I love Moriarty the Patriot because William tries so, so hard to make this a “In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you,” story but Sherlock looks at him and straight up goes “FUCK THAT WE’RE DOING LAUNDRY AND TAXES IN THIS ONE.”
currently rewatching PLL again, and I have the urge to start writing imagines for some of the characters🧍🏻♀️ so if you come across any Jason Dilaurentis on my page. Don't ask just scroll
life in the 2000s means flip phones, low rise jeans, a chaotic friendgroup, and a cocky skater boyfriend who climbs your window when he needs to apologize.
pairing: bf!riki x fem!reader ⭑ ft. friendgroup Enhypen
🗯️ vaeh’s notes: the fic is finally here! you already KNOW i had to be cliche and make him climb through your window muhahah. I also wasn’t sure whether this was the right time to post this with everything going on atm, still posted it, hoping it helps cheer you guys up a little! Take care xx #enhypenis7
⊹
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.”
“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…
helloo what app do u use to make ur smaus?? same w the ig fic 🥲
hi nonnie <3 i do my smaus on my laptop so i use websites instead.
these are the ones i like to use for each type of smau:
ig smaus: for ig posts + ig stories (this one also has a ig dm generator, but you cant add images on it i believe) , for the ig header + user profile on text messages, for the actual texts messages,
as you can see i use many different websites for my ig smaus, i then have to edit my image to make it look somewhat realistic so its a lot of work. i wish i had an easier method to share but this is the one i use to make it look the way i want 💔
the easiest one i can think to use for ig smaus is this one but i dont really like the look of it lol
now for sms/text message smaus: i like to use this one, and this one
now if you really want to do it on an app, i know some people use iFake (?) and say its fine so yeah
just read a post from @leonsfap about minors reading smut, and just stated facts.
if a writer specifically says writing request from a minor makes them uncomfortable, do not force them bruh. first of all, minors should not even read that tbh.
★ OTHER SIDE OF THE GAME! — sae itoshi x singer!reader
abstract — Your relationship with Sae was like any other between two young people in the spotlight. Fast, exciting and overly emotional. Yet your careers got in the way of your love of each other and it got to a time where you couldn’t sustain it anymore. But during your non-contact period, you found something that brought you two back together and stronger than ever before.
content + warnings — 00s setting, pregnant!reader, mentions of sex, slight angst + happy ending, tws body shaming (reader gets bullied by the media), mentions of abortion, mentions of cheating (no cheating occurred.)
wc — 3.1k (not proofread soz)
an — this was requested! i really said graphics design is my passion with that header huh.
You and Sae were together for 3 years.
Being with him was probably the most exciting thing that happened in your life. As well as the most life altering and soul crushing and taking the fact that you’ve been in the spotlight for as long as you can remember, that surely says a lot about what that relationship did to you.
The day you met was supposed to be just like any other in your career.
You are constantly being invited to events and parties, abroad as well as here in Japan, that’s just how big of a star you are.
So when you received yet another invite to a fashion event all the way in Paris, you were quick to accept and call your stylist so he could start working on the outfit for that night.
Of course, you were the hot topic of that night. Your garments did nothing but emphasise your natural beauty and the way you carried yourself with so much confidence made you look even better. Paparazzi were yelling your name, desperate to catch the shot of the night to then sell to the tabloids who are more than willing to spend thousands just to get your best — or worst — picture to use as the front cover of their gossip magazines.
You really are a star and no one can tell you otherwise.
All the camera flashes made all the bling you were carrying shine brighter than ever, you posed for each picture at the red carpet so naturally it was almost as if you and the cameras were in love. You answered all the questions made by interviewers, ranging from your newest album or which designer you were wearing, with so much charisma and with that witty humor that’s so unique to you.
Even managed to respond to that same annoying question they love throwing at you such as the classical, “Did you bring someone special with you tonight?”, and the good old “Are you seeing anyone?” gracefully while maintaining your firmness.
