing, relentless one —was waiting for the right moment.

The entire family was already loaded up and waiting in the driveway when you finally dragged your last bag outside. your dad was behind the wheel, checking the time on the dashboard for the third time.

Your mom was in the passenger seat organizing snacks and drinks. Seonghyun had already claimed the right back seat, and Riki was sitting behind your mom, long legs stretched out as much as possible.

You took your sweet time putting the final bag in the trunk.

"Babe, come on" Riki called out the open window, sounding amused. "we're all waiting on you, dwarf."

"I'm coming, i'm coming!" you replied, rolling your eyes as you finally climbed into the car, squeezing between Seonghyun and Riki in the back seat.

The second you closed the door, your dad sighed loudly and started reversing out of the driveway.

"Finally" he muttered, half-joking but clearly a little annoyed. "we were supposed to leave at 6:30. it's almost 7:15. one day you're going to make us miss a flight or something."

Seonghyun immediately jumped in. "yeah, dad's right. you always do this."

Riki leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, that signature lazy smirk on his face. "for real. i told her upstairs she was gonna be late. she still took forever, sir."

Your jaw dropped as you looked between the three of them. "are you serious right now? all of you are seriously attacking me? i had to make sure i didn't forget anything!"

Your dad chuckled, eyes on the road. "sweetheart, you've had two months to pack. we all packed days ago."

"Exactly" Riki added smoothly, glancing at you with teasing eyes. "even i packed early, and i'm not even part of the family yet."

Seonghyun snickered. "Riki-hyung packed a week ago. he's more prepared than you."

You turned and smacked Riki's thigh lightly with the back of your hand. "you're supposed to be on my side, idiot! why are you agreeing with them?"

Riki laughed quietly, rubbing the spot you hit even though it didn't hurt. "i'm just being honest, dwarf. you can't get mad at me for telling the truth."

Another smack to his leg. "you're the worst boyfriend ever. i hate you.”

"No you don't" he replied cockily, dodging your next playful hit. "you love me. stop hitting me, baby."

Seonghyun was full-on laughing now, leaning forward to look at you. "she's so mad. look at her face! Riki-hyung, she's gonna explode."

"Mom, help me out here" you complained, smacking Riki's arm this time. "you're literally my boyfriend. act like it."

Riki grinned, completely unfazed. "nah, i'm switzerland. neutral. except you're clearly wrong in this situation, dwarf."

"Two against one!" Seonghyun cheered. "actually three against one if you count Dad."

Your dad laughed from the front seat. "i'm staying out of this. but yes, you were late, kiddo."

You groaned dramatically and crossed your arms, sinking deeper into the seat. "i can't believe this. my own family and my boyfriend turning on me. this vacation is cursed already."

The car fell into a comfortable rhythm as your dad merged onto the highway.

The beach was around 100 km away — roughly an hour and twenty minutes if traffic was decent. golden morning light streamed through the windows, and the distant sound of music played low from the radio.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Riki nudged your knee with his.

"You still mad, dwarf?" he asked, voice low and teasing.

"Yes" you huffed, turning your head away from him to look out the window.

He leaned closer, shoulder brushing yours. "c'mon, don't be like that. you know i'm just messing with you."

You ignored him.

Seonghyun, sensing an opportunity, joined in again. "she's giving you the silent treatment already, hyung. that's a new record."

Riki chuckled. "she'll crack in like five minutes. watch."

You whipped your head around. "i can hear you two, you know."

Both boys started laughing. Seonghyun reached over and poked your arm. "she's so easy to annoy."

"Stop it" you whined, swatting his hand away before turning to smack Riki's leg again. "and you— you're supposed to defend me! not team up with my little brother!"

Riki caught your wrist gently before you could hit him a third time, his long fingers wrapping around it. "quit hitting me, dwarf. i'm driving-safe here."

"You're not even driving!" you shot back.

"Still. respect your elders" he said with a straight face.

"You're only five months older than me, dumbass."

Seonghyun burst out laughing again. "she called you dumbass. Mom, did you hear that?"

Your mom turned slightly in her seat. "you three better behave back there. we still have over an hour left. i don't want to hear constant fighting the whole way."

Riki instantly switched modes. his posture straightened, voice turning polite and smooth. "sorry, Ms. mom, we're just playing around. we'll quiet down."

Your mom smiled, satisfied. "thank you, Riki. at least one of you has manners."

The second your mom turned back around, Riki looked at you with the most devilish little smirk, mouthing "told you" before leaning back casually.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "fake" you whispered.

He just winked.

For the next twenty minutes the car was relatively calm. your dad talked with your mom about directions and where to stop for coffee.

Seonghyun put his earbuds in and started playing games on his phone. you scrolled through your own phone until Riki's hand found its way to your thigh, resting there innocently under the cover of the blanket your mom had tossed back earlier.

He squeezed once — not enough for anyone to notice, but enough to make you glance at him.

"Still mad at me, babe?" he whispered, barely moving his lips.

"You're annoying" you whispered back.

"Yeah, but you like it."

You tried to hide your smile and failed. Riki noticed immediately and smirked, giving your thigh another light squeeze before pulling his hand back like the perfect gentleman.

The drive had taken a little over an hour and twenty minutes, but the moment your dad turned onto the quiet coastal road, the view opened up.

The beach cabin sat right near the shore, elevated slightly on wooden stilts with a wide deck overlooking the ocean. The smell of salt and sea air hit you instantly as soon as the car doors opened — thick, refreshing, and impossible to ignore.

"Wow…" you breathed out, stepping onto the wooden path leading to the front door.

"Not bad" Riki said casually, but you could see the spark in his eyes. He was excited, even if he tried to play it cool.

Your dad unlocked the front door and everyone started unloading the suitcases, leaving most of them piled near the entrance for now. the inside of the cabin was beautiful — light wooden walls, big windows letting in natural light, and that constant sound of waves in the background.

"Alright, let's check out the rooms first" your mom suggested, already taking charge.

There was one large master bedroom with its own bathroom — obviously for your parents — and two smaller but still cozy bedrooms down the hall.

Seonghyun immediately sprinted toward one of the smaller rooms and threw himself onto the bed with a loud bounce.

"This one's mine!" he yelled, spreading his arms and legs like a starfish. "it's so cool! look at the little window, i can see the ocean from here!"

Riki walked into the room after him, nodding slowly like some kind of interior design expert. he crossed his arms, tilting his head as he inspected the space.

"Yeah, this layout is nice" he said thoughtfully. "good natural light. smart use of space." he glanced at your dad, who was doing the exact same thing in the hallway. Riki copied the motion perfectly, mirroring your dad's posture and serious expression. "very well designed, sir. i like the wooden details.”

Your dad smiled, clearly pleased. "right? the pictures online didn't do it justice."

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at how obviously Riki was trying to impress him.

Your mom, however, was already in full organization mode.

"Enough sightseeing for now" she called out. "let's get all the suitcases inside first. food goes in the kitchen, clothes in the rooms. Seonghyun, stop jumping on the bed and help carry things!"

"But Mommm" Seonghyun whined dramatically from his new bed. "can't we go to the beach first? we've been in the car forever!"

"No. unpack first, beach later" your mom said firmly. "now move."

Riki immediately switched back into perfect-boyfriend mode. "i'll start bringing the heavier bags in, Ms. Mom"

You both grabbed a couple of suitcases and headed toward the second smaller room — the one that would be yours and Riki's for the trip. the moment you stepped inside and closed the door halfway, Riki's entire demeanor changed.

He quickly glanced toward the hallway, checking if your parents were in sight. when he confirmed they weren't, he pushed you against the wall with a smooth motion, one hand on your waist, the other cupping the back of your neck as he kissed you hard.

His tongue slipped into your mouth instantly, deep and hungry, like he'd been waiting hours for this. both of his hands slid down to grab your ass roughly, squeezing hard as he pressed his body against yours.

You gasped into the kiss, pushing at his chest. "Riki— stop" you whispered frantically against his lips. "my parents are literally right outside."

He smirked against your mouth, squeezing your ass again, pulling you tighter against him.

"So?" he murmured, voice low and cocky. "they're busy. i've been stuck in a car with you for over an hour acting like a saint. i deserve this, babe."

You turned your head when he tried to kiss you again. "you're so stupid. what if my mom walks in?"

Riki chuckled quietly, clearly enjoying how panicked you were getting. he leaned in and bit your bottom lip teasingly before finally pulling back, hands still resting on your hips.

"Relax. you're acting like we're committing a crime." he stepped away casually, grabbing one of the suitcases like nothing had happened. but the smirk on his face was pure trouble.

You tried to fix your hair, heart still racing. "you're actually insane."

He glanced out the large window that faced the ocean, the waves sparkling under the morning sun. a dangerous little smile spread across his lips.

"Damn… what a nice view" he said, loud enough for you to hear but not too loud. then he turned to you with that signature teasing glint. "you'd look real pretty like that, you know? on all fours, ass up, looking out at the sea while i fuck you from behind. bet the view would be even better with you moaning my name."

Your eyes widened in horror. "Riki!" you hissed, rushing over to smack his arm. "shut the fuck up! what if someone hears you?"

He laughed, that low, shameless sound, clearly loving how worked up you were getting. "relax, dwarf. you're so easy to scare. your face right now is priceless."

"You're such an asshole" you whispered angrily, cheeks burning. "i'm actually going to kill you on this trip."

"Yeah?" He stepped closer again, towering over you "keep talking like that and i'll give you a reason to scream my name for real. see how quiet you can stay then."

You shoved his chest, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. "my brother is literally in the next room and my parents are unpacking. behave."

Riki raised his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk never left his face. "fine, fine. i'll behave… for now." he picked up another bag, heading toward the closet. "but two weeks is a long time, good luck keeping me in check."

From the hallway, your mom's voice called out again. "kids? how are you doing with the bags?"

Riki instantly straightened up, putting on his polite mask. "almost done, Ms. Mom, we're organizing everything."

You stared at him in disbelief. "fake ass" you muttered under your breath.

He winked at you over his shoulder. "only for them. for you? i'm keeping it real."

Seonghyun's voice echoed from his room. "Mom! can we go to the beach now? i'm dying here!"

The chaos of the family vacation had officially begun, and Riki was already testing every limit he could find — especially yours.

A little while later, after all the suitcases had been dragged into the rooms and the kitchen supplies were mostly put away, you and Riki were finally organizing the last of your clothes in the closet of your shared bedroom.

You folded a stack of shorts while Riki hung up his hoodies, moving with that effortless coolness he always had. from the kitchen, you could hear your mom's voice rising slightly.

"I told you to close the bread bag properly, honey. now it's going to get stale by tomorrow!" your mom complained.

Your dad sigh "it's just bread. we'll finish it before then."

"It's the principle! if you don't close it, the air gets in—"

Riki glanced toward the half-open door and let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. he stepped closer to you, voice low so only you could hear.

"Wow… she really sounds exactly like you when you're nagging me about shit" he teased, that signature smirk on his lips. "same tone and everything. you're literally mini-Mom, dwarf."

You whipped around and smacked his arm playfully. "shut up, Riki. i do not sound like that."

He rubbed his arm dramatically even though you barely hit him. "you kinda do though. 'Riki, you left your shoes in the middle of the room again!'" he said, imitating your voice. "sound familiar?"

You hit his arm again, harder this time. "i said shut up! you're so annoying."

Riki laughed under his breath, catching your wrist before you could smack him a third time. "you love hitting me. violent ass."

Before you could reply, Seonghyun appeared in the doorway, already changed into swim trunks and a tank top, bouncing with energy.

