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sp0o0kylights · 6 months

Text

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it.

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it.

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned.

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design.

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy.

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job.

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family.

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead.

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents.

How his money went into a bank account they had access to.

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line.

And boy, had he been acting out of line.

Getting into fights.

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills.

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.)

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track.

His own plans be damned.

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

“We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot.

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen.

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas.

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!”

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him.

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go.

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong.

xXx

Mike hadn’t cared.

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months.

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.)

Max was the surprising emotional standout.

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them.

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him.

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage.

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh.

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again.

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.)

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.”

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy.

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?”

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval.

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max.

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed.

xXx

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom.

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble.

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter.

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago.

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck.

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles.

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!”

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.”

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large.

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road.

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone.

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it.

Now he just stared tiredly at her back.

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case.

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second.

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it.

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort.

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.”

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone.

It was just---Nancy did know.

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life.

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year.

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that.

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down.

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.)

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.”

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to.

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin.

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now.

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm.

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough.

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…”

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them.

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt.

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car.

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit.

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things.

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?”

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice.

A third time for good measure.

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.”

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really.

Not anymore.

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused.

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in.

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy.

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’

He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly.

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.”

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet.

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise.

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut.

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point.

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand.

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe.

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?”

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left.

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin.

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed.

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking.

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him.

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal.

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door.

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open.

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to.

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward.

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents?

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes.

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing .

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there.

xXx

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead.

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that.

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it.

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough.

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone.

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him.

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in.

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away.

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.)

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt.

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan.

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can.

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times.

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out.

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.”

Then; “It gets worse.”

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans.

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl.

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid,

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.”

Steve stayed silent.

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones.

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.”

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut.

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now.

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--”

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer.

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.”

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry.

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him.

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.”

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done.

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie.

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.”

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news.

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.”

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…”

He’d put his wife first. His family, first.

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one.

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess.

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored.

They’d warned him.

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic.

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was.

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.”

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle.

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary.

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind.

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come.

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie.

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger?

Steve would bow to their whims.

Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it.

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand.

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work.

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish.

Steve would try anyway.

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck.

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.”

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine.

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?”

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one.

Not when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it.

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was.

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him.

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins.

No matter how long the engagement.

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him.

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think.

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel.

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others.

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin.

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.)

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other.

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?”

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there.

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question.

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway.

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart.

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce.

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest.

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse.

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead.

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly.

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve.

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too.

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!”

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so.

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!”

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either.

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.”

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying.

Speaking of;

“When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been.

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home.

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice.

Part Two

#lol remember when I said I wasnt posting parts to stuff until they were finished #THAT SURE LASTED LONG #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #0o0 fanfics #This is very Steve focused #TW his horrible parents #VERY hurt #comforts later #with eddie!#I really wanted to explore Steves Parents #in proper Rich Asshole Controling fashion #TW forced marriage #or mentions of #I also wanted to explore a lot of how the kids #and Nancy and Robin (who are also STILL kids #would react because sure they came up against monsters and the government #but neither of those things want you to like them #theyll let you know theyll eat you #Steves parents #like many rich dicks #want to isolate #want you to think theyre amazing #and its often the inner circle who knows whats up but are also caught in their own chokechain #hence the title of this fic #whiiiich is chokechain #stranger things #tw drinking

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cultofdixon · 4 months

Text

Oddly Fascinating

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Can you imagine a human fucking pretzel? Well you certainly like to freak the others out unexpectedly • SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex

Requested by: Anon

It’s…fascinating. The things Y/N can do with JUST her body. Keep that noggin out of the gutter for a minute.

Y/N joined the group a little after the Woodbury infusion to the prison. She didn’t have a group and sort of ended up in Virginia because she simply didn’t stop walking from where she originated.

One day Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn were out on a run in the closest outdoor mall, which is a few hours away from the prison—so they were going to have to camp. Daryl went to check the store that looked like a miniature Home Depot thinking he could find some camping supplies but when he entered the store…said camping supplies were in use but no person.

“If anybody is here, I ain’t gonna hurt yea,” Daryl stated knowing that wouldn’t go far but to his surprise one of the storage boxes’s lids flung open. Soon a woman’s upper half popped out like a jack in the box and it was a bit unsettling to the archer.

“I had to see who I’m working with and what makes yea think I’ll trust “I ain’t gonna hurt yea” with muscles like those”

“You think I’d hit a woman?”

“It’s the apocalypse. If laws don’t exist, neither does moral code. I follow them still…but still”

“I don’t hit women.” Daryl scoffs. “How do yea fit in there?”

“I don’t know you well enough to share my skills. But I do feel a little better knowing you’re not gonna throw a left hook at my face” the woman began to fully pull herself out of the container and when she stepped out, she locked eyes with the archer’s confused yet curious ones. “Okay I trust you about not killing me but why haven’t you left?”

“Gonna ask yea a few things if that’s okay with you”

“Sure I guess” She put the lid back on the box before taking a seat and crossing her arms.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Lost count a long time ago”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Four”

“Why?”

The woman went silent for a moment and avoided eye contact as she held herself. “They were my friends, and brother who were about to turn. They didn’t want to be taken out as a walker and didn’t want to become one so. You know…”

“I do” Daryl leaned against one of the shelves. “It’s hard to take someone you care about out after they’ve changed”

“Getting deep with me and we don’t even know each other’s name”

“Daryl”

“Y/N”

Then she joined their group right then and there. The others that came with Daryl liked her, didn’t trust her right away but given her attitude immediately when it came to them asking the same questions Daryl asked—-both Glenn and Michonne knew that they will grow to trust her. Same with the others. Returning back to the prison with a lot more than they had expected helped the initial image of the new comer. Y/N hoarded a lot of stuff so thinking that she would survive alone in there.

Some part of Daryl wanted Y/N to take the empty cell in their cellblock but given he didn’t speak up and Rick showed her one of the others, that wasn’t happening.

But she was very involved with helping around the prison.

“You good up there Y/N?” Rick calls out to her receiving a thumbs up while she continued to work with fixing part of the fence that disconnected from the gate.

The retired sheriff watches his brother pull in on his bike but stop to watch Y/N a moment. She dropped her wire cutters and as it hit the grass, Daryl hopped off his bike about to grab it when he quickly took a step back when Y/N jumped down somersaulting in the dirt.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl shouted as Y/N stood up immediately, stretching her back after her action. “Yea could’ve cracked your head open!”

“I’ve done it a million times before. Don’t worry your pretty little head”

“A million times? What, in the circus?”

“How did you know?” Y/N smiles catching him off guard at first and even more when she broke out in laughter. “I wasn’t in the circus dumbass. I’ve done a lot of risky stuff and…gymnastics. But what just happened is nothing compared to other stuff” she states while throwing herself back so she was then in a bridged position and Daryl watched her upper half lay flat on its stomach showing her crawl between her legs and hold her ankles. Exorcist shit.

“Now I think you’re an alien”

“Rude” Y/N scoffs as such action was a bit uncomfortable given her twisted position. “It definitely impressed and freaked out a few hook ups”

Now that led Rick to leave from overhearing their conversation, both knowing damn well he was there. He opened the gate once Y/N was back in the upright position and Daryl was still left appalled somewhat.

Y/N was definitely making a good impression on most. Has been on every run that was planned and no one opposed, she’s especially useful in tight situations.

“Alright, so I was thinking we break down the door and then—-“ Tyreese cut himself off when Y/N gestured for Maggie’s help to hoist her up and she happily obliged.

Next thing the group knew, Y/N was pushing herself through the small window above the locked door landing on the other side and unlocking it.

“Or that” Sasha chimes in with a laugh and smile, impressed by the woman. “Now we don’t have to almost break ourselves to get into places” she walked past her as Y/N brushes off some of the dirt checking her person carefully. Said actions didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

After a couple hours passed, the four returned to the prison and dispersed but as Daryl stuck by his bike a moment he noticed Y/N straggling a bit. She stood for a while glancing around and turned to Daryl with a questioning look before turning away.

“If yea need something, you can ask” He didn’t hesitate as Y/N slumped in defeat before turning around and approaching him.

“Crack my back”

“What?” Daryl scoffs confused as he wiped the grime off his hands with his rag. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Imma turn around cross my arms and you’re going to wrap your arms around me then lean back until a crack is heard.” Y/N explained in the most layman terms she could think of and it clicked instantly to Daryl but he hesitated a moment.

“Is that what yea want?”

“Yes, well. What I really want is someone to step on my back but all of y’all aren’t trained to do that and back in the day I had a friend who was a masseuse.”

“Well, I’ll do my best” Daryl grunts bringing himself over after tossing his rag on his bike watching her turn around and do what she had to do before he wrapped his arms around her. “Just lean back holding yea?”

“Yup” Y/N felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest when she was being lifted and the heat came clear in her cheeks expressing more of a red hue.

She heard the crack a bit ago but they both just. Stood there and it went from Daryl holding her to them both holding each other. Still Y/N’s back against his chest but her arms held onto his. Daryl relaxed setting her down but the way he held her for much longer and Y/N didn’t show any sign of letting go.

There was something

When the illness washed through the prison and a few were sent to get the medicine, Y/N found herself in the doorway watching Bob shove alcohol into his bag. He turned toward her realizing she was there and instead of talking first, he quickly took a bottle and threw it in her direction watching her quickly fall back then swing her body back forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ what are you? One of those inflatable car sales string cheese looking things?!”

“That’s very descriptive. Are you gonna be the same way when telling me why you have a goddamn bag of alcohol and not medicine to save our people”

“Oh for fucks sake! You and I are the newest people at the prison and you’re willing to bend over backwards—-even literally—-for people you barely know”

“So?!”

“SO?!” Bob shouted which caught another’s attention, Michonne as the conversation ended the second she joined. Bob brushed past her as she quickly gave a concerned look to Y/N.

I’m fine. Was all Y/N gave her as she stepped out.

Of course the booze was found out by Daryl and that was a more explosive mess to address than when Y/N first confronted him. But it all stopped mattering when they finally got their medicine into their people.

After getting their medicine in, Daryl went in search for Y/N who disappeared after they did such. It didn’t take long to find her because she was in her cell but she was alone in the old Woodbury cell block. Because of the outbreak.

“You alright?” Daryl asks Y/N even if she was currently hiding under her deconstructed bunk.

“Yeah”

“Don’t look like it”

A few seconds of silence. “Yeah…” she sounded defeated and pulls her entire self out from under bringing herself to sit on her bed. Daryl bringing himself to sit with her leaning his back against the wall.

“You can trust me, with whatever is on your mind”

“It’s strange…how easily it was for Bob to just. Not care about the others in the heat of the moment”

“Some people are just like that. Somethin’ or someone has to change them”

“I used to be like that. Not a warm caring person when this thing first started. I just. Had moments that changed me”

“Yeah?” Daryl gave her a questioning look that she noticed in the corner of her eye. “What changed yea?”

“Having to end the lives of people I cared for, the ones who got bit. When…” Y/N hesitated a second before looking at Daryl. “When I met you”

She’s full of surprises isn’t she? Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he never felt that feeling before.

But this moment was short lived like the many that followed after.

Until they found themselves alone weeks later…in a new place, with strange new people. Y/N stuck by Daryl’s side since they first entered Alexandria and given how the archer was feeling from all the loss, he would find himself following her if she were to stray or disappear from his side for too long.

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Daryl asks while under the car Aaron drives for recruiting as he was asked to check something out for the man. Y/N being there to help in any way even if it is just handing tools to the archer.

Y/N was currently repairing one of the angel wings on Daryl’s vest which led her to using her leg to reach toward the bench then her foot hooked onto the handle of the tool box. She then carefully bent so that she could grasp the box with her hands and go through the kit for what he asked for.

“Damn”

The annoyingly familiar voice caught both of their attentions as Daryl pushes out on the skateboard sitting up to look at Spencer confused. Y/N equally confused on the matter while handing the tool over.

“You know I saw you the other day doing your…morning stretches or whatever. Didn’t think you’d be THAT flexible…and limber…” Spencer was starting, or continuing to make Y/N uncomfortable as he starts to check her out making her cover herself with Daryl’s vest in her lap.

Daryl quickly taking note of the reaction and glaring at the man. “Beat it”

“I wasn’t talking to you” Spencer brushed him off keeping his attention on Y/N. “I bet you’re even more flexible in more intimate situations”

Y/N scoffs instantly but before she could bite the guy’s head off. She felt herself being pulled toward Daryl’s direction. Daryl having grabbed the blanket she was seated on pulling it closer to him so he could protectively wrap his arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned into him.

“She’s taken. Now I’d fuck off and bother somebody else before your mommy sees her little boy’s face smashed the fuck in” Daryl threats and didn’t let his guard down but it got Spencer to storm off defeated. “What a tool”

“He’s not wrong about something”

“Huh?”

“I am very flexible when we’re intimate” Y/N laughs slightly catching her own boyfriend off guard resulting in the red hue rising in his cheeks.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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kaicubus · 1 year

Text

Shoplifting | Wayne M.

warnings ✩° : smut, cursing, partial exhibitionism, fucking in a public place but in a private setting, enclosed space intimacy, p in v, unprotected sex bc i forgot to write a condom in, cursing.

pairing ✩° : wayne x fem!reader, characters are of age and NOT minors.

premise ✩° : known to be a bit of a kleptomaniac, you go to the mall with wayne in hopes of stealing some pricey clothes from a store only to find the two of you locked inside a changing room. what better to do than to take advantage of the situation?

word count ✩° : 4.8k

authors note ✩° : guys writers block is real. finishing this was HELL. might take a short break...just like this fic tho it’s short and rushed...i need my smut writing skills to improve IMMEDIATELY.

There’s something about the color orange that sticks out to you. Most people don’t like it, some do, but only because they’re taught it means warmth like summer or sweet like a tangerine. But you always thought orange was just a really nice color, no explanation. That’s why you chose it.

It was found on a rack in one of the most expensive stores in the mall that was known for its wide, yet very exclusive, selection of tops and lingerie. Victoria’s Secret.The prices in that store are always really high, so you just like to browse. Or at least that’s what you make it seem like.

Truth is, being a bit of a kleptomaniac has its perks. You don’t even think twice about grabbing tubes of $20 lip glosses or $36 perfumes and sliding them up your long sleeve hoodies or jean pockets. It comes naturally and you are a known prodigy in your craft. Long before anyone can realize or even detect on cameras, you leave with your pockets full of both money and items that would cost a fortune. The mall is your playground, and it’s not hard to get what you want.

Today you came in with your boyfriend Wayne, who’s known to be very strange looking. That’s not a bad thing, since it works out in your favor sometimes when you’re being followed or people try to hit on you or even worse, try and hurt you. But other than that, Wayne is known to be the reason people look the other way or lock their doors and shade their windows. No one knows how loving he is towards you, like a bear drawn to honey. He would do anything for you. But, side by side, it would be hard to go into certain stores without be given weird glances or worse, followed around.

When you first entered Victoria’s secret, you told Wayne specifically to wait outside, but knowing he’d get impatient with you, you gave him a task instead and asked for different sizes of different sets you liked. He gladly accepted, leaving you alone to try on different undergarments and admire yourself in the mirror for as long as two minutes per set. You knew he’d be at a loss without you in a forest of lace and ivory mannequins, and a part of you liked knowing that. You're lost in your own thoughts when you came across the orange and white set, now fitting along the curves of your waist and hugging the plushness of your belly, pinching you in all the right places that only enhances your beauty.

Your eyes trace along the fabric, how the white mesh covers over your barely hidden breasts, little embroidered oranges scattered across it in an orderly fashion. The cuteness of the design completely clashed with the way the bra was manufactured to be what you liked to call a window piece, but it seemed to work really well. You spin around, glancing at the panties from behind and noticing how it straddled your inner thighs and almost pushed out your ass more than usual.

It was a good look, maybe a bit too tight, but it wasn’t constricting. Of course, the price made you gag, making it more appetizing to take off and slip into your tote bag resting on the seat provided in the dressing room you're already in. All you had to do was take off the tag and toss it on the floor, on top of the mirror or something. Luckily for you, taking off tags was one of your specialties, though finding them was a struggle.

You let out a sigh and begin tapping your hand around the usual places where a tag would be : on the side of the underwear, back of the bra, inside of the bra, but none seemed to have the tag. You started to wonder if the tag was already taken off which would make snagging it much easier than you’d hoped until the sharp edge of the thin piece of hard plastic struck the tip of your finger, located on the very back of the bra. Finding the plastic attachment of the tag, your fingers curl around to gain tension and then you start to pull at it, plucking it off easily. In your moment of fumbling however, you notice the doorknob start to jiggle just enough to catch your attention.

For a moment, you freeze. Every nerve in your body tells you to stop even though your thoughts are screaming to move and get the garment off your body, but you don’t move. Your hands stay on the tag and instead, you watch the doorknob slowly turn, painfully staring with an owl like expression, each hair standing upright. That all stopped when the door slowly pushes itself open, revealing a very familiar tattered hand, bruises and cuts all over pale skin, holding two more sizes of the same two piece set you had tried on earlier.

You feel a wave or relaxation wash over your body as your eyes stare into your boyfriend’s dull, grayish eyes that seem to go full and wide when he looks at you. Only this time, his head is just slightly tilted down as he’s busy looking at other bra and underwear sets of the same orange piece.

“I got the other sizes.” Wayne says, “They said all these funny lookin’ numbers, but I just took whatever ones looked like your size and—”

You grab the doorknob quickly and pull Wayne in, shoving him against the wall next to you with a firm hand on his arm in just under a second. Your eyes flare with a flash of anger, anger at Wayne that he managed to scare you so bad, but also anger that you got worked up for no reason. The pounding of your heart in your chest makes you shake.

“Jesus, Wayne! You scared me! I thought you were a worker trying to get in here! They have sensors you know!” You say, still gripping onto him, not even paying attention to the clothing now piled on the floor. “Why don’t you knock first?”

“Why would I knock?” Wayne questions, “And why would a worker be trying to come in here when it says occupied? I thought we weren't doing illegal shit today, we got the money, don’t we?”

Though his questions make sense and have reasoning, you can’t help but remain a little flustered.

For a second, there’s silence between you two. Even if he wasn’t shoved in with you, Wayne didn’t even look down when he was first pulled into the stall with you, and you had completely forgotten you were next to being naked in front of him. You knew that the only thing protecting your dignity and saving you from embarrassment was a thin layer of orange mesh with tiny embroidered oranges. Wayne seemed to know that too.

“You look...pretty.” He says, leaning back against the wall behind him, “I like your oranges.” His awkwardness makes him cringe, but it makes you laugh instead. Wayne wasn’t a smooth talker, so his execution of his compliments hardly made way of what he actually wanted them to be. But he could hardly even focus, especially now.

“Thanks.” You twist around and accidentally brush up against him, “I like it a lot, what other sizes did you get?” You grab the bundle of hangers and hold each one up, looking at the slight difference in the sizing. Wayne had a habit of looking into you while he spoke, you always noticed. When he listened to you talk, and especially when he liked what you were saying, he would subconsciously lean forward, almost as if he was drawn to you.

In that habit, Wayne had forgotten about how close you two are and in leaning forward, ends up stumbling over you and knocking you directly into the wall in front of you. In an attempt to catch himself and not slam the both of you into the wall, his open hands fly to your hips and he quickly grabs onto the sides of your half covered ass.

There were many times where Wayne had touched you like that before, it’s no new news that you two have sex. But this time was different. This time, you guys knew you weren't alone and there were many clueless shoppers and staff around, and for that reason it felt off. Still, the proximity of both you and him closes in a second and by the way you're dressed, and the way he’s so close to you, holding you from behind.

“We should probably pay for this. It’s getting kind of stuffy in here anyways. How much you got anyways?” You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting him to move first, but he doesn't.

“Probably enough to buy this thing for you.” Wayne pinches an orange cream ribbon from the side and drops it back down, “Why oranges?”

“I saw it and it looked cute, does it not? You just said it was pretty.”

He looks at you with the same puppy eyes he always has on and gives a small smile of reassurance, moving his hands up from your hips to the sides of your stomach, slowly traveling up your body.

“You forget we’re kinda in the middle of the mall here?” A grin plays unto your lips and you grab his wrist to stop one of his hands from moving up to your chest.

Wayne lets out a breathy sigh that tickles your ear, and you start to feel his rough and calloused hand start to squeeze and massage your breast. “There’s no one around. Plus, the door’s locked from the outside.”

Pause. “What.”

He looks at you in confusion and stops all movement, tilting his head to the side so his fluffy brown hair spills onto his shoulder. “What?” He doesn’t get it.

“What do you mean the door’s locked from the outside?!“ You spin around and shove your hands against Wayne’s chest, easily moving him out of the way. You wiggle the door knob, and low and behold, “It’s locked!?!”

Wayne rubs his hair back confusingly, “Yeah? I just said that, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were serious! Did you lock it?”

“I didn't, no, but I saw a sign outside that had red marker over a piece of paper. Something about ‘do not enter’ and ‘stall is closed for maintenance and will not close.’ But it was the only one alone from all the others, and I’d be able to unlock it if need be.”

“Wayne! Do you realize that we’re both in here now?!” There was no point in arguing. On one hand, if you argue your way to a loud volume, you both would be found out and arrested for taking tags off of expensive merchandise. On the other, you would most likely rot there until something busted you out. The second option started to seem better than the first, judging by your circumstances. Plus, though anyone with half a brain could read the sign and understand it, but Wayne didn’t have half a brain. He just did what he wanted.

You flash your boyfriend an apologetic look, batting your lashes down and swaying your hips backwards to give yourself some room in the cramped stall. By the way he looks at you back, your heart aches a little for raising your voice.

“It’s not all bad, Wayne.” You touch his arm and smile, “It could be worse. Like, this could be a new changing room and the lock wouldn’t be rusted shut...and...it’d be harder to get out...?” You hide the fact you have no idea what you were saying, only trying to muster something out so Wayne would feel less horrible about himself. It was no use though, the same expression sat on his eyes and down turned lips. But he appreciates it nonetheless.

Wayne nods and looks back into your eyes. You flash him a smile before turning your back towards him, lifting your hair to the side and exposing your ribbon caged back to him. “Can you try and get this thing off? I can’t breathe very well and I’m trying to get the tag off.”

Wayne hesitates. “How’d you even get it on in the first place? I don’t even see a zipper.”

"These things don’t need a zipper. Just a pair of hands to untie it and get it on.”

He shrugs and starts to untie the piece, tugging at thin ribbons and cute lace embroidery, toying at the fabric like some cat batting around a yarn string. When it becomes clear that Wayne doesn’t know what he’s doing in the slightest, you turn around to face him and give him a disappointed look. But, in your attempt to do so, your top instantly falls to the ground, startling both you and Wayne.

“I-I had it.” Wayne chokes out, covering his eyes and desperately trying not to give into any thoughts to look at all the places he shouldn’t.

“It’s fine! Just let me—“ You bend down and try to pick up the top, accidentally bumping directly into Wayne, crashing right against his legs. When you try to stand up, Wayne moves forward to give you more room, but ends up throwing off your balance over all.

“Sorry—It’s just so cramped in here! Here, wait, go over there! No, over there—fine, ok I’ll go! Ugh! Wayne!“ You groan in frustration and finally, manage to stand up. Only, now you’re somehow closer than you were before, only centimeters apart to Wayne’s face, who’s now up against a wall, halfway down it.

His hands twitch as they lay on the smoothness of your thighs, giving into the slightest touch and only itching to have more. He quickly finds it in himself to pull you closer, bumping your exposed chest into his clothed one, not caring or even paying any mind to your nudity. He only curls his fingers of his unoccupied hand into your hair, reaching up and gently closing the gap between you.

You hadn’t realized before just how soothing Wayne’s kisses were. In fact, they were the only thing keeping you from freaking out, quite literally naked and full of anxiety that someone could walk in and see you both. But all fear washes out as soon as Wayne reminds you, yet again, to keep your attention on him.

It’s hard to focus on just him though, with people talking around you, the sound of metal hangers gliding across racks

He spoke slowly, “Can I?” asking for permission. With a head nod, you agree and maybe without thinking, you lean forward and kiss him again.

With no room to make any sound or talk after that, Wayne pulls you onto his chest, hoisting you up just enough so he can hold you with both arms. Even when his eyes are closed, he still knows the way to your body as if they were wide open. He begins to move his hand south, brushing his rough skin against your smooth body, tangling his digits in the spaces of the orange silk. You can feel his chest expand as a sign of his impatience, wasting no time to pry the fabric off your lower half.

You let him do all the work, since you have no room to, and feel as he undoes his own belt and shags it down just enough so the rough denim of his jeans hangs off his hips, enabling a window of his boxers to be seen. Even though you're too busy trying to stay quiet, the scene is all too familiar, you can practically see everything. Wayne hurriedly takes himself out, fixing his hold on you as he releases his cock out of it’s confinement, and wastes no time to press against you.

As you look down, the sight of his tip already soaked in precum makes your heart flutter. It’s just as hard and erect as you thought it’d be, seeing as the effects of your outfit must have worked like a charm.

“I uh...I thought of—” Wayne opens his lips and tries to say, his voice an level higher than a whisper.

“Shh!” You hush, already somehow winded, “Shut up.”

Wayne presses his lips together and nods, a bit stunned from your hostility. But there was no room to be nice, there was no room to do anything at all. Almost instantly, his big hands ride the saddle of your hips and he snaps back into motion.

“Hm!” You let out a small yelp as Wayne enters his way into you, pushing the lacy material of the orange underwear to the side, he uses the tip of his cock to part your legs open, his size stretching you just enough to send both of you over the edge. He waits for a second, just to catch his breath, and watches you as you adjust to his size. He’s always been a bit too big for a daily fuck, but you barley paid any attention to it. When you’ve caught your breath, you look up at Wayne and give him a nod, silently telling him that you’re ready for him to move. He nods back which moves the choppy bangs in front of his eyes to sway forward.

His pace is slow, at first, not wanting to hurt you but also a bit rushed, seeing as the public place isn’t the most convenient to share an intimate moment with. But seeing as you hadn’t planned it at all, you had little room to complain.

Even with what little room you have, you find yourself subtly grinding back on Wayne’s groin, not even thinking. The small movement makes him throb inside of you, an uncontrollable response. Before you two know it, you pull away and gasp for air, hot breaths meshing together as you try and catch what little oxygen the room has to offer. It’s stuffy, so it doesn’t help the rising temperature between you, and the heat emitting off your bare chest makes it worse.

Wayne watches as a string of saliva connects from his lips to yours and breaks instantly, effectively making your lips wetter and rosier than usual. The sight makes his heart pound. You barely register his expression before he moves again, rutting himself against you like a depraved animal.

Not wanting to make a sound, two hand covers your mouth as Wayne starts to thrust his hips into yours, hard and deeply. Wayne can’t move as much as he’d like, if he had the opportunity, he’d absolutely ravage you like he usually does, savoring each moment and taking it slow. Once he grabs hold of your hips and starts moving your body against his, the combination turns deadly.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight but Wayne refuses to look away. His icy brown eyes practically glued on your eyelids beg for you to open yours and just look at him.

Labored breathing works its way out of Wayne as you writhe under his touch, scraping your nails into his back, even with a shirt on, managing to make a few red marks that’ll sure to appear later. He didn’t mind, Wayne’s only concern was fucking you as quick as possible and then find a way to get out of the dressing room without being noticed. But how can he think clearly when all he can hear is the struggled, barley muffled noises coming from your mouth?

“Open your legs a little.” You can barley hear his voice, it’s so quiet. He must’ve actually listened. “Right there, just like that.”

It feels too good. Better than usual in fact, to the point where the idea of stopping or slowing down quickly fades out of the picture. All of Wayne’s lack of reason only clouds his head and encourages him to speed up his pace, using a firm hold on your chest with the crook of his arms to hoist you up and arch your back manually for him to get in a better angle. You never thought it was possible to be this overwhelmed with everything all at once. Jolting downwards more, you let out uncontrollable moans, just barely being muffled by the palm of your hand to attempt to conceal your location as best as you can. Still though, Wayne remains completely unbothered and continues to thrust into you, the sides of his length rutting against your walls as loud as he can possibly make it.

A bit of frustration takes control as you twist over your shoulder, giving him an annoyed expression as he looks at you with a heavy-lidded stare of confusion. It’s moments like these where you wished he had a bit more common sense than what he had by default.

“S-Slow down! I can’t keep up!” You groan out, shuffling back into him to try and bump your hips with his.

Wayne grips your hips closer, harder, which makes you moan out again, only louder, and encloses the distance between your mouths with his lips on yours. You struggle to find the right part of him to grab on, slapping your hands on his chest, arm, and finding his back that eventually satisfies as a place to hold on to. He, instead, finds the underside of your thigh. The feeling of his fingers pressing lightly into your sensitive skin makes the hair stand on your body, losing grip on his back, turns into frantic touching.The sting of his nails digging into your flesh makes your head spin and very quickly forget all sensibility, allowing him to speed up again.

You can only hear the creaking of the feeble, obviously run down condition of the stalls next to you, as well as a bit of tapping from the metal lock clanging together.

With every sharp thrust, Wayne hoists you up, shoving you against the wall in front of you. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s enough to send all sorts of vibrations of heat to your core, basically slamming arousal into you each time. Wayne stares at your hands clamped over your mouth, eyes full of tears from the heightened feeling inside your stomach. You can’t bear to look at him anymore in fear of cumming too early, to which he’s well aware of, yet he pushes you against the wall one last time, nearly tossing you off the edge.

”Y-You're making too much noise—” You tear your hands away from your mouth for a second, just to protest his roughness, but Wayne takes the chance and plants his pliant lips against yours. When his mouth meets yours, his tongue roughly licks down, making a wet plucking sound when he pulls away, only to repeat several times.

“Someone might hear us, just w-wait a second!” You clench down around his cock, locking your thighs around Wayne’s waist to try and get him to slow down. But it doesn’t help.

You feel yourself spiraling, head reeling, as Wayne hurries his hips against yours and pounds into you, over and over again, just rocking you back and forth as quietly as he can. But even he can’t think right now, so he doesn’t even count how many ‘accidental’ times he’s made a loud squeak or shuffled his shoes against the floor to get a better hold on you.

Your walls tighten and suddenly you’re seeing nothing but the surface of Wayne’s shoulder, biting down on the thin fabric of his t-shirt, “Oh fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” The taste of cotton laps over your taste buds, but even that isn’t enough to ignore the feeling of Wayne speeding up, now desperate to chase the high you both have worked so hard to finish.

He moans in pleasure and starts to pepper your bear shoulder in sporadic kisses, biting and marking down on your skin to silence himself just enough to last for a few more seconds. Just a few more.

Just a few more was all it takes before the pleasure finally collapses and so do you, right onto Wayne. He finally stops all movement and lets you ride out your orgasm, slowly pumping in and out of you to finish himself off as well. You want to cry, you want to curse, you want to scream his name but all you can do is sit as silently as you can on his arms, holding onto your mouth for dear life. Wayne huffs with his voice, raw with restraint and gruff with passion, watching your sad attempts at trying to keep it all together despite his cum filling every gap of your body up. “M-Mhm! Mh mh!” You let out a segmented sigh, your breath falling short on and dying half way. When Wayne pulls your body off of him, just enough for his cock to spring out of your insides, you can feel a bit of slick leak down the side of your trembling leg. You dare not make another noise.

You break away panting, maintaining eye contact with Wayne as he rubs his hands all over your body, almost apologetically for making so much noise. You can hardly see straight since all the blood in your body seemed to go directly to your head. For a second, there’s silence, a time to actually catch your breath without worrying someone is waiting outside for you. You glance up at Wayne, who’s gasping for air as much as you are, smiling, “Let’s never do that again.”

Wayne laughs a bit and bites his bottom lip. You can barely move from the pure ecstasy as he sets you down gently, legs suddenly losing their solid form and quickly turning into jelly. You cling onto him for stability and quietly look up at him again, to which he gives an understanding head nod.

Wayne goes to kiss you but suddenly gets interrupted by a knocking from outside.

“Excuse me?” A voice says, accompanied by the faint jingle of keys on a key ring.

“SHIT!” You mouth, profanity now spilling out of your lips faster than ever. A flicker of panic splashes across your face as the subtle sound of the door unlocking fills every gap and space in the small room. Wayne goes to turn around to hide but ends up bumping into the wall, cursing a bit as well before spinning back to you with his hand on his head.