“You know, I prefer not to comment.” “Hah, wouldn’t you like to know!” “How about you ask me about my music instead?” were some of the phrases you used to dodge talking about your love life. Because fairly, it’s no one’s business.
You’re a singer, and a good one at that, so why won’t they ask you about your music? Or ask you about your sold out shows or the amazing reviews on your vocal performance in your new sophomore album. Even at the height of your career and when you're putting heart and soul into all your work, these people only care about who’s getting in your pants…it’s so boring.
They should’ve been talking about how you were young and hungry for success, not who you’re potentially sleeping with. You didn’t have time for that at the time.
You didn’t have time for love.
Or so you thought.
Because during the after party of the event, you happened to be assigned a seat next to him for the night.
No one other than Sae Itoshi.
Real Madrid’s midfielder and the most talked about player of the moment.
Although you were never one to pay much attention to football, you knew very well who this man was. It was impossible to escape him, he was everywhere. He was plastered on sports magazines the same way you were on gossip ones, radio stations kept his name in their mouth, be it to criticise his rude behaviour in many of his interviews or in pointless chit chat about some model he was seen with one-two many times in the past weeks.
His bored expression made you ponder why he was there at all since he didn’t seem very interested.
The awkward silence between you lasted for long enough to make you feel uncomfortable around him. He didn’t even say a word when you approached the table, sitting on the chair with your nameplate placed on the table, and uttered a “hi” under your breath.
Which you still can’t believe you did. You’ve sang at the grammy’s before, in front of some of the most prominent names of your industry, not to mention you sing at sold out stadiums all the time, so the fact a guy you’ve never met in your life made you mumble under your breath like some child doesn’t sit right with you till this day. Especially considering how things turned out for you guys in the end.
Because — you don’t remember how or when — you two managed to make some small talk throughout the night. You found out he was in France because he played against PSG not so long ago, and was forced to be in this event due to his latest scandal. He decided to be rude to yet another reporter and since he was already in the country when this event was going on, his manager said this would be good PR to attend.
You recall reading that story and laughing at what he said to that reporter. The whole night, you two bonded over your shared hatred for nosy tabloids that love being all in your business as well as the trials and tribulations of being a person in the spotlight at such a young age.
Yes, there were problems that only you two could relate to, but that’s what made you feel more connected.
Connected enough to decide to keep in contact after that night in Paris.
For months, every time either of you had free time or when at home, which was rare considering your busy careers, you’d call the other. The moment your landline telephone would ring, you were quick to pick up, not even bothering to ask who it was because not everyone has your number, and only him calls you at weird hours at night. The time difference between you guys was a constant when you were in this distant relationship. Whenever one of you was back in the country, the other had to be abroad thanks to shows or football games.
But when you finally would meet in real life, it was all so worth the wait. Sae would take on holidays, restaurants and fly you out to whatever country he was playing in when you had enough time to be there.
Even though you decided to keep your relationship on the low, you were still sitting on the stands watching him play, wearing your best clothes, and doing your very best to not catch people’s attention.
And for a while, it worked for both of you.
Until a photo of you two in one of your romantic escapades on a beach in the Caribbean started to circulate around the tabloids and magazines with said picture were flying off the shelves in record time.
When that happened, people started to pay more attention to you two. Your lyrics now felt like they no longer felt like you were telling different perspectives, but your own, they felt targeted.
The way you spoke about love in your songs felt more personal than before.
So it came to a time where there was no point in hiding it anymore. At least as much as you were in the first few months.
More and more pictures of you two together were circulating every week. When asked about your love life in interviews, you no longer hid the fact that you had someone who was special to you. Sae kept more quiet about your affair, but when a blurry photo of a tattoo on his ring finger that looked awfully similar to one you got recently, the rumours of your relationship became solid truths with each day.
Everyone already knew at that point that you were together, they were just waiting for the moment you made it public.