"Mom and Dad are fighting over bread" he announced, rolling his eyes. "this is so boring. can we please go to the beach now? i've been waiting forever!"

Riki immediately nodded, ruffling the younger boy's hair like the cool older brother he pretended to be. "i'm down, bro. beach sounds good. we've been stuck inside long enough."

Seonghyun's face lit up. he turned to you impatiently. "hurry up then! just grab anything and let's go! i wanna build sandcastles and go in the water."

You looked down at your clothes. "i still need to change—"

Riki cut you off with a lazy grin. "don't worry about it, shortie. i'll help her get dressed real quick."

Seonghyun made a disgusted face instantly. "eww! gross. i don't need to know that. i'm leaving!" he turned and practically ran down the hallway, yelling over his shoulder "hurry up or i'm going without you!"

The second Seonghyun disappeared, Riki closed the bedroom door halfway and turned to you with a completely different look in his eyes.

"Get changed, dwarf" he said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watched you openly.

You rolled your eyes but went to your suitcase anyway.

You pulled out the bikini you had packed specifically to mess with him — a tiny black string bikini with delicate gold accents. the top was barely more than two small triangles that tied around your neck and back, while the bottoms were low-rise with thin strings on the sides that showed a lot of skin.

It was cheeky, borderline scandalous, and you knew it would drive him crazy.

You changed quickly behind the half-closed closet door, then stepped out.

Riki went completely still when he saw you. His eyes dragged slowly down your body, lingering on your chest, your waist, and the way the bottoms sat high on your hips, exposing the curve of your ass.

"Fuck…" he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall. "you really wore that on purpose, didn't you?"

You gave him an innocent smile, doing a little spin. "what? it's just a bikini. we're at the beach."

He stepped closer, voice dropping. "that's not a bikini, that's a fucking weapon. your ass is barely covered, babe. i'm gonna have to fight myself the whole time we're out there."

"Good" you said sweetly, poking his chest. "maybe you'll finally lose that fake calm attitude."

Riki's jaw clenched, but he smirked. he reached out and tugged lightly on one of the strings at your hip. "you're such a brat. keep playing games and i'll drag you back in here and fuck the attitude out of you while your family's right outside."

You pushed his hand away, trying to hide how his words affected you. "you wish. now stop staring and let's go before Seonghyun comes back complaining."

He groaned quietly but grabbed two towels anyway. before you left the room, he leaned down close to your ear.

"Just know that if i act weird out there… it's your fault for wearing that tiny ass thing."

You smirked and walked out first, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

The three of you headed down to the beach together. Seonghyun ran ahead excitedly, already kicking off his sandals the second his feet hit the sand.

The ocean was beautiful — clear turquoise water, gentle waves, and soft golden sand stretching out in both directions. not too many people around since it was still early in the day.

Seonghyun turned back to you both. "come on! let's go in the water!"

Riki adjusted his sunglasses, trying (and failing) to keep his eyes off you in that bikini. every time the breeze moved, the strings shifted slightly, and you could practically feel the tension radiating from him.

"You good, Riki?" you asked innocently, tilting your head.

He gave you a tight smile. "Yeah. i'm great."

Seonghyun looked between you two suspiciously. "you guys are being weird again."

Riki quickly recovered, throwing an arm around the younger boy's shoulders. "nah, we're good. race you to the water?"

Seonghyun's competitive side won immediately. "you're on!"

As the two boys sprinted toward the waves, you couldn't help but smile. Riki was playing the perfect role— cool, fun, responsible older boyfriend —but you knew the second he got you alone, that patience he was barely holding onto was going to snap.

And you were going to enjoy pushing him until it did.

The sun was high in the sky by the time you and Riki wandered further into the ocean. Seonghyun had found a group of kids his age and was already fully occupied — screaming, splashing, and building a massive sand fortress with them.

For the first time since arriving, you and Riki had a small moment of semi-privacy.

The water reached just above your waists, the gentle waves rocking your bodies softly. Riki moved behind you and wrapped his long arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. his skin was warm from the sun, wet and smooth against yours.

He pressed soft, slow kisses along your bare shoulder, then up the side of your neck, savoring the taste of salt on your skin.

"Fuck, baby…" he murmured lowly against your ear, voice husky. "you look insane in this bikini. literally got me rock hard under these shorts right now."

You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head back against his shoulder. "you're so dramatic."

"i'm serious" he whispered, kissing right below your ear. "been trying to hide it since you walked out wearing basically nothing. i miss you already… even though you're right here. you're too fucking pretty, baby. makes me wanna do bad things to you."

His hands stroked your waist under the water, thumbs brushing the strings of your bikini bottoms. he kept kissing your neck lazily, occasionally nipping at the skin just enough to make you shiver.

"You really wore this tiny thing just to mess with me, didn't you?" he continued, voice low and teasing. "such a little brat. you know exactly what you do to me."

You turned your head slightly, smiling. "maybe. is it working?"

"Too well" he groaned quietly, pressing his hips forward so you could feel how hard he was against your ass. "if your brother wasn't twenty meters away i'd already be inside you."

You turned around in his arms to face him, the water lapping between your bodies. Riki's eyes were dark despite the bright sunlight.

You cupped his face and kissed him slowly, deeply. it wasn't rushed or desperate — just hungry. your tongues moved together lazily, savoring each other while the waves pushed you closer.

His hands stayed on your waist, occasionally sliding down to squeeze your ass under the water.

After a long minute you pulled back, breathing a little heavier. "i'm starting to get hungry…"

Riki hummed, still brushing his nose against yours. "yeah, me too. your mom's probably got something ready by now. it's like… noon already."

You both reluctantly separated and waved Seonghyun over. he came running, dripping wet and grinning ear to ear.

"We're gonna go eat something" Riki told him. "stay close to the other kids and don't go too deep, okay? come back to the cabin in a bit when you're hungry."

"Yeah, yeah" Seonghyun said, already turning back to his new friends. "i'll come later!"

When you got back to the cabin, the sensation of dry sand sticking to your wet skin immediately made you grimace.

"Ugh, i hate this feeling" you complained, brushing sand off your arms. "i'm gonna shower real quick."

Riki raised an eyebrow. "already? we're probably getting back in the water after lunch. doesn't make sense to shower now."

You crossed your arms. "i don't care. i hate feeling sticky. i'm showering."

Your dad, who had just returned from checking on Seonghyun, simply shook his head with a small smile and headed back outside, choosing not to get involved.

Your mom, however, overheard from the kitchen and sighed. "you two, stop bickering so much. it's only the first day."

Riki instantly put on his polite mask, smiling sweetly at your mom. "we're not fighting, Ms. mom, it's just a small exchange of ideas. healthy communication, right?"

You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost painful. "fake" you muttered under your breath as you walked toward the bathroom.

Your mom chuckled. "Riki, you're not allowed to go in the bathroom with her. i'm watching you" she teased lightly.

Riki laughed innocently. "i just wanna make sure she's okay. i'll be quick."

The second you both entered the bathroom, the energy shifted completely.

You started pulling out a fresh towel and your shower products while Riki leaned against the sink, eyes locked on you.

"Do you need anything before i get in?" you asked, turning on the water to let it warm up.

"Nah" he said, voice dropping. he stepped closer, closing the door carefully so it barely made a sound. "but my dick hurts from watching you walk around in that bikini all morning, babe. for real."

Before you could respond, Riki had you pressed against the bathroom counter, kissing you deeply. his hands roamed down your body, tugging at the strings of your bikini bottoms.

"Riki… my parents are right outside" you whispered, even as you kissed him back.

"I know" he murmured against your lips, smirking. "that's why we're being quiet."

He pulled your bikini bottoms down just enough to expose you, he lowered his beach shorts, then pressed his hard cock right against your bare pussy.

He started grinding slowly, the fabric creating delicious friction as he pressed you against the counter.

"Fuck… you're already wet" he groaned softly, one hand covering your mouth gently.

You whimpered against his palm as he rolled his hips harder, the thick outline of his cock sliding between your folds, rubbing perfectly against your clit with every movement.

Riki leaned down, biting your neck softly while he kept grinding. "look at you… letting me fuck you like this..."

You moaned quietly into his hand, thighs trembling.

"Shhh" he whispered, eyes dark with lust. "gotta stay still, baby. can't have your mom hearing how well you take my cock into your little cunt..."

Riki watched your face intently, that cocky little smirk never leaving his lips even as his breathing grew heavier.

"Turn around" he ordered quietly, voice rough with need. "i wanna see that ass while i grind on you."

You hesitated for half a second, heart racing at the risk. your mom was literally cooking in the kitchen just down the hall, and your dad could come back inside any moment.

But the heat in Riki's eyes made you obey. you turned around, placing your hands on the bathroom counter and arching your back slightly, pushing your ass toward him.

"Fuck… that's it" he groaned under his breath.

He stepped right behind you, pressing his still-hard cock between your ass cheeks.

He started grinding again, slow and deliberate, the thick ridge of his cock sliding back and forth against your bare pussy. the fabric of his shorts was rough and warm from the sun, creating that filthy friction you both craved.

Riki's hands moved up your body, sliding under the tiny triangles of your bikini top. he cupped your breasts fully, squeezing them roughly as he continued rolling his hips against your ass.

"These tits look so good in this bikini" he murmured, voice low right next to your ear. "been wanting to play with them all morning, baby."

He kneaded your breasts greedily, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples before pinching them lightly.

Every time he rolled his hips forward, his cock pressed harder between your thighs, the head nudging against your clit with each thrust. the wet sounds of fabric rubbing against your soaked pussy filled the small bathroom, dangerously loud in your ears.

You bit your lip hard, trying to stay quiet. "Riki… we can't be too loud" you whispered, voice shaky.

He chuckled darkly, giving your breasts another firm squeeze before tugging your nipples again. "then stop moaning like a slut, baby. you're the one who wore this tiny bikini all morning knowing it would make me like this."

He kept grinding harder, faster now, one hand staying on your chest while the other gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back against him with every roll of his hips.

The mirror in front of you showed everything — your flushed face, his tall frame behind you, the way his hand disappeared under your bikini top to play with your tits.

"Look at yourself" he whispered, biting your shoulder lightly. "look how fucking pretty you are letting me use you like this. ass out, letting me hump you right before lunch while your mom's cooking."

You whimpered, pushing back against him, desperate for more friction. Riki groaned quietly and pinched your nipple harder, rolling it between his fingers as he kept thrusting his cock between your thighs.

"God, you're so wet" he breathed, voice strained. "such a messy little brat. you love this, don't you? getting touched and humped while your family's right outside?"

He suddenly grabbed both of your breasts with both hands, squeezing them together as he grinded harder, almost desperately.

His hips snapped forward with more force, the wet rubbing sound becoming faster and filthier.

"Riki—" you gasped, trying to keep your voice down.

"Shhh" he warned, one hand quickly moving up to cover your mouth. "quiet, babe. you're gonna get us caught."

Even with his hand over your mouth, he didn't stop.

He kept humping you relentlessly, cock sliding between your soaked folds, the head catching perfectly against your clit every single time. his other hand stayed on your chest, playing with your tits, squeezing and tugging until your eyes fluttered.

"You're so fucking soft… so perfect" he muttered against your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin. "i could cum just like this. rubbing my cock on this pretty pussy without even putting it in."

Your legs were trembling. the combination of his dirty words, the constant pressure on your clit, and his hands playing with your breasts was pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

Riki felt it. he smiled against your shoulder, grinding harder.

"You close already?" he teased, voice cocky even while breathing heavily. "gonna cum on my cock like this, baby? with all your clothes still on and your family waiting for lunch?"