“There’s a uh. Wall there. Just in case you didn’t know.” He whispers.

“I KNOW THERE’S A FUCKING WALL THERE JUST GIVE ME MY CLOTHES!” You demand with an open hand.

It doesn’t feel real, but just in the amount of time you have, you manage to throw on your jeans over your shifted orange underwear and shirt, stuffing the orange lingerie top from the ground into your regular bra. Fuck knows that you aren’t leaving this trapped hell without a free souvenir to take home.

Right when everything makes it way onto your body, you straighten your posture and turn to face the locked door, feeling all sorts of rushes of emotions. Fear, panic, pleasure, worry, relief, all pumping at an all time high.

“Looks like you two got locked in!” The voice laughs, key clicking into the jammed lock with a rusted, silver key. And just like that, light flows into the darkened room and nearly blinds you both. Just as the light pours in, the friendly face of a young worker does the same, her thin lips spreading across her high strung cheeks, happily, looking at two people with stray hairs flying all over the place and flushed faces.

“When my boss told me she saw two people come in here on the cameras, I didn’t believe it!” The worker laughs, clacking her keys back onto her belt, “The sign must’ve fell off or something. So sorry for the inconvenience, we’ll give you both a discount for any item you purchase today!” She bows her head apologetically, “Let’s get you out of here, I’m sure you’ve been waiting for a while now, huh?”

“R-Right. Sorry, we just...we lost our way a bit, but thank you for letting us out. I was convinced I was going to die in there.” You give a half hearted chuckle, just to appear like a normal, functional person.

“No worries at all! Let’s get you two rung up if you're both ready to check out?”

You nod and start walking out, Wayne following behind you, “More than ready.”

As you two follow the worker, you notice Wayne lag a little bit behind. You stop for a second to grab his hand, securing him in his rightful spot next to you, rather than behind. He gives you a smile, to which you both share. The moment was over for sure, and hopefully there isn’t another time that would ever happen like that again. You let out a sigh of relief and Wayne notices, leaning down to say something,

“Maybe we should do it out in public more often. That was fun. Don’tcha think?”

#kaicubus #kaicubus requests #wayne #wayne series #wayne x reader #wayne mccullough #wayne imagines #wayne mccullough imagine #wayne mccullough x reader #wayne mcullough smut #wayne mccullough x y/n #fanfiction #wayne fic #wayne x you #smut #smut fic #wayne smut #smut fanfiction #x reader smut

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joshhutchersonsgf · 7 days

Text

I NEED MIKE SCHMIDT TO DEGRADE ME (a smut)

mike’s new job was simple. he only has to worry about two things. all he has to do was keep the place tidy and keep people out.

he hated himself for losing his old job as a security gaurd at the mall because, despite not enjoying have to be in a loud, public space all the time, he grew fond of the people there.

he liked jeremiah. he didn’t get on his nerves the way most people do. talking to him kept him from getting lost in his thoughts, which he liked.

he also grew fond of cindy, the girl who works at the ice cream shop. sand he didn’t want to think of telling any she wouldn’t be able to get ice cream that much anymore, if at all.

mike sighs as he realizes he was trapped in his thoughts again. his mind was something that always kept him entertained for hours, but it also left a lingering pain in his chest when he thinks about what he could have done differently.

mike opens the door of his old, rusty car and stares at the pizzeria across the parking lot. this dump used to be a place for kids to hang out? mike wonders what the old building looked like before it shut down. he imagines he and garrett would have went there when they were kids, or maybe if it was still open to this day, he would have taken abby. he smiles at the thought of abby enjoying the arcade.

mike walks up to the double doors and glances around. he quickly found the security pad and types in the numbers raglan had told him.

a loud click came from the door when he clicks the green button on the security pad. he steps to his left and grabs one of the hands on the metal door, pulling it open.

the door creaks loudly as mike opens the door. he wishes more than anything he could turn around and get in his car, go home and forget any of this ever happened. but deep down he knew he had to do this for abby.

mike steps inside the mostly-unoccupied place and frowns. the room smells stale, and he can practically see the dust in the air. it was a creepy place, and mike wonders what the point is of watching a place no one has been inside in over 20 years.

mike didn’t see a point to a security job here, but he was thankful raglan was kind enough to give him the job. he didn’t like the man, but he was thankful he saw enough potential in him.

mike hears a loud slam from behind him and almost jumps out of his black sneakers.

“what the hell?” mike whisper-shouts, completely caught off gaurd.

mike turns around to see the door he left open now shut. must be an automatic door, mike thinks. he feels silly for getting so scared.

mike looks up at the posters on the walls, torn and scratched along the thin paper. the words read out “freddy fazbear’s pizzeria” at the top.

mike crosses the lobby and looks down the hallway in front of him. the hallway walls are painted in the same red-and-white stripes mike had seen in the lobby. they are also lined with large posters.

these posters, however, weren't pizzeria advertisements. they look like children’s art, similar to abby’s. some of the posters have images of pizzas and playing children. the rest of the posters feature portraits of odd-looking cartoon animals. one of the images was of a brown bear wearing a bow tie and a top hat. there was a bright yellow chick wearing a bib and holding a googly-eyed cupcake, a bluish-purple bunny gripping an electric guitar, and a fox wearing an eye patch and a hook on his hand.

“i should probably just find the office”, mike whispers to himself after examining the drawings. mike speed walks through the hallway and briefly looks around the main area, studying the purple curtained stage. he assumes that’s where people in costumes would perform, and he doesn’t dwell on the thought any longer.

mike continues through the eery building until he reaches a door he assumes leads to the office. mike sighs in relief as he lays his hands on the metal doorknob, thankful he was able to find it with ease.

mike turns the handle and pushes the door open, heart beating in his chest. the door creaks, much like the front door to the building, and he tenses up more than usual.

the office was dark, only dimly lit by a red bulb above a large breaker box. his senses are overwhelmed with the smell of sweat and blood.

mike’s nose twitches as he looks around the small office space. he decides he might as well get used to the smell and familiarize himself with the space, since he was going to be spending a lot of time in it.

the office was pretty vacant for the most part. it contains a long, narrow metal desk, which sat in front of a matching credenza. a small black fan and a landline phone next to an answering machine sat on it, as well as an old tv sitting on top of an equally old vcr, a desktop computer, and several cctv monitors, stacked on a rack at the back edge of the desk. two gray metal filing cabinets were pushed against the wall opposite the desk.

mike tries to ignore the feeling of anxiety that doesn’t seem to move from his stomach while he studies the room. he doesn’t like the long claw marks on the floor, they made him feel no better than the smell.

mike sighs and sits down in the old office chair, not surprised by it’s discomfort. he looks at the vhs tape in front of him titled “mike” and cocks an eyebrow.

it was going to be a long night, he thought to himself.

♡•♡•♡

the first hour of the night was pretty boring. occasionally, mike would flip through the cameras and scan the place, but for the most part, he just stayed in the office and watched the cameras.

mike glances at the clock on the wall in front of him and frowns.

“1:38” the clock reads.

“four more hours of this bullshit” mike groans, flipping through the cameras once more.

something caught his eye this time, though. in the main room, there was something moving under the tables. mike’s eyes almost pop out of his head when he notices.

mike brings his face closer to the computer and squints his eyes. as if the thing was mocking him, the movement stops.

“what the hell?” mike whispers, fully accepting he will be subconsciously talking to himself to fill the emptiness of the air.

mike gets up from the chair slowly and contemplates if he should find out what it is.

it’s probably nothing, mike thinks, but the thought that it could be something there, waiting to attack him, was keeping him still. mike feels silly for freaking himself out with children’s fantasies.

reluctantly, he grabs the flashlight and turns the knob on the door. when he steps into the hallway, the atmosphere seems to have shifted since an hour earlier, as now the earlier unoccupied area felt like someone is watching him.

mike grips the flashlight tightly and turns it on, surprised it works as well as it does. he slowly steps out of the hallway and into the main room, examining every detail of the disheveled place.

he checks under every table and finds nothing, relieved that nothing is there to get him. he continues searching though, making sure nothing is hiding.

he hears shuffling from behind him and practically jumps out of his skin. he spins around and flashes the light in the direction of the noise, seeing a figure scurry behind a trash bin.

mike‘s entire body is screaming at him to run out the front door and drive away, but of course, his curiosity got the best of him.

mike takes a small step forward and grips the flashlight tightly, a thin sheen of sweat covering his palm. he takes a few steps forward until he is only a few feet away from the trash bin and lets out a shaky breath.

“hello?” mike blurts out subconsciously. he slaps a hand over his mouth and fights his body’s urge to run. the thing shifts slightly, and mike hears some rustling.

if it is a killer, mike thinks to himself, now they know where i am.

he decides that he should just try to see what it is and hope it’s not someone (or something) trying to kill him.

mike creeps up to the trash can and pushes it to the side quickly, then jumping back before anything can attack him. instead, he’s met with the silhouette of a person with dark clothes on.

mikes eyebrows furrow at the sight in front of him, and he rubs his eyes quickly to make sure he’s not hallucinating. behind the trash can, you sit crouched over with your arms over your face, hand covering your mouth.

you wish more than anything that you could make a run for it, but you knew you wouldn’t get very far, considering you’ve already been running only moments earlier. so instead, you try to stay as still as possible, hand over your mouth, hoping that the security gaurd will mistake you for a shadow.

“i’m not stupid, you know,” a hoarse voice addresses you, “i can see you.

you tense up and try to think of any possible way to get out of here, despite the guard being three feet away from you. you move your hand away from your mouth and you chew at your bottom lip, taking a deep breath through your nose.

you finally accept defeat and lift your head up slowly. your open your eyes to be blinded by a bright light in your face and you cover your eyes in agony.

“can you get that shit out of my face, please?” you ask sarcastically, standing up and rubbing your eyes.

the security guard takes the light and points it at the ground, careful not to blind you.

“who the fuck are you and why are you here?” the man curses.

you take your hands away from your face and let your eyes adjust to the new light, examining the man in front of you.

you expect to see a gross old man, but instead you’re met with an attractive, young looking guy. you assume he’s in his late twenties, considering he still has childish features. his messy hair falls against his forehead and curls at the ends. his eyebrows form a crease against his forehead due to his eyebrows being pushed together in annoyance. if it weren’t for the circumstances you were in, you would have thought he was cute.

the man seems to be wondering what your next move is, because his big brown eyes won’t leave yours. you frown when you realize there’s no way to get out of this.

“i didn’t think anyone would be here,” you mutter, “this place is a dump.”

“tell me about it,” the man breathes out, “but that doesn’t explain why you’re here, does it?”

you try to think of any way you could lie your way out of this, but your mind draws a blank. you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, deep in thought. you wish more than anything you could just crawl in a corner and die.

“i was trying to hide from the cops..” you whisper, looking at the ground.

“what?” the man questions, cocking an eyebrow.

“i was trying to hide from the cops.” you repeat, avoiding his gaze.

you look back up at the man to see him staring at you with an annoyed expression, tongue pressed against his cheek.

“what the hell did you do?” the man asks.

“please don’t call the police,” you plead and stand up while moving back against the wall, away from the man.

“why?” he questions and steps closer to you, “scared i’m going to do what i get paid to do?”

you frown when you hear his question, slowly regretting every decision you’ve ever made.

“look, im sorry okay..” you breathe out, looking at the floor, “i just really needed some money.”

the man does nothing. you look back up to see him already staring at you, face contorted into what you assume is anger. it’s hard to see him very well in the dark, but you see the man opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“are you going to tell the police?” you ask, scared you made the wrong decision of telling him the truth.

the guards eyebrows unfurrow for a moment, and you think he’ll actually let you go. then, he gives you the same expression he gave you earlier, only worse.

“you think i wanted this job?” he asks.

“huh?” you blurt out, his question completely catching you off guard.

“do you think i wanted this job?” he says again, looking around the dark room.

you follow his gaze and take a good look around the place as he shines the flashlight around the room. you didn’t even think to look at where you were going when you came inside, the only thing on your mind was not being found. suddenly, you feel a weird feeling in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have come here.

“no..” you whisper, staring at the half opened curtain on the stage.

“exactly,” the guard spits, “but i need money.”

a feeling of shame sits in the pit of your stomach when the guard speaks, and you wanted to cry. you look back to the man again and frown, wishing he would show you some sympathy.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, tears swelling at the brink of your eyelids.

you feel so ashamed right now, standing against the wall while a guard questions you while your eyes are moments away from spilling tears.

“sorry?” the man scoffs and grabs your arm, “sorry you got caught?”

you gasp and try to pull your arm away, but he only grips your skin tighter. he pulls you away from the wall and drags you through the room, despite you trying to break free from his grasp.

“what are you doing?” you cry out, following behind him while he holds you tightly.

the man doesn’t answer, instead pulling you through the hallway until you’re both standing face infront of a large, metal door.

“shit like this makes my job a whole lot harder,” the man groans, pushing open the door. a loud creak echoes through the hallway.

you examine the room through blurry vision. the office was pretty empty for the most part, besides the filing cabinets and desk with computers on them. you try to look for any way to escape before the police arrive. you look for a window, but all you see is a small vent across the room.

“why did you bring me here?” you ask the guard, fully expecting him to dial 911 on the phone that sits on the desk.

“well, i figured that if you don’t want me to call the police like i’m supposed to,” the man starts, letting go of your arm, “i’m sure you could just do my job for me?”

you furrow your eyebrows and frown at the man. you look back to the desk that sits at the end of the room and sigh. on the desk, you see a vhs tape that has “mike” scribbled on the side of it. you figure that is the man’s name. it fits him, you think.

“you want me to sit here and watch the security cameras?”

“that’s what i said, right?” the guard you assume is named mike mocks.

the way he was talking to you made you feel stupid, but you couldn’t help but feel turned on. you felt so ashamed for feeling the way you do about the security guard.

you stare blankly at mike while he awaits your answer that never comes as your mind rushes with thoughts of him doing all kinds of things to you. you felt like a horny teenager all over again.

“i asked you a question.” mike spits, getting obviously more annoyed with you, “what, you can’t think straight?”

you shake your head aggressively and frown, “i’m sorry, i’ll do it.”

mike smirks and grips your arm once more. he pulls you over to the chair but before you can sit down, he stops.

“what are you doing?” he asks, acting completely oblivious.

“um.. i was about to sit down?” you retort.

“aw, but,” he cocks an eyebrow, “this is my seat.”

“where am i supposed to sit?” you ask, confused.

mike sits down on the chair and pulls you by your arm until you’re right in front of him.

“why don’t you sit right here, hm?” he proposes, signaling your gaze to his lap.

you practically choke on your own spit at his words. did this hot man seriously just ask you to sit on his lap?

“what?” you sputter out, thinking you just heard him wrong.

mike smirks at you and pulls at your arm slightly, making you sit on his lap.

“how about this?” mike whispers against the shell of your ear.

oh. my. god. you weren’t sure if you were in heaven or hell. while you thought it was amazing that the hot security guard asked you to sit on his lap, you were also terrified of making any wrong move, incase he decided he was going to call the police.

you aren’t sure where to put your shaking hands, so you just decide to let them rest on your legs. you shift your body against his lap a few times, trying to get comfortable.

“jesus,” mike moans, “are you that fucking desperate?”

“what?” you ask, and your eyebrows furrow when you feel something hard against your ass. assuming it’s just the flashlight, you reach back to grab it from mike’s pocket. but when he throws his head back and lets out a moan, your hand quickly moves away and claps over your mouth.

“oh my god,” you mutter against your hand, barely audible. “i am.. so sorry.”

mike laughs and the sound sends a chill down your spine, “i’m not stupid, you know?”

before you can say anything, all the words you wanted to say fell from your tongue as mike runs his hands down your body. he lets his hands settle on your waist and you try not to scream. you felt so turned on that you thought you could explode. you try to focus on the cameras like you’re supposed to, but your mind kept running with thoughts of the man who’s lap you’re sitting on. his hard on pressing against the curve of your ass doesn’t make the situation any better, and you wish he could just fuck you already.

you subconsciously grind your hips down against mike’s, swallowing back a moan when he grunts in your ear, “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

you grind your hips down again as an answer and turn back to him, smiling. you find him already staring at you with eyes filled of lust and need, and for a moment, you feel scared. you felt so vulnerable with him, despite only not knowing him for long.

mike pushes you up off of his lap and stands up, pushing his bulge against your ass. your hips are pushed against the desk harshly and you were sure there would be bruises the next morning, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t focus on anything but how much you love the way he is manhandling you right now.

mike brings his head to the side of your neck and kisses harshly, leaving red marks that are soon to turn purple as the night goes on. you moan out when he finds your sweet spot against your collarbone and you rut your hips back against his harshly, begging for friction.

“god,” mike groans against your skin, pulling at your pants, “need to get this shit off of you.”

as mike slowly pulls your pants down, you throw your back in ecstasy.

“please..” you whine, desperate to have his dick inside of you.

“huh? please what?” mike’s hoarse voice whispers, dragging his tongue along your neck.

“please fuck me already.” you cry out, reaching your hands behind your back to grip his jeans and pull them.

“fuckkkk..” mike groans when your hand grazes over his bulge.

mike replaces your hands with his own and pulls his pants down to his thighs, his dick uncomfortably straining in his boxers. mike hooks his fingers on your underwear and pulls them down to your ankles, now with your pants. you step out of your clothes and kick them to the side, discarding them in the corner of the room.

mike tugs at the ends of your shirt to let you know he wants it off, and as quickly as you raise your hands up, he pulls it over your head and latches his lips on yours. it’s kind of hard to kiss him due to your position in front of him, but you have no reason to complain.

his kisses are vulnerable and animalistic, and you have a hard time keeping up. he forces his tongue inside of your mouth and groans when his tongue touches yours, swirling his around your mouth.

the kiss is desperate, how his tongue tangles with yours. it’s filth filled with the pathetic, insanity of lust you both feel for each other.

you know how badly he wants to fuck you. you can tell by the way his mouth is on yours. you pull away from his lips and look at him, examining his beautiful appearance. his impatience is clear with his clenched jaw, one of his hands traveling up and down your body as his free hand pulls his boxers down to let his cock free. it springs about against his stomach and he gasps at the feeling of the cool air in the room hitting it.

you crane your neck back to see the tip of his dick leaking with precum and you gasp. he is big. a feeling of anxiety mixed with excitement suddenly washes over you when you see his dick.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart? scared it won’t fit?” he smirks, voice lingering with a sarcastic tone.

you whine at his condescending words and reach your hand back to jerk him off, but he stops you. he clicks his tongue and pursues his lips, then whispers, “just watch the cameras, yeah? i can do all the work.”

you frown when you remember the whole reason he brought you in here was to do his job, but if it meant he would finally fuck you, you really didn’t mind. you turn your head back to the cameras and sigh, doing your best to make mike happy.

when you feel the tip of mike’s cock against your hole, you clap a hand over your mouth and moan against your palm.

“you don’t— have to be quiet,” he grunts, slowly pushing his tip into you, “it’s just us here.”

you take your hand away from your mouth and moan loudly, bracing your hands against the end of the desk for stability.

“so.. fucking tight.” mike moans against your ear.

you whine loudly at the feeling of his cock perfectly stretching you out, despite only the tip being in. your mouth falls open in a silence cry as he pushes into you slowly, trying not to hurt you.

“you can take it,” he murmurs, “you can take all of it.”

his cock stretches your tight walls, filling every inch of you up with his thickness. his calloused hands grip your hips tightly, and his fingernails leave crescent moon shaped marks on your skin.

he gives you a moment to adjust to his size, but when you clench around him, he continues moving until he’s all the way inside.

“holy shit..” you gasp, feeling so full and stuffed with his cock inside of you.

nothing comes out of you but incoherent blabbering when he pushes his cock as deep as it will go, and mike stares at you in complete awe.

“shh.. it’s okay.” mike coos against your ear, "just keep your eyes on the cameras. can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

you nod your head aggressively and stare at the computers through hooded eyes that threaten to squeeze shut. you writhe against him, tears already falling and staining your cheeks as your legs tremble.

your hole grips mike perfectly, feeling every vein and sucking every last drop of pre cum out of him. after letting you adjust for a while, he starts a slow, steady pace. the feeling of his thick cock moving out of you slowly makes you burn with desire.

mike pulls his dick all the way out of you, leaving you empty and vulnerable. you turn around and whine, but the whine quickly turns into a high pitched moan when he pushes himself back inside of you. you felt like you were being split in half by his thickness.

he pulls out of you completely then pushes himself back in slowly a few more times before starting a steady pace. your legs shake as you grip the desk tightly, trying to stabilize yourself.

“already fucked out?” mike utters, thrusting his cock deeper into you. he lets go of your hip with one hand and firmly wraps his arm around your throat, using it as leverage to fuck into you harder.

the raspiness in mike’s voice sent pleasure coursing through your entire body, making you lose yourself in the moment.

noticing that your head is dropping a bit, mike uses his other hand to hold your head up to the screens. mike takes a moment to study your features, lit up by the light of the many monitors.

the room fills with the sounds of your moans and cries, along with mikes soft groans he occasionally let slip. the sound of skin slapping against skin causes your mouth to fall open in a choked sob as his dick continues to abuse the spongy spot inside of you.

mike presses his face into the crook of your neck and bites softly at the marked skin, admiring the work he left earlier. he leans in and kisses the corner of your chewed lips before whispering, "you feel—shit, you feel so fucking good."

you let out a strangled noise at his words, blabbering on about how you want his cum deep inside of you.

“yeah? wanna be stuffed full of my cum, hm?” mike purrs against your lips, bringing his hand down to wipe the tears that stain your cheeks.

you clench around him and moan loudly, rutting your hips back against his while trying to match his rhythm. a feeling of pain mixed with pleasure shoots through you when he begins to thrust into you at a brutal pace, and your legs tremble harshly.

“fuckkk..” mike grunts, “use your words, sweetheart.”

you open your mouth and try to speak, but the only thing that falls from your lips is whimpers and whines as he continues to pump himself into you.

“what’s that?” mike taunts, “i can’t hear you.”

you didn’t have to look at him to know that he’s smirking. the way his words linger in the air with a condescending tone makes you feel stupid. you weren’t sure if he was trying to make you feel dumb on purpose, but you would never admit that it only made you more turned on.

“please!” you cry out, eyes rolling back into your head. you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and chew on the sensitive skin there.

mike moans and continues to pound into you, making sure you are watching the screens closely. mike curses under his breath, tightening his grip on you as he fucks into your tight hole.

“jesus— fuck..” you choke out through moans, “i’m gonna cum..”

mike slams his thickness into you harshly, making sure your hole remembers every last detail of his cock.

“yeah? what— fuck, what makes you think you deserve to cum?” mike asks, cutting himself off with a moan.

“please let me cum!” you sob, entire body shaking for your release.

your hole constricts around his cock as you cry out, legs quivering as the knot in your stomach threatens to snap at any moment.

“god, you’re such a fucking whore,” mike keens, “getting fucked.. shit, by a guy you barely know in a security office? it’s— mhmm.. its pathetic.”

mike pulls away from your neck and looks down, admiring the way your hole swallows his thickness. he almost cums immediately when he sees the way your ass ripples with each pulverizing thrust into you.

“mmmnf, please.. please let me cum—!” you moan, squeezing tightly around his cock. the sound of you begging causes his dick to twitch inside of you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you perfectly. you arch your back against him, swallowing every inch of his cock with your hole.

mike fucks into you relentlessly, spurred on by the sounds of gorgeous moans falling from your lips. he’s eager to feel how hard you finish around him, and just the thought has him biting back moans.

“want you to make a mess for me, baby.” he rasps out, his voice beginning to break and waver as he climbs a mountain of his own bliss. “want you to let go and— holy shit, and cum with me. please.”

“i’m gonna— mhmmmm..” his words of approval are enough to send you over the edge, and you finally feel the knot inside of your stomach snap. waves of pleasure wash over you as you cum, your body completely going limp.

mike squeezes every inch of your body, using you like a fucktoy to chase his own high. “’m cumming.. shit.” he moans, thrusts becoming stronger as he fucks his cum deep into you.

mike cries out when he cums, overstimulating your hole as you milk every last drop. his orgasm causes him to topple over into his own bliss, hips stuttering as he lets out high pitched moans.

his cum floods through your ruined walls, and he fucks it further into you until he physically can’t anymore.

his body stumbles forward when he pulls out, watching his sperm drip from your filthy hole. your body is sandwiched between his and the desk while you try to catch your breath, legs shaking involuntarily.

as you both come down from your highs, the room feels like it’s spinning. mike gets off of you and sits back in the chair, pulling you by your hips to sit with him.

“jesus christ,” he breathes, completely fucked out, “that was amazing.”

“thank you..” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

“hey,” mike says, shaking you awake, “you still have to watch the security cameras.”

235 notes · View notes

amakumos · 1 year

Text

twizzle into my heart — nishimura riki

synopsis. Falling in love when your sport is your top priority is hard, and nobody knows this better than you and Nishimura Riki. You two tried to make it work, but things didn't end up like you both wanted it to. But, when you and Riki cross paths again 4 years later at 4 Continents, old feelings resurface, and you find that Nishimura Riki comes twizzling straight into your heart once again.

genre. fluff, angst, exes to friends to lovers, slowburn, figure skating au

warnings. swearing, mentions of injury, riki is 21, reader is 21. both riki and reader compete for japan, set during the 2026/2027 figure skating season

wordcount. 25.4k (whoops)

author’s note. it's finally here :) timh! rikiyn will forever hold a very very special place in my heart and i !!! hope you love them as much as i do :,) here's a playlist i made if you'd like to listen to the songs i listened to while reading !! i hope you all enjoy reading and i love getting feedback and comments so pls lmk ur thoughts on this !! ^_^ i hope you love it

ONE. harder than a quad axel

When it comes to love, Nishimura Riki is no stranger to getting hurt.

Being a competitive athlete whilst trying to find love at the same time is surprisingly hard, he’s realised over his 21 years of existence. Figure skating is his career, it’s his life – but most of the people he’s ever been with never seem to understand the dedication he has for the sport.

Riki thinks that skating is what makes him whole. If he didn’t have the ice, he’d feel like a part of him would be missing.

On his list of priorities, skating comes on top of the podium. Love is left with 2nd place, a silver medal. Nobody he’s ever liked has ever come close to understanding how Riki can’t put love above figure skating.

Nobody until he met you.

He had met you at Junior Nationals 7 years ago, when you were sitting in the stands, watching the women’s free skate. He was sitting next to you, and you had decided to start a conversation with him. He learnt that you were a pairs skater, partnered with Takahashi Keiji, one of Riki’s old friends from primary school.

You two had gotten lost in your conversation, completely forgetting about the performances in front of you. Talking to you was fun, and Riki found that he enjoyed your presence. A lot.

It wasn’t long before you and Riki got closer. Every time that you both had spare time (which, to be fair, wasn’t often), you two would hang out together, going to various cafes and talking for hours and hours on end. You and Riki would also go to arcades, where you watched as he played with multiple claw machines, and he gave you one of the Hello Kitty plushies that he won.

Everyone knew that you and Riki were bound to have developed feelings for each other. It was just a matter of time before you two realised, and when you two finally did, your friends both wasted no time on telling you both to just confess.

Even though you had a feeling that Riki liked you back, you were always too scared to tell him about your feelings. But, when Taki blurted it out in front of the both of you accidentally during a training session, it led to you both confessing your feelings to each other – after all, it was all out in the open now.

You both swear that Taki did it on purpose, but the boy still maintains his innocence.

You two had both established early on in your relationship that your careers were important, and skating was of the utmost importance to the both of you. Riki was elated to have finally found someone who understood how he felt. You two know better than anyone that finding love is hard when figure skating is the most important thing in your life – and you have never felt luckier than to find someone like Nishimura Riki.

Despite spending most of your time training, you and Riki managed to squeeze in dates whenever you both had a free spot in your packed timetable. From going to the arcade, walking around busy shopping malls or relaxing picnics in the park, every single moment you could share with Riki was special.

But then came the transition into seniors.

Competing in seniors added more pressure for the two of you. You two forced yourselves to train more, reducing the little time that you two had to spend together to practically almost none. Even phone calls and text messages between you two were rare – and when Riki had spare time, you were busy, and vice versa. It was clear to your friends that you both did not have any time for your relationship anymore, and the best decision was probably to end it before one of you got hurt.

Riki was scared. Scared of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him — he didn’t want to lose you. He wanted you in his life.

But after weeks after weeks of him bailing on you for training, and weeks after weeks of you bailing on him for training, you two know that at this point, there was no relationship between you two. It was like you two had already broken up for months. You two just had to have a conversation to make the split official.

And that conversation happened when Riki was entering the rink for training, and when you and Keiji were leaving it. You had stopped him for a few minutes, and it was like Riki already knew what was coming.

“We both know that we’re too busy and focused on skating to be together.” you said, and Riki agreed. You two had tried your best to make it work — but your dedication to skating was just more… important. You both understood that.

“Yeah. I agree. So… I guess this is it, isn’t it?” Riki bites the inside of his cheek. He knows this is right, but he can’t help but feel upset about it. You were his girlfriend for 2 years — and the relationship was really going to end with a conversation that took less than five minutes.

“I guess so… um… I’m really sorry.” you say, and Riki nods, giving you a small smile. “I get it. You get it too. We have other priorities.”

You smile, nodding at him. “We’ll still be friends, hmm?”

“Are you joking? Of course.”

“I’ll see you around.” you stand there looking at each other for a few seconds until you pull Riki into a hug — one that he knows shouldn’t feel awkward, but somehow it does.

Maybe because he knows that it’s a goodbye hug.

“Thanks. For… everything.”

“You too.” Riki says, when you two separate. “Uh… I gotta go. Coach is waiting for me.” he says, and you nod. “Of course. Have a nice practice.” you say with a smile, before turning around to catch up with Keiji.

With a conversation that lasts no less than 5 minutes, Nishimura Riki’s first and only relationship ends.

Riki is off focus for the entire training session, and even weeks after that. His jump landings are shaky, he falls more often, and even his coach mentions to him that she doesn’t feel like he’s fully… there.

He can’t stop thinking about how he could’ve lost his one and only chance at love.

He knows he’s young, and it’s a little dramatic to say — but who would fall in love with him when they know that he cares more about his sport?

It was different, because you were a skater, so you understood how he felt and agreed with him. But he knows not many people are willing to make sacrifices — and he understands.

Love is complicated.

It is even more complicated for someone like Riki.

Ever since he was young, Riki had always wanted to fall in love. His parents are still happily together, seemingly falling more in love as each day goes by. His older sister has seemed to find “the one” too, and his younger sister’s crush seems to be liking her back, from what he’s heard from her (and also from how he’s seen the boy look at his little sister when Riki goes to pick her up from school.)

But for Riki, who is the unlucky one in the family, falling in love is harder than landing a quadruple axel.

And Riki can’t even land that jump without falling yet. He’s a quarter off on rotation, so he’s getting there — but for love? Oh, Riki is way more than a quarter off.

Riki likens his love life to be a triple axel he’s going for, but then he pops it. A popped jump is a very good way to describe Riki’s love life. Going for it, realising it’s something that can’t be done without hurting himself (but in the case of love, hurting the other person), then backing away.

So, Riki decides that he’ll put love on hold for the meantime. But, it doesn’t stop him from getting a little bit jealous when he sees all his friends in happy relationships.

He wants someone who understands his dedication to the sport and encourages him too.

And that someone is you.

But, he’s very clearly lost his chance now. Your breakup was mutual — there was no animosity about it, but neither of you had taken up the offer of staying as friends.

Riki waited for you to text, and you never did. Little did Riki know that you were also waiting for him to text… and he didn’t either.

You two didn’t really talk much after that. And you didn’t end up seeing him much either, unless it was very briefly at competitions, since half a year after your breakup, you and Keiji had moved to Canada to train. But, Riki did see how you and Keiji had gotten better and better after the coaching change, and he was proud of you two for gaining such amazing scores and delivering such wonderful programs.

You could say the same about Riki too — you watched his skating online, and every single skate of his seemed to be better than the last.

Slowly but surely, you two got over each other. It wasn’t easy for you, and it wasn’t for Riki either. But you two did what you knew best to try and forget.

To skate.

The thought of love just completely slips from Riki’s mind after a few months. His whole world is skating now, and he’s quite okay with that. Love is put on pause, for Riki. And he doesn’t know if he’ll press play any time soon.