And when that perfect moment came, it was at yet another event. The VMAs to be more precise.
You somehow managed to convince Sae to wear matching outfits to the red carpet that night. Though he kept that disinterested semblance the whole time, he was more than willing to pose for photographers with you and stand behind like some ghoul while you answered the many questions people had about your, until then, secret relationship with Sae.
For the entirety of your relationship, people tried to get a glimpse of your life together at all costs. Any crumbs you’d give the public would keep them fed for days. They’d milk every little information leaked in the desperate attempt to make a quick buck on your behalf.
If you thought interviewers were nosy before. Once you got with Sae they got even worse.
“Is he good in bed?” you recalled being asked this question on a radio station once. All you were trying to do at the time was promote your new single, in hopes of raising expectations for your new project…sometimes you catch yourself reminiscing that particular conversation and can’t help but feel incredulous at just how much audacity some people in the industry have.
But besides drawbacks of being in a relationship with so much exposure, you and Sae made it work…for 3 years that is.
Because eventually your busy schedules became too much to handle. You were both growing bigger by the day and it reached a point where you barely got to see each other. The home you bought together was empty most of the time, you started to forget how it felt to be in each other’s arms or the smell of the other’s scent that once were the most comforting things in the world to you.
The day you and Sae finally realised this relationship wasn’t going to work was the day your word collapsed. It was in the evening before one of the biggest concerts of your career so far.
“[Name], this isn’t working anymore. We should break up.” He said. Curt and bluntly. As if he wasn’t ripping your heart off your chest and mushing it with his hands.
Worst part of it all is that you agreed with him.
Your relationship was doomed from the start. Both your commitment to your respective professions got in the way and you two realised when it was already too late.
Still, you had to go on stage, even when all you wanted to do was cry yourself until you felt better. You were never one to feel sorry for yourself, but just that day, you wished you could’ve cancelled the show, every single commitment and lay on your king size bed the entire day…the same bed you used to share with Sae the rare nights you were together.
Although you tried your very best to not let your emotions get in the way, they still got the best of you. Tears were wheeling up in your eyes, blurring your vision of the audience, and you couldn’t stop them. You sang your encore, doing your best to not let your voice tremble, but it was to no avail.
The very next day, issues about your breakdown on stage were already being printed and sold in every local shop across the globe with headlines mocking you in any language you could imagine.
It didn't take long for the news of your split to reach the public soon after.
As soon as you both got your matching tattoos removed and your shared, million yen house in the seaside got sold, it became clear as day that Japan’s favourite couple was now a thing of the past.
“It was obvious they weren’t going to last long.” “I’m surprised they even lasted that long to be honest.” “Do you think Sae cheated? You know how football players are….” Alongside many other rumours and gossip were being passed around at any baseless conversation at cafes or being sold on paper for less than 500¥ in your corner shop.
During this whole you took a break from the spotlight.
No interviews, no public appearances or going to award shows. You wanted to be alone. You needed to heal.
Not to mention you found out you were pregnant at that time too and the last thing you needed when you already were vulnerable is more scrutiny.
You tried contacting Sae once you’ve found out. But it seemed he got rid of any means of you reaching him again.
At one point, you thought it would be better to get rid of it and go on with your life like it was before. Yet, went against it. Why? Maybe because you were still trying to hold onto anything that reminded you of Sae.
Also you weren’t completely against the idea of having a child. You always wanted to bring one into the world one day, you never thought it would be like this of course, but you were going to love it regardless of what people said to you.
And money definitely was not a problem to you, so you were confident you could do this by yourself.
Hence how you’re in this position today. Well into your second trimester, sitting on your big sofa of your even bigger new apartment in the best area of Tokyo, pen and notebook in hand writing more songs — the usual.
This is how you’ve always cooped with your emotions. By writing them down on paper and then pouring everything out when you’re on stage. You don’t know if it's the pregnancy hormones or something, but everything you’ve been writing these days is more intense and emotional than usual.