Riki's hips kept snapping forward, grinding his hard cock against your soaked pussy.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he whispered hotly against your ear. "i can feel you dripping all over me, babe. cum for me. be a good little slut and cum just like this."

The filthy words combined with the constant pressure on your clit finally pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm hit hard.

Your thighs shook violently as you came, moaning desperately into his palm. your eyes rolled back and your walls clenched around nothing while Riki kept grinding through it, prolonging every second of your pleasure.

He didn't stop moving until your body went limp against the counter, breathing heavily.

Only then did he slowly remove his hand from your mouth.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, catching your breath… until the brat in you woke up again.

You turned around and pushed his chest, glaring at him. "Get out."

Riki blinked, still clearly hard and breathing heavily. "What?"

"I said get out" you repeated, fixing your bikini top. "i told you i wanted to shower. you always do this — you push and push until you get what you want and now i'm all messy. leave."

He let out a low, amused laugh. "you're actually kicking me out after you just came all over my dick? wow. Cold."

"Yes. Out. Now" you said, pointing at the door, trying to hide your smirk.

Riki shook his head, that cocky little smile still on his face. "such a fucking brat. fine. enjoy your shower, dwarf."

He adjusted his shorts as best as he could and slipped out of the bathroom quietly, closing the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, after a proper shower and washing all the sand and salt off your body, you changed into something comfortable: loose gray pijama shorts and a simple black cropped tank top. your hair was still slightly damp as you walked into the kitchen.

The sight that greeted you made you pause.

Riki was shirtless, his toned torso and tattoos on full display, leaning casually against the kitchen counter while talking to your mom. he looked completely relaxed, like the perfect son-in-law.

"…and yeah, i've been practicing a lot more lately" Riki said, smiling politely. "the choreography is really challenging but i enjoy it. your daughter actually helps me a lot with memorizing the counts."

Your mom laughed warmly as she stirred something on the stove. "really? she's usually so impatient with people."

"Nah, she's actually really patient with me" Riki replied smoothly, the lie rolling off his tongue effortlessly. "she's a good teacher. i'm really lucky, Ms. Mom, you raised an amazing girl."

Your mom looked absolutely delighted. "oh, Riki… you're such a sweet boy. i keep telling her how lucky she is to have you."

You walked over and stood right next to him, crossing your arms.

"If you keep walking around without a shirt and with those wet shorts, i'm going to throw something at you" you said, half-joking but also slightly annoyed.

Your mom turned around immediately. "leave him alone, honey. it's hot outside and he just came back from the beach. let the boy be comfortable."

Riki grinned, looking at you with fake innocence. "exactly. let me be free, dwarf."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. "you're impossible."

Your stomach growled loudly, reminding you how hungry you actually were.

"Mom, i'm starving" you complained, leaning against the counter. "what are you making? it smells really good."

As you spoke to your mom, Riki took advantage of the moment.

While your mom had her back turned to stir the food, he slowly dragged his hand up the back of your bare thigh, squeezing the soft flesh teasingly. his eyes stayed on your mom, pretending to listen, but the corner of his mouth twitched when he felt you tense up.

You shot him a warning glare.

He just bit his bottom lip for a second, eyes darkening as he gave your thigh one last possessive squeeze before pulling his hand away right before your mom turned around again.

"Pasta salad and some grilled fish" your mom answered cheerfully. "it'll be ready in ten minutes. go call your brother and father if they're back."

Riki nodded politely. "i can go get them if you want, Ms. Mom"

Your mom smiled brightly. "would you? you're such a helpful young man."

As soon as your mom turned back to the stove, Riki leaned down close to your ear, whispering so quietly only you could hear:

"Still wet from earlier, baby? or was that shower enough for you?"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

He just chuckled softly and walked out of the kitchen like the perfect gentleman, calling out for your dad and Seonghyun as if nothing had happened.

You stared at his back, equal parts annoyed and turned on.

This vacation was only just beginning, and Riki was clearly planning to make it very, very difficult for you to stay sane.

Riki headed out to the beach to fetch your dad and Seonghyun while you helped your mom set the table. the moment the boys were out of earshot, your mom turned to you with a knowing little smile.

"You know… Riki is such a good boy" she said, stirring the pasta salad one last time. "polite, helpful, handsome. i really like him for you. i hope you two last a long time."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "Mom…"

"I'm serious" she continued, lowering her voice a bit. "he looks at you like you hung the stars. and the way he talks to your father? perfect. just… be careful, okay? i'm not asking for grandchildren anytime soon, so if you two are already doing things, please be responsible."

"Mom!" you hissed, mortified. you covered your face with your hands. "can we not talk about this right now?"

Your mom laughed softly. "i'm just saying. you're both young and hormonal. just be smart."

You gave her short nods and mumbled responses. "yeah… okay… i know… can we please stop?"

Thankfully, the sound of the front door opening saved you. Seonghyun burst in first, absolutely covered head to toe in sand. it was in his hair, stuck to his arms, and trailing behind him on the wooden floor.

Your mom gasped. "Seonghyun! look at the floor! we just cleaned!"

You groaned. "seriously? you're leaving a sand trail everywhere!"

Seonghyun just grinned sheepishly. "sorry… but the sandcastles were awesome!"

Riki and your dad walked in behind him. for a brief second, both of them looked at each other with the exact same tired but fond expression — the universal look of men dealing with their loud, dramatic women.

It was weirdly wholesome from an outside perspective.

Seonghyun kicked off his sandals. "i'm gonna rinse off real quick and then i'm starving. also—" he turned to Riki with a proud grin, "—i talked to a really pretty girl at the beach. she said my sandcastle was cool."

Riki grinned and gave him a fist bump. "that's my boy. did you get her name?"

"Yeah! her name's Mina."

You reached over and smacked Riki's arm. "don't encourage him! he's thirteen."

Riki just made a silly face at you, completely used to your hits at this point. "relax, dwarf. let the kid live."

Seonghyun laughed and ran off to the bathroom.

Riki disappeared into your room for a few minutes and came back wearing dry black sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt.

His hair was messy and stiff from the sea salt, making him look even more effortlessly handsome in that messy, bad-boy way.

Soon, everyone was seated at the big wooden dining table. your dad had insisted on sitting next to you ("i barely see my daughter these days"), so you were on his right. Seonghyun sat next to Riki, and your mom took the head of the table.

After everyone bowed their heads and your dad said a short prayer, you all started eating.

Riki didn’t waste any time turning on the charm.

"Ms. Mom, this is actually insane" he said after the first bite, eyes wide with genuine appreciation. "the seasoning is perfect. i don't know how you do it every time."

Your mom beamed. "oh stop it, you flatterer."

"I'm serious" Riki continued, sounding like a 40-year-old man. "the balance of flavors… incredible. and this cabin? the natural light in here is really well thought out. great ventilation too. you chose the perfect spot, sir" he added, nodding respectfully at your dad.

Your dad chuckled. "glad you like it, son. the humidity can get bad near the coast, but this place handles it nicely."

"Exactly" Riki agreed, launching into a surprisingly detailed conversation about coastal architecture and weather patterns with your dad.

You watched him across the table — hair messy, talking politely with your parents, teasing Seonghyun every now and then with that easy smile — and felt a rush of heat.

He looked stupidly good. Domestic. like he belonged here with your family.

Under the table, you slowly lifted your bare foot and pressed it directly against the front of his sweatpants, right over his crotch.

Riki's words faltered mid-sentence.

"—and the… uh, the airflow is—" he cleared his throat, quickly recovering. "the airflow is probably excellent during the summer months."

He shot you a sharp look across the table, but you just smiled innocently and took another bite of pasta, pressing your foot harder against him. you could feel him starting to harden under your sole.

Riki kept talking like nothing was happening, though his ears turned slightly red.

He even managed to crack a joke with Seonghyun about building a bigger sandcastle tomorrow, all while your foot continued teasing him under the table.

Riki subtly reached under the table once, grabbing your ankle in warning for a second… but he didn't push your foot away. instead, his thumb stroked your skin once before letting go, like he was both annoyed and turned on.

You pressed down again, rubbing slowly.

He bit the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening, but kept that perfect polite smile on his face while talking to your mom about her cooking.

While Riki kept up his perfect-boyfriend act — chatting with your dad about the weather, complimenting your mom's cooking, and joking lightly with Seonghyun — your bare foot never stopped teasing him under the table.

You rubbed slowly, pressed down firmly, even curled your toes over the growing bulge in his sweatpants. every time he tried to shift away, you followed.

At one point, the stimulation became too much.

A tiny, breathy whimper escaped Riki's throat before he could stop it. he quickly tried to cover it with a cough, but it was too late.

Your mom turned immediately, concerned. "Riki, honey, are you okay? did you choke?"

Riki cleared his throat, ears bright red as he gave her a sheepish smile. "ah, sorry Ms. Mom, i'm fine. i was just really hungry and eating too fast. my bad."

Your mom chuckled. "slow down, sweetheart. there's plenty more."

You looked straight at him across the table with the most smug, victorious little smile. your eyes practically screamed: if you want to play risky games, i'll play with something much worse.

Riki narrowed his eyes at you, jaw clenched, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was both furious and impressed.

When everyone finally finished eating, you slowly withdrew your foot and slipped it back into your slipper like nothing had happened.

Riki let out a long, controlled breath. his chest was rising and falling a little faster than normal, and you could see the clear frustration in his eyes.

"i'll clear the table" he offered smoothly, already standing up.

"i'll help" you said sweetly, standing right after him.

Your parents started talking about adult things— bills, work, and some neighbor drama back home —while Seonghyun jumped up excitedly.

"I'm gonna get my Nintendo! Mina said she has Tomodachi Life too. i'll be back later!" he sprinted to his room, sand still somehow falling from his hair.

Now it was just you and Riki in the kitchen.

He started washing the dishes while you dried them and put them away. for a few minutes you worked in silence, shoulders brushing every now and then. then Riki spoke, voice extremely low so only you could hear.

"You're actually insane" he muttered, scrubbing a plate harder than necessary. "you had your foot on my dick the entire lunch while i was talking to your dad. i almost came in my pants like a fucking loser."

You smiled innocently, stacking clean plates. "you started it in the bathroom earlier. i was just finishing what you began."

Riki glanced toward the living room to make sure your parents weren't listening, then leaned slightly closer.

"When that door closes tonight…" he whispered, voice dark and full of promise, "i'm not gonna be nice, love. i'm gonna bend you over that bed and fuck the attitude right out of you. gonna make you cry on my cock while you try so hard to stay quiet."

You felt heat rush through your body, but you refused to show it.

He continued, voice even lower, almost a growl. "gonna stuff that pretty mouth with my fingers when you get too loud. spank that ass red for teasing me all day. and when i finally cum… i'm filling you up until it's dripping down your thighs. you're not sleeping until i'm done ruining you."

Your hands trembled slightly as you dried a glass.

Riki smirked, noticing. "what's wrong, baby? you were so bold under the table. cat got your tongue now?"

You bumped his hip with yours. "you talk so much shit for someone who whimpered like a puppy ten minutes ago."

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "keep running that mouth. we'll see how loud you are tonight when i'm actually inside you.”

You handed him another plate, smiling sweetly. "we'll see if you can even last that long, big guy."

Riki turned his head to look at you, eyes burning with lust and challenge.

"Oh, i'm lasting" he murmured. "the only question is whether you can handle what i'm saving up for you."

The tension between you two was thick enough to cut with a knife. the sun was still bright outside, but night suddenly felt dangerously close.

And Riki looked like he was counting down every single hour until he could finally get you alone.

The afternoon sun bathed the beach in warm golden light as the day slowly drifted toward evening. after spending time in the water earlier, you and Riki decided to stay on the sand this time.