It’s just that love never seems to come at the right time for Riki. Love seems to be far away, out of reach, and something that Riki can only dream of experiencing.

Love has no time for Riki, and he does not have time for love either.

TWO. 4 continents, 4 years

“That’s a flutz. Do it again, Riki.”

Nagai Hikari, Riki’s figure skating coach, stands on the other side of the boards, eyes scrutinising Riki’s every move. Her eyes are narrowed into slits as her eyes lock in on the blades on Riki’s boots.

He takes off into a lutz, arms outstretched above his head to do a rippon. Hikari nods in satisfaction when she sees that Riki uses the correct edge on takeoff. “Better.” she says.

Riki has worked with Hikari for years — and she is not a woman who gives out too many compliments. Short and simple is the way she does it, but Riki knows that she cares.

Such as when Riki won his first senior competition. Riki had never seen her so happy. She actually had a bright smile on her face — one that Riki had never seen before.

Riki holds his hand up to tell Hikari that he’ll be taking a short break, and she nods. Riki skates up to the boards, where he sees Taki and Yuma sitting down on the bench, taking off their off-ice shoes.

“Riki with the rippons,” Taki says in his best impression of a commentator’s voice when he notices Riki. “They might as well just rename it to like… Nishimuras.”

“I would be on board with that.” Yuma pipes up.

“Stop,” Riki says.

“It’s your thing, okay?” Taki says, skating onto the rink. “That’s why they call you Riki with the rippons. You have your thing, I have mine.”

Riki skates alongside Taki, Yuma catching up with the both of them when he’s done lacing up his own skates. The three had gotten assigned the 3 spots Japan had for 4 Continents, with all three of them doing pretty well at Nationals. Riki had gotten assigned a spot at the World Championships next month as well, making the boy extra busy.

The short program was tomorrow, and Riki felt that he was quite confident in his ability to do well. If he landed all his jumps cleanly, Riki thinks that he has quite a good shot at leading in the short.

“Are you nervous?” Riki asks Yuma, whilst Taki skates away from the group to practise his jumps. From the corner of his eye, Riki sees Taki land a quad loop. Surprisingly, the loop is Taki’s favourite jump – Riki’s is the salchow, which Taki absolutely despises doing.

“Kinda. First Four Continents… I’m bound to be a little nervous.” Yuma chuckles, and Riki nods, patting the boy on his back in reassurance. “You’ll do great, don’t worry.”

“Riki, run through your short program again.” The sharp voice of Hikari catches Riki’s attention, and the tall boy nods. “Duty calls.” Riki says to Yuma, who nods.

The music to Riki’s short program plays, and as if it’s instinct, his arms move exactly the way they’re supposed to, his feet carrying him across the rink — there’s not a single thought in Riki’s mind. It’s all muscle memory now, considering the amount of times he’s done the program.

He’s got a quadruple lutz lined up first, and he steps out of the jump. Hikari presses her lips together as Riki makes a mental note to make sure to land the lutz well. He’s always been able to land this one cleanly in the free skate — but in the short program, the quad toeloop has not been his friend at all.

He takes off into a quadruple salchow-triple toeloop combination jump, landing it cleanly. He hears a few cheers from the audience, and the sound of camera shutters going off from the photographers there.

Hikari gives him a satisfactory nod from behind the boards.

The rest of Riki’s runthrough of his program is executed well enough to meet Hikari’s high standards. Soon enough, they’re all told to leave the rink since practice time is over, and the ice dancers will have to use the rink.

Riki puts his skate guards on, sitting down on the bench next to Taki. “Oh, and before I forget to ask you, do you wanna go to lunch with the rest of us? The whole 4CC team is going, with the exception of Sakura and Fuma, ‘cause they’re practising.”

Riki shrugs, taking off his skates to change into his regular sports shoes. “Sure. Where are we going?”

“Kazuha found this nice restaurant nearby the arena,” Yuma chimes in. He puts his skates into his bag, standing up to wait for the two other boys to finish putting their skates away. “Let’s leave our bags in the locker room and go. I think Kazuha, Mina and Yuta are already there.”

“I’m going to get changed.” Riki says, getting up from the bench and heading towards the changing room. He’s sweating after practice, and he’d much rather go out in fresh clothes than wear what he’s got on now. Taki and Yuma follow him not long after, and Riki changes into a black hoodie and a pair of jeans, spraying some cologne on as well.

He brushes his bangs out of his eyes as he takes his wallet and phone out of his bag, shoving them into his pockets. “You ready?” he asks Yuma and Taki, who have also changed. The two boys nod, and they all head out of the changing room.

“Where’s the restaurant again?” Taki asks Yuma, who’s got the location entered into the GPS on his phone. “A five minute walk from here.” Taki replies, and he walks in the direction of where the GPS tells him to go, and the two boys follow him.

Soon enough, the three boys arrive at the restaurant, telling the front of house staff Kazuha’s name, since she was the one who booked. The staff member takes them to their table, and Riki greets everyone before sitting down next to Taki.

But, when he turns his head, he sees Keiji sitting just one seat away from him, with the one next to Riki being empty.

“Hey, who joined us?”

Riki knows exactly who that voice belongs to, and he turns his head slowly to meet eyes with you.

Everyone at the table immediately goes silent as you and Riki stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you moving. Riki lets out a shaky breath as he looks at you — he hasn’t really seen you at all since the breakup.

“Hey.” You’re the first to speak.

Riki gulps. “Hey.”

You awkwardly slide into your seat next to Riki, and he sees Yuta wiggling his eyebrows at him, and Riki makes a mental note to send him a text message with many middle finger emojis later.

You haven’t seen Riki in a long time. He’s grown taller, way taller than you last saw him, and he’s now got dyed blonde streaks in his dark hair. It looks good on him — he looks good. As Riki talks to the others, you can’t help but stare at him. There’s a couple silver necklaces he’s wearing around his neck, and you’re sitting close enough to him to realise that he’s still wearing the cologne that you had recommended to him years ago.

“So…” Kazuha starts. “How’s Bisco?”

Riki’s eyes light up at the mention of his dog, and Hitomi notices that there’s a fond smile on your lips when you hear him talk about Bisco. After all, you did frequent Riki’s house when you two were together, and had formed a close bond with Bisco.

Riki never told you (and doesn’t plan on telling you) but after your breakup, Bisco would often sit by the door, waiting to see if you’d show up.

And you never did.

“Good,” Riki says. “I’ll go back home to see him after the competition. I try to go back as much as I can since it’s only a 4 hour train ride from Nagoya to Okayama, but — training kinda steals most of the time I have.”

“Oh, so you found out Bisco’s gender now?” you ask, absentmindedly — you don’t realise the words slip past your lips until Riki replies. “Uh, yeah. Konon told me, actually.” he chuckles awkwardly.

The tension between you and Riki is so thick that you could cut it with a knife. You didn’t think that seeing him would be this awkward, since you two had ended things amicably — but now that you’re seeing him for the first time after the breakup, you really don’t know what to say to him.

“Awks.” Taki whispers into Riki’s ear, and Riki rolls his eyes, nudging him on the arm. “Ow,” Taki says dramatically, clutching the spot where Riki had elbowed him. “That really hurt.”

“Sure it did.”

The lunch goes well for the most part, with Mina catching you and Riki sneaking glances at each other when one of you isn’t looking. There’s a sneaky grin on her lips as she watches the scene play out before her. You’re awkwardly taking a sip of your tea, whilst Riki is trying to do everything in his power to stop himself from trying to steal another glance at you. “They should talk.” Mina whispers into Kazuha’s ear.

“Keiji, practice is in an hour.” you tell your partner, and he checks the time. “Shit, right. Um, guys, we’ll have to leave soon for the official practice.” Keiji announces to the group, and Yuma nods.

“Let’s just all leave, then. We’re all done with eating.” Yuma says, and Riki nods. The boy stands up, looking at the time on his phone as you catch a glimpse of his lockscreen, and it’s of Bisco having Riki’s Worlds gold medal hung around his neck.

A smile spreads across your lips as you catch sight of the photo. “That’s cute.”

Once again, the words slip out before you realise you say them. “Sorry. Caught sight of your lock screen.” you say, and Riki shrugs.

“It’s alright.” he says, and you two just stand there awkwardly, looking at each other — you both don’t even realise that everyone’s gone to the cashier to pay (even if they all did it purposely just to get you two to talk in private.)

“So… how have you been?” you ask, attempting to start a conversation. “I’m good. Just training a lot… you know how I am,” Riki says, and you nod. “How about you? How’s Canada?”

“Oh, it’s nice there. Really cold in the winter.” you say. “Colder than Japan?” he asks, and you nod. “Sometimes. Oh, and I forgot to say — congrats on gold at Worlds last year. You did really great.”

Riki smiles at you. It’s a smile that you didn’t know you missed until you saw it again. “Thanks. I saw you there, I think — just didn’t get a chance to say hi. I’ve seen you at many competitions, briefly, actually. Just… the opportunity never came up.”

“Yeah. I saw you too. I was in the bleachers, actually. Umm… yeah, you did really great. You’ve come so far. Super proud of you.” you say, offering him a smile. “We haven’t talked in so long. How long has it been?”

“4 years, I think.” Riki replies.

“Right. 4 years… 4 Continents.” you quip, and Riki tilts his head, looking at you with an amused smile.

“Good one.”

You know it wasn’t really a good one. More of a lame joke, compared to the ones that you had told him before when you two were dating.

“Thanks.” you say, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “We should probably… go. They’re all gone.” you say, and Riki nods.

“Right. Yeah. Don't leave anything behind.” he says, not forgetting about your terrible habit of losing things often. He’ll never forget the day when you nearly forgot your skate bag in the bus that you two were riding on to get to the rink — thank god he was there to remind you to pick it up.

“Yeah. I won’t.” you say, checking the table once more. Riki remembering that about you makes you feel a little bit happy, somehow. To you, it shows that he didn’t really forget about you, despite not having seen or talked to you for 4 years.

You follow Riki as you two both make your way towards the cashier, Taki looking at Riki expectantly. “So… did you guys kiss?”

“What the fuck?” Riki asks his friend. “You think I’m going to see my ex girlfriend after 4 years and after maybe a… 5 minute conversation, we’re going to kiss?”

“You’re unpredictable. And you two also broke up in less than 5 minutes, so… yeah. Maybe.”

“You’re insane, Taki.”

“Are you guys going to go back to the hotel?” Sakura asks Riki, Yuma and Taki. The men’s single skating practices were officially done for the day — meaning Riki could just go back to his hotel room, flop onto the bed and sleep.

“Uh… yeah. Probably.” Yuma says. “Do you guys have any plans?”

“I’m going to watch the pairs practice.” Kazuha pipes up. “You guys are more than welcome to tag along so we can watch (Name), Keiji, Mina and Yuta if you’d like.”

“Might go take a shower before I come join you.” Taki says, and Yuma nods in agreement. “Yeah. And I’m sure Riki would love to tag along as well.” he says, and Riki knows that Yuma’s just enunciating the word ‘love’ to piss him off.

“Yeah, I’ll come.” he says.

“Nice,” Keiji says. “See you later.”

The group splits up, with Riki, Taki and Yuma walking back to the hotel, and Hitomi, Kazuha, Mina, Yuta, Keiji and you heading to the arena. But before Riki gets far away enough, you call out his name.

“Hey, Riki?”

The boy turns his head to look at you.

“It was nice seeing you again.”

You leave before he can respond.

THREE. 3LzTh

Riki heads to the arena with his hair still damp.

Not the best idea in cold weather, but he makes do. He shoves his wallet into the pockets of his jeans, Taki trailing behind him.

“How was seeing (Name) again?” Taki asks, a smirk on his lips. “I know you’re trying to piss me off, and it won’t work. She’s just a teammate now.” Riki says, shrugging.

Huh. Riki doesn’t realise that you are just a teammate now until he says those words out loud. Over the years, he’s always thought of you as something more — you mean (or rather, meant) a lot to him.

But he hasn’t talked to you in 4 years, and a lot can change in 4 years. You two might as well be strangers with a lot of history. “Ouch. Not even friends?” Taki asks.

“Things are a lot different compared to when we were 17,” Riki says. “Plus, I’ve only had one conversation with her since the breakup. Let’s take things slow, okay?”

“Just saying, I think you two might end up falling in love again.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Based on what? A 5 minute conversation?”

“Based on how I feel like you’ve never really been over her. Let's face the facts here, Riki. You haven’t even tried to find someone else after your relationship with (Name). Not even a single thought about being in a relationship with anyone else has crossed your mind.”

“Because I’m focusing on skating.” Riki replies.

“Or are you using that as a lame excuse because you know deep inside the only one who will ever be able to have your heart is (Name)?”

Riki blocks out what Taki says. He’s done with having the older boy meddle in his dating life, even if it is what got you and him together. Riki is over you. He is sure of it.

He enters the arena, sitting down next to Kazuha. “So…”

“Is this conversation going to be about (Name)?” he asks, and Kazuha shakes her head rapidly. “No, no, no.” she replies, but Riki knows that the girl is lying.

“Then what is it about?” he asks, and Kazuha doesn’t say anything.

“Uh… I forgot. Slipped my mind!” she says quickly, before reverting her focus back onto the ice. Riki sees you and Keiji prepare to do a throw jump, and he doesn’t know why Riki feels this sudden sense of dread.

It’s the same kind of dread he felt every single time when he watched you and Keiji practice in the rink when you two were together, and whenever Riki felt that terrible emotion, you would fall.

And Riki is right. You’re barely a quarter of a rotation off, and you find yourself landing harshly on the ice. On instinct, Riki stands up abruptly from his seat, his eyes wide with worry. He doesn’t notice how Taki and Kazuha share a knowing smile.

“She’ll be okay, Riki.” Kazuha tells him. Riki looks at you on the ice, still not having gotten up. He squints to try and examine your expression to see if it is one of pain — and it is then when Riki realises he can’t read you like he used to anymore.

Things have changed too much for Riki’s liking.

But this is what happens when people break up. He accepted this fact so long ago, but why has it all changed suddenly when he sees you again?

You no longer make his heart skip a beat whenever he sees you. Surely, that is the telltale sign that he is over you by now.

He sits back down with an inscrutable expression. Of course it is normal to care for you when he sees that you might be injured, is it not? But this feeling seems to be a little bit more than that — something that Riki cannot find an explanation for at this point in time.

Perhaps he should just let that thought go and watch the practice. “Don’t be worried. (Name) is strong.” Taki says.

It’s exactly the same thing he told Riki 5 years ago when he saw you and Keiji practising a triple lutz throw. Riki remembers being so scared that Keiji would throw you across the ice so carelessly — but he knows that you trust Keiji.

So in turn, he supposes that he should trust Keiji.

He watches as you and Keiji do a side by side triple loop, Riki holding his breath for the entirety of the time he sees you in the air. When you land the jump cleanly, he lets out a sigh of relief.

Riki realises that the last time he saw you skate in person was just before you two broke up. He didn’t watch your performances even when you two were at the same competitions, because he was too busy preparing for his own performances.

It’s funny, how he could’ve seen you so many times after the breakup — but there is some sort of force separating you from each other, and only bringing you two back together again now.

Taki claims that your relationship with Riki was a right person, wrong time situation. And in some ways, Riki agrees. He does know that you are the right person for him, but he doesn’t think he is the right person for you.

He watches you practice silently, thoughts of his previous relationship with you running rampant in his mind. He is over you, he reminds himself. That heart-stopping feeling he always got whenever you smiled at him, the butterflies in his stomach, and the instantaneous smile that spread across his lips at the sight of you are now all gone. Riki is just reminiscing over the happy memories he had with you, there’s nothing wrong with that.

And reminiscing over happy memories doesn’t sound like being in love at all, Riki thinks. Jokes on you, Taki.

When the official practice is over, he heads to the vending machine, wanting to buy himself some coffee. When he gets there, he sees you, standing there as well, seemingly fishing through your wallet for coins.

“Hey,” he says, and you look up, a smile gracing your lips when you realise who it is. “Hey. You came.” you breathe out.

“I did,” Riki says, rubbing the nape of his neck. “You guys did great. Did the fall hurt?” he asks, remembering the hard fall you had on the triple lutz throw. You shrug, chuckling. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

“Mmm. Make sure to ice it when you get back to the hotel.” he says, pressing the buttons on the vending machine, then slotting in the coins. He takes the coffee out of the slot, handing it to you.

He still remembers which one you like.

“Take it.”

“Riki, it’s okay — I can just pay for my own.” you say, shaking your head. Your words only prompt the boy to hold the drink out closer to you, and you take it in your hands. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t give it to you if I wasn’t, (Name).” he says, running his fingers through his hair. He presses another button on the vending machine, paying for his own drink then taking it out of the slot.

“I owe you one,” you say, and Riki shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything. Just think of it as a gift.”

“A coffee from a vending machine as a gift?” you ask, laughing. “I’ll treat you to coffee when we’re back in Japan.”

Riki tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “You and Keiji aren’t going back to Canada? Worlds is soon.”

“Worlds is in Saitama this year. Figured it’d be easier, and Hikari’s letting us train at your rink for a bit until Worlds is over.” you say.

So Riki will have plenty of chances to see you again.

“Oh, that’s really nice. Let’s try and find a time where we can both make it.”

The last sentence Riki says seems like a little bit of an insult — when he didn’t mean it in that way at all. He hopes he didn’t sound like he was blaming you for the breakup. It was a poor choice of words, given the situation that you two had been through.

“I didn’t mean it like that, by the way. I just meant in general, we should both be free for a… longer period of time when we go to the coffee shop.” Riki hurriedly tries to explain, and you shake your head, chuckling.

“Relax, I didn’t take it like that. Plus, we both know that the timing just wasn’t right.” you say, and Riki nods. “Yeah. We both know that.” he gulps.

“Right.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels very tense.

“I better uh… get going.” you say, awkwardly smiling at him. “Thank you for the coffee, Riki. Let’s talk more later?”

“Sure, of course. Um… you have my number.”

“Yeah. Unless you’ve changed it, or something.” you say, and Riki shakes his head. “Just the same. Yours?”

“Uh… same. It’s LINE, so… didn’t have to change much when I moved to Canada.” you say, and Riki nods. “Right, right. Um… I’ll see you.” he says, giving you a wave goodbye, before you two awkwardly part ways.

You turn your head to look back to see if he’s also looking back. He’s not, so you just turn back around.

As if you two are fated to just have the wrong timing, Riki looks back the exact moment you turn your head back around.

FOUR. zamboni

Today is the day of the men’s short program.

Riki doesn’t feel his best today. Something just feels off — maybe it’s because he went out with damp hair in cold weather and he’s catching a cold, but he certainly hopes that’s not the case.

He chugs some water before he goes to line up, preparing for the 6 minute warmup, unaware that you and Keiji are seated in the bleachers as spectators. You’re dressed in a black puffer jacket that you’ve had since you were 15 – really, you’re still not quite sure how you’re still able to fit in it, but it’s comfortable and keeps you warm. Keiji looks over at you, noticing your eyes scanning the arena for any sight of Riki.

“Are you looking for someone?” Keiji asks, and you cross your arms, frowning. “No,” you mumble, biting on the inside of your cheek.

Of course, Keiji doesn’t believe you. He likes to think that he knows you better than most people, considering how you two have been paired together for nearly 10 years.

“You can’t lie to me, (Name).” Keiji chuckles, and you avert your gaze from him. “You can be honest with me, you know? I mean… we live together, I throw you up into the air every single day and catch you while skating on frozen water — that at least shows that you trust me with your life, which in turn, means that you can trust me with whatever feelings you have toward your ex boyfriend, who also happens to be my friend from primary school.”

“I forgot you and Riki went to the same primary school,” you say, burying your face in your hands. “And I don’t have any… feelings towards him.”

“So you’re saying when you see Riki, your mind goes blank? Not a single thought inside of that brain of yours?”

“No, you idiot. But like… I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Seeing Riki after 4 years has made some feelings that you had made yourself forget about long ago resurface, and now that they’re all out in the open, you don’t know what to do with them. It’s not like you’re still in love with Riki, but seeing him again makes you think of all the times when you were in love with him.

Moments like showing up late to practice due to staying a little too long at the arcade with more plushies in your arms than the amount that people throw onto the rink when you skate. Or moments like getting scolded by your coaches, who tell you that being late is not acceptable, and smiling at each other secretly, trying not to laugh while they tell you off. Moments like running to hug each other after getting your scores at the Kiss and Cry, both holding each other so tight you both feel like suffocating.

Some part of you feels like you miss those moments.

But looking at the ice, you realise that you don’t think you can have those moments anymore. They are just memories now, memories that you hold near and dear to your heart.

Because even whilst Riki is in the arena, he’s never felt further away.

Things with Riki are awkward. It’s not like he’s unwilling to become close with you again, and it’s not like you are either — but there’s just so much history between you two, things just can’t be smoothed over this easily, unlike the zambonis on the rink that smooth over the ice.

“Things are just complicated, Keiji,” you sigh, pursing your lips. “As much as I’d like things to be back to the way they were, we’ve both changed too much over the years.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Keiji’s eyes widen in surprise, as you look at him confused. “Back to the way things were? Like… when you two were dating? Kissing? Showing so much PDA I nearly threw up on the rink?”

“No!” you say quickly, and Keiji notices the defensiveness in your voice. “Just… when we were friends. When things weren’t awkward between Riki and I. I’ll figure everything out, okay? I just don’t know when.”

“Huh.” Keiji furrows his eyebrows. “I think you’ll figure things out sooner than you think.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“No reason.” Keiji struggles to hide the smile on his lips.

“Please welcome the next group of skaters to the ice.” the commentator says, and when Riki skates out onto the ice, you immediately spot him.

But that’s not just because of your shared history together — Riki stands at 6’0, towering over all the other skaters. It’s pretty impossible to not spot him. Keiji carefully examines your expression as your eyes follow Riki’s figure as he skates across the ice.

Riki’s skating second in his group, and you watch as he takes off into a triple axel. The landing is a little shaky, and you notice him coughing slightly after he lands the jump.

“Is Riki sick?” you ask Keiji, who shrugs. “Not sure. Why’d you ask?”

“He’s coughing.”

“Could have choked on air. I do that all the time.”

Soon enough, the 6 minute warmup is over, and Riki leaves the rink. “Are you worried about him or something?” Keiji asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

The music for the first skater in the group starts. “If he’s sick, it’ll be hard for him to compete.” you mumble.

The first skater lands a triple axel, the crowd clapping as you and Keiji join in as well. “Riki’s strong. He can take care of himself.” Keiji says.

“I know.” you say, and then you wince when the skater falls pretty hard on a quadruple flip. “Ouch.”

The skater’s program goes relatively well for the most part, except for the hard fall on the flip. You tap your foot rhythmically on the floor, nervously waiting for Riki to skate onto the rink.

That skater is placed 8th after the short program, it’s announced. Then, Riki skates onto the ice.

There’s a strange twinge in your heart when you see Riki skate out onto the ice. His costume is gorgeous — the shirt is flowy, with sequin details on it. He brushes his bangs out of his eyes before skating to the centre of the rink, getting into his starting position.

“Try not to fall in love.” Keiji whispers in your ear.

You glare at him, elbowing him. “Shut up.”

The music starts, Riki skating across the rink elegantly. You just realised that you haven’t seen Riki skate in person in 4 years, since you never really got the chance to watch him skate even when you two were at the same competition.

The timing was never right. It never seems to be when it comes to you and Riki.

And at that thought, Riki takes off into the quadruple lutz, and he steps out of the jump. You see the disappointment in his face as he continues skating, and you frown.

“You’ve got this,” you mumble. Stepping out is better than a fall, at least — but you can tell something is stopping Riki from skating at his best. He doesn’t seem to be in the best condition today.

Then, he takes off into the triple axel. He lands it, and you clap loudly — Keiji looks at you, amused, but you’re too focused on Riki to care.

Riki’s spins are always gorgeous. They always have been. It takes you back to the times when you two would practise on the same rink, you watching Riki spin from behind the boards, completely mesmerised.

The last jumping pass is a quadruple salchow-triple toeloop, and Riki barely hangs onto the toeloop. You’re glad that he didn’t fall, and all the jumps are done now — so now all he has to do is skate the rest of the elements well.

Riki has always delivered in terms of artistry and expression. Today is obviously no exception, despite him being a little off today.

When he finishes his program, the crowd cheers, and you and Keiji clap loudly. “Let’s go, Riki!” Keiji says, even though he knows that Riki can’t hear him. Riki bows to the audience, picking up a couple of stuffed toys that some audience members had thrown to him.

“He did good.” you say, and Keiji nods.

“I think that’ll put him in 1st for now. The step out and barely hanging on for the toe loop will cost him, but… there’s 4 more to go, so.” Keiji replies, and you press your lips together in a thin line as you wait for Riki’s score to be called out.

Seated in the Kiss and Cry, Riki sighs. He’s not happy with his performance today. He thinks he’s getting sick, and that definitely affected his performance. “You seem off today.” Hikari tells him.

“Think I’m catching a cold.” he replies, and his coach looks at him with concern. “Go back to the hotel immediately after. Take some Vitamin C supplements, then go get some sleep. I’ll get someone to take some medicine to your room.”

“Thanks, Hikari.” Riki says, a grateful smile gracing his lips. The woman just nods, and Riki turns to grab one of the plushies that he had placed next to him on the bench.

Like Keiji predicted, Riki does go into the lead after that skate. But he knows it won’t last for long after the next 4 skates if they all skate clean. Riki knows that he’ll just have to make it up in the free program, but first, he’s got to focus on getting rid of this cold before it can properly hit him.

Riki leaves the Kiss and Cry, going to the locker room to get changed.

He’s unaware about Hikari messaging Keiji about getting some medicine for Riki, and as Keiji replies back, a small smirk makes its way onto his lips. When he sends the message back, Keiji turns to look at you.

“Hikari wants you to help her do something.”

FIVE. rushed entries

You find yourself with a shopping bag, being told to head up to Riki’s hotel room. He’s sick, Keiji tells you.

Exactly like you thought.

You buy more than you think he needs. There’s 2 packs of lozenges, a few cans of the corn soup that you remember that he likes, some instant noodles, a few boxes of tissues and some cold medicine. You also put in a warm blanket that you had brought with you from Canada — you figure that he needs it more than you do.

You knock on the door, and you hear Riki’s footsteps approach. He swings open the door, and he looks tired. His nose is a little bit red, probably from blowing his nose.

“(Name)?” he asks, surprised that you’re here. His voice is a little croaky, and you frown.

“Hikari says you’re sick,” you mumble. “I came by to give this to you.”

“Oh,” Riki says. “Thank you.”

“Um… you did well today.” you say. It’s still awkward between you and Riki, and you’re trying to fill the terrible silence with some sort of conversation. “Nice triple axel.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles, but then he covers his mouth with his hand to cough. “Sorry. I think I’ve got a cold.”

“It’s okay. Um…” you don’t know whether you should stay or leave.

You and Riki stand there, looking at each other awkwardly. Riki thinks he should ask you to come in — but he’s sick, and your free skate is tomorrow. He can’t get you sick.

But you’re also looking expectantly at him, as if you want to come in. Riki can’t read you anymore, so he figures that maybe he should just take a leap of faith and ask.

“Do you wanna… come in?”

It takes you a few seconds to register what Riki had just asked you. “Oh! Um, yeah. Of course.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sick, and you’ve got a performance tomorrow.” he says, shrugging. You shake your head. “No, no. I want to.”

Riki opens the door a little wider for you to enter, and you walk inside his hotel room. The boy closes the door, setting the bag that you had brought him on the table. He takes the boxes of tissues out, and then he takes out a can of the soup that you had brought him.

“You remembered.” he says, turning around with a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah.” you breathe out, sitting down on the couch. “I remember we’d always go get that from the vending machine in winter. Warmed us up after practice.”

Riki nods. “Yeah. Thank you, by the way. This is really sweet of you.”

“It’s no problem,” you say. You get up from the couch, helping him take out some of the stuff in the bag. You place the box of tissues on his bedside counter, and you place the blanket on the edge of the bed. “I brought this blanket if you need it. It’s kinda cold, so.”

“Thanks,” Riki replies. He opens the can of soup, bringing it to his lips. The soup warms him up immediately, but also brings him back to the exact memory that you’d talked about a few minutes ago. You two would head to the vending machine, buying this small can of corn soup. It warms his heart that you still remember. “Still as good as it was before.”

“I’m glad.” you reply, and Riki takes the cold medicine before he heads over to his bed, draping the blanket over himself. You sit on the couch awkwardly, just looking at Riki.

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Come here,” he pats the empty spot on the bed next to him. “Or you don’t have to. It’s just… the TV isn’t exactly visible from the couch.”

“lt’s okay. I’ll come.” you say, and you walk towards Riki’s bed, climbing in next to him. You haven’t been this close with him since you two were together. It’s foreign yet familiar, and that confuses you.

“What’d you wanna watch?” he asks. You turn your head to look at him, and you realise that he’s much closer to you than you actually thought he was.

“Um…” you say, flustered. “You pick.”

“Your Name?” Riki suggests. “We always liked to watch that when we… um… yeah.”

Your Name was yours and Riki’s movie. Every single time you two had a movie night, you two would watch Your Name, huddled up on Riki’s couch, and Bisco would watch it with you both too. You’d think that after watching a movie so many times you’d get tired of it, but Your Name never got old for you and Riki.

It brings back a lot of memories. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Riki presses play. Gosh, he doesn’t know why he suggested Your Name. To be fair, it was the movie that you two always watched when you two were together — but bringing back old memories would make things awkward, and when Riki wants to become friends with you again, the worst thing to do is to bring back old memories.

But he can’t help it. You’re a familiar stranger to him now, and he doesn’t know what to do in situations like these. You’re so close, yet so far — Riki knows you, but he knows the you from 4 years ago. Who knows how much you’ve changed? Riki certainly doesn’t.

“Hah, his name’s Taki.” you pipe up, thinking of your friend Taki.

“I’ve never thought about it like that.” Riki chuckles. “Hopefully Taki meets his Mitsuha. Gosh, maybe then he’ll be less interested in my love life since he’s got his own.”

You laugh. Taki was the whole reason why you and Riki were able to confess your feelings to each other, so you do suppose that you should thank him.

You and Riki mostly watch the movie in silence. There’s occasional commentary from both of you, but you two are focused on the movie. It’s how it’s always been. You and Riki didn’t really like talking much when watching a movie — when you two were dating, he would just have his arms wrapped around you. He’d play with your hands, sometimes drawing little doodles on the inside of your palm with his finger.

The one part that has always gotten you and Riki emotional is when Taki writes ‘I love you’ instead of his own name. You remember both bawling your eyes out the first time you had watched the movie, finishing a whole box’s worth of tissues due to that one part.

“I’m going to cry,” you say. “We’ve watched this so many times, and I’ve never been able to control my emotions when it comes to this scene.”

“Don’t cry,” Riki says, looking at you. On instinct, he takes a hold of your hand to comfort you, and your eyes widen slightly. Fucking hell, Riki doesn’t know why he just did that.

But you’re now looking at him with an unreadable expression. You’ve never been this close to Riki ever since your breakup — your faces are mere inches apart. If you just leaned in a little… you shake your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the thought, but it stays ingrained into your mind. He lets go of your hand, and you don’t know if it’s the music in the background, the memories that the movie reminds you of, or what — but you feel the urge to just pull Riki close and kiss him.

Maybe your feelings aren’t completely gone.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, and Riki notices the look – it’s not very subtle at all. The boy doesn’t know what’s going to happen after this. Seeing you after 4 years has gone from awkward, to even more awkward, and now this. He doesn’t exactly know what this is, but he knows that something is going to change the entire trajectory of your relationship from here on out.

Riki is so beautiful. He’s always been beautiful.

“You got rid of your moles.” you hum.

“Yeah. I did.” he gulps.

“They were pretty.” you whisper.

You’re just saying whatever your mind’s thinking now. Nishimura Riki does tend to have that effect on you – blurting out whatever thought your mind has when it comes to him.

Riki’s cheeks flush a bright pink as you continue to admire his features. Riki is sick, and his main priority is getting better before tomorrow — but with the way that you’re looking at him right now, that priority has flown straight out the window.

Riki glances at the lanyard around your neck. It’s the one with your athlete details on it, telling everyone that you’re competing at 4 Continents. He supposes that you didn’t take it off before going to buy all that stuff for him. Then his eyes glance to your lips, and you know that Riki’s not trying to make it subtle.

