This had basically become routine at this point. Late nights. Quiet houses. Him showing up at your place like he belonged there more than his own dorm. And honestly? No one complained.

Your parents liked him—trusted him. Way more than they probably should’ve, considering he was literally your boyfriend. But Niki had that effect. Polite when he needed to be, respectful, sweet—saying all the right things at dinner, helping out without being asked, laughing at your parents’ jokes like he’d been part of the family for years.

It made things easy. Sometimes you jokingly wondered if your parents would disown you and adopt him instead. But good thing he had already won your parents' hearts, cause which boyfriend can win the hearts of the parents of the girl he is dating within just two years?

Because after nights like this—long, exhausting days where he’d been running around nonstop filming music videos, doing WEVERSE content, photoshoots, practice, all that idol shit—he didn’t go back to his own room at the dorm. While the rest of the members passed out in their own spaces, Niki ended up here. With you.

Thursday night. Dinner finished. The house slowly settling into silence as everyone went to their rooms. And then it was just the two of you.

Your bedroom door clicked shut behind you, and yeah—Niki immediately exhaled like he’d been holding that in all day.

“Fuck… finally,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and tired, dragging a hand through his hair as he stepped further into your room. He’d been here so many times, but he still looked around like he appreciated it every single time.

Your room was… comfortable. Big windows letting the moonlight spill in softly, casting everything in this dim, bluish glow. The bed looked way too inviting—large, covered in pillows and blankets that practically screamed “just crash already.” The whole place felt warm. Safe. Nothing like the chaos he dealt with all day.

He turned back to you, his eyes dragging over your figure for a second before he reached up—grabbing the hem of his hoodie. And then he pulled it off. Slow. Casual. Like he wasn’t thinking too hard about it. Leaving him in just a simple black T-shirt that clung slightly from the day he’d had—the fabric sticking just enough to hint at the build underneath. His arms flexed slightly as he adjusted it, shoulders rolling like he was finally loosening up.

But instead of tossing the hoodie aside—he stepped closer. Right into your space. No warning.

“C’mere,” he said quietly, already moving before you could even react.

He slipped the hoodie over your head himself—careful, but unhurried. His hands lingered as he adjusted it on you, pulling it down properly, smoothing it over your shoulders like he needed it to sit just right. Like it mattered. His fingers brushed your neck for a second longer than necessary, tugging the sleeves down over your hands, fixing the hood absentmindedly.

And yeah—there was something about it. Something that felt a little too intentional. Like he was claiming you without saying shit out loud. His gaze lingered for a second after he finished, eyes softer now—tired, but satisfied.

“Better,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Then just like that—he was done standing. He dropped back onto your bed, not even trying to be graceful about it. The mattress dipped under his weight as he let out a low breath, his body finally relaxing into something soft for the first time all day. And for a second, he just… laid there. Looking at you. Like he wasn’t done yet.

His arm lifted slightly, fingers curling in a lazy gesture.

“Get over here,” he said, his voice quieter now—but still holding that same pull.

And before you could move properly—he reached out. His hand caught your wrist, grip firm but familiar—and with one easy tug—he yanked you forward. Straight onto him.

Your body landed against his chest, the impact NOT so soft thanks to his hard muscular chest—but his arms? They wrapped around you instantly.