You set up a large striped umbrella and laid out a thick beach towel beneath it. your parents and Seonghyun were further down, enjoying the waves and laughing loudly.

Riki reclined against the towel, propped up on his elbows, wearing dark sunglasses that hid his sharp eyes. you sat between his legs, back resting comfortably against his chest, sipping on a cold energy drink while mindlessly scrolling through tiktok.

The sound of waves crashing, distant laughter, and seagulls filled the air. it was peaceful.

For approximately three minutes.

Riki's patience ran out quickly. he leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

"What are you watching?" he asked, voice low and curious.

You didn't answer, too focused on a video.

He waited five seconds before reaching around you and snatching the phone straight from your hands.

"Riki!" you yelped, immediately trying to grab it back. "give it to me, you idiot!"

He held the phone high above his head, a lazy smirk spreading across his lips. "nah. you've been ignoring me for like ten minutes straight. what's so interesting on there?"

You stretched your arm desperately, but he was much taller.

Every time you reached higher, your face got closer to his. the tension was palpable — if either of you moved just a few centimeters more, your lips would meet.

"Riki, i swear to God, give me my phone back. i was watching tiktoks!" you whined, half-annoyed, half-laughing.

He tilted his head, clearly enjoying your struggle. "then pay the fee, dwarf. one kiss and i'll return it."

You glared at him. "you're so annoying."

"And you're so dramatic" he shot back, smirking. "c'mon. one little kiss. i've been good all day."

Instead of kissing him, you reached down and pinched the skin on his thigh hard.

"Ow— fuck!" Riki hissed, instinctively lowering his arm from the pain.

You snatched your phone back triumphantly and hugged it to your chest. "that's what you get."

Riki rubbed his thigh, pretending to be hurt. "you're actually violent. i'm telling your mom you abuse me daily. this is domestic terrorism."

You laughed and finally leaned in, giving him a soft, lingering kiss on the lips. he tried to deepen it, but you pulled away quickly, smiling smugly.

"Happy now?" you asked.

Riki licked his lips, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. "barely. but i'll take what i can get… for now."

By 5 PM, the sun had softened into a beautiful amber glow. you and Riki told your family you were going to buy ice cream and some cold drinks. your parents nodded distractedly while Seonghyun was busy showing off his sandcastle to other kids.

The walk toward the small tourist market was calm and breezy.

The streets were lively — full of people enjoying their vacations. as you walked hand-in-hand with Riki, it was impossible not to notice how many girls turned their heads to stare at him.

Tall, handsome, tattoos peeking from under his shirt, effortless swagger… he was hard to miss.

You, on the other hand, were still in your loose pajama shorts and silly cartoon plastic slippers.

"I'm so embarrassed" you muttered, looking down at your feet. "everyone is staring and i look like i just rolled out of bed."

Riki glanced down at you and chuckled, squeezing your hand. "you look cute. stop overthinking it."

"Cute? i look homeless" you groaned.

He stopped walking for a second, turning to face you properly. "for real, you look hot. only a real baddie can walk around in cartoon slippers and pajama shorts like it's a fashion statement. you're serving looks, dwarf. own it."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "you're such a smooth talker when you want something."

Inside the busy market, Riki kept your hand in his the entire time as you browsed the freezer section, picking out different flavors of ice cream and cold beverages.

The store was packed with tourists, and the air conditioning felt amazing against your sun-warmed skin.

While you waited in line at the checkout, you shifted uncomfortably.

"My legs hurt" you complained softly.

Riki raised an eyebrow, amused. "we literally walked just fifteen minutes, baby."

"And? they hurt now."

He teased you for a bit longer, calling you spoiled and dramatic, but when you stepped outside with the bags, he crouched down in front of you without another complaint.

"Hop on."

You climbed onto his back happily, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Riki hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you with ease as he began the walk back to the cabin. the bags of snacks hung from his fingers.

"You're actually really heavy" he teased, though his voice showed no strain.

"Liar. you love carrying me."

"Yeah… maybe i do" he admitted quietly, adjusting his grip on your thighs. "even if you're a pain in the ass."

The sunset painted the sky in soft pinks and oranges as Riki carried you along the beach path.

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, breathing in his now familiar scent mixed with sea salt and sunscreen.

For a few peaceful minutes, everything felt perfect.

By the time you and Riki reached the cabin, the sky had turned a soft orange-pink. it was already 6:05 PM. the moment Riki stepped onto the wooden porch with you still on his back, the delicious smell of dinner cooking floated out through the open windows.

Your mom was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, humming while stirring something on the stove. your dad's voice could be heard singing off-key from the shower.

in the living room, Seonghyun was sitting on the floor with two other kids from the beach and a shy-looking girl— Mina —playing cards and laughing loudly.

Your mom turned when she heard the door and immediately smiled at the sight of Riki carrying you.

"Oh my goodness" she laughed. "look at this. did you buy ice cream or did you buy a whole wife?"

Riki grinned, adjusting his grip on your thighs. "she said her legs were tired, Ms. mom, i'm just being a responsible boyfriend."

He carefully lowered you to the floor, but not before pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead right in front of your mom. then he replied with the same playful energy:

"What can i say? she's spoiled. But i don't mind carrying her everywhere."

You elbowed him lightly before turning to your mom. "it smells really good in here. what are you making?"

"Grilled chiken, some fried rice, and vegetables. nothing too heavy since we had a big lunch" she answered proudly. "it should be ready in about forty minutes."

Before you could say anything else, Seonghyun came running over the second he spotted Riki. he grabbed his arm and pulled him down to whisper something in his ear, looking extremely proud of himself.

"Riki-hyung… Mina kissed me on the cheek while we were playing truth or dare" he whispered excitedly.

Riki's eyes widened before he broke into a big smile. he gave Seonghyun a fist bump and ruffled his hair.

"That's my boy, see? i told you you're cool. did you blush or play it cool?"

"I played it cool… i think" Seonghyun said, though his cheeks were clearly pink just talking about it.

You couldn't help yourself. you crossed your arms and said loud enough for both of them to hear:

"If only she knew that you bathe once a week, Seonghyun."

Seonghyun gasped dramatically, looking genuinely offended. "hey! that's not true!"

Riki placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be deeply hurt. "wow. you're attacking both of us now? he's just a kid, dwarf. let him live. do you hate us? are we really that disgusting to you?"

Seonghyun nodded vigorously beside him. "yeah! we're clean!"

You rolled your eyes and smacked Riki's arm again.

Without warning, Riki bent down, grabbed you around the waist, and effortlessly threw you over his shoulder in an "air prison" your upper body hanging down his back.

"Riki!" you squealed, laughing and kicking your legs. "put me down, you idiot!"

"Nope. this is what you get for being violent all day" he said, chuckling as he walked around the living room with you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "you hit me too much, dwarf. i'm starting to think you enjoy it."

You reached up and tugged his hair hard, pulling his head back.

"Ow— okay, okay!" he laughed.

To get revenge, Riki turned his head and bit the side of your waist— not too hard, but enough to leave a clear teeth mark on your skin, hidden under your shirt.

You yelped. "Ouch, Riki!"

He finally put you down, smirking like the devil he was. you glared at him and immediately turned toward the kitchen.

"Mom! your future son-in-law is biting me!"

Your mom looked over from the stove and just laughed warmly, a nostalgic sparkle in her eyes as she watched the two of you.

"Ah… young love" she said softly, shaking her head with a fond smile.

"You two remind me so much of your father and me when we were your age. always fighting, always playing… but couldn't stay away from each other for five minutes."

Riki wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side while smiling innocently at your mom.

"Don't worry, Ms. Mom, i can handle her. she's just a little violent sometimes."

You stepped on his foot.

He didn't even flinch — just looked down at you with a dangerous little smirk only you could see.

Your mom turned back to the stove, still smiling to herself, completely unaware of the tension simmering between you two.

The sun was setting fast.

The table was full and lively by 7 PM. Seonghyun had begged to invite Mina for dinner, and your parents happily agreed.

The young girl sat shyly beside him, while everyone else took their seats. for the first time that day, Riki was finally sitting right next to you. his thigh pressed lightly against yours under the table.

Your dad cleared his throat. "Alright, let's pray."

Everyone bowed their heads as your dad said a short but heartfelt prayer, thanking God for the vacation, the food, and the family time. Seonghyun even added a quick "and thank you for Mina too" at the end, making the girl blush.

The moment everyone said "amen" the clinking of utensils began.

Riki didn't even let you take two bites before he reached over with his chopsticks and stole a big piece of grilled chicken from your plate.

"Hey!" you hissed, immediately reaching up and tugging his ear. "calm down, you thief!"

Riki winced but smiled, turning his head toward your mom with the most dramatic, innocent eyes.

"Ms. Mom, look what your daughter does to me" he complained playfully. "she's so abusive."

Your dad jumped in immediately. "sweetheart, don't pull his ear like that. poor Riki is a guest."

Both you and your mom turned to look at your dad at the same time, wearing the exact same sharp, unimpressed expression.

The similarity in your temperaments was almost comical.

Your dad blinked, suddenly aware of the double glare. "...what? i'm just saying."

Your mom raised an eyebrow. "he stole her food."

You nodded. "exactly."

Your dad tried to salvage the moment with a classic dad joke. "well… at least he's not stealing her heart. that already happened years ago!"

Dead silence.

No one laughed.

Riki, ever the perfect boyfriend, immediately burst into laughter like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "that's a good one, sir!"

Seonghyun followed his hyung's lead and started laughing too. Mina, seeing everyone else laugh, let out a shy giggle as well.

You raised your eyebrows, staring at your dad. "is there an inside joke in that joke that i didn't understand? because that was terrible."

Riki was still chuckling as he leaned over and kissed your cheek sweetly. "let your dad have his moment, dwarf."

You immediately smacked his thigh under the table. Riki just smiled wider, clearly happy and unfazed, like he lived for your little acts of violence.

The rest of dinner went smoothly.

Riki continued being the ideal guest — complimenting the food again, asking your dad about fishing spots nearby, and occasionally teasing Seonghyun and Mina in a harmless big-brother way.

He fit into your family so naturally it was almost scary.

After everyone finished eating, your mom and dad stood up first to clear the table.

You and Riki moved to the living room sofa. you immediately laid down, resting your head comfortably on Riki's lap. his fingers found your hair right away, gently playing with the strands.

Your mom called from the kitchen while washing dishes. "when i finish here, we should go buy some beach toys for tomorrow morning! shovels, buckets, maybe a ball…"

Seonghyun groaned from the floor where he was playing with his Nintendo. "but Mom… i want to keep playing with my friends. Mina already went back to her cabin."

Your dad's voice came from the hallway. "don't argue with your mother, Seonghyun. we're going."

Seonghyun sighed dramatically but nodded. "fine…"

Your mom peeked out from the kitchen, smiling. "what about you two? do you want to come with us to buy the toys?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but Riki beat you to it.

"No need to worry, Ms. Mom" he said smoothly, a playful grin on his face. "we'll stay and guard the cabin from nocturnal intruders… also known as crabs."

You immediately sat up a little. "crabs? really? that's the best excuse you could come up with?"

Your mom laughed warmly. "well, someone has to protect us from the dangerous crabs."

Your dad walked by, drying his hands. "just behave, you two. we won't be long."

Riki nodded respectfully. "we'll be good, sir."

As soon as your parents turned away, Riki's hand returned to your hair, stroking it slowly. his fingers were gentle, but the look in his eyes when they met yours was anything but.

There was heat behind them — dark, patient, and full of promise.

He leaned down slightly, brushing his lips against your forehead while continuing to caress your hair.