You nod at him.

So he pulls you in by your lanyard, connecting your lips with his. It’s a terrible idea, in hindsight — considering he’s sick, and you’ve got a competition tomorrow, but neither of you seem to care. You can taste the minty flavour of the lozenge in Riki’s mouth from his lips, and his hand moves to cup your cheek.

It’s only when you’re kissing him do you realise how much you’ve missed Riki. Riki kisses you with such longing, and it makes you think that he’s missed you too. When you two pull apart for air, all you can do is look at him with an expression that Riki once again can't read. He simply stares at you, not knowing what to say. He doesn’t know if there is anything to say.

You don’t know if you want to say anything. You just want to kiss him again.

So you do.

You connect your lips with his once more, wrapping your arms around his neck. The movie is completely neglected now, the characters speaking just providing some background noise.

Riki was right. Something has changed the trajectory of your relationship completely — and it was a kiss. He’s very well aware that you two aren’t dating, and you two only saw each other again after 4 years three days ago. He should pull away, because he doesn’t know what this all is supposed to mean, but as your lips are on his, he realises that he doesn’t think he really cares.

Funnily enough, Riki doesn’t even think that he’s sick anymore.

SIX. 3A (fall, ur)

You wake up next to Riki.

You guess that you were just too tired to have returned to your own room last night. Riki looks so peaceful next to you, sleeping with a blanket draped over his body.

As you try to get up, Riki stirs, peeking one eye open. You just remembered that Riki was a light sleeper. “Hey…” you say, and he blinks to adjust to the light.

“Oh, morning.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask him, and he nods. “Cold medicine was good. So was the soup. And… oh.”

It seems like he just remembered the kiss. Or rather, kisses. It was a spur of the moment thing, and it’s not something that Riki regrets at all, but now it leaves a whole awkward conversation to be had with you about what it means for you and him now.

“So… about that. You know… kiss.” you awkwardly say.

“Yeah.”

“It was a… spur of the moment thing. We got caught up in our feelings.” you say, and Riki nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what happened. I couldn’t have said it better.” he chokes out.

He’s over you.

You’re over him.

You’ll blame Your Name for making you think of all those memories of you and Riki when you two were a couple. That’s what led you two to end up kissing. You know that Riki will blame the movie too. It’s not that you two have any feelings left for each other – it’s been four years! Four years is definitely enough for both of you to move on.

“Did it mean anything?’ Riki asks.

“No,” you gulp. “Nothing at all.”

“Great. Glad we’re on the same page.” Riki grabs ahold of the water bottle placed on his bedside table. You nod at his words, eyes darting around to look at anywhere else but him. “Yeah. Let’s just… forget about this, okay? We’ll just put this all behind, it never happened, and… we’ll just be friends. We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah. Of course, we’re friends.” Riki breathes out shakily, and you give him a small, awkward smile. You and Riki are friends. You guys can go back to the way things were – before the relationship, and before that… kiss last night, provided that you both don’t continue to think about past memories.

“Let’s start over?”

“Yeah.” Riki replies. “Let’s start over.”

It’s fine. You’ll just forget about the kiss – it’s not going to be that hard to forget, right? You and Riki kissed when you two were together, it’s not like it’s any different. Except that it was 4 years after your breakup, and also a spur of the moment thing. You should stop thinking about it before it completely consumes your mind and knocks you off focus before your competition, so… you just lock that memory in a little box in your brain and throw away the key.

“Oh! My competition.” you say, suddenly being reminded. You have official practice in around an hour, leaving you with extremely limited time to get dressed. “You should go. Um… thank you for all the stuff, by the way.” Riki says, and you nod.

“No problem! I’ll see you later?” you ask, heading towards the door.

“Yeah!” Riki calls out after you, and you give him a quick wave before leaving the room.

Another five minute conversation leaves your dynamic with Riki changed once more. It seems like five minutes is the perfect amount of time for you both to make drastic, huge changes in terms of your relationship.

But Riki is so incredibly fucked.

Because one, he doesn’t think he can just forget what happened last night so easily. His worst trait is that he dwells on things a little too much – and oh, boy, Riki is going to dwell on this a lot. He’s never going to tell you this because you seem to feel regret about the whole kiss, but some words that he said in that 5 minute conversation he had with you are words that he doesn’t think he really means.

Yes, it was a spur of the moment thing. Yes, Riki got caught up in his feelings. But, that kiss did mean something to Riki. Taki was right. Riki’s not over you yet, and the fact that he realises this after only 3 days of seeing you again worries him a little.

Because how long has he been suppressing these feelings for? Or how long has he been neglecting how he feels, too busy focused on skating to even pay attention to the fact that he’s missed you? These feelings arising once more so quickly and so suddenly makes Riki scared.

Scared because Riki knows that you don’t feel the same way. You’re so quick to tell him that it meant nothing to you, so quick to leave, even if you did have a reason. So quick to tell him that you’d like to start over, and so quick to be able to get over him when his mind’s stuck on you.

Riki’s falling. And it’s not one of those falls where he thinks he can get up really fast from, like an underrotated triple axel that leads him to falling right on his ass.

He hurriedly runs to unplug his phone from the charging port, pressing on the call button on his cousin Rei’s contact. She picks up, incredibly quickly – no surprise there, since Rei’s eyes are always glued to her phone whenever he sees her.

“I’m so fucked, Rei.”

“I saw the tweets. Why didn’t you tell me you and your ex started talking again?” she says, and Riki furrows his eyebrows at her words. “What? How’d you know?”

“You really think none of your fans would take photos of you two talking at the vending machine inside the arena?” Rei chuckles. Riki sighs – Rei’s right. Rei was the one Riki always went to when he needed to ask for relationship advice, instead of Taki, who’s answer was always these two words: just kiss.

“So what problem do you have now? Did you guys kiss, and then one of you regretted it or something?”

Rei must be a psychic.

Riki’s silence gives Rei the answer she’s looking for, and Riki just hears her slam her hand on the table. “No fucking way, you guys kissed? Who, when, what, where, why, how?” she yells into the phone, and Riki brings his phone away from his ear due to how loud the girl’s voice is.

“Quiet down, will you?” he says, frowning. “Yes, we… kissed. And she said that it didn’t mean anything, and that it was just a spur of the moment thing where we got caught up in our feelings.”

“Then what did you say back?”

“I agreed?”

“Did you mean it when you agreed?”

“No?”

“You fucking idiot!” Rei yells, and Riki notices that he hasn’t even put her on speaker, but his ears already hurt from how loud she is. “Why didn’t you tell her that it meant something to you?”

“Because it’s weird! I see her for the first time in 4 years after our breakup, then I kiss her 3 days later and I’m supposed to tell her how I feel when I don’t even know what I feel?”

“Yes!” Rei replies, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Riki, everyone in the world could tell that you were never really over her. You just used skating to distract yourself, but the way you two ended things was bound to leave some sort of lingering feelings. For fuck’s sake, your breakup took less than 5 minutes. I’m sure that there were words that you meant to say and words that she meant to say.”

“So what do I do now?” Riki asks, anxiously biting his bottom lip.

“You’re the one who knows her. What do you think you should do?”

Riki doesn’t know, but he doesn’t plan on involving another kiss anytime soon, despite how much he wants it to happen again.

SEVEN. figure it out

Keiji surprises you at the door of your hotel room.

“Seems like you spent the night somewhere.” he says, a sly smile on his lips. “Maybe a 6’0 male singles skater who you have some history with?”

“Shut up, Keiji.” you swipe your key card to unlock the door. “I just went to his room to pick up the jacket I left behind last night.” you lie, and Keiji raises an eyebrow.

You know he probably doesn’t believe you, but he also doesn’t pry further.

“How is he?” Keiji asks, and you shrug. “Seems to be doing fine. Bought him some soup, he took some medicine, we watched a little bit of a movie, then I left.” You obviously leave out the part where you two had kissed, because god forbid if Keiji found out, he’d tell everyone.

Then, it would make everything between you and Riki awkward again. But after your little conversation with him this morning, you think that maybe you and Riki can get past that initial awkward stage.

You just have to get rid of the thought of that kiss from your mind.

“Did he cough much this morning when you saw him? Or sniffle?”

“No, he seems to be alright.” you reply, taking a new change of training clothes from your suitcase and heading to the bathroom, locking the door. “What movie did you guys watch?” Keiji asks.

“Your Name,” you say, without giving much thought to it.

“Are you kidding me?” Keiji asks, in disbelief. “Your Name is literally yours and Riki’s movie. I can’t even watch it without thinking of you two. Are you sure nothing happened?”

Keiji knows you a little too well. You suppose that’s what happens when you’re pairs partners for nearly 10 years but gosh, sometimes you wish that he didn’t know you this well so you could get away with lying to him sometimes.

“I’m sure, Keiji,” you say, pulling your shirt over your head. You turn to look in the mirror, fixing your hair into a neat ponytail before unlocking the door and leaving the room. “Look, Riki and I are just friends now, okay? We talked last night and we’ll put everything behind us.”

“Everything? How are you supposed to forget hundreds of makeout sessions? A shit ton of hugs? Date nights that involved you two watching the same movie over and over again?”

Terrific. Keiji’s words bring you back to last night. And to be fair, he is somewhat correct — how are you supposed to forget? But you’ll find a way, right? It’s not like the thought of Riki has consumed your mind for the past 4 years when you two have been separated.

You’ll see him more often now that you and Keiji will be training in Nagoya for a bit, so you figure that it’ll be best to just pretend nothing ever happened to ease the tension between you two.

“Riki and I were friends first before we dated. I can handle this, Keiji.” you say, and you grab your skate bag. “Come on, we should head to the rink.”

When walking to the arena, flashbacks to last night keep replaying in your mind. You’re reminded of your face being inches away from Riki’s, him pulling the lanyard around your neck to connect your lips together, and the cool, minty flavour of the lozenge on his lips.

You don’t realise that you’re unconsciously bringing your fingers up to your lips. The feeling of Riki’s lips on yours still linger, for some reason, and you don’t notice how Keiji’s looking at you strangely.

“What’s up with you?” Keiji asks.

“Nothing.” you reply quickly.

You enter the arena, and you head towards the vending machine to buy a coffee. “I’ll head down soon,” you tell Keiji, who nods.

“(Name).”

You look up, and you’re greeted with the sight of Riki. “Riki! Hey,” you reply, flashing him a smile. “Didn’t know that you were going to come watch our practice today.”

“Oh, I’m not watching practice today, sorry. I’ve got a clash, since the men’s official practice is today and at another rink – I just stopped by to hand this to you.” he says, handing you your blanket. He’s folded it neatly, and you thank him gratefully before taking it into your hands.

“Thank you, Riki,” you say. “Um, you’re feeling better today, right?”

“Yeah. You asked me that this morning,” he chuckles. “Cold medicine and lozenge really did its wonders.”

You’ll never be able to think of lozenges the same way again.

The word alone brings you back to the kiss from last night, and maybe you shouldn’t have proposed the idea of putting everything all behind when you can’t even forget about that one kiss.

“Hello? (Name)?”

Riki’s voice snaps you out of your daze. “Oh! Sorry. Just competition nerves have gotten me feeling a little out of it,” you lie, chuckling.

“Hey, you’ll do great.” Riki says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You tense up slightly when Riki’s hand makes contact with your shoulder, and that’s enough for Riki to pull his hand away. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um, I’m just really nervous. Thank you, by the way.” you say, giving the boy a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Riki says, returning the gesture by smiling at you too. “I’ll head off now, but have a great practice!”

“You too, Riki.” you beam at him, and you watch as his figure disappears past the doors of the arena.

Maybe now you realise it’s a little hard to forget about your shared history with Nishimura Riki. But both of you had agreed to put everything behind you two, so that’s exactly what you’ll do, no matter how hard it is to forget some certain events (to name one of them, that kiss from last night.)

You want to have a relationship with Riki again. Not a romantic one — even though you don’t think you’d mind that if it did happen — but you want to be friends with him again. You’ve missed having Riki around.

And as you lace up your skates before heading onto the rink, you tell yourself to forget about the minty flavour on Riki’s lips for just a little while.

EIGHT. strawberry cakes and skates

You don’t spot Riki anywhere when you skate onto the ice for your free skate.

Admittedly, you are a little disappointed – but that doesn’t stop you from focusing all your attention on making sure you and Keiji have a clean skate. You forget about minty lozenges, Your Name and Riki’s lips on yours.

Forgetting about those events proves to be helpful, as you and Keiji end up on the podium. Second place isn’t bad at all, and you’re glad that you and Keiji get to add another medal to your collection. Mina and Yuta place first, and even though you and Keiji weren’t the ones to bring home gold, you’re glad that your teammates were able to.

You rush to the locker room to change out of your costume after the victory ceremony, changing into a cropped cardigan that you had thrifted from somewhere and a pair of jeans. You redo your makeup as well, since the competition makeup is a little too dramatic and over the top after you’ve changed.

When you leave the locker room, you see Keiji and Riki talking, with Riki holding a Hello Kitty plushie in his hands. You walk up to the two boys, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hey,” you say, and they both turn their attention to you.

“Hey,” Riki says, and he holds out the plushie to you. “It’s for you. Sorry I couldn’t make it to watch your performance.”

You smile at Riki as you gratefully accept it with both hands. “Thank you, Riki. And it’s no problem – I know you’re busy preparing for your own performance later today.”

“Hey, where’s my plushie?” Keiji asks, looking at Riki. “(Name) steals all of yours anyways,” Riki points out. “Unless you don’t anymore…?”

Keiji crosses his arms, feigning anger. “She still does. But I would’ve guarded the one you gave me with my life, okay? Unless you’re only giving one to her because you–!”

Riki claps a hand over Keiji’s mouth before he can finish his sentence. You watch the scene in front of you in amusement, chuckling as Keiji gives Riki a death glare. “Good job, Riki.” you say, giving him a thumbs up.

“You two are ganging up on me again… just like old times.” Keiji says, and this time it’s yours and Riki’s turn to give Keiji a death glare. Keiji bringing up your past relationship with Riki is really not helping either of you in your quest to put everything all behind, and gosh, you love Keiji to death, but you wished that he would just shut up about all this to make things less awkward between you and Riki.

“Anyways… do you wanna go grab lunch?” you ask, and Riki nods, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. “I should probably go eat before my performance later,” Riki says. “Keiji, are you gonna come along?”

Keiji struggles to hide the small smirk that makes its way onto his lips. He’s got a plan, and that plan is to get you and Riki to spend time alone as much as possible. So he pulls out his phone, pretending that Taki had just texted him. “Oh, Taki and I already planned on going to eat. You guys go alone.”

“Oh, perfect – just invite Taki along.” you say, and Keiji shakes his head. “No, it’s all good! See you!”

Your partner then runs off, as you and Riki watch in confusion. “Well… that was really strange.” you say, and Riki nods in agreement. “He told me he had absolutely no plans.” Riki replies.

“Maybe Taki had just texted him.”

That’s a lie, and you both know it. It’s incredibly obvious that Keiji just wants you and Riki to spend time together, in hopes that you two will reconcile and start dating again. Little does he know that you both have decided to put everything behind – even though that has proven to be a little bit of a struggle, considering how you both can’t stop thinking of the kiss.

But, you’re not too mad at Keiji running off and leaving you and Riki alone. It provides more opportunities for you and Riki to get used to having each other around again. Since you and Keiji will be training at the same rink as him before Worlds, you’ll see Riki often anyways, and the more you see Riki, the more chances you have to get that whole awkwardness stage over.

You think it’s going pretty well.

“Where’d you wanna go eat?” you ask him, and Riki shrugs. “You pick. If you didn’t ask, I was just going to go to a coffee shop, maybe eat something light and get a coffee.”

“We can do that. I can treat you to coffee now, then.” you beam.

“You really don’t have to.” Riki says. “Let me help you get that, by the way.” he says, taking your skate bag and slinging it over his own shoulder. “It looks heavy.”

God damn it, Nishimura Riki. You can’t do these heart fluttering gestures when I’m trying to get over you, you think.

“Oh, thanks.” you manage to choke out, and Riki just nods. “Come on, let’s go.” he says, and you follow him, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart. Riki knows exactly what to do to make your heart do flips, and he’s certainly making it hard for you to forget about everything.

“Are you nervous for your free skate later?” you ask him, walking next to him side by side. Riki shrugs, pursing his lips. “I mean… yes? I’m trying not to think about it though… that’ll make me more nervous, and I don’t wanna mess up.”

“Understandable. I’m sure you’ll do great, though. I saw pictures of your costume — it looks really nice.”

“Are you stalking me?” Riki jokes, and you shake your head no, laughing. Riki’s comfortable enough to start cracking jokes with you again. You guess he’s handling the whole “putting it all behind us” situation better than you are.

Little do you know, you are very wrong.

The sound of your laughter makes warmth bloom across Riki’s chest. He tells himself to ignore that feeling.

You two walk to a nearby coffee shop, pushing open the door as you hear the bells hung to the handle jingle. The atmosphere is cozy and warm, and there don’t seem to be a lot of people in the cafe at the moment.

“What do you wanna get?” you ask Riki, and his eyes scan the menu written on the blackboard hung to the wall. “Just an iced americano would be great. I’ll pay for my food.” he says, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

“Nope,” you say, slapping his hand away gently. “My treat.”

“(Name), you said you were only going to treat me to coffee. Plus, you bought me all that medicine and soup — come on, let me pay for my food.”

“Just go sit down, Riki.” you say. “I’ll go pay.”

Riki opens his mouth to protest, but you just shoo him away, and he sighs reluctantly. You turn to the boy at the counter with a bright smile. His name is Jake, according to the name tag clipped to his shirt.

“Hey, what can I get for you today?”

“Two iced americanos, one slice of the strawberry cake over there and… the banana chocolate muffin.” you tell Jake, who types it into the register. “Cool. Cash or card?”

“Cash,” you reply, handing Jake the money. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem,” Jake says, handing you the change. “I’ll bring you guys your order soon.”

You thank him once again before you head over to where Riki’s sitting. He’s typing on his phone, and he looks up when you sit down in the chair opposite to him.

“What’d you get for me?”

“Strawberry cake. We’d always go get some after competitions, remember?” you smile softly, and Riki nods. “Of course I do. The shop near the rink had the best ones, remember? The lady there still knows who I am — she’s been asking about you.”

“Mrs Kimura? Oh my gosh, how is she doing?”

“Really good, actually.” Riki says. “She’s gotten her grandson to help out with the shop, and the cake’s still just as good. We should go there again when we’re back in Nagoya.”

“Definitely,” you beam. “Gosh, I miss Japan. I’m going to stop by Okayama to visit family first, though. That’s Keiji and I’s plan before going to Nagoya to prepare for Worlds.”

“Oh, that’s what I’m doing as well,” Riki says. “Konon says Bisco misses me.”

“Bisco, oh my gosh. I miss Bisco.”

Riki smiles. “Yeah, well… Bisco misses you too. You know, according to my sister, Bisco’s in love with the neighbour’s dog?”

You gasp. “No way. Fudge? That one? Or is it another dog?”

“No, no, it is Fudge!” Riki says, and your jaw drops. “Bisco would always bark at her, but we found out it was because he actually just liked her?”

Riki only found out about Bisco being in love because his sister was trying to tease him about how he “hasn’t pulled anyone since his breakup with you.” Sad, but laughable. And she isn’t wrong, either.

Jake walks up to your table with a tray in his hands, placing one iced americano each in front of the both of you. “Strawberry cake is for…?”

You gesture to Riki, and Jake sets down the plate in front of him, placing down a fork next to the plate as well as a napkin. “Muffin must be for you, then. Enjoy.” Jake says, and you two thank him before the boy leaves.

“Strawberries. I love strawberries.” Riki hums.

“Yeah, you microwave them too, like a lunatic.”

“They taste better microwaved, (Name)! You told me you understood when I made you try it before.” Riki protests, as he watches you take a bite out of your muffin.

“Well, that was because I was… you know.”

You were going to say that it was because you were in love with him. But saying that would make things awkward, and right now, you’re having a lot of fun talking to Riki. Plus, you haven’t thought about the kiss once. You’re taking this as a win.

“Is the cake good?” you ask Riki, changing the topic, and he nods, taking another bite. “Really good,” he says between mouthfuls. “I wanna buy another one after the competition.”

“I want to try it. Maybe I’ll order one for myself.” you hum.

“Just have some of mine.” Riki says, pushing his plate towards you. “Really?” you ask.

“It’s not like we haven’t shared food before.”

Right. You try a bit of the cake, and Riki’s right — it is really good. It brings you back to when you and Riki would share the strawberry cake at Mrs Kimura’s shop. Of course, it doesn’t taste exactly the same, since the frosting at Mrs Kimura’s is a little lighter.

“That’s so good.” you say, and Riki nods with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, you’ve got frosting there.” Riki says, noticing the smudge of frosting on the side of your lips. “Where?” you ask, and Riki leans in a little closer to wipe the frosting off with the pad of his thumb.

Unconsciously, as he does the motion — your eyes flicker to his lips once again. Riki notices, but he decides not to say anything.

Your face feels hot. Very, very hot. Riki’s does as well.

“Ahem. So…” Riki starts. “We should definitely get more of the cake again.”

“Oh, one hundred percent. It’s really good.” you say, attempting to rid the awkwardness between you two. It’s working, you think.

The rest of your lunch goes pretty well. You two talk a lot, catching up on what the other has missed through those four years of no contact, and it reminds Riki of your first conversation ever, at Junior Nationals 7 years ago.

But Riki will keep quiet about how he thought of kissing the frosting off your lips.

You also won’t tell him that you were secretly hoping that he did that instead.

NINE. slipping up

Like you and Keiji, Riki places 2nd overall.

Obviously, he would’ve liked to have taken home the gold, but he’ll just make sure to perform better at Worlds. And second place isn’t the worst. At least he got to go home with a medal, and had gotten some strawberry cake with you after the event was over.

The time on the plane ride back to Nagoya flies faster than ever, with you and Riki chatting nonstop for the whole duration of the flight. Everyone else on the team watches you both with knowing smiles, giggling to themselves as they whisper to each other about what they think is going to happen between you two.

“Something definitely happened when I sent (Name) to bring Riki medicine. Their dynamic shifted.” Keiji hums, his eyes fixated on you walking next to Riki.

“They got out of the awkward stage pretty fast, hmm?” Taki tilts his head. “They’re already acting like how they did before they started dating. Maybe it’ll take a bit of meddling to get them together.”

“You do it.”

“Why do I always have to be the matchmaker?”

“You… did it last time? Because you said you couldn’t stand seeing them acting like a couple but not actually dating?” Keiji blinks, and Taki lets out an ‘ah’ when he’s reminded of his own words from years ago.

“Ah, right. I’m a genius.”

“Quit flattering yourself,” Kazuha says, walking up to the two boys. “I think they’ll get together on their own this time.” she looks at you two with a smile on her lips.

Taki hopes that Kazuha’s right. Admittedly, he does like meddling in Riki’s love life — only because he wants to see him happy — but he kind of hopes that Riki can just gather up the courage and confess without Taki needing to “accidentally” slip up.

“Wait, where are you going to stay in Nagoya?” Riki asks you, suddenly remembering that you had sold the apartment where you used to live in before you went to Canada. “Oh, I’m staying with Hinata and I believe Keiji’s going to stay with Fuma.” you reply, mentioning an old friend of yours.

“Ah, Hinata. I haven’t seen her in a really long time,” Riki hums. Hinata was your friend who Riki only happened to meet because you two were dating at the time, and he remembers asking her for ideas on what to get you as a gift for your 6 month anniversary. He eventually settled on a set of headphones that Hinata said that you had been eyeing for a couple of months.

You still use those headphones.

“I haven’t seen her in like… 6 months? But yeah, you haven’t seen Hinata in a while. I’m just going to drop off all this stuff at her place, then I’ll pack another bag and head back to Okayama.” you say, patting the giant luggage that you’re wheeling around.

“That’s my plan as well,” Riki says, checking the time on his phone. “There’s a train in 4 hours, I’ll probably go catch that one. Do you wanna go together?”

You beam at him. “Of course. I was hoping you’d ask — a 4 hour train ride can be so boring.”

“You could sleep. You didn’t get any sleep on the plane, and you usually doze off the minute you sit down.” Riki points out, and you nod. “Well, I was busy talking to you. Plus, I’m not that tired.”

“That’s good,” Riki says. “If you wanna sleep on the train, just let me know — I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Your heart beats a little faster than normal at his words. Mainly because when you and Riki were together, you’d often find yourselves going on the same trains back to Okayama — you would be sleeping, while Riki listened to music and drew in his sketchbook.

Riki’s sketchbook was filled with drawings of you, with some that he showed you, and some that he hid. Not because he thought they weren’t good, but because he was embarrassed at how often he’d draw you. There were just pages after pages of his doodles of you — he swears there’s one sketchbook that consists only of his drawings of you.

“Okay,” you hum.

You and Riki part ways soon after that, with you taking the train to Hinata’s apartment. You struggle a bit with walking around with 2 suitcases, but you manage to make it work. You meet Hinata at the station, and she immediately rushes to help you with your bags — but not before she wraps you in a huge hug.

“(Name)!” she says, hugging you so tight you’re gasping for air. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you say, smiling at her. “Congrats on the medal, by the way.” she looks at the medal draped around your neck — you had forgotten to take it off after the pictures at the airport.

“Thanks, Hinata.”

“So… I see from the news that you’ve been reconnecting with a special someone?” she asks, wiggling your eyebrows at you. She’s no doubt referring to Riki, of course. “Sure, I suppose you could say that. We’re going to take the train back to Okayama later today.”

“What? Riki’s stealing you from me again? Man, don’t tell me I only get to see you for a few hours today before you disappear for a week.” she pouts.

“I’m sorry!” you reply. “I’ll be back super soon, and we can go hang out as much as you want. We have lots to catch up on anyways. Well, by as much as you want, it depends on when I’m not training, because I can’t skip — Seungmin is going to kill me, but yeah. As much as you want.”

“That’s not very ‘as much as you want’, (Name).” Hinata jokes, and you sigh. “I know, I’m just so busy. Making plans is much easier during the off-season, which is soon, so don’t worry.”

“I get it. So,” Hinata starts. “What happened between you and Riki?”

You can tell her, right? Hinata’s been your closest friend since you were little — she won’t tell anyone. Most importantly, she won’t tell Keiji or Taki. So you think you’ve got the green light to tell her absolutely everything.

The apartment complex Hinata lives in is pretty close to the train station, so you two get there in no time. As Hinata unlocks the door, you figure that you should tell her now — you didn’t want to tell her now, because you were worried that she might get so shocked to the point where she shouted in the streets.

“So, umm… we had lunch together.” you start, and Hinata nods. “Then, he bought me coffee, so I said I’d treat him. But after that, he got sick, so Keiji told me to grab some medicine for him and bring it up to his hotel room — which I did, and then… we, uh…”

“You guys what?”

“Kissed.” you murmur, but Hinata can still hear it.

“You guys kissed?” she practically shrieks, and oh, you’re so grateful you decided to tell her when you two came into the apartment. She looks at you with wide eyes, as you sit on the couch, tapping your foot on the ground awkwardly.

“How did you go from buying him medicine then to kissing?”

“It just happened! It was a spur of the moment thing — but, we had a conversation, and we’ve decided to put everything behind us.” you say, and Hinata looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“And how is that working out?”

“Great! We’re good friends now. Seriously, there’s no awkwardness between us, and I’m over the relationship. Riki and I are just friends now.”

Hinata nearly bursts into laughter at your words. She just finds it so unbelievable that you and Riki can “put it all behind you two” because from what she knows about you, you’re probably overthinking every single little action from Riki.

“What? Is it so hard to believe?”

“Yes!” Hinata says, and you frown. “I’m sorry, (Name) — but is it bad to say that I see you two getting back together?”

No, not at all, you think. You think you’d love that, actually. But you would never admit it out loud, so you lie to her. “Yes.”

Hinata doesn’t believe you. Gosh, maybe you are a terrible liar. Either that, or Keiji and Hinata know you too well.

You unpack some of the items in your suitcases, placing them in drawers in Hinata’s spare room that she had so kindly allowed you to stay in for the time being. You leave only the essentials in your suitcase that you’re taking with you to Okayama, and you place your skate bag on the floor. You won’t need them for the time you’re there anyways.

You wheel the suitcase you’ll be bringing with you to Okayama out into the living room, where Hinata’s watching television. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving this soon,” she says, looking over at you.

“No, not yet. The train’s in 2 hours, so I’ll probably go in an hour and a half so I can meet up with Riki.”

“Ooh, Riki.” Hinata says, wiggling her eyebrows at you as you groan. “I regret telling you everything. Oh, and whatever you do, do not tell Keiji or Taki. Those little shits will hold it against me until I tell Riki about any possible feelings I may have for him.”

“I won’t tell them. But what do you mean about any possible feelings you might have for Riki? Are you saying you feel something for him again?” she asks, as you brush your hair out of your eyes.

“No? Yes? Ugh, I don’t know. I’ll figure it out, okay? Everything’s happening all too fast, and I… need time to figure out how I feel.”

“Well,” Hinata starts. “Take your time. Nobody said you had to rush into things. Eh, wait — you two kinda did, with that spur of the moment kiss — but hey! Whatever works for you two. Riki and (Name)… just friends!”

Yes. Whatever works for you two. Right now, you and Riki staying as just friends is working out pretty great, so you think that you two will stick to it.

“Just friends. You know it.” you chuckle.

Just friends, huh?

Those two words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

TEN. side by side (jump)

You meet Riki at the entrance of the train station with a bright smile on your lips.

He seems just as happy to see you as well, despite only seeing you a few hours ago at the airport after your flight. “Good to see you again,” he says. “Even though I saw you a little while ago.”

“Good to see you too, Riki.” you reply, and you two walk into the train station together. Just like old times.

Riki waits for you to be able to tap your card on the reader — the train station is quite busy today, even busier than usual. You pass through the gate, dragging your suitcase behind you. “Should we grab some food or snacks? I ate a little bit at Hinata’s, but it’s a 4 hour train ride. We might get hungry.”

“Sure.” Riki replies. He points out a FamilyMart located inside the station, and you two walk there side by side. “Are you going to get onigiri?” you ask him, and he nods.

“You’re so predictable, Riki.”

“You just know me well.”

Silence. But it’s a comfortable silence. You and Riki have gotten past that awkward stage faster than you two had anticipated. Just friends, now.

Even if you two wish that you could be more. Like old times. When everything between you and Riki seemed right.

When he’d softly nudge your hands with his head when you stopped playing with his hair for a bit. When he’d hug you randomly in the middle of the ice rink, the both of you hearing Keiji’s frustrated sighs in the background. When he’d kiss you underneath the cherry blossom trees every spring.

With Riki, everything always seems right.

Even the days leading up to the breakup, you enjoyed his presence in your life, even if he could barely spend time with you, and vice versa.

You two were 17. The stress of transitioning into seniors got to you both, and it wasn’t like you two didn’t hold any more love for each other — it was just skating that had taken the little time you had away from each other.

But you two are older now. 21 years of age, no longer new to seniors, with a collection of medals stored in boxes in your rooms. So maybe, you two could make things work.

Riki lets you walk into the FamilyMart first, following you to the section that has ready made meals. Riki takes one of the salmon onigiris, while you take a ham and cheese sandwich. You check the expiry date as you follow Riki to the drinks section, the boy picking out 2 bottles of coffee.

“One for you, one for me.” he says, holding one of the bottles out for you. He knows which one you like. He always did, and it doesn’t seem to have changed throughout the years.

“Thanks,” you say, grinning at him.

You both head to the cashier to pay, the kind lady giving you a smile as you hand her the money. She bids you both goodbye before you two leave the store with 1 white plastic bag, storing the food and drinks that you two had both bought.

“The train is arriving soon. We should head to the platform,” Riki says, checking his phone. “That’s perfect. We got everything we needed in time!” you say, and he nods.

“Doing anything special for your return?” Riki asks as you both step into the escalator, and you shrug. “I’m not sure. Mom will probably surprise me, if there’s anything planned.”

“That would be cute,” Riki says. “l don’t think my parents have anything planned. Bisco’s probably just going to look at me then turn away.”

You let out a loud laugh at Riki’s words. “Wow, Bisco’s cruel.”

