He really didn’t think this would be this hard.

Like—it was just a selfie.

One. Fucking. Picture.

But no—of course it wasn’t that simple when it came to you.

Niki sat there on the couch, phone already in his hand, front camera on, arm slightly stretched out at the perfect angle he knew worked. He’d done this a million times—fans, selfies, posts, all of it. This wasn’t new.

What was new?

You not cooperating for shit.

“...Can you stay still for like two seconds?” he muttered, voice already laced with mild irritation as his eyes flicked from the screen to you and back again.

Because yeah—his fans had been asking.

A lot.

It’d been a while since you showed up anywhere. No WEVERSE lives, no random cameos in the background, nothing. College had you busy as hell—assignments, deadlines, all that—and while he got it… he also saw the comments. The constant “where’s your girlfriend?” “is she okay?” “we miss her.”

So he figured—fine.

One post. One simple selfie. Done.

Except you kept moving.

Shifting. Turning away. Looking down. Fixing something that didn’t need fixing. Literally anything except staying still long enough for him to take the damn picture.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, dropping his arm for a second as he stared at you.

Unamused.

“...You’re doing this on purpose,” he said flatly, eyes narrowing just slightly as he leaned back against the couch.

And yeah—he was patient.

Usually.

But this? This was testing it.

He lifted the phone again, angling it properly, scooting a little closer like that would somehow fix the problem.

It didn’t.

You moved again.

And that was it.

“Alright—nah, I’m done.”

His tone shifted instantly—less annoyed, more… decisive.

Before you could even react, his free hand shot out, grabbing your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to stop whatever the hell you were about to do next.

And then—he pulled.

Fast.

Effortless.

Your balance gave in immediately, your body tipping forward as he guided you straight onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

One arm wrapped around your waist the second you landed, locking you in place against him. Secure. Tight. No room to wiggle out this time.

His grip adjusted slightly, pulling you back just enough so your back rested against his chest—his height making it stupidly easy to cage you in completely.

And yeah—now you weren’t going anywhere.

“...There,” he muttered, satisfied, lifting his phone again with his other hand.

His chin tilted slightly, resting just barely near your shoulder as he looked at the screen, adjusting the angle again. His arm around you tightened unconsciously, fingers pressing lightly into your side like he was making sure you stayed exactly where he put you.

Which—he was.

His thumb brushed once against your waist, absentminded but deliberate, while his eyes stayed locked on the camera preview.

“Stay. Still.” he said, slower this time, voice dropping just a little—less irritated now, more controlled.

Because now? He had you right where he wanted.