The front door closed behind your family a few minutes later, leaving the cabin quiet except for the distant sound of waves.

His fingers tightened just slightly in your hair, a silent warning of everything he had been holding back all day.

The cabin changed completely.

You felt Riki's intense gaze on you and knew exactly what was coming. before he could even say anything, you jumped up from the sofa with a mischievous grin.

"Catch me if you can, slowpoke" you taunted, sticking your tongue out at him before bolting toward your shared bedroom.

Riki let out a long, frustrated sigh, but the smirk on his face showed he was more than amused.

"Really? you're gonna run now?" he called after you, already standing up. "after teasing me all damn day?"

You laughed as you ran into the bedroom, kicking off your slippers and jumping onto the bed. you grabbed two pillows and hurled them at him the moment he appeared in the doorway.

Riki caught both effortlessly and tossed them back onto the bed. "cute. real mature, dwarf."

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Then he slowly approached the bed like a predator. you tried to scramble away, but he grabbed your ankle and yanked you back, making you fall onto your back with a surprised squeak.

Riki climbed onto the bed carefully, hovering over you without fully trapping you, giving you one last chance to escape if you really wanted to.

You didn't.

Instead, you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, wearing that signature bratty, wicked little smile.

Riki exhaled through his nose, eyes dark. he leaned down and kissed your cheek tenderly, then moved to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

"You make everything so fucking difficult for me" he murmured against your skin, slowly pushing your shirt up with both hands. "all day long… acting like a little angel in front of your family while driving me crazy."

His large hands slid under your shirt and cupped your bare breasts, massaging them firmly as he kissed and sucked on your neck.

You let out a soft breathy sound. "Riki… they could come back any minute. this is still risky—"

"I know" he whispered, pinching your nipples lightly. "that's why it's gonna be a quickie. just a fast one, baby. i need you so bad right now.”

You couldn't help but tease him even as he played with your chest. "look at you… so needy. all because i had my foot on your dick during lunch?"

Riki growled and bit down on the side of your neck, hard enough to make you gasp.

"That's your fault" he said against your skin, voice rough. "you kept rubbing me under the table like a little slut while i was talking to your dad. i've been hard for hours because of you."

With one smooth motion, he flipped you onto all fours, keeping you in position so you were facing the large window that overlooked the dark ocean. the moon reflected beautifully on the waves.

You let out a surprised moan at the sudden movement.

"Riki— hurry up" you whined, pushing your ass back against him.

He chuckled darkly, running his hands over your ass before slowly pulling your shorts and panties down just enough to expose you. he left them around your thighs, keeping you partially restricted.

"Fuck… look at you" he groaned, biting his lower lip as he stared. his fingers traced over your soaked pussy.

He freed his hard cock, already leaking, and pressed the thick head against your wet pussy, rubbing it back and forth slowly, teasing you.

You moaned louder, pushing back.

"Shhh" he warned, one hand covering your mouth gently. "quiet, baby. or i'll stop."

He continued rubbing his cock against your wet cunt, the head catching on your clit with every stroke. the friction was driving you insane.

"Please…" you whimpered.

Riki leaned over your back, lips brushing your ear.

"You want it?" he asked, voice low and cocky. "want me to fuck you like this while your family could catch us?"

"Yes— just do it already."

He finally pushed in deep in one smooth motion, burying himself completely inside you.

You moaned loudly into his hand. Riki groaned, gripping your hip tightly with his free hand as he started fucking you hard from behind.

"Fuck— so tight" he breathed, snapping his hips against your ass. "this is what you get for teasing me all day, baby. take it."

He kept one hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds while the other gripped your hip, pulling you back onto his cock with every rough thrust. the sound of skin slapping skin mixed with the distant waves outside the window.

Riki leaned down again, biting your shoulder as he pounded into you.

"You feel so fucking good… i've been thinking about this all day" he growled. "gonna fuck you fast and deep, okay? just how my needy little brat likes it."

He kept you firmly in position, hips snapping relentlessly, the angle making him hit deep every single time. His breathing was ragged, but he never stopped talking.

"Tell me how much you wanted this too" he demanded softly, moving his hand from your mouth to let you speak.

"I wanted it…" you moaned, pushing back against him. "harder, Riki—"

He smirked and obeyed, fucking you even rougher, the bed creaking under you both.

"Good girl."

Riki's hips snapped against your ass with a steady, rough rhythm, the wet sound of skin slapping skin echoing softly in the bedroom.

He kept you firmly on all fours, one hand gripping your hip while the other occasionally delivered sharp, stinging spanks to your ass.

"Fuck— Riki…" you moaned, pushing back against him. "right there… please—"

"Yeah? you want it right there, baby?" he growled, spanking you again. "little brat. teasing me all day and now you're begging for my cock like this."

He thrust deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke. your eyes fluttered as you gripped the sheets tightly.

"I hate you…" you whimpered between moans, "but don't stop— ah— fuck, right there—"

Riki chuckled darkly and leaned over your back, biting your shoulder. "you don't hate me. you love getting fucked like a little whore while your family's out."

He kept pounding into you for what felt like forever but was only around five intense minutes — rough, deep, and desperate. the angle made everything feel overwhelming. you were getting louder, too lost in the pleasure.

Suddenly, you heard the front door of the cabin open.

"Shit— Riki, stop!" you gasped, grabbing his hand. "they're back—"

Riki only smiled, that dangerous, teasing smirk spreading across his face.

Instead of stopping, he pressed his large hand over your mouth again and pushed your upper body down into the mattress, forcing you into a prone bone position.

"Shhh" he whispered against your ear, still buried deep inside you. "not yet, baby."

He continued fucking you, but slower and deeper now, grinding against your ass to minimize the sound of skin slapping.

The new angle made his cock press even harder against your most sensitive spots with every roll of his hips. the friction was devastating.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned desperately into his palm.

"Mmm—!" you cried, muffled.

"Quiet, babe" he breathed, still moving inside you. "you hear that? your mom's asking where we are."

From the hallway, your mom's voice carried clearly:

"Honey? Riki? where are you two?"

Your dad answered from somewhere near the living room. "they're probably in their room. Seonghyun, don't run off too far— stay close to the bonfire!"

Seonghyun's excited voice faded as he ran outside to play with the other kids.

Riki kept grinding into you slowly but intensely, his cock dragging against every sensitive inch inside you.

You were shaking, tears of overstimulation and frustration pricking your eyes as you tried so hard to stay silent.

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. "you're clenching so hard around me… you like this, don't you? getting fucked while your parents are right outside?"

You nodded frantically, moaning into his hand.

Riki gave one last deep, slow thrust before letting out a frustrated groan. he reluctantly pulled out of you, breathing hard.

Neither of you had finished.

"Fuck…" he muttered, clearly annoyed.

He quickly pulled up his boxers and sweatpants, then helped you.

He gently slid your panties and shorts back up your legs, fixing them carefully even though his hands were still shaking with need.

"Come here" he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You crawled to him immediately, face flushed red and breathing uneven. you hid your face in his chest, one hand tracing lazy lines down his abdomen.

Riki wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he tried to calm his breathing.

He reached under the pillow, pulled out his phone, and pretended to scroll through it.

A few seconds later, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in" Riki called, voice surprisingly steady.

Your mom opened the door with a smile, holding a couple of beach bags. she saw you cuddled up against Riki's chest and her expression softened.

"We got everything for tomorrow" she said cheerfully. "there's a water park with games and slides nearby. we thought it would be fun. are you two tired already?"

Riki smiled politely, one hand still gently stroking your back. "a little bit. but that sounds fun, Ms. Mom"

You kept your face buried in Riki's chest, cheeks burning bright red. you were sure your expression would give everything away if she saw you properly.

Your mom chuckled softly. "alright, rest up then. we'll leave around 9 tomorrow morning. goodnight, you two."

"Goodnight" Riki replied smoothly.

The moment the door closed, you let out a long, frustrated breath against his chest.

Riki sighed too, tilting his head back.

Keonho had features that would make you think the God's favored him. Every inch of him was sculpted to impossible precision like the maker took his sweet time perfecting over each minute detail. From his radiant smile to the curve of his jaw. The pointy tip of his nose and down to the shape of his eyebrows. Keonho had such pretty eyebrows. Thick, luscious it could make you jealous.

So there was just something about it that made you want to try something.

He had firmly denied when you first asked him, covering them with his palm as if shielding them from your evil intentions.

"It won't hurt, I promise" you said with a cheeky smile that said otherwise.

It honestly sounded like a stupid thing to get himself into but then again he was stupid for you.

All it took was few please and a kiss to his forehead and he was all smiles and ready, sitting on the couch obediently as you arranged your weapons.

And now you're sat comfortably on his lap, his palms resting on your hips, occasionally squeezing or drawing absent minded shapes as you plucked little stray hair with the concentration of a scientist.

The room had died down from the overdramatized screams of agony when you first started, when he was ready to quit after the first pull, tears practically brimming in his eyes as he shielded his precious eyebrows with his palms.

You could only get him to sit still again after the promise of a kiss with each pluck. Now the room was quiet and calm, summer breeze blowing through the curtains, sunlight seeping through and casting a comforting warmth on your back. Keonho could still feel the sting on his skin everytime you pulled out another strand but it was bearable now, almost relaxing somehow.

He watched you work with concentration, eyebrows furrowed in focus. And he can't help but notice every little detail of the moment. How he sunlight casted lights behind you, making you look like an angel. The way your hair would blow with the breeze and then graze against his cheek in a ticklish manner, he would feel the sharp tug of the tweezers before your lips pecked against his, quick and gentle then your thumb would graze over the skin before continuing.

And weirdly, he feels at peace. Maybe it was because you were close enough that he could smell the scent of your lavender body wash mixed with the faint scent of citrus of your shared shampoo and sunlight, something that smells distinctively like you, like home. He could feel your breath on him, soft and relaxed and he can feel you skin on his and your attention was on him and you kissed him after every pluck and its all he could ask for. Really.

"You seem relaxed." your voice was low and soft, meeting his eyes for a second before placing a promised peck on his lips.

You felt his arms pulling you a little closer, leaning forward to kiss you.

"Hey, don't move now," you protested, pushing him back by his forehead. He didn't resist, although a pout sat on his lips at your rejection.

"That's not fair. I want to kiss you too."

You grinned at that, amused, teasing, pulling out another hair then placing a quick peck on his lips again. This time, it was quicker, barely touched his lips like you were really teasing him.

And his reaction was immediate. He didn't even try to hide his obvious dissatisfaction. A groan of protest left his mouth.

"You're cheating. That barely counts as a real kiss," he sulked, tilting his head away from your hands as he looked like you with the biggest pout.

You couldn't help but laugh at that. He looked so cute like that, all pouty, "yeah? then what counts as a real kiss, baby? "

That damn nickname and the way you said it. It had his heart doing summersaults.

You watched with amusement the way his eyes flickered to your lips then back to your eyes. Then he smiled, the kind that doesn't rush but settle slowly into his lips. His eyes softened, almost seeming to shine as he looks at you like you're the only thing he sees, the only thing he wants to see.

And then he leaned in, slowly, giving you enough time to push him away again but you don't and his forehead touched yours. And his smile widened a little, then his nose brushed against yours before your lips finally connect.

it caught you off guard, instinctively curling your fist on his shirt. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips lightly moving over yours. Then his hands unwrapped from your waist, sliding up to cup your face.

Your lips felt warmer than the sunlight shining on his face and sweet....as this moment. Kissing you have always felt like coming home even though he already was.

You felt him smile against your lips, his thumb grazing affectionately on your cheek before pressing closer, deepening the kiss.