The train arrives not long after, and Riki helps you put your suitcase in the overhead luggage rack. Riki shuffles into the window seat first — he knows you don’t like sitting there, but you’ve still yet to explain to him why that is the case.

You sit down next to him, taking out the headphones that Riki had gotten you for your 6 month anniversary. “You still use them?” Riki asks, glancing at the headphones.

“Of course. They’re good headphones.”

He turns towards the window, a soft smile on his lips.

You tell Riki you’re going to sleep, and he nods. The boy pulls out his sketchbook and a pencil, flicking through its contents. There’s some drawings of the food he’s eaten. There’s one of Taki pulling a goofy face, and there’s one that he drew of his old broken skates.

A stark contrast to the sketchbook he owned when you two were together. Where all the drawings were ones of you.

He turns to look at you, who’s sleeping peacefully.

You’re so pretty. You make Riki’s heart skip a beat. He takes off the coat he’s wearing, draping it over your body. The aircon in the train is cold — he doesn’t want you to shiver in your sleep.

Unconsciously, a small smile spreads across his lips as he looks at you. If anyone was watching the scene, they would all say that Riki was looking at you with the softest look in his eyes, with nothing but adoration and love for you.

His feelings have never left. Riki has grown to accept that — but he doesn’t know if you feel the same. He’ll keep it quiet for now, or as long as it takes. Riki can’t lose you again.

He would rather be just friends than not having you in his life at all.

Life is more vibrant with you in it. To Riki, you are the sun. You always have been. You light up every room you enter. Your smile is infectious — just the sight of it makes the corners of Riki’s lips quirk up. You brighten up his day every time he sees you, without fail.

He gently brushes your hair out of your eyes.

Something about that simple action is filled with so much love. Riki supposes he can’t tell you about how he feels at the moment, in fear of making things awkward again, so he will settle for this.

He’ll tell you that he loves you quietly. So quietly that you might not even notice.

Riki helps you fix the ponytail in your hair the best he can without waking you up, and he hums as he ties the elastic band around your hair.

He then returns to his sketchbook, drawing things like the medal that he had just earned, the view from outside the window, and the onigiri that he had bought with you at FamilyMart.

And one sketch of you that he hides in the back of his book.

You’re asleep for the majority of the train ride. Riki taps you on the shoulder when you two have arrived at Okayama, and you crack one eye open at him when you’re awake. Riki smiles — something about your expression when you wake up is just so endearing to him.

“We’re here?”

“Yeah.” Riki says, taking his coat that’s been draped on top of your body. “You looked cold, so.”

“Thanks.” you say, smiling gratefully at him.

You grab your bag, getting up from your seat so Riki can leave as well. He helps you get your suitcase as well, and you two leave the train together, and he waits for you to tap your card on the reader once again.

“Are your parents picking you up?” you ask him, and he nods. “They should be here.” he says, looking around the train station.

“That’s nice.” you say. “I think my mom’s coming too.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Riki tells you, and you nod. “Of course I will. I think she still has lunch with your mom once a week, or something.” you chuckle.

“Ah, right. Mom has mentioned that a couple of times.” Riki laughs. He then seems to spot his family, and a bright smile spreads across his lips. “They’re here. I gotta go… I’ll see you soon?”

“Of course.”

You don’t seem to notice how Riki fixed your hair a little bit for you while you were sleeping on the train. He smiles at you before bidding you goodbye.

You turn to watch him run to his family, a small smile on your lips at the sight. Riki doesn’t leave the station before turning back to look at you.

And with that, the moon waves goodbye to his sun.

ELEVEN. rinkside

Like Riki had anticipated, Bisco simply looks at him before turning away when Riki walks in through the door.

“Well.” Konon says, as Riki looks at his dog with a pout on his lips. “Bisco doesn’t even care about me!” Riki says, placing his bag on the couch.

“He’s side-eyeing you.”

“He’s always side-eyeing everyone.”

Konon nods, agreeing with her younger brother’s words. Bisco does have what one might call a permanent judgemental stare.

Riki flops down onto the couch, Konon sitting down next to him as Bisco wanders off to… wherever he’s going. Probably to stare out the window to get a glimpse of the neighbour’s dog.

“So… you and (Name) came back together?” Konon asks, and Riki nods, grabbing the remote control for the television from the coffee table.

“We were at 4 Continents together. Plus, she’s staying in Nagoya for a bit to train before Worlds — it’s easier than going back to Canada. Their coach Seungmin’s staying with a friend, and Keiji’s staying with his friend too.” Riki explains, clicking onto Netflix.

“I see,” she hums. “I didn’t know you guys started talking again.”

“It’s recent.”

“What’s recent?” Riki’s mom asks, exiting the kitchen. She looks at her son with a curious look on her face, even though Riki’s pretty sure his mom heard small pieces of his conversation with Konon, and there’s no doubt in his mind that she saw Riki with you at the train station.

“Riki and (Name) are talking again.”

“Don’t say it like that!” Riki says, lightly elbowing his sister. Pink tints his cheeks, and Konon immediately notices.

“What do you mean to not say it like that? You two are talking, am I wrong?” she laughs, and Riki groans.

“The way you worded it is…” Riki trails off, embarrassed. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s nice. I liked (Name),” Riki’s mom says, a knowing smile on her lips. No matter how badly Riki’s trying to hide it, she knows about her son’s lingering feelings for you, and so does everyone else.

At the sound of your name, Bisco barks.

He really does play favourites, Riki thinks.

“I know you did, Mom,” Riki chuckles. “She told me to tell you that she said hi.”

“That’s kind of her. Tell her I said hi too.”

“So, what’d you guys do?” Konon asks, and Riki shrugs. “We didn’t have much time to… you know… hang out between the events. We had lunch first, with everyone on the team. That’s how I saw her after 4 years of no contact.”

“Oh, and then I went to watch her practice with Taki and everyone else. She did really well. Then, I kinda got a little sick, so she brought me tissues, cold medicine, soup — the ones that she knows I like — and lozenges.” Riki purposely leaves out the part where you two kissed. His family doesn’t need to know about that. In fact, he thinks that his sister would rather not know, even if he was willing to share. Konon would probably pretend to throw up, and his mom would definitely tease him about it for the rest of his life. His dad would laugh for hours, and Bisco would just stare at him with that judgemental look of his.

Riki continues rambling about spending time with you at 4 Continents while his mother and sister share a knowing look. “Oh, then we went to grab something to eat, and I got this strawberry cake, like old times, when we used to go to Mrs Kimura’s shop after practice. We have plans to do that again when we return to Nagoya. We had a lot to catch up on, so… yeah. Seeing her again was really fun.”

Konon chuckles. “Sounds like you had a really nice time at 4 Continents with (Name). You even forgot to tell us about that medal of yours.”

Konon has always liked you and Riki together. You both were incredibly similar, both loud and mischievous. You and Riki could talk about anything and everything for hours and hours and not get bored, and Konon would simply just watch in awe — she didn’t understand how two people could talk this much and not even feel tired. In fact, before you two started dating, Riki had complained multiple times when he had to leave the rink, because he wanted to talk to you more than he already had.

Konon remembers how Riki would call you his sun. And how you’d call him your moon.

She also remembers when you and Riki would have movie nights in this exact house, on this exact couch. She’d walk into the living room to get a late night snack, and see Riki’s arms wrapped around you, your bodies covered by a warm blanket.

You made Riki happy.

As a good sibling, that is all she wants for Riki in his life. Happiness.

Konon can see how happy Riki is when he skates a completely clean program. She can see how happy Riki is when he gains a new personal best score. She can see how happy Riki is when he earns a medal.

But the happiest she’s ever seen Riki is when he’s with you.

So with the way Riki’s talking about the short amounts of time he was able to spend with you at that competition makes Konon feel like yours and Riki’s story isn’t over yet. The glimmer in his eye returning, the way he’s smiling the entire time when he’s talking about the moments he shared with you, and the excitement in his voice as he details every moment tells her that her brother is still incredibly in love with you.

She hopes that he realises it. Or has already realised it.

But she knows Riki is too cautious, too worried that he’ll make a mistake when it comes to you. She doesn’t want him to just stand on the rinkside, constantly overthinking every move he makes when it’s related to you. So she figures that someone will have to give him a little push.

Before 4 Continents, Konon has heard her brother’s constant complaints about how he’s the only one in the family who hasn’t found love yet. But it’s clearer to her now than ever that Riki has always been the first one to find his person.

Words like how the universe might just simply not want him to fall in love, words like how maybe he’s not made for the thing called love.

But, the universe decides that it is the right thing to do to bring you and Riki back together. It has been too cruel to you both over the past couple of years — pushing the idea of knowing that you might’ve just lost your chance with the one and being left to wonder if you’ll find someone that can make you feel love the same way that person did.

But, the universe now decides to bring the sun and the moon back together.

One of them just has to take the first step.

TWELVE. on ice / off ice matchmakers

Riki doesn’t see you at all during his time in Okayama.

You two both don’t take the same train back as well, since Riki left for Nagoya a little earlier than you’re planning to. He texted you, asking if you were going to be on the train that day, and you replied with a ‘no’ and a sad face emoji.

You told him that you’d be staying a bit longer to spend more time with family, considering you hadn’t seen them in months. He tells you to have fun, and that he’ll see you back in Nagoya. You reply with a thumbs up and a heart emoji.

He can’t believe that his face heats up because of a stupid heart emoji. Riki thinks that he’s even more in love now than he was then, and maybe it’s because of a mix of those old, lingering feelings with the addition of the new ones that he’s developed over 4 Continents — the point is, Riki is crazily in love with you.

Riki returns to the rink with the thought of you on his mind. He sees Keiji there as well, alongside his coach Seungmin. Hikari doesn’t seem to be here yet, and neither does Taki.

“Hey, Riki!” Keiji says, skating up to the boards. “How was Okayama?”

“It was good. Spent some time with my family, chilled at home, witnessed my dog try to court the neighbour’s dog, you know, normal stuff.”

“Your dog is trying to court another dog? Also, what’s with the sudden use of formal language?” Keiji asks, laughing loudly at the fact that Bisco is trying to romance another dog.

“I didn’t know how else to word it? Is saying that my dog is trying to date another dog a better way of putting it?”

“I can’t believe Bisco’s pulling before me,” Keiji says, sighing. “Oh, and I almost forgot to ask. Did you spend any time with (Name)?”

Keiji wiggles his eyebrows at him, and Riki just looks at him, unamused. “No. I didn’t.” he replies, and Keiji gasps dramatically. “No way. Riki, what?”

“(Name) was spending time with her family. I’m seeing her here anyways — I don’t want to take away time that she could’ve spent with them while she’s there.” he explains, sitting down on the bench to put on his skates.

“Okay, that makes sense, I guess.”

“You seem very hellbent on trying to get me and (Name) back together.” Riki hums as he finishes lacing up his skates. “Look, she’s great. And I… hmm. The thing is, if she doesn’t feel the same way anymore, then it’s not going to happen.”

“Are you indirectly saying that you’re still in love with her?”

Riki doesn’t say anything as he takes off his skate guards and skates out onto the ice.

“Riki! Riki!” Keiji calls out after him, trying to catch up to him. “It’s a yes or no question, it’s just one word, come on, man!”

“You’ll figure that out.”

“That’s a yes?”

Riki doesn’t say anything once more, and Keiji takes his silence as an answer.

Oh, Keiji is so incredibly excited. Knowing that Riki still likes you and also knowing that your feelings for Riki have never left (despite you denying it constantly) has opened up so many new doors for him to come up with a scheme to get you and Riki back together.

Keiji usually wouldn’t meddle in his friends’ relationships – that’s more of Taki’s thing, but like Konon, he knows that without a little push, you two would never do anything about it. Keiji would hate to see you both just deciding to let your feelings for each other slowly melt away when he knows that you two are practically perfect for each other.

Keiji’s coach, Seungmin, looks at him with a curious expression, wondering why his student looks so excited suddenly.

Seungmin had started coaching you and Keiji when you both moved to Canada. He and his pairs partner Yeji had recently retired, with Yeji wanting to pursue a different path away from the ice, and Seungmin wanting to transition to coaching.

“What are you so excited about?” Seungmin asks when Keiji skates back to the boards. “You know how Riki and (Name) used to date, right?”

Seungmin nods. Keiji has been talking about it constantly after 4 Continents, and since he wasn’t coaching you and Keiji yet at the time when you and Riki were together, he is quite intrigued about why the whole team wants you both back together.

“Riki still likes her. Maybe even loves her? Not sure. But I swear (Name)‘s been secretly hung up on her relationship ever since they broke up — she’s just made herself so busy to the point where she could forget about it. Plus, they didn’t break up because they didn’t love each other anymore, they did it because skating got in the way!”

“And you think skating won’t get in the way for them now?”

“No? They’ve both matured. They can find that healthy work-life balance.” Keiji says, and Seungmin tilts his head. “You do know that Riki lives here, in Nagoya, and we train in Montreal, all the way over in Canada.”

“Long-distance!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Taki asks, walking up to them, and a wide grin immediately spreads across Keiji’s lips.

Taki is quite literally known as the matchmaker in the group. It’s incredible how he can pick up on people’s feelings for one another even with just one interaction with the smallest hint of interest. Riki jokingly says that it’s because he has nothing to do better with his life, but Keiji thinks that it’s a gift from whoever’s above.

“Your friend and his ex.” Seungmin tells him.

“What about Riki and (Name)?” he asks, a mischievous smile on his lips. He looks at Riki, practising his twizzles on the rink. “Is he finally not in denial about liking (Name)?”

Keiji adds mind reader to Taki’s list of gifts.

“Yes. You must know him very well.” Seungmin says, and Taki nods. “I’ve witnessed every single part of their relationship. The beginning, the end, and now, finally, the return.” he says, feeling very proud.

“We should try and get them back together.”

“But Kazuha said that they’ll probably get back together on their own. I feel like my magical matchmaking services aren’t needed in this case,” Taki says, sitting down on the bench. “What a rare thing to say, I know. I think we just have to get (Name) out of her denial phase, and they’ll both just tell each other. They love each other too much to keep that a secret.”

Taki not meddling in a relationship for once? Keiji is surprised.

“You’re right.” Seungmin says. “Just sit back and watch for a bit, maybe. Then we can see how to go from there, right?”

“We? Coach, do you wanna be part of the plan?” Keiji asks, shocked at his coach’s response. He didn’t expect Seungmin to even agree with him meddling in your love life, much less wanting to get involved with getting you and Riki back together.

“(Name) deserves to be happy,” Seungmin shrugs. “You guys seem to think that he makes her very happy. Plus, I used to be quite the matchmaker a long time ago, back when I was in college.”

“That was like 5 years ago. Why are you talking like you’re 45?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Shush, Keiji. When (Name) gets back, they’ll probably spend more time together. When we’re not training for Worlds, at least.”

“You’re right.”

“Hey Riki?” Taki calls out. “Yeah?” Riki replies, skating closer towards the three near the boards. “Are you planning to see (Name) anytime soon? Like after she comes back?”

“Yeah, why? She’s going to be training here anyways. She wants to go get strawberry cake at Mrs Kimura’s after practices.” Riki replies, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Riki smiles at the thought of seeing you again. The three matchmakers standing near the boards, however, are smiling for a different reason.

THIRTEEN. skate guards

You arrive in Nagoya 2 days later.

Riki’s eyes light up when he sees you enter the rink, and it does not go unnoticed by Taki and Hikari. Taki silently giggles to himself, and Hikari just looks at you, before looking at Riki again.

Hikari has never said anything about your relationship with Riki, not even when you two were dating. The woman is also impossible to read, so Riki never knew if she approved of his relationship with you. She’d only scold him for being late, and saying that dates weren’t excuses to skip out on practice.

But he knew that Hikari didn’t dislike you.

“Hey!” you say, skating up to Riki. “Hey, how was your trip back?” he asks, giving you a side hug. Taki and Keiji give each other one of those looks, whispering amongst themselves, as Seungmin just watches your interaction from afar.

“It was nice! I actually bumped into your sister yesterday,” you chuckle, and Riki widens his eyes. Oh gosh, he really hopes Konon didn’t tell you about how he was basically rambling on and on about spending time with you at 4 Continents. “Don’t worry! She didn’t say anything bad. She just said congrats on the medal, and that the next time we’re both back our families should go and grab dinner together.” you say, noticing Riki’s alarmed expression.

Riki lets out a sigh of relief, and you look at him with an amused expression. “What, you thought she’d say something else?”

“No, no. I was worried she’d say something strange.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing.”

Riki says the word with such quickness that it makes you a little suspicious, but you brush it off. “So… how was your trip? I didn’t get to spend time with you then, so I figured you must be busy with family.”

“It was good. Bisco has been trying to romance Fudge. I’m unsure if it’s working,” Riki chews on his bottom lip as you laugh. “And I thought you were busy with family, so…”

“It’s okay. At least we get to see each other now,” you say, beaming.

His heart just does a strange flip, and his cheeks feel hot, face tinting pink all the way up to the tip of his ears. He blames the cold instead of your words.

“Yeah. We can go get strawberry cake after this?” he asks you, and you nod. “Of course. I’ll go get practicing now, since Keiji just seems to be… staring at us. Then we can maybe go get strawberry cake around… 3?”

“Of course. It’s a date.”

Riki then skates off, leaving you with your face feeling hot this time. It’s a date? You know he means that he agrees to the time that you’ve set for going to Mrs Kimura’s shop to get cake, but you know that it can also mean something very different.

You wish that he meant it in a different way.

You have been in denial about your feelings for Riki for a while now. The signs are all there — from thinking nonstop about the kiss, to his words and his actions making your heart flutter like it used to.

Oh, you realise. You still love Riki.

You don’t want to leave everything in the past. You want to continue where you two had left off 4 years ago. You want to hold Riki like you used to, hug him like you used to, kiss him like you used to.

You want things to go back to the way they were before.

You stand there in the middle of the rink, eyes following Riki’s figure as he skates across the rink, doing a gorgeous layback Ina Bauer as your heart thumps faster and faster.

Maybe things could all work out now. Just maybe.

You gulp, hand touching to feel your cheeks — they’re warm, and you tell yourself to snap out of it. You should hurry up with skating so you can go and spend more time with Riki.

You skate up to the boards, and Seungmin looks at you with a small smile on his lips. “So… Riki, huh?”

“Coach, come on. I wanna focus.”

“I was just asking! And yes, let’s focus.” he says, and you nod. “Keiji, get over here! Stop whispering to Taki.”

Keiji sighs, telling Taki that he’ll talk to him later. He skates up to you both, hands on his hips. “What are we doing today?”

“Everything, Keiji. It’s Worlds in less than a month, and we want that medal.” you tell him, and Keiji nods. “Come on, let’s go.”

You and Keiji skate away from the boards, and as you fiddle with the hair tie on your wrist, Keiji asks you about what you and Riki were talking about.

You immediately shake your head, saying that it’s nothing important with a soft smile on your lips. “Let’s focus now.” you say. You want to keep your conversations with Riki a little more private now, considering how you know that Keiji is prone to telling everything related about you and Riki to Taki.

During the practice, you don’t miss Riki’s occasional glances at you. When you catch him looking, he simply gives you a thumbs up, telling you that you’re doing great.

You thank him quietly, as Keiji struggles to hide the cheeky grin on his lips.

You also don’t miss Hikari telling Riki to focus on his own practice instead of yours as you and Keiji twizzle across the ice. There’s a soft smile on your lips at her words, for some reason.

Practice goes smoothly for Riki, for the most part. He does fall a couple times on a few quads, but during the final runthrough of his program for the day, he lands them all cleanly. Hikari gives him a nod in satisfaction, telling him that he did well. Riki thanks her, and she gives him a close-lipped smile.

He exits the rink, putting his skate guards back on. He spots your purple ones placed on the bench. You still use the same ones as 4 years ago.

“Um, Seungmin? Could you tell (Name) I’ll be waiting for her? I’m just going to get changed.” he tells your coach, who nods. “Of course. Have fun.”

Have fun getting changed?

It doesn’t register in Riki’s mind until he’s in the dressing room a few minutes later that Seungmin means that Riki should have fun spending time with you.

Riki exits the changing room after spraying some cologne on, changed into a hoodie and a pair of jeans. You’re the one putting on your skate guards now, and you tell him that you won’t be long.

He nods, waiting patiently next to the vending machine as he sees you disappear into the women’s changing room. You appear a few minutes later in a fresh change of clothes, smiling at him.

The sight of you makes his heart skip a beat.

“So… should we go?”

“Of course. Let’s go.” he says. He bids goodbye to Seungmin, Hikari, and Keiji — Taki is nowhere to be seen, for some reason.

You and Riki leave the rink together, leaving your bags at the rink since you two would come back later anyways. The walk to Mrs Kimura’s shop doesn’t take too long, since it’s just across the street. You haven’t seen the kind lady in years.

Riki pushes open the door, letting you enter first.

“Welcome!” the voice of Mrs Kimura makes you smile, and as you approach the counter, the old lady seems to recognise you. “Oh my. Is that (Name)?”

“Long time no see, Mrs Kimura!” you say, smiling brightly at her. Mrs Kimura walks around the counter, approaching you to give you a warm hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Oh, and Riki’s here as well! I didn’t know that you two got back together. That’s so sweet.”

“Oh, we’re not together, Mrs Kimura.” you say, chuckling awkwardly. Riki nods, and Mrs Kimura lets out a small ‘oh’.

“Well, sorry for misunderstanding.” she laughs, and you shrug. “It’s quite alright. You did see us come here often when we were together.”

“Yes, I did. You two were adorable together.” she beams. “So, the usual for you both? Strawberry cake?”

“Of course. That’s very kind of you for still remembering.” you say. “Riki still comes here often, after practice. Just you know, without you around.” Mrs Kimura says, looking at Riki, who’s gone to sit at the table closest to the window. That table was where you two would always sit whenever you came here.

“Oh, I see.” you say.

“He seems to have missed you quite a bit, over the years. I would ask about you, and he’d just tell me he didn’t know with this sort of… sad look on his face.”

You didn’t know Riki felt that way.

“But I’m glad you and Riki are talking again.” she says, as she cuts two slices of the strawberry cake. She places them on small plates, pushing them towards you. “Free of charge today.”

“Oh, Mrs Kimura, no. I’ll pay.” you say, and the lady shakes her head. “No, no, no. Just seeing you again after a long time is enough. I have missed seeing you almost every day, you know.” she replies.

“I’ve missed seeing you every day as well. And thank you so much, Mrs Kimura.” you say.

“He’s looking at you.” she whispers to you.

“Hmm?”

“I think he really likes you.”

You smile, looking back at Riki. “I think I really like him too.”

FOURTEEN. when the ice melts

As the World Championships inches closer, you and Riki find yourselves training more intensely each day.

The only time that you two can spend together without being stressed about preparations for Worlds is at Mrs Kimura’s shop, ordering 2 slices of strawberry cake like usual. You and Riki talk about everything but skating, such as Riki giving you updates on how Bisco’s mission on trying to romance Fudge is going.

According to his mother, it seems to be going well.

“Bisco is going to get a girlfriend before you do.” Taki says, taking a sip out of his water bottle.

Riki glares at your pairs partner. “Actually, I have exes.”

“Correction, you have one ex. Who just so happens to be standing next to you.” Taki gestures to you, who’s awkwardly standing there. You opt to give a thumbs up with an uncomfortable smile, making Taki burst out in laughter. “Yes… us… exes!” you say, and Riki copies your action, awkwardly giving Taki a thumbs up as well.

Taki laughs even louder.

“You guys are funny,” Seungmin says, placing his bags down. “Where’s Keiji?”

“Not here yet,” you say. “I’ll just practice some solo jumps?”

Seungmin nods, telling you that it’s a good idea. You tell Taki and Keiji you’ll get practicing before skating off, leaving the two boys and Hikari standing near the boards. “So… are you going to tell her?” Taki asks Riki, and the younger boy looks at him, feigning confusion.

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her.” Taki says, as the two boys watch you skate around the rink, before taking off into a triple loop. “What do you mean?” Riki asks.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Riki. I’ve been stuck with you since we were both 3 years old.” Taki nudges the younger boy, who doesn’t say anything. “I’m really not going to meddle with your love life this time. I swear. I know you and (Name) will get together on your own, so… I’m stepping away.”

“You’re acting as if being a matchmaker is your job, Taki.” Riki chuckles, and Taki shrugs. “It’s my part time job. I’m a full time figure skater, mind reader, and a part-time matchmaker.”

“Mind reader?” Riki questions.

“Yeah. I’m reading your mind right now, and your mind is telling me that you like (Name), but you’re too scared to tell her because you don’t want to screw things up all over again.”

Riki flips Taki off, who gasps, feigning offence. Riki despises how Taki knows him so well. Or maybe that Riki just isn’t doing the best job at hiding it.

“I don’t… what?”

“Riki, it’s just me. You can be honest with me.”

“You’re probably going to tell (Name) like you did all those years ago. Look, Taki — I don’t think it’s a good idea this time.” Riki sighs.

“Explain what you mean, Riki.”

“I… don’t think I should tell her how I feel,” Riki confesses. “Not only is it too early, but also, there’s a multitude of other factors that just tells me that if I confess, things might not turn out the way we want them to again. She lives all the way in Canada, I live here — our lives revolve around skating all day, and with the 13 hour time difference too, I don’t think a romantic relationship can survive all that, even if she likes me back. Plus, we’ve just started being friends again. Look… I would rather have her as a friend, than lose her completely.”

“Riki, but you really like her.”

“I know.” Riki sighs. “I always will.”

“But relationships are complicated. Love is complicated, even more so for people like us who dedicate our lives to our sport. I just don’t want to lose (Name) once again. Because at 4 Continents, I finally realised how empty life seemed without her in it. Those 4 years separated her were, no offence to you, and everyone else around, but less… vibrant, in a way. And now that we’re back in each other's lives… I don’t want to go back to how uninteresting and boring life was before.” he muses. Taki listens to him intently, his lips slightly downturned into a frown.

“Plus,” Riki chuckles. “I don’t even know if she likes me back.”

“Of course she does, Riki. What are you even saying? She looks at you as if you’re her entire world.” Taki says, and Riki smiles slightly. “That is a nice thing to say. I would like to get back together with her, if she did like me back.”

“But if not, I would rather things between (Name) and I to stay like this instead of… you know.”

Riki doesn’t know that you hear him say those exact words as you skate by the two boys. You didn’t hear the parts they said before, but you sure did hear what Riki said about wanting things to stay the same.

“What do you mean by you know?” Taki asks.

“Seriously, man? I would rather things stay like this rather than having no relationship at all. I thought it was clear, considering everything else I had said earlier.”

But to you, it is not clear at all. Without context of Taki and Riki’s previous conversation, you’re left thinking that you were wrong.

Riki really doesn’t like you back.

You feel your heart shatter a little at his words. You held up the tiniest bit of hope, and all this came crashing down with just one sentence from the boy’s lips.

But really, what did you expect? He told you that he agreed that it was a spur of the moment kiss at the hotel. He agreed to leave it all behind, and it seems like he held up on his part of the deal.

However, you didn’t.

Nishimura Riki twizzles right into your heart once again and ends up breaking it.

You should’ve expected this to happen. Falling for your ex boyfriend after only a couple of weeks of talking again? Sounds like a recipe for disaster. You were just stupid and foolish enough to think that maybe you and Riki could be a thing again, and look where it got you.

You try to rid your mind of the thought. It doesn’t hurt this bad. The breakup didn’t hurt like this. I should be fine.

To forget about the words that Riki had said, you decide to just focus on practicing your solo jumps. Keiji still hasn’t gotten here, and for once, you actually want to confide in him.

You then take off into a triple flip.

His words must’ve messed with your mind a little. You’re not as focused as you usually are, which is to be expected — so your body makes an impact with the cold, hard, ice.

Every fall hurts a little bit.

This one hurts a little more than usual.

When Riki sees you fall, he immediately skates over to you. “(Name), you okay?” he asks, worry laced in his tone. Somehow, him skating over to help you back up makes your heart twinge a little.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” you murmur, and Riki holds out his hand for you to take so he can pull you back up. You take his hand, and butterflies erupt in your stomach — even if you tell them to stop.

Riki doesn’t like you back, you tell yourself. He’s just really nice. He’s always been really nice. That’s why you fell for him in the first place.

“Careful,” he says, as you give him a smile that doesn’t really quite reach your eyes. Riki’s able to read you like he used to now, and he can tell that you’re not quite happy with something. “Yeah. I will. Thanks.” you say, before skating off, leaving Riki confused.

You were okay before. Did he do something wrong? Were you upset because you fell on the flip?

He skates back to Taki with a confused expression on his face. “(Name) seems upset.” he frowns, biting on the inside of his cheek. “Maybe it’s because she fell on the flip.”

“Maybe…” Riki trails off. But he knows you well enough to know it’s not that. Sure, you’d be a little disappointed, but you wouldn’t usually let it show on your face.

“Boys. Let’s get practicing.” Hikari says, and the two nod. Keiji just so happens to arrive, and you sigh in relief. “You’re here!” Riki hears you say as he pulls his black gloves onto his hands.

As Riki practices, he tries to not think about your upset expression. But, Riki is an overthinker — he just can’t help it. He hopes that maybe he’ll be able to lift your mood a little bit later, but the thought of you being upset distracts him a little, and Hikari notices.

Of course she would. She notices everything.

And when Riki lands a quadruple salchow shakily, Hikari decides to call him over.

“Is something distracting you? What’s on your mind today?” she asks him.

Riki looks at his coach, a little shocked. She never usually asks him about personal stuff. “No, it’s just… forget it. I’m sorry.” Riki says, and Hikari shakes her head. “Don’t lie to me, Riki. Worlds is in a few weeks, and I don’t want anything stressing you out because it’ll hinder your performance. Just tell me.”

Riki turns his head to look at you and Keiji, and Hikari understands immediately.

“Are you still in love with your ex girlfriend?”

“Coach, I…”

“It’s very obvious, Riki. Why is that bothering you then?” she asks. Riki sighs, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Because she seems upset. And I can’t help but wonder if I did something that made her feel that way.”

“Did you say anything?”

“I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to say anything that would hurt her feelings, considering that I do like her.”

“Then you’re fine. Focus on skating. I can help you handle this.” Hikari says, and Riki looks at his coach, shocked. “What?” she asks.

“You’ve never talked to me about anything regarding my personal life. I’m just not used to this at all.” he confesses, and Hikari shrugs. “I’ve been your coach for the majority of your life. I pick up things that you don’t notice until later. Such as how when I knew immediately that you and (Name) would be together after you two started talking at Junior Nationals that year.”

“Oh,” Riki says. “I just… I don’t know. I like her a lot, but skating seems to get in the way.”

“You both need to find that work-life balance. As a coach, I should be telling you that skating is the most important. But, your relationships with others are just as important, and if you love her as much as you do, you should keep your relationship with her as a priority as well.”

“Okay.” Riki breathes out.

“Now get back to practice. I’ll talk to (Name) later.”

FIFTEEN. compulsory figures

Nagai Hikari has always intimidated you.

Riki’s coach stands at 5’1, but she is incredibly scary for some reason. The lady has a straight face almost 90% of the time, and you remember the times where she’d scold you and Riki for being late to practice with pure anger on her face. Of course, you understood why she was so angry, but that didn’t take away how frightening she was to you.

So when she asks you to talk after your practice is over, you’re a little bit scared.

Riki is somehow nowhere to be seen. He left the rink a little while ago, disappearing into the changing rooms — and you don’t think you’ve seen him leave, but you also don’t know where he is.

You know Riki isn’t that cruel to go to Mrs Kimura’s shop without you, so maybe he’s still in the changing rooms, or he’s gone off to somewhere else when you were too busy practising to notice.

“Um, what’s this about, Ms Nagai?” you ask her, as she pats the seat next to her, motioning for you to sit down. “Riki tells me you’re upset.”

You don’t know why his coach is telling you this, but you stay and listen.

“Um… I suppose so. Why’d he tell you?”

“He was distracted during practice today,” Hikari hums. “I figured it might be because he’s thinking about you.”

Your face heats up a little after hearing Hikari’s words. “And… why would he be thinking about me?”

“Because he loves you.”

Hikari gets straight to the point.

“That can’t be right,” you chuckle awkwardly. “I just overheard him saying to Taki that he likes how things are between me and him, and… he’d rather it stay like that then… you know.”

“Did he say what the ‘you know’ was?” the lady asks you.

