#Fist of the North Star: Lost Paradise | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allmoshnobrain · 9 months ago

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 02 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 5,4k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I wondered if he too would be feeling the happiness that sang in my chest at that moment, like a little miracle had just unfolded before us. It was hard to find another word to describe it. He’d found me. After so many years, he’d found me.

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, grief, smut mentioned/implied

✧ Once you told me, "Look for the North Star, then you'll see" / Heavenly, I hear / Found my way to the beach / There were waves over me / I was lost at sea 'til you found me / 'til you found me ✧

May 20, 1984

Settling into the new home my parents had bought for me turned out to be easier than I’d expected, especially since my friends had moved in with me; we all shared the same space and, slowly but surely, it was shaping up to be our own little slice of paradise, buzzing with music, chatter, and laughter as we got everything sorted.

But everything felt eerily still when I arrived home on that Sunday afternoon. I opened the front door, spotting a few moving boxes still hanging out in the living room. I glanced around, puzzled, eyeing the empty space and wondering where the gang had vanished to. That's when I caught the distant murmur of voices drifting from the kitchen.

"You can't just go after him, James. It's gonna wreck our reputation, have you even thought about that?" Lars' voice carried down the hallway, tinged with irritation.

"You think I give a damn about our reputation when he's out there dissing my girl?" James shot back, his voice tinged with anger. I arched an eyebrow, definitely intrigued now as I made my way closer. I reached the kitchen door to find Lars leaning against the sink, his brow furrowed, while James, so much taller, paced back and forth, his fists clenched. "I couldn't care less. Let him yap about us all he wants, but lay off her. I'm gonna beat the crap out of him, then maybe he'll learn to keep his trap shut."

"Hey, guys," I interjected, and James halted his pacing immediately, both him and Lars shooting me a startled look, like they'd just seen a ghost. A knot twisted in my gut as I realized they were probably talking about something they didn't want me to know about. "What's the deal?"

"Nore!" Lars chirped, a bit too brightly, as he hastily snatched something off the table. I narrowed my eyes, noting it was a cassette tape he was awkwardly trying to stuff into his pocket. "Oh, it's, uh, nothing important!"

"What's that?" I inquired, nodding toward the cassette in his grasp. James shot him a pointed glare, and Lars swallowed hard.

"It's, um, nothing, really! Just..." He stumbled over his words as I closed the gap between us, grabbing his arm and snatching the tape from his grip. "Hey!"

"If it's really nothing, then you won't mind me taking a look, right?" I challenged. James shot me a worried look before striding over towards me.

"Nore, hand it over," he demanded, his tone grave, his brow furrowed. I stared at him, torn between defiance and confusion.

"No," I shot back, turning on my heel and bolting up the stairs.

"Nore!" James called out, chasing after me, but I was already too far ahead. I reached our shared room and slammed the door shut, locking it behind me. James pounded on the door, growing increasingly frustrated. "Nore! Come on, give it back!"

"Unless you've got another girlfriend, this has gotta be about me, right?" I challenged, and he grunted, kicking the door in frustration. "You’re gonna start keeping secrets from me now?"

"You don't get it. It's for your own good. Just let me in!"

I brushed off his demand, which only earned me a frustrated growl from him. Fixing my gaze on the tape in my hand, my heart skipped a beat when I spotted the band name: Megadeth. There wasn't much else on the tape besides handwritten song titles on the label. I'd been keeping tabs on the Californian metal scene enough to know this wasn't just any old tape — it was a demo. I couldn't help but wonder how Lars and James got their hands on it, and what the hell it had to do with me.

"Come on, Nore!" James's pounding on the door grew more urgent as the music began to play, the cassette inserted into the tape deck in our room. "You don't wanna hear this. Trust me!"