You pulled back slightly to catch your breath but Keonho didn't let you go far with your face still in his palms. He pulled you in again, tilting his head to the side. When he pulled away, he had this lovesick-down-bad-obsessed grin on his face and you did too.

He pressed his forehead to yours, looking at you with eyes so pure," that was a real kiss. now don't make me teach you again. "

And you laughed at that, hitting his chest playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You perked up, “See! Then I c—”

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

You blinked.

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

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

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

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

Your heart skipped.

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

Then he rose. Just like that.

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

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

“Tea?” she offered.

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

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

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

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

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

You cracked a smile—small, but real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was when fear sunk its teeth into him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Later that day

—

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

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

“You still upset?”

You stayed quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

He saw it, too.

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

Riki stilled. His hand dropped back to the sheets.

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

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

You sat up, “I am not naïve!” 

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

“Name one time.”

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

You blinked, jaw dropping in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, slowly, he turned his head toward you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Then: “What do I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, “A black folder. Wow…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behavioral Intelligence Officer

Your knees buckled a little.

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

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

You stared at him, absolutely speechless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not babe-asaurus!” 

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

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

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

You blinked. “Okay, edgelord.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

Your brows pulled together. “Internal?”

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “A double agent?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riki handed you the folder at last.

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

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

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

“Because you’re mean to people.”

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

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

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

You blinked. “You smiled while doing it.”

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

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

Your stomach twisted just a bit.

“You good?” Riki asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You held his gaze, jaw tight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smacked his chest, scandalized. “Riki!”

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

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

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

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

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

God help you.

—

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

“My love, you asked like twi—”

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

“Okay,” you huffed. “Simple enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Not really.

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

A few of them looked surprised.

One or two looked uneasy.

And at least one looked curious.

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

“Good,” you replied under your breath.

He smirked. “That’s my girl.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s rubbing off on me,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled wider. “I know I am.”

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

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

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

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

And off you were.

—

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

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

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

Riki could wait.

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

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

He replied back in a split second.

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

thorn in my side: thanks

idiotbox: i love you

…

???

i said i love you

i love you baby ????

now girl…

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

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

idiotbox: hm

we’ll talk later

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

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

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

You are not to engage further.

You are not to engage further. 

You are not—fuck it.

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

Empty.

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

Sans one other: Yuna.

Weird.

Then you saw it.

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

“INCIDENT REPORT — LEAK”

Then another:

“NISHI — CONFIDENTIAL”

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

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

And not a second too soon.

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

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

He started typing.

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

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

You could hear the moment he realized something was off.

Click, click.

Rustle.

Click.

Pause.

“…Huh.”

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

Another pause. Longer this time.

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

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

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

This was inventory. This was war.

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

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

Still, his voice was ice when he finally spoke:

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

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

You didn’t move for a full thirty seconds.

Just breathed.

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

But Jo was gone.

And you were still here.

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

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

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

No one.

No shadows.

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

And then booked it.

—

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

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

He wasn’t at his desk.

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t,” he said flatly.

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

Riki stared at them.

Then at you. “...You’re insane.”

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smacked his arm. “You are insufferable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

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

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

“Over my dead fucking body.”

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

You stared at him. “That’s dramatic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I figured,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

“Do you want her gone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think she wants you or something?” 

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

“No, I’m being serious.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” you murmured.

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

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

—

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

The first folder you opened was the one labeled:

“INCIDENT REPORT — LEAK”

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

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

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

Potential Suspect(s):

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

Sohee Lee (recent behavioral inconsistencies; requires further monitoring)

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

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

Riki’s voice was low. “Keep going.”

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

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

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

You flipped to the next folder:

“NISHI — CONFIDENTIAL”

Your stomach clenched.

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

A breakdown of an entire group.

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

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

Recent Activity:

Acquisition of real estate adjacent to Nishimura holdings.

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

Unusual surveillance patterns noted around Nishimura residences.

Notable Names:

A. Nishiyama (deceased, patriarch)

M. Nishiyama (???) — identity redacted

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s inno—”

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

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

He frowned in thought. “No, why?”

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

You felt like the floor shifted under you.

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

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

REDACTED TARGET LIST [photo attached]

R. Nishimura (active)

“Okaasan” (active, unnamed spouse)

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

There was a picture.

Of you.

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

They knew who you were.

They were watching.

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

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

That’s when he looked up.

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

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

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

Riki’s breathing changed.

Not heavy. Not loud.

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

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

You knew. Felt it more than anything.

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

You blinked. “What?”

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

“No—Riki—”

“I said you’re done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was scared.

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

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

—

Within the next hour, Riki sent you home. 

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

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

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

And now here you are.

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

Because it could’ve been anyone.

Anyone watching you. Anyone taking that photo.

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

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

A different arena.

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

You wiped your face and reached for your phone.

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

You opened your texts anyway. Clicked on the chat.

thorn in my side: i’m home

i love you, baby

Message delivered. No reply yet.

You stared at the phone until the screen went dark.

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

—

Riki came home and the house was equally as silent. 

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

But this time he felt nothing. 

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

No response. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then.

Then he saw the note.

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

Simple. Clean. In all capital letters.

YOU WANTED HER OUT. SO WE TOOK HER OUT.

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

The marble counter shattered first.

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

“FUCK!”

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

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

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

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

And then—his voice broke.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck—”

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

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

She froze in place.

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

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

Because then she saw the note. 

The note.

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

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

He didn’t look at her as he spoke.

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

Clara nodded, frozen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It only works if you have a pulse.”

“What if I take it off?”

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

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

Riki had laughed with you then.

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

But now?

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

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

You were alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He paused only once.

To grab a bottle of your favorite perfume.

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

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

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

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

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

The other guard interjected, “Sir—”

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes, sir.”

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

He climbed into the car.

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

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

“Already on it.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

Your blood ran like ice. 

“Clara?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clara paused mid-step.

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

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

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

“He’s killed for less, Clara.”

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

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

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

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

Then she smiled, too wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it was too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even now—your pinky searching for his.

He found yours. Linked it. Tight. 

You were still here. And so was he.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” 

“You’re dead.”

“You fucking—”

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

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

And Clara had dragged him out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That did it.

The room cracked open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riki did.

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

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

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

Clara froze.

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

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

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

It was aimed at herself. 

You froze. So did Riki.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. Then—

“I’m sorry,” Riki said quietly.

Clara froze.

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

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

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

You exhaled, relief crashing over you like a wave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chanel.” You and Riki corrected simultaneously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, “How did you break free?” 

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

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

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

You blinked, “That’s not comforting.”

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

—

Later that night

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears pooled in your eyes.

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

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

fin.

⊹

There were seven of them.

Seven loud, annoying ass, inseparable boys who took up too much space at every party, every hallway, and every parking lot. They were always together, skateboards under their arms, half-finished coca-cola cans in their hands, laughter echoing too loudly through college apartments that definitely couldn’t fit all of them.

You really weren’t supposed to be part of them. Even thought they we’re weird at first.

The first time they saw you, you were standing alone at some shady off-campus house party.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter in low rise jeans and a baby tee, flipping your pink bedazzled Motorola shut and open again because you didn’t know what else to do with your hands.

It was Sunghoon who noticed first. “Why is she by herself? She looks nice.” And then all seven of them ended up standing in front of you like a mildly intimidating boyband.

You don’t remember how, but that night you were adopted into their friendgroup.

You’d been with them ever since.

Especially Riki.

—

You and Riki were never stable.

You were either disgustingly in love or dramatically broken up. There was no in-between.

You’d ‘break up’ over anything:

Because he didn’t call you back fast enough. You helped another guy with his homework. He didn’t let you borrow his clothes. You told him smoking was unattractive.

And once because spilled an entire cup of Sprite on your Juicy Couture bag, which you spent your entire salary on.

You cried like a baby. He’d rolled his eyes and said, “It’s just a bag. Get a new one.”

You didn’t speak to him for a week.

The friend group suffered… Riki got quieter. You got meaner. The air felt heavy every time you were in the same room.

Until Jungwon snapped.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said, rubbing his temples. “You two are exhausting. Apologize. Now.”

You tried to act careless but you both folded in under five minutes and ended up in your bedroom.

—

You hated being called popular, but you weren’t invisible.

People knew you.

You had that early-2000s glow. Glossy lips, hoop earrings, low-rise everything. Professors remembered your name. Girls whispered about you. Boys stared a little too long.

Riki? He had baggy jeans sagged so low you could always see which brand of underwear he was wearing, Calvin Klein most days, sometimes something knockoff that you’d tease him about constantly.

“Pull them up,” you’d hiss in the middle of the mall, grabbing the waistband of his jeans and yanking it higher. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He’d just grin, completely unbothered.

“Why? You don’t like my boxers?”

“I don’t like that everyone else can see them.”

He’d lean closer, smoke still lingering faintly on his breath. “I don’t care.”

And then he’d glance down at your hips.

Low rise jeans. A tiny strip of pink lace peeking out when you moved. Belly piercing glinting under the mall lights.

“Oh,” he’d mock, tugging lightly at the strip of your thong on your hip, making it snap back. “And that’s modest?”

You’d swat his hand away. “That’s fashion.”

“Mine is too.”

“You look homeless.”

“You look like a hooker.”

“I do not. You asshole.”

You’d both be smiling by the end of it.

—

It’s one of those perfect late mid-August afternoons.

The sun is low and orange. Everything smells like hot pavement, sunscreen, and cigarettes. The entire city feels outside, kids with scraped knees, girls in denim skirts, boys shirtless with skateboards tucked under their arms.

The skatepark is loud.

Wheels scraping. Laughter echoing. Music playing from someone’s brand new portable speaker.

The whole friend group is there and Riki insisted you’d come too.

His white tank top clinging slightly to his back from sweat. Wired headphones dangling out of the pocket from his jeans. A cigarette tucked behind his ear, which you hate.

Heeseung is beside him, attempting something reckless off a skating ramp.

They take turns.

They hype each other up.

They shove each other when one of them almost eats concrete.

You’re sitting on top of the half-pipe, legs dangling over the edge, flip-flops hanging loosely off your toes. The smallest top imaginable clings to your torso more lace than fabric, blue jeans sit dangerously on your hips, held in place by a big bedazzled belt.

Riki had absolutely hated the top.

“That’s not a shirt,” he said earlier.

“It is.”

“It looks like a bra.”

“It’s hot outside.”

“It’s hot for me too.”

“Then take your shirt off.”

He gave you a glare, you walked ahead anyway.

Now you’re bored.

Bored and slightly irritate because you’ve already watched him light up two cigarettes.

Two.

And you hate when he smokes. Hate the smell. Hate the way it makes his voice raspier. Hate how casual he is about it.

And he knows that, but he does it anyway. Which makes it worse.

He skates toward you suddenly, rolling to a stop between your knees. One hand presses to the ramp beside your thigh, the other still holding his board.

“You look grumpy,” he says, squinting up at you against the sun.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He leans forward and kisses your forehead anyway.

Then he pushes off again before you can respond.

You sigh.

You’re melting. You’re bored. And you’re watching your boyfriend risk concussions for fun.

Amazing.

Then Heeseung has an even more amazing idea.

“Teach her something,” he says, nodding toward you.

Riki looks up immediately.

You narrow your eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He’s already skating toward you again.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand. “It’s easy.”

“It’s not easy.”

“It is.”

“I’m wearing slippers.”

“Then take them off.”

You gasp like he’s insane.

He grins.

“Baby, I’ll hold you.”

Everyone’s watching now.

Jay whistles from somewhere near the fence. Sunghoon pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. Sunoo is already smiling like something crazy embarrassing is about to happen.