“No?”

“The ‘you know’ is not even being in contact with you at all. Riki is scared of losing you completely if he tells you how he feels.” Hikari tells you. “You should go tell him how you feel, because after hearing what Taki and Riki were talking about, I don’t believe he will be the one to make the first move.”

“But how do you know that I still like Riki?”

The lady looks at you as if the answer is obvious, because Hikari really can’t believe you had just asked her that — you and Riki have never been able to hide any sort of feelings that you had for each other. “You look at him the same way you did when you two were younger. Like he is everything to you. He looks at you the same way. Don’t lose him again. And don’t hurt him.”

“He looks at me like that?” you ask her, and she nods.

“All the time. You just must have not noticed,” she says. You sigh, and Hikari frowns. “Why are you sighing? I just told you the words that you wanted to hear.”

“No, I know, Mrs Nagai — it’s just hit me right now that even if Riki and I continue our relationship from 4 years ago, things will be even more complicated and hard. The time difference, the flights, everything will be harder than before, and we couldn’t even survive that.”

“You two will make things work. You both love each other too much to not even give your relationship a second chance.”

The lady gets up out of her seat before walking away, leaving you to register everything she’s told you in your short conversation with her. So you had just misunderstood. Nagai Hikari knows Riki very well, arguably better than some of Riki’s friends, considering how she’s literally watched him grow up.

She has watched you grow up too, with you and Keiji training at this exact rink just with a different coach. She had been there when your relationship with Riki had sprouted, blossomed, then wilted.

Hikari’s silent observations prove to be useful to you. Riki loves you, she had said. Your heart fills with joy at the sound of that.

But now you know that you’re the one who needs to make the first move, and nervousness courses through your veins. The last and first time you’ve ever confessed to someone is after Taki had left it all out in the open. You two just whispered a meek ‘I like you a lot’, and then Riki asked you if you’d like to be his girlfriend.

You had said yes.

You don’t think the confession should go like that this time around. Your first confession lasted no longer than 5 minutes. Your first breakup lasted no longer than 5 minutes.

Love is special. It should be treated as such.

6 years ago, as a teenager and after Taki exposed your feelings for each other, you should have told Riki how crazily, stupidly in love he made you feel. You should’ve told him that every second, every moment you shared with him sparked this feeling of joy that you couldn’t possibly ever describe in any shape of form. You should’ve told him that there is nobody else in the world that you could ever imagine feeling this way for.

And 4 years ago, after you both came to the realisation that things weren’t working out, you should’ve told Riki that you wanted to try and fix things. You should’ve told him that even though everything was going south, those short moments with him that you managed to squeeze into your busy schedule was the only time you felt like you were at peace.

You should’ve told him that despite everything, you still loved him.

So this time around, you’ll tell Riki all the words you never got to say during your first confession, and during your breakup.

The words “I like you a lot” are not remotely enough to describe your feelings for Riki. You could write entire paragraphs about your feelings, and 5 words, 12 letters is nowhere near the length of a paragraph.

You get up from your seat, looking around to try and find Taki. When you do, you immediately run up to him, startling him a little bit. “Do you know where Riki is?” you ask him, and a sly smile spreads across his lips.

“You look like you’re in a hurry.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. Well, he’s gone to see Rei. He says that she’s not feeling well.”

“Ah,” you say, pulling out your phone. Sure enough, there are a couple messages from Riki.

Rei’s throwing up, I think she ate something bad. Had to leave early to drive her to the doctor’s. I won’t be able to get strawberry cake with you at Mrs Kimura’s today, but I bought you a slice and dropped it off at Hinata’s apartment on my way to Rei’s. Hoping it lifts your mood a bit. See you tomorrow!

Knowing that Riki had even gone out of his way to buy you a slice of the strawberry cake and drop it off at Hinata’s apartment himself when he couldn’t go to the shop with you today makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

You can’t believe you’ve found someone like Nishimura Riki.

“What are you smiling at?” Taki asks you, even though he already knows the answer. Don’t worry about it, and thank you for the cake! Hope Rei feels better soon, you write, before tapping send.

“You know the answer without asking, Taki.” you say, before grabbing your bags and leaving the arena.

You return to Hinata’s with a bright smile, strawberry cake waiting for you and your feelings for Riki stronger than ever.

SIXTEEN. in every universe, 1Lo<.

Riki heads to the rink much earlier than he usually does on a Wednesday morning.

He’s hoping to get in more practice time today, since his practice was abruptly cut by Rei getting food poisoning, leading to Riki needing to drive his cousin to the hospital.

The streets of Nagoya are awfully quiet this early in the morning, and as Riki walks by empty streets with his headphones on, he quietly admires the city that he calls his home away from home.

The boy pushes past the doors of the arena, the cold air from the rink brushing against his face. It’s not possible for someone to be here this early in the morning — hell, he knows that even Hikari isn’t awake right now.

The boy quietly places down his bags, pulling his skates out. He puts his skates on, placing his regular sneakers into a shoe bag that he stuffs into his skate bag. Riki finishes lacing up his skates, and he walks over to his locker, shoving his bags in there.

Riki removes his skate guards before skating out onto the ice.

The ice has never felt so comforting to Riki, especially during preparations for Worlds. Perhaps he should start practising much earlier than he usually does.

But then he hears the doors of the arena open, and he curiously looks towards the entrance to see who would possibly come here this early, other than him.

It’s you.

He doesn’t know why something so simple, such as you walking through the doors makes his breath hitch. Butterflies flutter in his stomach, and despite how cold the rink is, Riki has never felt so warm.

You seem to spot him, and you hurriedly lace up your skates before skating onto the ice — seemingly not even bothering to put your skate bag away into your own locker.

“Morning,” you breathe out.

Riki doesn’t know how nervous you are.

“Morning.” Riki smiles at you, and just at the sight of his smile, you swear you fall in love with him all over again.

“How’s Rei?” you skate beside him, and Riki shrugs at your words. “She’s doing okay, I think. Her friend Gaeul’s taking care of her, since she knows I’m busy preparing for Worlds. I should go and see her sometime soon though, just to check up.”

Riki seems to suddenly remember something. “Oh, did you get the cake?”

“Yes, I did!” you say with a wide grin and a bright twinkle in your eye. Warmth blooms across Riki’s chest at the sight of your joyful smile. He’s glad he’s the one who was able to make you smile like that. “I’m glad Hinata didn’t eat the cake.”

“Me too.”

Then there’s just silence between you and Riki. It’s not a comfortable silence, but it’s not awkward, either. It’s just you, trying to get yourself to muster up the courage to tell him what you’ve wanted to say to him, and Riki, sensing that you’re about to tell him something, but nothing seems to slip past your lips.

Riki decides that he doesn’t quite like the silence. “Are you okay from yesterday?”

“Hmm?”

“You seemed upset. I got worried.” he confesses, looking down at his skates. A tiny smile appears on your lips.

“I’m okay. It was just me overthinking.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Is this the right time? you ask yourself. You don’t know what exactly to say. All you know is your feelings towards Riki are so strong that you just can’t keep it a secret anymore. You don’t have a clearly thought out paragraph to tell him how you feel, you don’t have anything rehearsed — all you have are your feelings.

“I love you,” you blurt out.

You just hope that your feelings are enough.

Riki stops in his tracks.

“I have never stopped loving you, and it’s killing me that I only realised a couple weeks ago. Less than 5 minutes seems like all the time we need to make major decisions regarding our relationship — but I don’t want 5 minutes. 5 minutes is too little for me to tell you how much I like you. It’s too little for me to tell you that even when we were 14 years old, with our eyes set on nothing but flashy titles and gold medals, I knew that you would be the only one that I could ever find myself having these types of feelings for. It’s too little for me to tell you that during those 5 minutes of our breakup, I should’ve gathered the courage to tell you to stay.”

You take a step closer to him. “And I know that with my confession, I’ve opened up hundreds, even thousands of doors of problems that could happen in our relationship. Staying as just friends would and could have avoided all that — but I don’t want to be just friends. Hikari is right. I love you too much to not even try and give our relationship a second chance, and I… I don’t know. I suppose that I should tell you that I wish that I didn’t propose the idea to leave our relationship all behind when you kissed me at 4 Continents. I wish that I didn’t tell you that it was all just a spur of the moment thing — I wanted it to happen. And after it did happen, I wanted it to happen over, and over, and over again.”

“I don’t know. Perfection is everything that we have strived for,” you mumble. “Every day, we are told to execute certain things to perfection. And I know that we’ll never be as perfect as we are on the ice. But I don’t need perfection when I have you.”

You pour your entire heart out. You’ve said every single possible thing that comes to mind, and your mind is now just blank. You don’t know what Riki’s going to say, what he’s going to do — all you know is that you could feel nothing but overwhelming joy in the next second, or overwhelming, crushing, heartbreak.

You can’t read Riki’s expression. He seems like he’s still trying to register all the words you had just said.

But then he tugs on the sleeve of your jacket. You look at him, confused — until you see the widest smile you’ve ever seen on Riki’s face.

“I love you too.” he beams, and you feel that overwhelming feeling of joy. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest to hide the stupid, lovestruck grin on your lips.

You look at him, and Mrs Kimura is right. He does look at you as if you’ve got stars in your eyes. “I was scared to tell you how I felt. Because I was worried that you wouldn’t feel the same way — and I couldn’t lose you all over again,” he mumbles.

“You’ll never lose me.”

Riki’s lips quirk up into a smile. “I didn’t want to forget about our shared history after the kiss. I guess that I’m just always too fearful to tell you how crazily in love I am with you.”

“I guess that makes us crazily in love with each other.” you whisper to him.

He nods, a breathy laugh escaping past his lips. Riki then leans in to connect your lips with his, and everything feels right. Everything has always felt right with you. The flavour of the minty lozenge from the kiss at 4 Continents is instead replaced with your strawberry flavoured chapstick, and Riki brings his hand up to slowly cup your cheek.

Your first confession was at this rink. Your breakup was at this rink. And now your second first confession and second first kiss is also at this rink.

This time, everything is exactly the way you had imagined it. Nobody is there to interfere. No words have been left unsaid. This time, it is just you and Riki, and you know that perfect is not an ideal word to describe things, given how much pressure the word alone in a different context holds — but everything is perfect.

Riki doesn’t know if soulmates exist or not. But if he did have one, he knew it would be you. You both are like two missing puzzle pieces that match perfectly together — as if he was made for you, and you were made for him.

When you both pull away, Riki rests his forehead against yours. “I watched a movie a few days ago,” he whispers.

“What was it about?”

“The multiverse,” he replies, lacing his hands with yours. “Hundreds and hundreds of different universes. And I thought to myself: in each and every universe, I would still want to find my way back to you.”

Your heart swells to the point where you think it’s about to burst at the seams. “And I would always want to find my way back to you, too.”

Nishimura Riki is yours, as much as you are his. He has never left your heart the second he twizzled his way into it, and you truly are surprised how it took you this long to accept it when everybody else (but Riki, too) had known that you two would eventually find your way back to each other.

Wherever you are in the world, I will search for you.

And as Riki presses another kiss to your lips, he knows that love is no longer some sort of mystery he cannot figure out anymore.

Riki realises that love isn’t as complicated as he thought. Love, to Riki, is you. It is the most simplest of definitions, and Riki knows the meaning will never change for him.

Riki may be still a quarter of a rotation off on that quadruple axel, but for love? Riki isn’t a quarter off at all anymore.

He puts love on pause, because he will only ever press play when he finds his way back to you. Love is no longer far away, out of reach, and only something Riki can dream of experiencing anymore. He is with you, your hand in his — and everything is right.

You twizzle your way right into Nishimura Riki’s heart all over again, and he knows you’ll stay there for a very, very long time.

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betyloca · 2 months

Text

members of the x-men with a s/o who was in a mutant circus and his/her mutation in which she is a symbiote

scott summers

• heard that the new student came from a circus

• I wouldn't ask I wouldn't want to ask and make you uncomfortable

• but he didn't want to miss the opportunity to meet a new student

- Hi, I'm Scott Summers.

- Hello, I'm y/n.

- If you need to get out of here I know how to escape and take you wherever you want

• this boy had no idea what your mutation was, he thought you were very strong

• until he saw you create symbiotic tentacles

• He is impressed by your mutation and offers to help you in your training.

• worries when there are loud sounds that could hurt you

• is impressed with the amount of food you can eat

•He loves your full symbiote form and thinks you're very intimidating, which would help him scare people for fun.

• he lets you work with him so that you can be with him

jean gray

• found out that a new student had arrived

• She knows where you come from and what your life was like in the circus because she read your mind.

• you were in the courtyard of the mansion when you met her

- Hi I am ..

- y/n I know I'm Jean Gray

- how do you know my name?

- I'm a telepath

- oh can I sit with you?

- of course, why not

• they began to be almost always with her

• One day you showed him your mutation by making claws appear and your arm turning a symbiotic black color.

• You thought you had scared her but she already knew about your mutation. You're glad she wasn't scared.

• She knows what it's like for people to fear you so she doesn't let anyone mess with you.

• He likes to have lunch with you in the mansion garden even though you always end up eating almost everything due to your voracious hunger.

• likes it when you do stunts to impress the

• He likes it when you are in your symbiotic mass form and you are lying on his bed or couch and you are on his chest sleeping while he caresses you.

• I wouldn't let you have fun with her, she's afraid that she'll hurt you with her telepathy.

• He doesn't get scared when he sees your full symbiote form because he knows you would melt at his touch.

kurt wagner

• he was excited at the idea of making a new friend

• He heard rumors that you came from a circus. He knew what it was like to live there since he was in one.

• you were walking through the hallways lost when you ran into him

- Excuse me, do you know where the classrooms are?

- If you want I can take you

- okay thanks, I'm y/n

- I'm Kurt Wagner

• immediately became your friend

• He doesn't leave your side until he told you that he also lived in a circus

• That's how they began to share experiences of how they lived

• He likes it when you show off your stunts since you were a trapeze artist.

• One day when they were at the mall a guy started making fun of his appearance making him feel horrible.

boy: look that guy looks like a monster hahaha* laughing with his friends*

Kurt: We better go* while looking at the ground*

y/n: hey, the only monster is me, you idiot* while deforming his face making his eyes white and his mouth bigger with sharp fangs*

boy: ooh shit let's go * while he runs with his friends *

• He is impressed by your mutation and likes to ask what else you can do.

• gets worried when there are loud noises and when it happens he covers your ears

• At Christmas I give you headphones to prevent you from hearing the fireworks so they don't hurt you.

• keeps you away from anything flammable wants you to be safe

• He likes it when you are in your symbiotic dough form. He thinks you are very cute. He loves having you in his hands while he feeds you (he likes to concentrate on you).

•When this boy finds out that you can have fun with a person, he feels curious and nervous when you have fun with him.

• when he gets used to it he likes to be with you all the time talking to you while you talk to him in his head

• At first he was scared by your full symbiote form but he didn't mean to. He liked how intimidating you looked but he knows you wouldn't like him

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #scott summers x reader #jean grey x reader #xmen apocalypse #xmen x reader #xmen movies #xmen imagine

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snoopyana · 2 months

Text

awkward.

“and i know it’s all wrong and i should stop…but i can’t.”

in which haechan meets you in a gamstop, letting his impatience get the back of him after dropping you off at home. who knew how awkward it would be when you find him?

lee donghyuck. smut

today was slow, like every other day. the occasional nerd coming in to ask you a few questions about some obscure game. watching people shop in the mall, chin resting in your hands, the silence started to consume your mind. reaching for your phone, the bell on the door chimed — your hand returned to the counter. “welcome to gamestop!” your own customer service voice finally getting on your nerves. “hi..i’d like to make an exchange.”

looking at him, it was a slight surprise. most of the men that stepped foot in here were..well.. — gross. but he looked clean. thick rimmed glasses taking up his face, covering the tanned skin around his eyes. jet black hair that was a little messy, lips parted just enough to see his two top teeth peeking out. tilting your head up to make eye contact, you smiled.

“of course, what do you have with you today?” leaning on the counter, the male laid down the three game cases that he held. “just these.” he barely spoke above a whisper, which you barely caught. grabbing the games, you did the usual inspection. “and these work just fine?” you questioned him, placing the game cds back into their respective cases. he mumbled under his breath, eyes darting across the store. looking back at him, your eyebrows knitting and a sincere expression plastered on your face. “can you repeat that? i didn’t quite understand!” he turned back to you, nodding. “yeah, they work just fine. i only ever played them twice.”

after a few questions and a little bargaining, he stuffed the money into his hoodie pocket. “if you don’t mind, i’m gonna look around a little.” he walked deeper into the shop as you placed the cases onto the counter behind you. watching as he browsed, you couldn’t help but notice how tense he was. even being tense the whole interaction. it was kinda cute, a nice change of pace from the usual cocky nerds that walked in and out those doors.

while he minded his own, your eyes gazed at the clock, realizing your coworker was running late. it was almost time for you to clock out and he usually appeared 5 minutes early. mark barged into the store, looking a little tired. “sorry, traffic.” he huffed out before coming around the counter. “it’s all good lee, not like i was dying to get outta here.” you patted his back making room for the man to slip past to the back. “and i think imma stay a little longer, there’s a costumer i wanna ring up.” your eyes lingering on hyuck as he grabbed something from off the shelves. mark followed your eyes, landing on the male. “oo, don’t go asking for his number though.” shooting the blonde a nasty side eye, hyuck shuffled back to the counter. “i’d like these please.”

for the next few days, the same tan man came in. asking for your opinions on games, what you recommended, etc etc. with his frequent appearance, it dawned on you that his name was never once mentioned. realizing this as you leaned up on the checkout counter while waiting for him today. you didn’t know his name but you spoke to him like he was your long lost friend. just on queue, he walked through the double doors. welcoming him like every other day, he greeted you back. “hi yn” of course he knew your name, it was pinned on your shirt. but you wished his own was also pinned onto his. shuffling behind the counter, you slid out to actually start working. restocking and dusting off shelves.

during the usual game talk, you finally asked. “so, what’s your name?” you questioned while cleaning off a particularly dusty shelf, he usually just followed you around the store to talk and watch you. “oh its haechan. or hyuck.. or donghyuck. whatever you choose.” wiping off the boxed items, you nodded. “hyuck, i like how that sounds.” feeling his cheeks get a little warm, he started fiddling with his fingers to try and distract from it — your sentence repeated itself in his mind. “thank you.” he whispered, continuing to follow you as you ventured into the store. the way he trailed behind you, someone would have mistaken him as a trainee.

his visits soon ventured out of the store — but never too far. hyuck would wait for you to get off, and he’d take you to lunch at the nearest restaurant. paying out of pocket each time. the lunches would consist of him listening to you talk and then drop you off at your apartment — you offering for him to come inside since it was late and him politely(and quietly) declining before running off to his vehicle.

tonight he sat parked in the far end of your parking lot, his hands making quick work at his belt. pulling out his painfully erect dick. he couldn’t help but get hard after every meeting or hangout session with you. spitting into his palm, hyuck was quick to start stroking himself.

couldn’t even wait until he got home.

whines filling the car as his head hit the back of the driver seat, while his hand made rounds on his dick. inevitably leading to his failure in realizing you getting closer to his car. running through the lot to see if he had left in hopes on retrieving your phone — the phone seated on his passenger seat. he had learned to finish quick, but tonight, he wasn’t quite quick enough. your palm rubbing the fog off the driver side window to see if he was in the vehicle. as your nail tapped the glass, the sight in front of you caused your finger to pause midtap — leading to his hand stopping mid stroke. hyuck didn’t look up, but he knew who was there.

awk-waaaaard.

note -uhhhh, so the day i’m posting this(february 14th) is my birthday!! i planned on posting this yesterday but i decided why not wait? now look at me, posting this late at night because i wanted to be turnt for my 20th birthday. but i hope yall enjoyed and had a great valentines. hugs and kisses!!

#luvyujun #kpop #kpop smut #nct #nct 127 #haechan #nct dream #nct smut #smut #hyuck #nct hyuck #lee dong hyuck #lee donghyuck #nct donghyuck #fanfic

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idjitlili · 2 years

Text

Billy hargrove x female reader.

Bulltrue.

Summary: working at the video store along side Steve and Robin had its 'disadvantages'.

Word count: 3677

Warnings: Billy lives au and I cannot remember if the video store was next to the arcade, anyways. Language, undressing. Sex references.

A/n: Please, I am having intense feelings about Billy, and I have not wrote fanfiction in months, I apologise. I ended a bad relationship a couple of weeks ago, which distracted me from writing. ( Why ikr reading fanfiction is so much better.) BUT IM HERE and I love men with long hair. Pls michael and billy are the same.

NOT MY IMAGE

Deciding to work in the video store for the summer seemed like a good idea at the time, and maybe it was, except cleaning up the vomit and other human discharge. Judging random peoples movie taste? Who wouldn't want to do that?

You had moved to Hawkins that year from a long way away, you knew no one. Well, until you had met Robin and with meeting her you met Steve, then after meeting Steve the rest came along. You had met Robin when your mum had sent you to mall to pick up some things with the promise that you could get food. And you had chosen to get Ice-cream, and with that Robin had served you and questioned you as you did stick like a sore thumb.

Everyday you had to work, you'd walk, the same route, the same routine ( depending on your schedule but it was most the same). Everyday you did the same loud blue camaro would drive past, each time almost making your ears explode. At first you did not trust the speed at which the driver was going at, but as time went on the car had slowed down. You never got a good look at the driver but he did get one each day he saw you.

Billy would not admit to himself he had taken a liking to you ( even with never interacting with you), no, he was simply checking you out.

"Hey, Y/n." Steve had greeted you with the most monotone voice, a gust of air reaching you from where he had walked past you as you restocked the horror section. Putting down the VHs your legs had cracked from where you had been kneeling for so long.

"Oh, hi. You okay?" His eyes turning back to you after he'd put his bag in the staffroom he had huffed resting his hands on his hips his eyebrows scrunched.

" Absolutely brilliant, sweets."

"Right, well, you've got bird poop in your hair." Eyes widening Steves hands immediately reached his hair with panic he had began to yell a large range of curses, until he saw the smirk plastered upon your face.

" Wow, not funny." With that he walked off still messing with his hair. Reaching ovver to pick up the last VHS, Lost boys. The sound of a pair of feet had reaching your ears just as you saw the two legs behind you through legs. Legs in tight blue jeans. You hadn't heard the bell ring. Quickly standing to full height, spinning on the balls of feet to face the customer.

Ghosting over your body with his bright eyes,long dark lashes, smirk building. He wanted you to see him checking you out. His lips twisted, soft lips, like perfect lips, kissable like River phoenix's. Golden curls of hair sitting on his shoulders, tank cling to him and jeans tighter than david bowies leggings.

" ooh,hi , s-sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?" Cheeks hot, as you stubbled over your words, being jumped out of your skin by a random hot individual was understandble reason to get flustered. Especially when he had just laughed. Reaching up to hold your rname tag inching closer as he lent over to read it.

"Don't apologise...Y/n. Ah. Yes, actually you can." Losing eye contact his eyes scanned the room,like to see what actually this store was, to make up an excuse to talk longer. Though you didn't think that. His eye locking back onto you.

"I'd like to rent a movie, do you have any suggestions for me, Gorgeous." Cheeks heating up again at the strangers playful tone, you looked down at the video in your hands.

" Well, without knowing amything about you just going off your fashion sense, I feel like Lost boys would be a good choice for you." His lips dropping from his charming smile into a o shape, as he became flustered by your comment. No one, no one, speaks to Billy Hargrove like that. But Billy for once was not angered, instead he saw the smirk plastered on the face he had been thinking about for weeks and laughed.

" Oh, do tell me what's that's supposed to mean." His rough hands brushed against yours as he took the video tape from your hands to inspect the video.

" I mean, firstly you have a mullet so, and UI was deciding is he going for Rob Lowe in st Elms fire or Michael Emerson from Lost boys. And from your charming behaviour yes you act more like Rob but Lost boys is Such a better movie. And I mean no offence both are very handsome." He raised an eyebrow at you looking away from the video.

"Are you calling me handsome, Y/n?" Billy wasn't the type to tease with no intention of getting laid, since the accident at starcourt, he has changed. Not that he would admit that either. Almost dying changes your perspective on things, how you feel about people, how you feel about yourself, what you haven't achieved, and things you're not proud of. For Billy he wanted someone to love, yes he knows he cares for Max now but that isn't the same as romantic love. Since he saw you he wanted you, he didn't know why, so here he was.

"Uhhhh...yeah. You do look like you're dressed up as Michael."

"Bullshit."

"Bulltrue."

The teasing between the pair of you had caught the attention of your coworker, Steve had not heard you act this way with anyone previously and recognised the voice of the guy you were speaking to. He dreaded the outcome of his walk toward you.

"Y/n, there you are- oh." Steve had walked towards you, quite loudly, locking eyes with Billy . Taking in his posture, Billy's arm rested on the shelf next to you, the gap between you very small for strangers, the suggestive eyebrow raise from Billy angered Steve for your sake. He didn't want you to get used by some man whore.

"Harrington."

"Billy."

The tension in the air between the two, was obvious to you, and probably literally anyone, they were death staring each other. Sure Billy had changed, and Steve did know Billie saved Eleven but still he did not trust him. Plus, how many times has he been beaten up by him. Too many. There wqs silence between the three of you for a good minute before Steve patted his hand on your shoulder. It was clear Steve would be talking to you after Billy had left.

"So, it seems you and Steve have a great relationship... " Billy had chuckled lightly.

" You could say that."

" Well, Billy what do you think about renting Lost boys?"

"I'll rent it, just so I can come back and speak to you." You simply smiled at Billy, knowing that he was the type of guy to flirt with anything or anyone. ( Poor coconut. Yes, that one story about guy fucking cocunut, Billy probably did something like that.)

Ringing him up at the counter, he sent you one last wink, before turning to slowly walk towards the door giving youa great view of his ass in his tight jeans.

" Bye, sweetheart, see you soon. " watching him as he eent through the glass doors turn his face to the right for a second , as to get another look at you. Smirking himself that you were still fixated on him. Opening the drivers door of his camaro, he had sped off in seconds. Blue camaro, the car, that you saw everyday. Deducing thst it was the same one as how many people drive a car like that in Hawkins? Not many.

Steve stood at the counter resting his back on it with his arms crossed, his lips turned downwards and slowly shaking his head. Within the next hour ( broken up due to customers), he had explained everything there was to know about Billy Hargrove.

The things Stevehad told you about the 'Keg king' made you rethink your meeting of Billy. Had he just been sweet and flirty because you were 'fresh meat' another bitch to conquer. The way he apparently treated people like Steve presented insecurity in himself, like Billy was trying to tame a bull, the bull being the world. Maybe there was someone deeper going on in his head. Maybe, he had built this walls to protect himself from further hurt.

Though, what would you know you just convinced him to rent a movie.

The next time you had seen Billy was lesss than a week later, well, one working day for you. Didn't want to be charged a late fee, clearly. Steve was not working at that time, Robin was tasked with reshelving and you were stuck behind the counter. Which you didn't mind because you got to sit and read (or doodle) other than the socal interaction you had to deal with it is great.

Placing your slushie back onto the counter , the water droplets falling to the surface, as you sneezed into your elbow for what felt like trillion sneezes. The patter of trainers walked towards you unknowingly, those feet which were normally booted.

"Bless you." With your eyes closed still you figured that was not Robins voice. Opening them you were faced with Billy leaning his forearm on counter , his lips twisted in a smile as he chewed quietly on the gum inbetween his lips. Sunglasses rested on the centre of his tank top, he was dressed in his lifeguard uniform, with his tight bright shorts highlighting his mighty sword. Maybe, you should stop checking him out wuen he watching? Would that be impossible?

"Thank you." Sipping at your slushie again, the straw between your plump lips , Billy watching intently.

" You're so welcome, babe." As you pulled away from the straw, Billy held his hand out for your drink. He looked like he needed it, his exposed body was glistening in the light that travelled through the windows, what moisturiser and oils did he use to look that good. Maybe, it was just sweat. Before you could let go of the slushie his hand had latched onro the cup whilst you still held it and had taken a long sip from it. Before slowly releasing his grip from you to fiddle with the Lost boys vhs tape on the counter.

Okay, admittedly you wouldn't allow some random person to drink your drink but his smile and his 'kurt cobain' ( great description you know) eyes with his long lashes fluttering at you made your heart beat unbearably fast.

"W-what did you think of the movie?" Spluttering over you words to cover up your nerves due to the man in front of you piercing you with his eyes.

"Well, I can definitely understand how I look like Michael just ten times more attractive. Other than that, I loved it. You are very good at your job." He paused for a moment to caught his breathe before reaching up to push a strand of hair from your face.

" Though, Y/n, that does make me wonder about what else you can do." If your face was not on fire already it was now, the words dripped out of his soft lips like syrup.

"Uh.. , well, I can consume the rest of this slushie." And before you could grab the slushie , Billy had it holding it away from you, urging you to reach and grab it.

" Can you?" Huffing you sunk back into your chair , Billy just smirked from above you.

" I'm only teasing." Handing you back the slushie , and pushing the Vhs towards you.

"I need you to recommend me another movie, if you would."

You didn't see the Billy that Steve had described, other than the flirting but that was just in Billy's nature. He seemed sweet, and he seemed to take a liking to you. Sometimes multiple times a week Billy would come in ask yoj to recommend him a movie qnd then talk to you qbout it when he returned. Never, did he speak to any of your coworkers only to asl for you.

Robin and Steve and sometimes the little ones would discuss Billy and you. Sometimes being everytime they saw you two interact. For four weeks , four weeks Billy had to entered the video store with the sole purpose of talking to you with the cover of renting of videos.

On one particular day you had been walking home with rain chucking down, hail stones , lightning, the works. Your clothing stuck to your body like sap, hair stuck to your face , not one inch of you was dry. You wished you had left your walkman at home, no doubt it was ruined.

Normally you loved the rain, the smell, the droplets hitting your face , but today hadn't been the best day. Both of your coworkers that were meant to work that evening after your shift had called in sick and no one could cover, so, you were stuck alone for over three hours. Not exactly great since it is a lot to run a wh9le store by yourself. Especially when a lot of weirdos love to come in before closing. You hoped Billy may of came in today, but he didn't oddly.

It had started to rain just as you got there for your shift and hadn't stopped, and even better no one could pick you up. To say the least you figured 'oh today the day either I get hit by lightning or get murdered' .

Walking along the path holding up your hood speed walking as quick as you possibly could. The thunder so loud you didn't hear the purr of the camaro that pulled up beside you. Rolling down his window, slowly following you as you walked away from the car Billy called for you.

"Y/n/n, Y/n. Y/n! " He had to shout loud, very loud like his father, loud like when he would threaten others, he hated that he to shout like that especially at you. You thought you had been imagining hearing your name, but when you did look around you saw Billy in his car smiling at you sympathetically. Turning on your feet you had walked over to his door , your hands leaning on thedoor as you bent down to talk to him. Already dripping into his car.

"Hey, Bil-"

"Get in the car." Interrupting you , Billy gestured for you to get in, his tone warm not like he some maniac telling to get the fuck in the car or he'd skin your toes for hotdogs. You didn't argue even though you didn't want to get his car to get soaked. Sitting on the leather shutting the door of the car , pealing of your hoodie from your skin whilst Billy watched you do so.

" You shouldn't be walking in this weather." That is all he said before he began to drive.

" I didn't have any other choice, Billy." Staring at the windscreen, the window wipers clearing it for barely a microsecond, barely could you see the road a head , it was almost dark. Turning to look at you briefly, Billy tclenched his hand on the steering wheel slightly, he felt bad, it was dark and he knew you hve walked back in conditions like this previously. He wanted to offer to drive you home but he felt like that was coming on too strong and kind of creepy.

"I can't see shit, is it alright if I pull over and see if this dies down a bit?"

Thus, leaving you trapped in a car with Billy Hargroves his camaro, the car you had heard so much about. In the dark in the rain, with his cassette playing lightly in the background of the rain smacking against the car. Drenched and freezing, even with the heat on. Billy had turned to his body to face you, eyeing over your trembling body.

"We've got to warm you up." Eyes widening snapping your face to look up to Billy, you realised this was a bad idea.

"Sorry, I meant I've got a blanket and dry clothes. I'm not trying to make a move." Guessing he didn't want to get his hair wet he climbing over the console and sat in the back of the car.