You were having a great time doing so, just humming the melody your producer sent you as you kept on writing.
That was until your phone started ringing beside you on your sofa.
Now, you have a strict rule about people calling you during your free days, so when it rang the first time you just ignored it. But after the second, third time that thing rang, you picked it up and flicked it open angrily.
It was your manager’s number.
“Mmcht,...what is it Julius? Why are you calling me on my day off—”
“[Name]...I think they found out.”
“Huh? Found what? And who’s they?”
“The pregnancy [Name]...they already know. Sae included.”
How did they find out, you ask?
What you didn’t know is that you got caught red handed on the few days you’ve been going out and about. That bump on your stomach was not fooling anyone.
You knew that people were making not so pleasant comments about your body the few times you got seen outside in the first months of your pregnancy. But now that your stomach is round enough, it’s clear that you "didn't let yourself go” like these gossip pages were claiming and shaming you for.
You were pregnant.
And speculations were pointing to Sae being the father. Who was already in the know according to your manager.
“What…How?”
“The paparazzi took a picture of you it seems…” those fucking parasites. “Sae contacted me. I-i don’t know how he got my number.” Probably through one of his many connections, you think. “But he wants to speak to you…can I give him your new number?”
You wanted to say no. But you know that would be immature on your part. “...Fine. Go ahead.”
Not even five minutes later, your phone is already ringing again. This time the call is not from your manager, but from an unknown number — yet not from an unknown person.
You press the ‘answer’ button before you have the time to chicken out. “Hello?”
“You hid a child from me? Have you lost your mind?”
“I didn’t hide anything from you. You know how many times I tried reaching out to you, Sae?”
“If you really cared, you would have tried harder...” He’s not lying there. Although you did try multiple times and very hard to reach him in every means possible, when it came to a matter like one, maybe you should’ve done something more. But when he changed numbers as well as telling his whole team to not let you reach you again, it made it kind of difficult to speak to him.
“Is it really mine?”
“Tsk, what do you think?”
“Shit...How far along are you?”
“About to be 16 weeks in.”
“...How much is that in months?”
“About 4.”
“Shit,” how many times is he going to say that. “And you were never going to tell me?”
“I wanted to. But you made it so hard to…” You can hear him groan in frustration on the other side of the line followed by a short moment of silence. The weigh of the situation is really starting to sink in on you both.
“I wouldn’t have left if I knew earlier. You know that, right?”
“I only found out after we broke up…and I couldn’t reach you any more…”
“I am here and I know now. So come back to me, [Name].” In true Itoshi Sae fashion, he drops that as if he’s not asking you to go back to him and potentially get your heart broken again.
“Sae, you know how it ended the first time—”
“It won’t happen anymore,” He cuts you off before you can keep on doubting what he’s saying. “Not when they’re coming into our lives. Let me be there for them… and for you.”
“Are you going to leave me if things get hard again?” You don’t know when it started but you were crying. Maybe because you never truly realised just how lonely you’ve been for so long.
“I won’t.” Even when there isn’t much emotion in his tone, you can tell Sae is being genuine. You still know him better than anyone ever will. Just like he’ll know you better than anyone else will. “Don’t cry, [Name].”
“I’m trying…I just can’t believe I’m hearing your voice again…it’s been so long.”
“I know…I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
“I am…” Hearing an apology from him made you feel slightly better about your situation. It felt like progress already. “Now will you take me back?”
“...Yes.”
“Good.” He sounds relieved. “I want to see you in person. I’ll be flying to Japan tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? How—”
“I need to see you as soon as I can…please.”
“Fine…Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, I’ll ask your manager for your address.”
“Okay,” you almost said ‘I love you’ before you hung up, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself so soon. You two have a second chance to get things right and you want to make sure it works. So if that means taking things slowly, so be it.
Because Sae can’t afford to lose you — and now this child from his life.