“If I fall and ruin my outfit,” you warn, pointing a manicured finger at him, “I’ll kill you.”

He laughs. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You step onto the skateboard and it wobbles instantly.

You grab his hands.

“Why is it moving?”

“Because it has wheels.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He positions himself in front of you, holding both your hands firmly.

“Okay,” he says, focused now. “Just bend your knees a little. Then pop the tail and slide your foot up.”

“Pop what?”

“The back.”

“I don’t know what that means Riki.”

He laughs softly.

“It’s fine. I’ve got you.”

You glare. “You better.”

He counts you down.

“One. Two—”

You jump.

The board flips sideways instead of up.

Your foot lands wrong.

His grip slips and suddenly you’re falling. You hit the concrete with a very embarrassing thud.

There’s a split second of silence, then there’s Laughter.

Sunoo’s laugh is the worst. High and dramatic and absolutely unnecessary.

You sit up slowly, hair in your face, pride completely shattered.

Riki is crouching immediately. “Are you okay?”

You stare at him.

“Did you catch me?”

“I tried—”

“You did not.”

He bites back a smile.

You gasp.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

He fails. Just a little chuckle, but that’s it for you.

You stand up, brushing off your jeans dramatically.

“I’m done.”

“Baby—”

“No.”

You grab your slippers and stomp back toward the half-pipe.

Sunoo is still giggling when you sit down beside him.

“I’d like to see you try next time,” you snap.

Sunoo chuckles. “I would never fall like that.”

“You absolutely would.”

“I have natural balance.”

“You have natural dramatics.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”

You both dissolve into a stupid little argument about who would survive longer on a skateboard.

It almost distracts you from Riki.

Almost.

Until you glance over and see some random guy offering Riki a joint.

And Riki… takes it?

Your stomach drops.

He laughs at something the stranger says. Throws his head back slightly. That boxy grin that made you like him in the first place.

Your jaw tightens.

Sunoo is still talking beside you.

“…and then I’d definitely land it because— helloo? Are you even listening?”

You aren’t. Your eyes are locked on Riki.

Then a girl loses control of her board and swerves straight into him.

She stumbles forward and Riki catches her.

One hand at her waist on instinct.

You feel it before you even think, that little sting in your chest.

He lets her go immediately.

“You good?” he asks casually.

She laughs. “Yeah, thanks.”

She lingers half a second too long.

That’s it. That’s your last straw. You’re already on your feet. Sunoo reaches for your wrist. “Wait—”

Too late. You walk fast, hips swaying, chin lifted, eyes low and dangerous.

Riki doesn’t even notice until you’re right in front of him.

You grab his arm and tug him away from the small group of strangers.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He blinks. “What?”

“I said what do you think you’re doing.” you repeat, quieter but sharper.

He genuinely looks confused. “Nothing?”

You look at the joint still between his fingers.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach up, snatch it from him, drop it to the ground and grind it into the concrete with your heel.

“Are you serious right now?” he mutters.

“Oh, I’m serious.” you snap.

He runs a hand through his hair. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” Your voice rises. “You’ve smoked, like, five cigarettes today. And now this? Oh and you’re just touching girls?”

His head jerks back. “Touching girls?”

“You literally had your hands all over her waist.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you had to grab her like that?”

“She was falling.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Keep it down,” he says under his breath. “Not everyone needs to know you’re mad at me again.”

That does it.

“Oh, I’m embarrassing you?!” you fire back. “You weren’t embarrassed five seconds ago.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’re making a scene.”

“You’re smoking in front of me after I told you I hate it.”

He exhales hard. “It’s my choice.”

“Oh my God.”

“It’s called free will,” he adds, clearly irritated now.

You stare at him.

“Right,” you say flatly. “So you just do whatever you want.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You were all up on her.”

“She bumped into me.”

“You didn’t have to hold her like that.”

He scoffs. “Like what?”

“Like—” You stop yourself before you say something dramatic.

He shakes his head. “You’re overreacting.”

You feel your chest tighten.

“Am I?” you ask quietly.

“Yes.”

Silence hangs between you. Then he makes the mistake.

He gestures vaguely at you.

“And don’t act like you’re not out here in that top all day.”

Your eyes widen.

“What about my top?”

“It’s too revealing.”

You laugh once. Sharp. Disbelieving.

“So now this is my fault?”

“I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying what?” you cut him off. “That I deserve it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But you thought it.”

He looks frustrated now. “You can’t tell me what I thought.”

“You can’t tell me I’m overreacting.”

“You are tho.”

Your face goes cold.

“Okay.”

You step back.

“Okay,” you repeat.

He frowns slightly. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He grabs your wrist once.

“Don’t leave.”

“Whatever.” You say and you turn and walk away.

You expect footsteps. You expect him to call your name. You expect him to follow you like he always does.

You walk past the fence, the group of boys, past Sunoo’s wide eyes. And still nothing.

You finally glance back and your stomach drops.

He’s back on his board like nothing happened.

Like he isn’t supposed to chase you.

And that hurts more than the cigarette, more than the girl, more than the argument. Because in your head, he’s supposed to follow you and beg you to stay. But instead he just skates.’

—

By nine o’clock it’s almost completely dark, the last bit of orange fading out of the sky. Your room is lit by the glow of your TV, candles and the small lamp on your nightstand. You’re curled up in bed in soft pajamas, a plate of brownies balanced on your stomach while Clueless plays for what might be the hundredth time.

Your flip phone has been buzzing the last half hour.

Four missed calls.

Ten texts.

You’ve read none of them, you refuse to.

Then you hear A small tick against your window.

You pause mid-chew.

Another one.

And then a third.

You sit up slowly, pushing the plate aside and sliding out of bed. The floor is cool under your feet as you walk toward the window and pull the blinds apart.

Riki is standing in the street below, hands filled with tiny rocks to throw, looking up at your room like he’s been waiting for you to appear. When he sees your face, he waves casually, like this is completely normal behavior.

You stare at him for two seconds.

Then you shut the blinds and walk straight back to your bed.

Your phone buzzes again immediately.

You don’t check it.

A few seconds pass.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

You exhale sharply and shuffle back to the window, throwing the blinds open this time and sliding the window up.

“What?” you hiss down at him.

“You need to let me in,” he says like it’s obvious.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“But I want to talk to you.”

“Too bad.”

He steps closer to the house, lowering his voice even though no one is outside. “Please, baby. I wanna make it up to you.”

You cross your arms against the windowsill. “Make what up? You didn’t do anything, remember?”

“Come on,” he tries again. “Are you really gonna let me stand out here looking like a fool?”

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He stares up at you, half offended, half impressed.

You hold his gaze for another second, then slide the window shut and drop the blinds again before he can argue. You get back into bed, pull the covers up, grab your brownie plate, and press play like nothing happened.

For a few minutes, it’s quiet.

Then you hear something strange. Not rocks this time, but a scraping sound. A shuffle. Something brushing against the side of the house.

You freeze.

The sound gets closer.

Your heart jumps as you sit up again just in time to see two hands grab onto your windowsill from the outside.

And then Riki’s stupid face appears.

You let out a sharp gasp and scramble out of bed as he hoists himself up, creased sneakers braced against the brick. He looks mildly proud of himself, slightly out of breath, hair falling into his eyes.

You slide the window open with a dramatic sigh.

“Seriously, Riki?”

He doesn’t answer. He just swings one leg over the sill and climbs into your room like he’s done it a hundred times before, landing lightly on your floor.

“You’re insane,” you whisper-yell, shoving the window shut behind him. “My dad is literally going to kill the both of us if he finds out you climbed through my window.”

“He won’t,” Riki says easily.

“And you smell like smoke,” you add, wrinkling your nose. “If he comes in here—”

“He won’t,” he repeats, completely unbothered.

You stand there with your arms crossed, trying to stay angry while he casually looks around your room like he’s on a tour.

He glances at you slowly, eyes dragging from your messy hair to your pajama shorts. A lazy grin spreads across his face.

“Those make your ass look good.”

Your mouth drops open. “That’s what you have to say right now?”

“I’m just being honest.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

He walks past you toward your bed, picking up one of your pillows and tossing it aside before noticing the plate of brownies. Without asking, he takes one and bites into it.

“You made these yourself?” he asks through a mouthful.

“Yes.”

“They’re good.”

“They’re mine.”

He shrugs and flops down onto your bed like he belongs there, one arm behind his head, chewing lazily while Clueless continues playing in the background.

Your eye twitches.

“I’m still mad at you, Riki” you remind him.

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m here.”

You stay standing by the window like you’re guarding it, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Riki, meanwhile, looks entirely too comfortable sprawled across your bed, one hand behind his head, the other reaching lazily for another brownie.

He watches you for a moment, amused.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He snorts softly. “Come sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

“You weren’t nervous climbing up my house like a creep.”

He pats the mattress beside him anyway. “Baby.”

You hesitate, but you do it. Of course you do. You walk over and sit cross-legged on your bed, leaving a noticeable gap between you. You grab a pink heart-shaped pillow and hold it against your chest like armor, arms wrapped around it as a clear barrier.

Riki doesn’t look intimidated.

He slowly looks you up and down instead, gaze dragging over your shorts, your bare legs, your messy hair. He takes another bite of brownie, chews thoughtfully, then winks at you.

“Can I get a kiss?”

Your jaw drops.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You lean forward and snatch the plate of brownies out of his hands before he can grab another one. “Start talking,” you demand. “Or I swear I’m throwing you back out that window.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not strong enough for that.”

“I’ll get my dad to do it.”

He actually laughs at that, like the idea is ridiculous.

You glare harder.

He sighs dramatically and sits up, closing the space between you. The mattress dips as he moves closer.

He reaches out, resting his hand on your thigh, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The touch is warm and familiar, annoyingly gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You narrow your eyes. “For what?”

He pauses half a second too long.

“For… making you mad.”

That’s it.

That’s the apology.

He doesn’t even fully know what he’s apologizing for, the smoking, the girl, the comment about your top, he just knows you’re upset and that saying sorry usually fixes it.

You try to hold your glare, but your grip on the pillow loosens.

This is how it always goes. One of you gets mad. The other gives a weak apology. And somehow it’s enough.

He watches your expression soften, just slightly, and that tiny shift is all he needs.

“Come here,” he says quietly, patting his lap.

You roll your eyes like you’re still annoyed, but you put the pillow aside and shift forward, settling onto his lap anyway. His hands come to your waist automatically.

He leans in and kisses you.

It starts slow, almost careful, like he’s testing if you’ll pull away. You kiss him back, fingers curling lightly into his black hair. For a few seconds, everything feels lke the argument never happened.

Then you wrinkle your nose and pull back slightly.

“Take your jacket off.”

He blinks. “What?”

“It smells like smoke.”

He smirks immediately. “If you wanted to undress me you could just say that.”

You don’t even entertain it. You grab his shirt and kiss him again just to shut him up.

He laughs against your mouth, hands tightening at your waist, and for now, at least, the fight is over.

Until he chuckles, he pulls back just slightly, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he talks.

“You know,” he mumbles, half smiling, “Sunoo told me to apologize.”

You don’t really listen, just give him another peck on his lips. “Hm?”

He shrugs, leaning back in to kiss you again like it doesn’t matter. “He said I should just say sorry and you’d stop being mad.”

Your lips press together instead of moving with his.

“And?” you ask slowly.

“And it worked,” he says lightly. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

You freeze.

He tries to kiss you again, but you pull your head back this time.

“Are you kidding me right now?,” you say.

He frowns, confused at the sudden shift. “What?”

“You don’t know what you did wrong?”