"Thank you." Ushering you to come sit in the back, he held out his hand to help you across. Not before you took your shoes off to not get dirt all over his car. Smiling at you gently as you gripped his hand. Though he raised an eyebrow about your prvious actions. You managed to carefully get over the console into the seat next to Billy.

Pulling the duffle bag from the floor,Billy pulled out a shirt and a clean pair of socks before grabbing the plaid blanket which wad thrown over the back of the seat. Passing you the clean clothes, he turned away from you.

" I'll leave more spare clothes in here for next time." Next time. Next time. What did that mean. He's just being nice surely. Pulling off your trousers and socks, replacing them with the tube socks the material trapoing the little warmth in.

" Really, Billy, thank you. You didn't have to offer me a ride home or do any of this. I really appreciate it, thank you." Billy watched the droplets of rain travel down the steamed up window, smiling to himself, not just because he has time alone with you.

"Sweetheart, there's no need to thank me, just didn't want some other guy picking up my girl." Pealing off your shirt about to put Billy's shirt on.

"My girl? Wow, where is she?" You should've put the shirt on before talking, especially teasing because clearly he thought you was dressed and turned to look at you only to see you shirtless. Eyes widening, his face flushed pink, Billy had turned away ( not quickly, he got a good look).

"Hm, in my trunk." Snorting at his comment you pulled the shirt over your head and wrapped the blanket around you shuffling over closer to Billy. Your thigh pressed against his, side by side , his warmth radiating from his body. Your hair dripping still, onto the blanket and Billys shirt. Legs bare riddled with goosebumps.

The rain still hitting the car with no sign of stopping. The windows all fully steamed up with the rainning hutting , nothing could be seen. For a few minutes silence remained between the two of you.

Fiddling with the hem of Billy's old PE shirt, your mind drifted to how you were half dressed in the back seat of a car with Billy Hargrove. If Steve could see you now, can't say youd think he'd be impressed. Compared to what Steve had suggested Billy had not been anything like what you would've thought if you just went on with Steves opinion. Maybe it was a red flag if a lot of people thought that way. He was sweet to you, stopped in the rain with you, gave you clothes, came to see you at work just to talk to you ( with the excuse that he was just renting movies) and well stole your slushie. You had grown fond of Billy, you hadn't realised until today when you didn't see him.

The presence of a rough hand being placed gently on your bare cold thigh had caused you to look up from the shirt to the hand on your thigh up to the blue eyes looking at you. Both of you knew that you would no doubt be suck here for a while.

"You know, this isn't a ploy to get in you pants. I know you've no doubt heard a lot about me." Shuffling closer to Billy you waited watching him bite his lip slightly contemplating whether to say more.

"What I'm getting at is we don't know much about each other but I'd like to get know you." Removing his hand from your thigh, gently brushed your hair out of your face Billys arm wrapped around your shoulder.

"I'd like that too." Sitting in the company of Billy Hargrove until the rain settled, just talking about nothing and everything. Time passing quickly , four hours had past before Billy had been able to drive you home.

Sitting in front of your house still in Billys clothes shoes back on, your wet clothes sat on your lap. Tying your hoodie around your waist as to cover yourself for when you'd have to walk to your house.

The thunder and lightning had stopped but the rain was still pouring. The street lights projecting orange light into the pathment , the droplets of rain illuminated by the light. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel briefly in thought, Billy turned to looked at you once with a small smile before jumping out the car , rushing to the passenger door. Pulling his leather jacket from his shoulders , his curls begining to be weighed by the rain, opening the car door for you. Leaning over placing a foot on the drenched road before getting out of the car, closing the door behind you.

Billy held his jackekt over your head, both of you rushing to get to your house, pulling your keys out of your bag at the same time. Pushing the door open, pulling Billy into your house by his waist.

"So, want to stay over? I have Lost boys on tape."

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #lost boys #michael emerson #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre x reader #dacre montgomery

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wkasaiu · 1 year

Text

RAN HAITANI : Arcade

- reader is izana’s younger sister.

Ran was (really) kind of a headache to be with, the way he would suggest the most random things and you’d disagree, having full knowledge he’d do it anyway.

Just like today, you and Ran were on for a small mall date (?) It was kinda funny how he doesnt even know what to do because you’ve practically done everything you could in the mall.

Shopping, Eating, Watch Movies. Name it, you’ve done it. An idea pops on his head, “lets go to the arcade and steal peoples tickets!” He said, grinning widely at his ‘smart’ idea.

“No way. Who knows what would happen, dumbass” You reply, because what the actual fuck was he thinking? Imagine just walking into the arcades with that in mind. Fucking sick.

But here you are, by the claw machines of the arcade entrance. It was crowded, making it easy to do whatever he planned that was quite dumb but it was worth the thrill he thinks.

He pulls you to this child who was alone by the side, playing this game where you try to get a jackpot, but if you dont you get a certain amount of tickets fully depending on the luck it lands on.

He offered to help the child, putting his arm over the poor kid as you just stare by the other side. You notice his other hand is missing, But you realize what he was doing. One hand was by the childs shoulder while the other was reaching down for the tickets.

You stood by his back to cover his actions, I mean this is better than to get him caught and dragged by your brother, right?

You cover his back helping him reach the tickets and pull it out. This was over 500, you thought. “This kid must’ve worked for it real hard huh? Too bad then” Ran laughed as he folded the tickets to make it look like a smaller amount on his palms, then he hid it under the sleeve of his shirt.

The kid was playing while you both schemed whatever shit you just did, listening to Ran’s shit advice on the game he barely even knew how to play til’ now.

He was so distracted trying to hit the jackpot til’ he lost all his tokens on the game and reached down for his assumingly-alot-of-tickets only to find around 20 hanging loosely by the ticket dispenser of the game.

His eyes went wide, he wasted over 30 tokens for all that??? The kid started crying out as you watched from a far with a snickering 17-year-old beside you.

“We can afford this whole arcade but you choose to do this? The kid’s crying” You frown. “Theres no thrill robbing something you own, dont’cha think?” He smiled down at you. “Plus the kid probably could just work on it again, I put alot on the pocket of his polo anyways.” He smiled, walking away with your shopping bags.

You then get to the counter where you can trade tickets for some toys or something. You chose the plushie and soon you both left the store, going home to the house you own all together.

Together means You, The Haitani’s, Izana, Kakucho, Haruchiyo, and Wakasa. It wasnt a home where everyone would stay 24/7, mostly it was just you, The Haitani’s and Izana. The others had apartments of their own but they come over usually.

You get back home with Ran, you unlock the front door only to be greeted with an Izana on the couch, watching TV but as soon as you stepped in he glared at you two.

“I know what you did, you pricks” He stood up.

Maybe you shouldn’t have helped Ran and left him alone to his little stupid ideas. Maybe if you didn’t you wouldnt have a soaring red earshell and a lifetime ban from your laptop.

@wkasaiu, 2023 | like and reblog if you loved it !!

#ran haitani #haitani ran #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers ran #izana kurokawa #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x y/n #ran haitani fluff

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

Wayne Munson would never take hush money from the government.

He’d never trusted the government. He’d known that the American Dream they tried to sell him didn’t exist; he’d known that since his parents moved him and his brother from the south of the Appalachian mountains to Indiana, only to end up in a trailer park working day and night at the quarry. He’d known that the cops would always treat trailer folk with a little extra suspicion ever since the first time his brother was sent to jail. He’d known that the hospitals were less willing to help people like the Munsons ever since his mother could’ve survived her illness if it weren’t for their lack of money. He’d known that he would never be more than a laborer at the plant ever since his education became an unaffordable luxury for his father. And he’d known that the mysterious energy lab at the edge of town had some shady business going on ever since he got called in to fix one of their power outlets and had to sign some sort of statement that no, he had not seen the kid in the hospital gown with the shaved head that he definitely had seen wandering around the hallway.

The years after that only made his distrust of the government grow. It was one thing after another: the misidentified body found at the quarry, the girl who got poisoned by the same mysterious substance that had infested his buddy Eugene’s pumpkin harvest, the mall that killed many of his friends’ businesses in town before it burned down - not to mention the way his nephew got treated by school officials and attendance officers.

The way the government shamelessly blamed Eddie for murdering three teenagers, easily making some sort of scapegoat out of him, doing nothing to find him and help him while he was probably hiding somewhere scared out of his mind, had been the final straw. So when he finally got reunited with his nephew, who was barely even alive and had apparently been doing those government folks’ jobs for them along with some other kids, he laughed square in their faces when he read the documents they demanded him to sign.

“You take me for a fool?” he asked the man in the neatly pressed suit sitting opposite him.

“Mr. Munson, we only ask you to collaborate for the good of this country, and -”

“You think I care ‘bout the good of this country? You think I’m a patriot, huh?” Wayne glared at the man. “I been livin’ in a trailer park all my life. Lost my mama to your hospital, lost my brother to your justice system, lost my own future to your corporations. And look - look at this boy here.” He couldn’t help it that his voice cracked as he gestured helplessly at Eddie’s pale face, tubes in his nose and surrounded by beeping machines. “Lost my nephew to your twisted little science experiments.”

The man seemed unmoved. “You know just as well as I that we’re the ones taking care of the bills that are currently keeping him alive, Mr. Munson.”

“Don’t you dare hold that over my head,” Wayne answered, coldly. He knew he had the upper hand; he could easily spill all their dirty little secrets to whatever party was interested in them. And if he truly lost Eddie, nothing would be holding him back.

“Look, Mr. Munson, why don’t we settle this in a civilized manner,” said the man. “We can provide you a new trailer - maybe even a real house, how about that? We can give you enough money to get you and your nephew comfortable.”

Wayne scoffed. “And where was your money when me and my buddies at the plant needed a raise? Where was your civilized settlement when we had that strike to demand safer working conditions and all we got were budget cuts? Where was your willingness to cooperate when -”

“Let’s keep to the subject at hand, Mr. Munson, and -”

“Oh I’m keeping to the subject, alright! You know what, I got a counter offer for you: you make sure that my boy gets the very best treatment there is; you make sure he gets outta here healthy and safe; and you use your hush money to grow yourself somewhat of a conscience, do something with it that’s actually useful for this town’s community, something that’s gonna help them instead of destroy them further. And then, maybe, just maybe, I will sign those papers of yours. How does that sound, sir?”

So when Eddie woke up, Wayne had nothing to give to his nephew. Their living room had a crack in its ceiling that would always remind the boy of what happened there. Their pantry was still stocked with canned food and their water still ran cold half the time. But they were used to that, and Eddie had never asked for more than Wayne’s love, a bed to sleep in, and some food in his belly. And this way, Wayne’s dignity was still intact. He could look at himself in the mirror. More importantly, he could look into Eddie’s eyes. And Eddie’s eyes, those beautiful wide eyes full of emotion, could look back into his, full of life and love and understanding. That was something which couldn’t be bought with dirty hush money, and it was the most important thing in the world.

#wayne munson my beloved #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #fruity ficlet

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hellotherekenobi · 2 years

Text

THIS COULD NOT POSSIBLY BE LOVE... RIGHT?

Eddie Munson x Mayfield!reader

Written for the incredible @megmeg-chan “this is for you,” I say while throwing it in your direction but my aim is bad and it smashes straight through the glass window which I will not be paying for.

Summary: You and Eddie have never really gotten along, but that’s what makes it fun. What isn’t fun, though, is when those feelings begin to blossom into something else, and what exactly you intend to do about it.

CW/TW: fem!reader; Dual!POV; mentions of household abuse/alcohol/drugs; Season 3 finale spoilers; slight canon variation; a twinge of angst.

Word Count: 12,460 (I don’t know what happened.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There were a lot of bad things in your life. Many came from personal experience—and the occasional mistake made on your part—but the worst of the batch came from the blended family arrangement which your mother threw you and your sister into. There was no stopping Susan Mayfield when she puts her mind to something, and so you and Max had to bite your tongue when she tied the knot to Neil Hargrove, and in effect his son, Billy, became your step-brother.

He wasn’t always a mean guy. At least, not when you had all met the first time. He was cocky, a bit too into himself, but he wouldn’t lash out. Turns out that getting two unwanted step-sisters can turn a person bitter. Neil was no sunshine human, either. But that was something Max and you had picked up on straight away and why you both begged your mother to change her mind. Look where it got you both; ass first into Hawkins, sharing a home with the last two people you’d ever want to call family.

Max and you tried hard to calm the waters, and you’d be the one with a mark on your arm to prove it. It made the two of you pretty reclusive to other people. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to make friends, but the choice wasn’t entirely up to you anymore. It was only a side effect of how rotten both of your attitudes became, though. Sure, you’d get mad over some things—all sisters have their arguments from time to time—but it wasn’t just that; frustrations simmered into a rage. Max was always grumpy, always defiant. You, in turn, lost most of your patience. But at the end of the day, the two of you knew that it was you both against the other four.

Life at home only crumbled more when Billy was victim to the Starcourt Mall fire and Neil wasn’t a great family head after that (not as if he were one, to begin with.) His work ethic crumbled and there was not enough money in your wallet from your part-time job to help the situation, so in the end, you all had to give up the house and into a dodgy neighborhood is how living thereafter went. Maybe, too, Max was affected a lot by it, but she stopped talking to you like how she used to and you could see the way she tensed whenever the fire was mentioned. It definitely hasn’t been an easy life living in Hawkins, Indiana.

To make matters worse, you were situated in the trailer park which welcomed all sorts of perverted drunks and drug dealers. It was not the idealized home living, and it definitely wasn’t sunny California, but it was a roof over your heads, so, in the end, you couldn’t really complain about that.

If there was one thing that was going to send you into a rage, though, then it was your neighbor who would barrel into the trailer park close to two in the morning, drifting on two wheels in his run-down van. Twice now—twice—he’s almost run into your letterbox, and so help whoever the people of Hawkins pray to, you swear one of these days you’re going to tug the letterbox straight out of the ground and bash him over the head with it. Have you spoken more than two words to him? No. You haven’t even spoken one. But that long-haired freak irritated you in a way no one else ever could.

It was just his luck and his fault, you tell yourself, that he happened to introduce himself on a day where you had gone through hell at work, then met a lopsided and foul-mouthed drunk in the living room who gave you crap for not mowing the lawn like he had asked you to. He never actually did ask, though. So when you’re tugging the lawn mower out from behind the house and dragging it beside the driveway, it’s fair to say that you were not in a bright and happy mood to officially meet the guy who woke you up with screeching tires nearly every morning. Restless sleep schedule, meet the prick responsible.

He had offered his name when you tugged at the pull-string with no luck, and you just shot him an exhausted glare as you ignored him and tried again. “I’m Eddie Munson, from across the road,” he said, gesturing to the lack of road between your house and his campervan.

No response and another tug finally started the damn lawn mower, and you shoved it forward to start hacking away at the grass that was hardly needing a cut at all. A fact proven to you quickly was how he didn’t give up easily, and he walked along the footpath right where you were mowing down a somewhat straight line, kicking his shoes against the pavement.

“I’m just wondering, you know since the guys are coming around and I don’t want to disappoint,” he shot you a toothy smile, making your skin crawl. “They’d appreciated some beers and I’m not getting my cheque til the next gig. If you could lend a helping hand?”

Beer. This asshat was asking you for beer, or money if you didn’t happen to have any on you. What a leech!

“No offense, Munson, but there’s no way in hell that I’m helping you with your asinine party,” sighing when you reach the edge enough to turn the corner, you show him the clear distaste on your face at not even mentioning him by his first name. “You better not be pounding music until two in the morning. Your van already makes enough noise as is.”

Making a sound, something between ‘woah’ and ‘hey’, he raises his hands in defense, never failing to show you a smile. “I’m not that bad a driver, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re hardly eligible for a license and you’ve nearly knocked over my letterbox with those driving skills of yours,” you wave a hand over at the aforementioned letterbox, quickly slapping your hand back on the steering. “One of these days you’re going to run someone over, and I swear if that someone is my sister then—”

“Okay! Jeez, you’re a real worrywart, you know that? I promise nothing will happen to your sister.”

You huff out a “Yeah,” as you continue mowing down a line of grass, fingers wrapped around the steering so tightly that your knuckles turn white, irritated by the sound of this guy’s voice alone, not to mention his insane request. Hell, asking for sugar would have been more polite than overtly trying to raid your fridge. It’s not like Neil would give away any of his beer for free, anyway. He’s practically got his lips stuck to every bottle in the same way he’s got them stuck to your mom and—to all things clean and pure—you don’t exactly want to think about that.

He’s still standing there on the footpath, in the corner of your eye you can see him with two hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket with that stupid smile still on his face. You give him about ten seconds to change his mind and walk away before you become furious again, sighing loudly as you turn to lean on the steering and shoot him another glare.

“You deaf or something? I’m not giving you any beer.”

It sparks another type of frustration through you at seeing his lips curl up even more in amusement. “I never got your name.”

Punk. Jackass. Bonehead. You don’t know what it is but he’s seriously tipping you over the edge right now. “Get lost,”

He chuckles, and you want to scream. “Alright then, Hargrove.”

He should be thinking it a miracle that you haven’t already rolled this lawn mower over him and shredded him into tiny little pieces, and honestly, you don’t know why you manage some sense of self-control when you answer him. “Mayfield.”

“What?” He asks, not even flinching in the slightest under your glare.

“I’m a Mayfield.”

“Right,” he rocks on his heels and you don’t miss the way his eyes shoot to the letterbox with the surname he had called you by written clearly on its side. Maybe you have more reason to rip it out than just your annoying neighbor. “Til next time, then.”

“Whatever,” you huff, shaking your head in annoyance and turning back around to carry on with mowing the stupid lawn.

That was the last you had hoped to ever see him, even with the statement he made. You were standoffish and rude, so anyone else—literally any other human being in Hawkins—would have taken the hint and left you alone, but Eddie Munson isn’t like anyone else and he definitely isn’t normal.

As you had expected, music was blaring loud into the early morning from his campervan, and even though there were a few angry neighbors pounding on his door every so often, he never turned the volume down. When you had tossed over for the umpteenth time in your bed, you had heard his chuckle followed by “I apologize for waking you, ma’am” which not only sent your blood boiling but apparently also hers when the sound of a limb hitting his screen door was then heard and angry footsteps stomping away, then the music was promptly shut off.

You awoke groggy the next morning but trudged out to work regardless after dropping your sister off at school. Thank goodness you’re out of that place. High school in California wasn’t terrible and in a way, Hawkins isn’t that bad either, but transferring schools was always messy. As soon as you walked the stage in that graduation cap, it was like hammering the final nail in the coffin. Not that working the laundromat was any better, but hey, it beats homework any day.

It was the middle of the week when one of the washing machines went bust on you, but it was hardly your fault—you had told the customer three times to check the pockets of their clothes for loose change and though they were adamant that it was all emptied, a coin still got suck in the indent of the drum and caused the whole machine to rattle to a screeching halt. Running to it didn’t save it any quicker and neither did kicking the door do any good, but you were already functioning off of cheap coffee and the painkillers you found in the kitchen cupboard before you were bolting down the driveway this morning, so it’s fair to say that you weren’t in a great mood.

Just his luck again, it seems.

When you slammed your palm against the door release button and a pool of water poured out when it opened, the last thing you wanted to hear was someone laughing at you. Granted, getting your shoes soaked was not top of the list either, but the very last thing you wanted was for it to be Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson who was laughing at you, hand on his chest with a basket of clothes hung under his arm from where he stood on the other side of the room, clearly having just come in since his clothes were still dry.

Tonight was not the night to get pissed off by him again. Groaning, you roll your eyes at him—out of instinct or spite, you’re not entirely sure—and step back from the mess with a squelch to your step.

“Need a hand?” He asks, having crossed the distance when you weren’t exactly paying attention, causing you to throw your gaze at him.

“No, thank you,” the words leave your lips in a huff. “I don’t want your help, Munson.”

He leans on one leg, tilting his head to the side. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

Would a punch to the stomach be a good enough answer for you? It’s tempting, but you resist the urge. “Just—it’s not a good night, okay?”

A hum vibrates from the base of his throat and he lowers the basket of clothes to the floor, peering into the opening of the now broken washing machine. “Let me guess, coin got stuck?”

“Maybe,” you glare at him, arms crossed.

He chuckles. “I’ve done that a few times.”

“Oh, great,” so glad to know his listening skills were as low as your patience. “Did you end up paying for it, too? This is gonna get pinned on me.”

“You’re right,” he shrugs, boiling your blood further. “Can’t help with that, but I’m a wizard with a mop.”

For about two seconds you’re rethinking your entire assumption about this guy, totally ready for a change of heart like you’re going through a metaphysical conversion, but he follows his comment with a wink in your direction and you’re balling your hand into a fist at your side. Why I oughta...!

“Don’t you have laundry to do?” the menace comes across as weak but you’re trying your best to shove him away.

Eddie grabs his basket and hoists it against his hip, nodding. “Can’t say I didn’t offer to help.”

“Can’t say I ever need your help, Munson.”

The sound of his chuckle walks away with him as he goes over to a vacant washing machine to load it with his clothes. You’re behind the counter and back again before he’s finished with a mop in your hand, sighing as you wipe the water from the floor. The machine door thumps shut and whirls to life, giving some sound to the silence the two of you were living in, aside from the occasional sloshing from the wet mop against the tiles that could probably do with a wash while you’re here but you’re too exhausted already.

Your fury is wiped away with the water, especially since Eddie isn’t saying a word. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you watch him lean back on his palms against the bench in the middle, eyes focused on watching the clothes spin around and around inside the machine. His foot is tapping against the tiles and if you were to step closer then you’re sure you’d hear him humming a tune, but the thought of it completely evaporates when his attention shifts to you and you’re quick to look back around like you hadn’t been caught staring at him. Please, don’t let that go to his head.

If he was going to say something then you’re unaware of it, having rushed behind the counter again to wring out the dirty mop and go back to what you were doing before you had a broken washing machine on your plate. One minute you’re focused on your job, the next your head is springing up at the sound of the front door opening and shutting and you’re sitting there in this awkward bubble of wondering if someone just came in or if Eddie just left. When you’re peeking around to see if he’s still on the bench and find it empty, your question is answered. But for a moment you’re not so sure that you feel the relief you convince yourself that you feel about his absence.

Forty-five minutes later and a hand shoved into the washing machine that broke down in an attempt to fix it, Eddie is back in the laundromat and taking his clothes from the machine that finished its cycle a few minutes before he came back. He doesn’t look your way or say a word when he swaps the clothes into the dryer at his side, and you stifle a groan when your fingers lose the coin you had tried to take from where it’s stuck inside the drum.

You’re pushing forward on both knees to stick your head into the washing machine, hoping for better eyesight to get the blasted coin that you were fishing for an embarrassing amount of time now. Not as embarrassing as when you suddenly hear Eddie’s voice behind you and your head jolts up at the sound, banging into the drum harshly, and the “oof” that follows when you’re backing out with a hand on the top of your head.

“Sorry,” he laughs, and you’re about ready to really hit him this time. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No,” you grumble, rubbing at the sore spot. “I was a bit busy, remember?”

You’re biting words at him now, trying to sound sturdy without looking him in the eye since you’ve still knelt on the floor as he towers above you. Face to face he’s not so scary, but give him the height advantage and that shag rug on his head makes for a pretty intimidating figure.

“I told you to let me have a try,” as if hearing your thoughts from before, he’s squatting down to your level and then raising a hand when you’re opening your mouth to speak. “I know, you don’t want my help. That’s why I’m not asking.”

“Well, I don’t need it, either. It’ll be just my luck that one of those rings of yours will come off and break this thing even more.”

They weren’t tiny at all; they were bulky, silver rings on practically each of his fingers. From this angle, you can make out the shape of a pig for one of them. If that thing gets stuck and he blames you for it, there’s going to be more than just water getting mopped up off the floor tonight.

“Yee of little faith. I’m very dexterous, I’ll have you know.” He wiggles his fingers for show, though it doesn’t give you much confidence at all.

“I’m surprised you even know that word.”

“Move over—” and he’s pushing an arm in front of you, nearly tipping you over as he squeezes into the space between you and the open door of the washing machine, sticking his hand inside as he peers over his own reach.

A scoff comes from you when he shimmies, having you knock your palm against his side and push yourself away from him, and he completely takes that as an opportunity to kneel at the space you once were to fish for the coin with toddler-like intensity. There’s a clatter and then a scrape, then he’s cheering happily before promptly hitting his head against the drum on his way out, which you more than heartily laugh at.

“Now we’re even,” you smile, taking the coin from his fingers extended out to you.

Despite the pain he felt, he’s shining that self-righteous smile at you. “Told you I could do it.”

“Yeah, I’m so impressed, Munson.”

“I’m your hero. Admit it, Mayfield.”

It shouldn’t please you as much as it does to hear him call you by the surname that you prefer or the fact that he remembers to do so in the first place. “That’ll be the day.”

Two eyebrows raise against his forehead, quite quickly. “I just fixed your problem—”

“You got the coin. The machine is still broken.”

“Not even a thank you,” he shakes his head, muttering the sentence under his breath.

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up by the knees to stand on your feet and Eddie follows a moment later, but you’re already back behind the counter before he can say anything more. He ends up back on the bench and you two stay as far away from each other as possible for the next thirty minutes until the dryer is buzzing and he’s scooping out all the clothes. There’s a clatter a moment later, followed by an annoyed groan, and you watch as Eddie grumbles to himself and begins shoving all of the clothes into the basket before stomping his way over to you.

A ringed hand slaps against the countertop and he’s flicking the hair out of his eyes. “You still got that coin on you?”

Furrowing your brows at him, you hesitate. “Why?”

“I need to do another load.”

You glance back at the basket full of clothes on the bench, but it’s not like you can make out anything from here anyways. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” it’s clear he’s got less patience than when he first started.

“Because it’s not your money.”

“But I got it out of the washing machine,”

“Doesn’t mean you can use it.”

“Come on, Mayfield!”

A beat of silence, then. “No.”

He’s spinning on his heel at that, completely showing off his irritation like a little kid would, and marches over to the bench to snatch the basket in his hands. Another spin and he’s looking back at you. “Can’t you return the favor?”

With a sigh, you lean over the counter. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” He’s frustrated for a moment before running a hand through his hair. “It’s just—my shirt shrunk, okay? I need to throw it back in.”

“Wait,” you hold a hand up, mostly for yourself because if he’s insinuating what you think he is then you’re about to burst out laughing. “You want to put your shirt back in the washing machine to... resize it?”

“Yeah,” he says it so obviously like it’s common knowledge.

Curling a smile at him is hard to hold back. “That’s not how that works, Munson.”

He’s standing there a moment—caught with an expression between confusion and embarrassment—looking almost like a statute that you could take pity on but it’s late and he’s annoyed you for the past two hours, so you can’t find it within yourself to care much. With a shake of his head, he comes back to life and quickly makes his way for the front door, swinging it open and bolting out in the same action.

As soon as the door closes shut, you’re laughing your heart out.

─────── ⋯ ───────

He felt so bloody stupid for how he acted and he can’t even blame it on being tired since he knows that you know that he comes home at two o’clock nearly every morning. It would be great if he could say that he was exhausted or that he didn’t have any coffee (not that he drinks that much, anyway) but he couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough, so turning heel and running seemed like the best bet.

You already don’t think that highly of him, that much was clear, and he’s sure his confusion with the washing only added the cherry on top. He was doing so well, too. He was trying to win your favor. Only a little bit, though! Because Eddie Munson absolutely despises you. He knew you were a Hargrove before you said a word to each other— information spreads fast in a small town—and he wouldn’t be caught dead spending time with someone related to Billy, but that was before you told him that you were a Mayfield. So your mother married into the family. Guess it makes sense, and that eases his worries a little bit since the first time he saw you he swears his heart stopped.

But no way, man. He’s not falling for that. A girl like you with a smile like yours means danger and he’s not the idiot who goes headfirst into a fight he’s clearly outmatched by. Besides, none of your interactions have been very pleasant. Sure, it seemed like the two of you was getting along somewhat at the laundromat but you both still bickered, and the sarcastic comments and degrading remarks never faulted after that. Eddie would sometimes catch you on the way to work, casting you a smile-laced “Hey, neighbor!” which you either glared at him for or told him to go to hell, but he can’t deny that your response only made him smile wider.

One morning it had been you that took the first step in the routine interaction. He was stepping out of his van when he noticed you out the corner of his eye hanging clothes on the line and as soon as he turned your way, you had stuck your tongue out at him and he, ever the gentleman, shot you the bird—and he would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t race the second he heard you laugh, smiling at him like he had told you the funniest joke in the world.

Yeah, you both still hated each other’s guts but a part of him didn’t hate you at all. Even though you still would mock him about his shrunken clothes. That, in all honestly, still pissed him right off.

As soon as Eddie closes the door to the campervan, his uncle is sat by the kitchen countertop with a mug of coffee in his hand, and the usual hello is replaced with a raised brow. “Who’s that, then?”

For a split second, Eddie has no idea what his uncle is talking about until he shrugs his head over at the window which clearly shows your house on the other side of the park.

“Oh,” it only dawns on him now that he’s never spoken about you to his uncle before, so he does his best to explain that you’re just their neighbor, nothing more.

“Right—” Wayne takes a slow sip of his coffee. “You sure about that?”

Furrowed brows don’t even begin to describe the look on Eddie’s face. “What do you mean?”

“You came in with quite the smile on your face.”

Two fingers drum against the mug, settling some noise in compensation for how Eddie just stands there like a cassette player spinning backward, rewinding to spring back to life. “I had a good day.”

His uncle gives him a simple nod, going back to drinking his coffee. Another beat of not moving an inch and then Eddie is making his way toward his bedroom, only to be stopped, shoes squeaking against the floor, when his uncle perks up with a: “So you fancy her, then?”

He might as well have plugged his guitar into the amp and turned the volume up full blast since the shriek that comes out of his mouth is unintentionally loud. “What!? No way. No way in hell.”

He’s swinging his arms in front of him, palms outstretched, almost in a shooing motion. How could his uncle be so blind to it all? Like he hadn’t just flicked you the middle finger a couple minutes ago. Either all those nights at the plant are getting to him, or his uncle isn’t drinking coffee right now.

“How come?” it’s the most innocent question ever, but under the circumstances, Eddie can feel his blood begin to boil.

“Because,” he starts with ferocity, almost fuming. “She’s a pain in the ass! Always making fun of me and she’s rude and—don’t get me started on the first time we met.” there’s a scoff to his words as he leans from one leg to the other. “That’s only half of it.”

One brow raises against the creases on Wayne’s forehead. “Go on, then.”

Right. Okay. He wants to know more. Well, he’s got more. He’s got a whole trunk load of reasons why this is totally absurd.

Eddie’s spinning on his heel, pacing up and down the living room. “She’s ungrateful,” he raises a finger for show, beginning his count. “I helped her at work and she didn’t even thank me.”

“Ah,” Wayne mutters, curiously looking down into his mug. “You helped her at work.”

“Well,” the breath all but leaves his lungs at that. “I mean, I was trying to be nice.”

“Because you dislike her so much?”

“That’s not—no. It’s just—she’s stubborn!” another finger up, jumping back into his list before his uncle can say any more. “She’s irritating. She doesn’t even like Dio—!”

Wayne chuckles. “That’s a deal-breaker.”

“It is,” the response sounds childish but Eddie is determined to convince his uncle that his feelings for you are more built on animosity than anything else.

Maybe convince isn’t the right word, but.

“You know what this sounds like to me?” His uncle places his mug down on the counter, shooting Eddie a pointed look.

“No!” Eddie is up on the couch, his sneakers sinking into the cushions as he directs a finger at his uncle, almost like he was telling him to stay put. “I do not like her!”

As if to say now you’re being a bit ridiculous, Wayne just looks at his nephew with two hands on his hips and that raised brow of his. It’s almost a scolding look that a parent would give their child for throwing a temper tantrum, but isn’t that what Eddie is doing anyway?

“Come on, son,” Wayne waves a hand over at Eddie, gesturing for him to step off of the couch. When he does, the hand goes straight onto his shoulder. “It ain’t a bad thing if you like her. What’s really bothering you?”

He might as well have tugged open the floodgates as there are a hundred reasons why Eddie cannot begin to explain, let alone fathom, why he’s so worked up about this, why he’s so adamant about his feelings for you, or lack thereof. At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself. The heat in his chest when you had laughed before says otherwise, though.

“What if she really hates my guts?” Eddie asks almost sheepishly, troubled eyes peering over at his uncle. “What if that’s all there is?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Right. There’s only one way to screw up whatever it is that Eddie Munson has with you.

─────── ⋯ ───────

Seeing Eddie around after that night was less laborious and a lot more fun. Sure, he definitely still irked you unlike any other (he might as well run first place in the prize of who can piss you off the quickest since clearly, he was the proficient) but after the laundromat incident, you’ve had more of an advantage in teasing him. It was like a trump card; he would throw an offhand comment your way and you would mention only one word of what had happened and he would be out of your hair within seconds. It was fantastic. If only that worked for other people.

Your week had been a long one working your shifts and then the needless errands that awaited you at home (cutting the damn lawn again when it was already short), and then having to tend to the usual drunken brute of a step-father when Max was off who-knows-where with her friends and your mom nowhere in sight. You were at your breaking point by the time Neil passed out on the couch, a few beer cans laid on the carpet and the stain that was no doubt going to form from the drink spilled there. Being the only one to clean up was especially irritating you today.

So, what better thing to do than to go see Eddie Munson when you’re a hair’s breadth away from totally snapping?

It took roughly thirty seconds for the campervan door to swing open when you had knocked your knuckles against it, showing you a clearly disgruntled neighbor with messy hair and baggy clothes.

“I’d say this is an honor but I would be lying,” Eddie speaks, leaning against the doorframe.

There’s a pout on your lips when you reply. “Aw, are you grumpy because I woke you up from your nap time?”

Crossing his arms against his chest, he lets out a sigh. “Is there a reason you’re here or are you just in the mood to suck the life out of someone?” He’s arching your way before you can open your mouth to speak, grinning. “Or maybe you just can’t keep away from me. Huh, Mayfield?”

Your frustrated attitude goes from a seven to a nine just by that comment alone, always finding a new level of anger when he teases you like that. You want to slap that stupid grin right off of his face. “The only thing keeping to you is that horrible smell.”

You could say it plainly—you reek of cigarettes and weed—but a ridiculous part of you doesn’t want to step on an eggshell like that. Not that he would probably care, yet you hold yourself back from saying it regardless. Instead, you stare at him, rocking back on your heels a bit, hand wrapped around the strap of the backpack you have slung over your shoulder. It’s like waiting for the fish to take the bait, standing there in the awkward silence of you expecting a reaction and him not giving you a response.

Finally, when you think this moment can’t stretch out any longer, you huff annoyedly at him. “You gonna invite me in or what?”

His brows raise almost as high as your anger meter, all of a sudden stammering on words as he awkwardly steps to the side, pushing the door out further for you to walk up the steps and inside the campervan, brushing past him by the width of the doorframe. You could say it looks exactly how you expected it, but your house isn’t in much better shape. At least here the living room light isn’t flickering every five seconds.

When you turn around to face him, he’s got a hand on the back of his neck, looking very much out of place even though it’s really you who doesn’t fit in here.

“I won’t take up too much of your time, don’t worry,” the words come out with the bitterness you usually reserve for him, but you’re honest in what you say. The way he’s acting is telling you that you overstepped that invisible boundary by asking to come inside.

Raking a hand through the backpack you brought, you take hold and throw the plastic laundry bag at his chest and he’s catching it with an oomph, two hands saving it from falling to the floor.

“You left your dry cleaning at the laundromat,” you explain, gesturing to the bag in his arms. “I was almost tempted to sell them.”

“Right,” he clears his throat and within an instant, he’s back into chitchat mode. “Not that anyone else could pull it off. I look amazing in these clothes.”

You’re chuckling a little too lightly at that, speaking before really thinking first. “I know,”

If that lightbulb above your heads burst and shattered, it would be less shocking than what just came out of your mouth. Eddie looks at you with wide eyes, a slow smile creeping up his features and now you’re stammering. You’re about to pull an Eddie Munson move and run straight out the door, but you’re far too stubborn for that.

“No one else has the freak look quite like you, Munson.” Rolling your eyes, you hope it’s enough to deter him. “Don’t let it get to your head. Your hair is big enough as it is.”

Smooth.

He nods at you, though he doesn’t look convinced. “I suppose a thank you is in order for you returning my clothes to me,” he says, that smile never leaving his lips.

“It would be the decent thing to do, yes.”

He hums but doesn’t say anything more, leaving the insinuation out in the open. He could stomp his foot down on the carpet and you’d be less surprised by his attitude.

“Nothing?” You shrug at him, tilting your head as you wait for the gratitude he had mentioned.

He presses his lips together, turning the laundry bag in his hands. At last, he rests, a second later shaking his head. “I’m just taking a page out of your book.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him with a sour tone in your voice. “You’re really not letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.” the ‘p’ comes off more enunciated, shoving you into a similar situation from when you hadn’t thanked him for getting that coin out of the washing machine.

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised you didn’t shrink this batch. How’s that Hellfire crop-top working for you?”

Groaning, he’s chucking the laundry bag onto the couch nearby. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you let your hands slap against your thighs. “You deserve it.”

“I’m almost touched by that,” he places a ringed hand on his chest for dramatic effect and you have to bite your tongue to not laugh genuinely at the comedy of it.

Instead, you distract yourself by looking around the room more, not hiding the way your eyes glance across everything in sight. Some dirty dishes, sure, and a mess on the floor by the couch but still it’s got a homey sense to it. More than your own home. It’s not exactly the word you would use to describe it. When you’re glancing back at Eddie, you find his eyes have never left their place; still looking at you, somewhat gentler than what you’re used to. Those stupid big brown eyes of his, you could swim in them.

When there’s a swell in your chest at the way neither of you is looking away, you feel the flight instinct kick in. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”

You’re turning on your heel when he chuckles. “You love my hair.”

“I hate your hair,” you lie, shooting a look at him over your shoulder.

He leans one hand on the doorframe as you approach the door, standing over you and smiling into the space between you both, or the lack thereof. “And I hate your lips.”

The air you suck in through your nose could have lifted a damn hot air balloon. An insult you’re used to, a tease, sure, but was that him flirting? Your brain is scrambling at the very essence of it and that tiny hint of a smirk on his face is no help.

Punk. Jackass. Bonehead. You’re reverting back to the insults you gave him on the first day you met, trying to replace the words that are clouding your mind right now. He’s so close and his voice was so low, you think you’re about startled into a paralyzed stance. All you can do is look up at him, completely speechless.

“You can say such horrible things with them,” he finally finishes, nudging open the campervan door.

The light washing in from outside kicks you back to life, shooting him a glare. “Wait until you really piss me off.”

“I have a feeling I’m getting there.”

You’re down the steps as fast as you can, throwing up the middle finger to him when he shouts out at you to have a good day. Never have you ever felt so irritated at Eddie in the entire time you’ve known him. Never once has your blood boiled further than just loathing for the guy, not ever trespassing into forbidden territory—into even the notion of... interest—since you swore from the start that he was bad news and a nuisance rolled into one, and all you wanted to do was stay the hell away from him.

No, not ever did you think you would actually enjoy being so close to him. It’s bugging you right down to your bones and you want this gone, whatever it is. Whatever the hell Eddie Munson just did to you, you want it eradicated.

Obviously, spending more time away from home seemed like the right option, seeing as he was only across the road from you. It was all an excuse—getting lunch out, spending extra time with friends, working longer shifts at the laundromat even though it was highly possible that you would see him again—and if you weren’t so hyper-focused on being everywhere that he isn’t, you might have gotten away with it. But you forget how well your sister knows you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask her, watching her crossed arms and aloof expression sitting across from you. “You’ve not even touched your milkshake.”

“What’s gotten into you?” She asks, straight to the point. Ever the Mayfield.

“Nothing,” you shift awkwardly in your seat and she picks up on it, raising a brow at you. “I just want some quality bonding time with my sister. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she says as if she actually believes it, sitting forward to play with the straw in her drink. “This is, like, the third time you’ve brought me here.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Max furrows her brows, stopping herself from continuing her sentence. A moment later she sighs, staring down at the table. “It’s just... I can always tell when something’s wrong.”

That older sister’s guilt kicks in at seeing her almost deflate in the seat. “Nothing’s wrong. I promise.”

She eyes you from behind her drink, taking a sip and nodding contently. She stirs it once, then glowers. “It’s not that Eddie guy, is it?”

It’s so unexpected to hear his name come from your own little sister that you choke on the milkshake you’re currently drinking, hitting your chest a few times as you calm down. “What? Why would you say that?”

How do you even know him? That’s what you really want to ask.

“I saw you leave his trailer the other day,” she explains, like the little spy she is. “You looked pretty angry.”

“Oh, that,” you give it some kick, hoping it’ll convince her. “I was just settling something from the laundromat and he was being a prick. Same old, same old.”

“He didn’t want to pay or something?”

“Well—wait, what do you mean you saw me? I thought you went out?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, she stammers against the question put to her. “We were just—”

“We?” pushing the milkshake away, you lean forward. “Who’s we?”

“No one! I said me.”

“Liar. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Oh, like your story sounds any better? When does Eddie not pay for his dry cleaning?”

“How would you know that?”

“Dustin talks about him a lot,” she shrugs combatively, scrunching her face up. “Some dumb D&D thing they do after school.”

“Is that who you were with?”

“What?” She shakes her head, glancing off to the side. “No, no. It’s hard to explain.” When you stare her down, she crosses her arms again. “It’s a game we do sometimes. I mean, we’ve really only done it the once and...”

Something changes right in the last few words she speaks. As if something washes over her, like a cloud, she goes completely silent. Just as much as she knows you, you know her too. Right now you can tell that whatever this game is that she was talking about has brought up a bad memory, something she really doesn’t want to get into and you wouldn’t force it out of her either.

“It’s fine. It’s just—” giving her a comical look, a smile on your lips. “Stupid boys.”

That cheers her up a bit, you think. Max chuckles, shaking her head and then reaching for the milkshake in front of her. “Yeah, stupid boys.”

She offers you a smile and drinks from the straw, and the two of you spend the afternoon much more comfortably after that.

Things were going rather well, especially since Eddie hadn’t turned up at the laundromat for some time, but the feeling of vanishing from his life was starting to fizzle out. Truly, isn’t it what you had told your sister; that all it was that made you angry at Eddie was that he was being just another stupid boy? In the end, he hadn’t offended you. It was just different from anything he had said. Part of you wanted to knock on his door again, but a more prominent part of you told you to hold back. Wouldn’t want him thinking you actually cared or anything. As if.

You see him next when you’re on your way to pick Max up from her friend’s house—El was her name—and you’re meeting a frizzy-haired Eddie in front of your letterbox, his head tilted to the side as he peers into the gap. At the expense of seeming too happy to see him, you go in for the first quip.

“Stealing people’s love letters again, are we, Munson?” the sound of your voice has him stepping back with a jolt, looking at you like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It’s almost the same thing, especially as he’s shoving something into his back pocket.

His startled expression shifts into the usual scowl he wears whenever he sees you. “I would but I noticed you don’t ever get any. Huh, Mayfield?”

“What do you want?” with an eye roll, which was practically a gesture made for him alone, you cross your arms over your chest.

Back to the flustered Eddie you met in the laundromat, he hooks two fingers into the loops on his ripped jeans, leaning back a fraction. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” you don’t buy it for a second. “So, you’re just standing outside my house for fun?”

“No.” it’s a quick response, fired at you hotly. Then, after a moment, his defense deflates. “Here—”

You take the crumpled-up piece of paper from his extended hand, which looks like it is what he hid in the first place. Flattening it out with your fingers, you read over the black and red words scribbled in marker and the rough drawing of a drumkit in the center.

“Corroded Coffin,” you read aloud. “Is this an... invitation?”

He’s rocking back on his heels when you glance up at him. He doesn’t give you a verbal response, just nods his head at you after sucking in a breath. It’s so unlike what you were expecting after having not seen him for such a long time. You were ready for an insult, a snarky comment, anything that isn’t the shy neighbor on your front lawn right now.

“Okay,” you speak, not missing the way he completely lights up from that one word alone; back straighter, face composed. “I can fit this into my busy schedule for you, Munson.”

His mouth cracks a smile and then he’s suddenly stretching nonchalantly, feigning casualness. “No big deal. Just thought you might be interested.”

“Think about me a lot, then, do you?”

Just as you had hoped for, Eddie goes motionless. A taste of his own medicine. It humors you far too much but you’re already late as it is to pick up your sister and you don’t want to linger around long enough for Eddie to come back into the fight, so you walk over to where he stands and tap a hand against his shoulder twice, chuckling as you move ahead to get into your car and drive away.

By Saturday night, when the band was scheduled to play, you’ve come to realize that you haven’t exactly organized anything with Eddie. At least, not properly, anyway. Is he going to meet you there? Should you arrive early, just in case? Is this technically... a date? Only one of those questions is answered for you when you’re heading over to your car, and it’s by the absence of Eddie’s van. So, he was already gone. Okay. One down, two to go. Well, one to go. You’re going to drive there just before the actual gig starts.

There are not a lot of people when you arrive; a few drunks at their seats, talking loudly, and a much bigger crowd congregated at the bar rather than by the stage. The lights are on but there’s not a single person by their instrument yet, so you look around the faces you can make out in the dim lighting of this place to try and find Eddie. The most obvious identifiers are going to be bushy hair and, most likely, his Dio vest. Even with a scarce amount of people to look through, there’s no sight of the Munson. So, you just opt for getting a beer and sitting nearest to the exit, just in case. Knowing him, he’ll probably come barreling through the door midway through the performance, probably having stopped somewhere on the way.

It seems more likely than not that it’s what is going to happen since the band for tonight is now walking onto the stage and standing in their respective places. You’re not exactly paying them much mind, a little too deflated at the possibility that Eddie has stood you up as a payback for the way you treat him. But, then again, it would have to be a date in the first place for you to be stood up, and it’s not a date.

Right?

The tapping of a finger against the microphone stirs you awake from your thoughts, looking forward at the singer with messy hair and a black band tank over his chest, chains on his belt, and black eyeliner which you can see only when he flicks his fringe out of his face, and you about choke on your drink because what the hell kind of a joke is this?

“I’m Eddie,” he says into the mic, and your jaw drops open. He names the other members of his band and then introduces them as Corroded Coffin—exactly what was written on that makeshift invitation. Finally, after his eyes have been wandering the room for some time, he spots you in your corner and smiles wide. “Glad you could make it.”

It’s unspecific enough that it could be interpreted as being directed at the crowd, but you know, with his eyes on yours, that he was talking to you. You can’t ignore the way that sends a tingle through your body, but it only ramps up as soon as they start playing, and are you dreaming or drugged? Because they sound good.

If you’re more surprised by anything, though, then it’s not at how steady his voice sounds when he sings, or how expertly he plays the guitar, or how the drumbeat is so distinct that it almost vibrates through the floor, but it’s by the way no one is getting into it. The drunks in their seats are still talking, the people at the bar are sipping with slim to no excitement, and there’s an attendant mopping up a spilled drink by the left of the stage, totally indifferent to the music. You almost feel out of place to be bopping your head, genuinely enjoying the performance.

That’s why as soon as they finish their first song, you’re clapping and hollering from your seat, trying your best to, firstly, give them a supportive boost and, secondly, try to ignite the crowd a bit. It kind of works, since some people join in on the applause, but it’s still weak in its delivery. Nevertheless, you can tell Eddie appreciates the effort with the way he chuckles right into the microphone, thanking the crowd and introducing the next song. Just like the last one, this is just as good.

By the twelfth song, they end their gig with you standing on your feet in applause. The crowd that started has dispersed by this point and so, once again, you’re the most enthusiastic person in the room. Each member of the band says their thanks and Eddie is holding a hand up in your direction to tell you to wait for him, so you sit back down and finish your third beer.

He approaches you with a tap on the shoulder after about ten minutes of waiting and it’s probably the first time you flash him a wide smile in greeting. “Hey, you were great!”

Eddie smiles. “Thanks—ow!” he rubs at the sore spot on his arm where you just landed a hard punch. “What the hell was that?”

“That was for not telling me that you’re Corroded Coffin. Hell, Munson. I got the shock of my life when I saw you up on that stage.”

“Right, right,” his lips are pouted some as he still rubs his skin. “I was going to tell you but I just got a little... nervous, I guess.”

Honestly, you can understand why he felt that way. If you were in his shoes and went to invite your asshat neighbor to one of your gigs, you probably would have choked on the truth as well.

“Turns out you had nothing to be worried about,” you try to console him, brushing your thumb against the area you had hit him, now feeling a bit bad about having done it. “I’m not that much of a jerk, you know?”

“Yeah, well, you are most of the time.”

The comment is dripping in offense but you hardly take it literally with how Eddie moves his hand slightly downward, his fingers brushing up against yours. That tingle you felt earlier in the night rushes through you again at the discreet touch, skin on skin. He’s just as close as when he leaned on the doorframe in his campervan the other day, and you look at one another like you had in the living room. You can almost convince yourself that you’re right back there again as the noise of the bar and the people around you drown out into nothing, leaving just you and Eddie at this moment with his fingers against yours.

Somehow, you don’t want to pull away.

It happens, though, as one of his bandmates come around the corner, slapping Eddie hard on the back and jolting him out of his daze, saying that they should all go for drinks since one of them was already making a head-start at the bar.

“Oh,” the blonde boy suddenly blurts. “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize you were with your girl.”

A jumbled noise makes its way out of your mouth, almost mimicking the sound that Eddie makes. Both of you are completely stunned at the suggestion with a mixture of words trying to force their way out into some kind of explanation, though it’s all muddled.

Finally, you manage a coherent reply. “Never.”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie waves his hand, offering you a shaky smile as if he were apologizing for his friend’s behavior. “We hate each other.”

“Completely,”

“Right,” the boy looks down at your hand still on Eddie’s arm and you’re quick to remove it. “I totally believe that.”

He’s back to basics, which happens to be alcohol before you can try and assure him again that you and Eddie are not an item, so, deflated, you stand there as they talk some and then he’s thanking you for coming to watch them play and heading over to the bar.

Eddie turns back to face you, slightly blushful. “Do you want to join us? I’ll pay.”

His offer sounds tempting, especially since it’ll be free on your part, but you’ve already got three beers in you, have been more touchy than usual, and can feel yourself on the brink of crossing another type of invisible boundary if you say yes, so you politely shake your head, though you really want to stay.

“I should get back home to Max,” is your excuse. A rubbish one, too, since you know that she’s sleeping over at El’s for the weekend.

“Oh, okay,” he raises an arm behind his head, playing with the hair there. Is it just because he’s wearing a tank top or did he always have such defined arms? You’ve not noticed until now, and you could be ogling if you don’t quickly snap your attention back to his face.

“Thanks for inviting me, though. I had a lot of fun, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m really glad you made it.”

Your teeth sink down on your tongue before you can ask him what exactly his invitation means. Here you’ve been wondering if this was something more than just a hangout, or just because he wanted another seat filled at his gig. When there are butterflies swirling in your stomach for the much-anticipated answer, you decide not to even ask the question in the first place.

He’s incredibly polite about you leaving at what would be considered an early time of night, walking you to your car to make sure that you get there safely. You’re grateful for the assistance and tell him that you’ll see him soon, poking your tongue out at him when you drive out of the carpark, hoping that the playfulness of it will bury whatever kind of sentiment was left inside the building.

It’s not exactly a delightful atmosphere when you get home that night, walking in on Neil slamming down an empty can of beer onto the coffee table which is covered in a lot more as he watches the television. The door closing shut behind you is enough for him to turn toward the noise, his eyes slanting when he sees you standing there.

“Where the hell have you been?” He slurs, sticky like the dried alcohol in the carpet that you couldn’t clean up from the other day.

“Out,” is all you offer him, already making your way to your bedroom.

You should know not to mess with an irate drunk, let alone one that lives under the same roof as you. He’s down the hallway within seconds, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you around harshly. You flinch at the touch, stepping backward.

“You give me a straight answer,” he barks, swaying on lazy legs.

Carefully, you keep your voice even when you speak. “Just in town with a friend.”

His face scrunches up, jaw rippling as he clenches it. “Fine. Whatever. Just make sure you clean this place up before your mother comes home from wherever the hell she’s run off to now.”

Nodding, you wait until he’s back in the living room before going inside your bedroom, letting out the breath that you were holding and shutting your eyes tightly. For a moment you were scared that he would press, pushing you to say the truth. That’s the last thing you want, especially since you don’t like Neil knowing the names of your friends or the places where you go. Not that Eddie even was such a thing—not really—but tonight, after he had treated you so considerately and Neil had treated you so unkind, you want nothing more than for Eddie Munson to be your friend.

He’s always going to be your annoying neighbor, though, and you’re always going to have this sort of rivalry between you two. You’ve never really thought about adapting the thing you both have into anything more, but every now and then you would like to get along with him rather than on just the odd occasion. You want to waste time at his place when you both have nothing better to do, or see if you can survive a ride in his van as he drifts down windy Hawkins’ roads, or actually give him a container full of sugar when he’s run out. The small things, that’s what you want. You get enough crap at home, you don’t need any more outside the front door.

But it might as well be your fate. Everyone changed after Billy’s death, even your mom. When once she was sweet and always there, now she’s hardly a good listening ear or even around to begin with. It’s one of those irks that fester over time when you never talk about it, keeping it buried in a dark place, that when you’re at your breaking point it’s far from pretty.

Truth be told, you couldn’t handle a second more of it. It’s shown in the way you ignore your mom when she walks through the door the next night, reeking of smoke, and her hair’s a mess, her makeup there but shoddy in its application. She doesn’t even notice that you’re in the kitchen until the plate you’re washing knocks into a cup when you place it on the drying rack beside the sink, but she doesn’t say hello, she just trudges over to the fridge and swings it open, soon grumbling about the lack of food in there.

“Can you make dinner?” She asks, hand on her forehead. “I’ve got such a pounding headache. I couldn’t lift a thing.”

“There’s medicine in the cupboard,” you speak, stacking another plate onto the rack. “And no, I can’t make dinner. Not tonight.”

She’s moving beside you, resting her hip against the countertop. “Why not?”

“Because—” you remind yourself not to get too upset too quickly, sighing as you dip a dirty spoon under the soapy water. “I’ve made dinner all this week, seeing as you’re never home anymore. There’s a frozen meal in the freezer. I have to go to work when I’m finished with the dishes.”

It’s like you’re the mother and she’s the child since she responds to your comment with a groan. “I can’t, baby. I need you to cook me something before you go.”

“I don’t have time.”

Her hand rakes through her hair, messing it up even more, before pulling out the cigarette box that was tucked into her shirt pocket, plucking out a cigarette and shoving it into her mouth. When she talks, it’s half muddled by the stick. “Where’re the damn matches?”

She starts to make a noise by throwing open various drawers and slamming them back shut when she can’t find what she’s looking for, and you want to shout at her to stop. Didn’t she say she had a headache, anyway?

“Did you go to the shop this week?” Her question isn’t gentle, it’s prodding. “There’s no matches, no milk. Come on—” she waves a hand at you annoyingly, and your furrow your brows as you don’t know what she wants. “I need cash.”

This must be a joke. It has to be. “I’m late for work.”

You decide to ignore her request completely, drying your hands with the dishtowel on the table and grabbing your keys from the small glass dish in the middle. Your mother sighs, practically stomping out of the kitchen and down the hallway, and you manage to catch her barging into your bedroom before you leave the house, sprinting over to where she is.

“What are you doing?” you watch as she throws your clothes around, looking under books and other things.

“Where’s that jar of yours?” She hisses, not caring about the mess she’s making.

That jar in question happens to be filled with the money you get from your shifts, which you’ve purposely put in there since you’re trying to save up. It’s tucked away inside a box, covered by blankets and shirts, underneath your bed, since you were more scared of Neil snatching a couple bills off of you, but never have you ever thought that your mom would be doing just that. And to think she was making her way here when you were about to walk out the door!

“Mom, stop it,” you’re picking up the clothes that she’s thrown onto the floor, though she’s just making a mess wherever she walks.

She’s huffing annoyance, pointedly looking at you. “It’s the least you can do.”

“The least I can do?” that does it; that’s what breaks the dam. You throw the clothes onto your bed, finally snapping. “I’m not supposed to be the mom of the house. That’s your job! The least you can do is actually be here. None of us even know where you go.”

“I’m here!” She opens her arms as if gesturing to her presence.

“No, you’re not! I’m here. I’m the one who cooks dinner every night. I’m the one who has to clean up after Neil when he’s drunk the whole fridge. I’m the one who drives Max to school and picks her up in the afternoon and who takes her out every once and a while. I’m the one who’s paying the damn rent! Just because Billy’s gone doesn’t mean you can be gone too. You’re supposed to be my mother, not a stranger!”

She’s silent after your outburst, looking caught between being offended and guilty. At last, she sighs. “Go to work.”

Biting back a sob, you run out into the hallway, flinging open the front door and slamming it shut behind you. Most likely you’ll come home to an empty jar if she keeps poking around your bedroom and all those crappy shifts will have been for nothing. You’re so overwhelmed by even speaking up about everything, even more so by how your mother reacted like she doesn’t even care, and you’re stumbling onto the grass, crying piteously.

It has to be this night of all nights that he’s home before two in the morning, hearing the squealing of the tires on Eddie’s van pull into the trailer park and skid to a stop by the campervan. In any other instance, you would have made a mad dash to your car or back inside the house to hide, but every sob that comes out of you is more painful than the last and so you find yourself not caring at all if he sees as you sit there, fists holding onto the grass like it’s supporting your weight.

There’s only a short moment of silence when you hear his van door shut, then suddenly his sneakers are pounding against the concrete as the sound approaches.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice so cautious but worried at the same time.

You shake your head, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. “I really can’t deal with you right now, Munson.” Go away is on the tip of your tongue, but the tears travel onto your mouth like they’re stopping you from saying it.

“Sure looks like you’re doing just great by yourself, huh?” He responds, kneeling beside you.

You really can’t handle this right now. You can’t manage the snarky neighbor facade that you’ve been playing so well for so long when that’s not what you want, or how you want to be. No, you want to be who you were before your mom married Neil, before you got everything thrown onto your shoulders when you can barely lift the weight on your own. Whoever could?

“Please,” it’s a whimper, something pathetic even to your own ears. “Just leave me alone.”

His hand reaches out to hold onto your arm firmly. “No,” he says, and you look him in the eye. “I’m not going to leave you like this.”

Shaking your head, a few more tears fall. “Why do you care?”

Coarse lips press into a thin line as he looks at you, his hand slowly moving down to your elbow. It seems he’s not going to give you an answer when he opens his mouth. “Come here,”

All the sense of it—all the annoying comments you have thrown at each other—go billowing away in the night air as you let him pull you up to stand on your feet, never looking away from him, from those stupid big brown eyes. He keeps his hand on your arm as he walks you across the distance to his campervan, holding the door open for you to walk inside first. You probably shouldn’t be putting so much trust in him as you are but even still, you know Eddie—better than you’d like to admit—and maybe it was ridiculous, but you do trust him.

What you shouldn’t be doing even more is missing your shift since you may not even have the cash on you when you come back, but what does it matter anymore? Your life hasn’t ever been perfect. California was the last time it felt like it was. At least, not until—

No. You won’t say it. You can’t.

Eddie’s sitting next to you on the couch, a hand on your knee. It’s a delicate touch, still careful. Still inches away from that invisible line you both dance around. “You don’t have to tell me. We can just sit here if you want.”

Shaking your head, you sniffle and wipe the tears above your lip. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just being stupid.”

“Normally I would agree with you but this doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Why does he have to read you like that? How come the one person you fight with the most happens to understand you better than anyone else?

“It’s my mom,” you start, feeling the words climbing up your throat like water rising in a well, just seconds away from spilling over. You spill your heart out with them, too. “Ever since Billy died in that fire, no one’s been the same. I haven’t either but—hell—at least I’m trying. It’s like she doesn't even care anymore.”

At the swell of your tears, Eddie squeezes your knee some, not interrupting you by saying something—which, knowing him, would probably be ridiculous—but giving you the assurance that he’s really listening to you and, though it seems impossible, that he cares about you, too.

“I feel like I’m the only one trying to keep the damn roof over our heads. I mean, Max, she’s only a kid, so I don’t expect her to be pushing the boulder with me but—” you sigh loudly, wiping your lip again. “It’s so exhausting.”

It’s crazy how much of yourself that you’re showing to him—Eddie Munson of all people. Had anyone told you that the guy who asked for beer and money on your front lawn would be the very same person that you’re holding your heart out to right now, you would have laughed like mad. But it is him you’re talking to, and you would choose him again the second time ’round.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” you let out a breathless chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not like you care.”

He scrunches his face up, squeezing your knee again. “That hurts, you know. I do happen to be kinda nice when you get to know me.”

I know. Stupidly, you know it. He helped you with the washing machine, he let you throw insult after insult his way without ever taking it too far in retaliation, and he invited you to watch him play with his band. You know Eddie Munson is a nice guy. Given the circumstances, he’s probably the nicest guy you’ve ever known.

Still, you’re both molded into routine. If it’s the only stable thing in your life, you don’t want to wreck that.

“Uh huh,” you breathe. “That’s why you’ve been a dick to me since we first met.”

“Actually, I remember you being the dick.” He states it matter-of-factly, but you know it’s the truth. “And besides, even if we hate each other, I hate to see you cry even more,”

He wipes the tears off your cheek with his thumb, the touch of the rings on his fingers making you shiver. Or maybe you were tingling again.

“No one else can be mean to you,” he whispers. “That’s my job.”

Chuckling, you tilt your head right into his hand. Though you’re not intending to let him cradle the side of your face like this, you’re not moving away once it happens.

“You’re pretty good at it, too.” It’s meant to be a lighthearted comment, but Eddie doesn’t seem game to go back to basics.

He brushes his thumb against your cheek again, eyes dancing between your own. “I’m even better at taking care of someone.”

A beat skips in your chest. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

It’s risky what you’re about to say, but you’ve said worse. “I think I’d like to be that someone.”

He parts his lips at that, something slow. You can see in his facial expression that the gears in his head are turning, and you might have called them rusty if you weren’t totally ready to fall into this mistake with him. Instead, you take another risk in placing your hand on top of the one still on your cheek, rubbing your thumb along his skin to bring him back to life, seeing as he’s gone mute on you.

What’s one more risk after the last one? You’re ready to take two more. Inching closer to him on the couch, you reach out to caress his cheek like he’s done to you, knocking your knees into his, which has the hand laid there still squeezing again, this time in surprise. You offer him a smile, hoping that you’re not about to scare him off, but when he doesn’t pull away you take that as his response.

Closing the gap between you two shouldn’t feel as delicious as it does, but that tingle is running all through you as your nose bumps against his and you can hear his breathing more clearly in the proximity. Maybe you could hear his heart if you pushed yourself further, but you’re giving him room to think. Literally.

As soon as his eyes flicker down to your lips, you take that last risk with eager intention; leaning forward and doing the one thing you never thought you’d ever do; kiss Eddie Munson.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from him when your mouth slots against his, your eyes closed shut as your fingers gently brush beneath his ear. More than a tingle runs through you when the hand on your knee squeezes once more, much more firmly this time, before meeting the other side of your face to hold you in both hands, moving his lips against yours rhythmically.

Damn it all—is this what you’ve been missing out on all this time? Hell, Eddie feels amazing against you and his lips are softer than you’d thought they’d be. Rough, chapped, is what you expected, not this. Not the warmth that spreads through you when he deepens the kiss with a tilt of his head, humming lowly when your fingers snake into his hair. You’re both moving closer and closer, trying to outcast the space between you both like an old worn-out shirt. You’re both pushing away that invisible barrier. Fitting into each other, that’s what you’re doing.

You don’t want to stop. Now that you’ve risked it and liked it, nothing else seems to matter. But it’s the air that takes priority when Eddie pulls back from you slightly, just enough to be panting onto your parted lips and it really shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. He looks blemished at the touch; his cheeks flushed. You’re sure that you look disheveled as well if the faint pulsing of your lips accounts for anything.

“Okay,” he breathes, licking his lips. “I can get used to this.”

Chuckling, you twirl your finger around a strand of his hair. “Yeah, me too. This is much more fun than fighting with you.”

“Oh, this could be considered fighting.” His voice sounds flirtatious with the sentence.

“Well, in that case—” you peck his lips, smiling at him. “Hit me with your best shot, Munson.”

“I intend to do just that, Mayfield.”

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