He laughs a little, like this is harmless. “You were just in a mood.”

You slap his arm.

Not hard. But sharp enough.

“Ow— what was that for?”

You’re already climbing off his lap. “I actually can’t stand you.”

“What?” he repeats, genuinely lost.

“You didn’t apologize because you meant it,” you snap. “You just didn’t want me to be mad.”

“That’s the same thing y/n.”

“It’s not the same thing!”

He sits there, staring at you like you’ve switched languages mid-conversation.

You grab his arm and yank him off the bed. “Come here.”

“Why are you dragging me?”

“Because you’re leaving.”

He stumbles after you as you pull him toward the window again. “I just said sorry!”

“No, you didn’t!” you fire back, pushing the window open. “You said sorry because Sunoo told you to and because you wanted me to shut up.”

“That’s not—”

“That is exactly what it was.”

He steps closer, trying to catch your wrist, trying to pull you back in like he did before. “You’re overthinking it.”

You shove his chest lightly. “Go.”

“Can you calm down for two seconds?”

“No.”

He leans in again like kissing you will solve it, like it always does. You put your hand flat against his chest and push him back.

“Get out.”

“Baby—”

“Go!”

He exhales sharply, clearly frustrated now. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“And you’re not making it a deal at all!” you shoot back. “Come back when you can take accountability!”

You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care if a porch light flicks on somewhere down the street. You’re too irritated to think about neighbors.

He glares at you for a second longer before finally swinging one leg over the sill again.

“This is so stupid,” he mutters as he climbs out.

“You’re stupid!” you yell back.

“You love me though.”

“Bye Riki!”

He drops down to the ground below with a dull thud and looks back up at you. “Throw my jacket!”

You grab it off your floor and hesitate for a second.

“It smells like smoke! Wash it out!” you shout.

“Just throw it y/n, Jeez!”

You toss it out the window a little harder than necessary. It hits him in the face before falling to his arms.

“And pull your up your goddamn pants, you loser!” you yell one last time before slamming the window shut.

He stands there for a second in the dim streetlight, running a hand through his hair and muttering a curse under his breath. “Fucking hell.”

He pulls up his pants anyway, then he turns and starts walking.

Riki walks home with his jacket slung over his shoulder. His jaw is tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he kicks at small rocks along the sidewalk. He replays the entire thing in his head.

He apologized.

Didn’t he?

He showed up. Climbed yout house. Said sorry. What else was he supposed to do?

He mutters under his breath, calling the whole situation dumb, ridiculous. Calling you dramatic.

You just crawl back into bed and press play on your movie again, rather relieved than angry.

Cher’s voice fills the room.

You reach for a brownie.

Your fingers hit an empty plate.

You stare at it.

“Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes.

—

The next day feels like nothing happened, it’s a Saturday and you’re at the mall with your friends, like usual

The mall in the center of the city is loud. Every store window is screaming SALE in red letters. Somewhere above them, a movie trailer echoes from the cinema entrance. The air smells like hotdogs, sugar, perfume samples, and fryer oil all blending into one.

Every time you guys go there to “just walk around”, someone somehow leaves with an empty wallet.

The vibe between you and Riki, though? Ice cold.

You walk slightly ahead when he’s near. Conversations split awkwardly around you two. You guys barely acknowledge each others presence. Everyone notices. No one says it yet.

You split up near the giant directory map in the middle of the mall.

Heeseung, Sunoo and you walk towards the arcade, immediately distracted by blinking machines and the sound of digital coins clinking. Jungwon and Jay walk off with one mission only, to eat every free sample the mall has to offer.

Jake, Riki and Sunghoon head towards the skate shop onsecond floor.

“Bro, I’m telling you, softer wheels are better for street,” Jake insists.

“Yeah, if you like going slow,” Sunghoon shoots back.

Riki barely speaks. He flips a board over, studies it, doesn’t see it.

He sees you in his head instead, standing at your window, yelling at him to come back when he can take accountability.

They check every board. Compare prices. Debate colors. In the end, none of them buy anything.

When they walk out into the mall hallway again, the crown hits them full force. Sunghoon stretches his arms above his head.

“So,” Jay says casually. “You and her gonna keep pretending you don’t know each other?”

Riki clicks his tongue immediately. “She’s mad at me.”

“For?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know, man.” Riki snaps, defensive already. “I apologized.”

Sunghoon snorts. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Riki insists. “I climbed her window. I could’ve fallen and died bro. I said sorry.”

Jake squints at him. “For what?”

Riki opens his mouth.

Closes it.

“…For making her mad?”

Sunghoon actually laughs. “That’s not an apology, idiot.”

Riki runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “She was yelling about the joint, and the cigs, and that girl at the skate park. But I didn’t even do anything with that girl. I just caught her because she bumped into me.”

Jake raises a brow. “By her waist?”

Riki hesitates. “…On instinct.”

“Mm,” Sunghoon hums. “And then?”

“And then she dragged me to the window and kicked me out ‘cause I said Sunoo told me to apologize,” Riki mutters.

Both boys stare at him.

“You told her…” Jake says slowly, “that someone else told you to apologize.”

“I was joking. “And at least I apologized? I don’t see the problem.”

Jake lets out a sigh. “I don’t know how you ever got her to like you, man.”

Riki scowls. “I literally climbed into her room. What more does she want?”

Jake grins. “Maybe don’t touch random girls in front of her.”

“She ran into me.”

“And you caught her,” Sunghoon says dryly. “You couldn’t even catch your own girl when she fell.”

Riki groans. “It’s not like that.”

Jake smirks. “Then go tell her that.”

“She’ll just get mad again.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Get better at apologizing.”

Meanwhile the boys are discussing how to apologize to girlfriends, you’re at the arcade, trying to win a stuffed animal.

The arcade is chaos, neon lights flickering, pixelated sound effects, the constant clink-clink of coins dropping somewhere. A racing game to your left, a dance machine behind you, and right in front of you—

The claw machine.

Inside it sits the biggest stuffed cat you’ve ever seen. Grey and white, oversized head, cute smile. It’s ridiculous. You want it immediately.

You shove another coin in.

Heeseung leans casually against the machine beside you. “You’ve been trying for like ten minutes.”

“I almost had it,” you mumble, eyes locked on the claw.

Sunoo crouches dramatically beside the glass. “Manifest it. Tell it you love it.”

“I do love it,” you whisper.

The claw drops.

Grabs the cat.

Lifts it.

For one beautiful second it hangs there.

“YES!”

Then slips.

The cat falls back into the pile.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you curse under your breath, stepping back in disbelief.

Heeseung laughs softly. “Y/n, did something happen between you and Riki?”

You don’t even look at him. “He was being a dick.”

Sunoo nods immediately. “Newsflash.”

Heeseung hums in agreement. “Fair.”

No further questions.

You shove another coin in aggressively. The claw misses completely this time and you kick the machine.

Heeseung gently nudges you aside. “Let me.”

You cross your arms, pretending you don’t care. “You’re gonna lose.”

The claw lowers.

It grips the stuffed cat around its head.

Lifts it.

Carries it over to the hole.

Drops.

The cat tumbles into the prize slot.

You and Sunoo scream like he just won an Olympic medal.

“NO WAY—” you laugh. It’s bigger than you expected, soft and and perfect.

Heeseung smiles, brushing his hands off. “All skill.”

He takes the cat from the slot and hands it to you with a small grin. “For your suffering.”

You hug it immediately. “You’re my favorite person.”

He just laughs.

ou three walk out of the arcade a few minutes later, the mall lights feeling calmer after all the flashing machines. You hold the stuffed cat in your arms like it’s something precious, its giant head resting against your shoulder.

Riki notices you.

From halfway down the hall, he spots you walking toward them, oversized plush cat in your arms, laughing at something Sunoo just said.

And unfortunately for his pride, you look cute. And pretty. And happy.

It does something uncomfortable to his chest.

The groups meet in the middle of the walkway.

Sunghoon claps his hands once. “We’re gonna go find Jungwon and Jay before they eat themselves sick.”

“Too late,” Heeseung says dryly.

They all start walking, Sunghoon and Jake up front debating something again, Sunoo walking slightly behind them.

Heeseung slows just enough to walk beside Riki for half a second.

He gives him a small nod toward you.

Go.

Riki exhales through his nose.

Fine.

He steps up, walking beside you.

You don’t look at him.

He notices that immediately.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to sound casual. “Where’d you get that?”

Your eyes stay forward. “Arcade.”

“Obviously.”

“Heeseung won it for me.”

There’s something about the way you say it, so simple, that hits him wrong.

He glances at the stuffed cat.

Heeseung won it… not him.

“Oh,” Riki mutters. “Cool.”

You finally lift it slightly, showing him the cat’s stupid stitched smile. “It’s my new boyfriend.” You say it teasingly.

But Riki doesn’t smile.

Something annoyed flickers across his face before he masks it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice calm but a little tight. “He looks like he’d treat you better.”

You glance at him briefly, catching that tone.

“It doesn’t climb through windows uninvited,” you reply.

He huffs softly. “Yeah. It also doesn’t have legs.”

You shrug. “Less likely to run around with random girls then.”

He goes quiet for half a second.

Then he nudges the cat’s head lightly with his fingers. “He looks dumb.”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“You really replacing me with a stuffed animal?”

You keep walking straight ahead.

“Depends. Can he apologize properly?” You say, then you step up your pace to nonchalantly walk away from Riki.

You eventually find Jungwon and Jay exactly where everyone expected them to be, around a food stand with tiny paper cups in their hands.

Jay is mid-sentence when the group walks up. “I’m telling you, if you circle back in ten minutes they forget your face.”

Jake nods seriously, holding up another sample. “This one’s teriyaki chicken. Third time.”

Heeseung sighs like a tired parent.

“Are we leaving?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon says.

Everyone slowly makes their way toward the mall exit.

Riki walks quietly behind everyone.

You do too.

By the time the glass doors slide open, the air outside is thick and warm, with the hum of traffic and laughs from somewhere down the street.

Sunghoon and Jake walk ahead, arguing about the best type of flipphone. Jay tries to convince Jungwon to stop at a convenience store on the way. Sunoo keeps poking Heeseung about the stuffed cat like it’s some kind of trophy.

You and Riki walk a few steps behind them again.

For a minute, neither of you says anything.

Your arms are wrapped around the giant plush cat, its soft head resting against your shoulder. Riki glances at it once, then looks ahead at the group, then down at the pavement like he’s building up the courage to say something.

Finally, he exhales and speaks.

“Y/n...”

You glance at him.

“I was being an asshole yesterday.”

You blink slightly.

He keeps walking beside you, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on the ground instead of on you.

“And… I’m sorry,” he adds. “For the cigarettes. And the joint. And that girl at the skatepark.”

You don’t interrupt.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“And I’m sorry for not knowing how to say sorry,” he admits. “I know I kinda… suck at that.”

For a moment you just look at him.

Then a small giggle slips out before you can stop it.

He looks over immediately. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, smiling a little. “I just like hearing you apologise”.

He shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

“I maybe shouldn’t have kicked you out the window.” You say hesitantly.

He snorts. “Maybe?”

“Okay, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He slides his hand out of his pocket and slowly, almost carefully, he lets it brush against yours. When you don’t pull away, his fingers curl around your hand.

The group ahead of you turns a corner toward the quieter streets leading back to your neighborhood.

You glance at Riki. “Do you wanna come to my house?”

His eyebrows lift. “You gonna let me in trough the door this time?”

You roll your eyes. “If you behave.”

“I always behave, baby.”

You scoff softly. “Mhm… just pull your pants up before my parents see you.”

⊹

extra note: I rlly hate the ending, I had writers block…