I stayed silent, my heart doing some churning uncomfortably in my chest as I recognized Dave's voice emanating from the speakers. I blinked in surprise; I remembered he was scouting for a vocalist for the band back when we were together, but I had no clue he'd decided to take on the role himself. Somehow, that made it all worse; I wasn't prepared to hear his voice. I wasn't ready for the flood of emotions that hearing him but not being able to talk to him, see him, or touch him brought crashing over me. I wasn't ready for the fury radiating from his voice, blazing like a wildfire, channeling all his pain into his music. And then, it hit me what he was singing about.

My only love, something I've never felt / Now you've gone to heaven and I'll burn in hell / I loved you to death!

Oh. Was that why James was so adamant about me not hearing the tape? Could that song possibly be...?

And now I'm down below / And what do I see? / You didn't go to heaven / You’re down in hell with me / And now you’re coming back / “baby take me please!” / I really think I would, if you weren't such a sleaze / I loved you once before, you kept me on a string / I'd rather go without than take what you would bring / I loved you to death!

I chewed on my lip, my stomach twisting as the song came to its end, struggling to make sense of everything I'd just heard. Suddenly, it all clicked. I understood why James had tried to shield me from it; Dave's lyrics were harsh, dripping with anger and bitterness, a far cry from the sweet and caring Dave I once knew. For a fleeting moment, I tried to convince myself it couldn't be about me — but who else could it possibly be about?

For months, I'd been wondering what he'd say if I ever found him. Would he listen? Would he let me explain? And for months, I'd been living with this fear — that he'd hate me, that he wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore. But I'd always held onto hope; hope that I could make things right, that I could clear things up somehow. Yet, that song... It crushed whatever hope I had left.

It hurt me more than I could say.

I stood up and swung open the bedroom door, finding James right there, his blue eyes filled with concern. I threw myself into his arms, trying to hold back the tears. He sighed and hugged me back.

"I warned you not to listen," he grumbled.

"And you were just gonna keep this from me forever?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"If it meant not hurting you, then yeah."

"James, I deserved to know," I said, pulling back to look at him. He reached up and wiped away a tear, his touch gentle on my cheek.

"You're right. I'm sorry," he said softly, planting a light kiss on my forehead.

"Where'd you snag this tape, anyway?"

"Our producer gave it to Lars. Said Dave's using that Mechanix song we had on our album as The Four Horsemen..."

"Those were his songs, James. He's got every right to do so."

"Why do you still stick up for him, even after all this?" he frowned, a hint of annoyance in his voice, then sighed. "Sure, he can use his fucking songs. But he doesn't get to pen this garbage about you."

I shook my head with a sigh.

"It's so not fair," I said, trying to push down the shake in my voice. "He jumped to thinking I'd just cheat on him, replace him outta nowhere. Didn't even give me a chance to explain; just up and left. And I..." James pulled me into another hug as my voice hitched, making it tough to keep talking. "I still miss him. And I wish..."

"Nore..." James murmured, squeezing me tight, and I sighed, shutting my eyes. "You miss him that much? Aren��t you happy with me?"

"Course I'm happy with you," I replied, my voice muffled against him, hugging him close and soaking in the comfort of his scent as I buried my face into his chest.

"Then stay with me ," he said, his voice gravelly, stroking my hair tenderly. "I'm here. And I would never hurt you like that. Maybe it's time to... let this go. I can make you happy, Nore. Promise."

"You already make me happy," I murmured, sniffing softly and pulling away from his embrace, wiping away the tears that insisted on falling. James cupped my face in his hands, giving me a gentle, affectionate kiss on my lips.

I loved James. That certainty had grown in my chest over the past few months until it became unbearable, impossible to ignore. But could I allow myself to forget Dave like that? Could I allow myself to move on and leave behind a love that had changed my life? Even if he hated me, my heart still beat for him. Could I allow myself to let go of that feeling?

Could I?

September 5, 1986

Ever since James and I’d started dating, James had always been warm. Warm and cozy, like a lit fireplace on a winter night, enough for me to always want to be around — always there, always comforting. As we lay together, both totally spent after spending most of the night pleasuring each other, he started planting little, lazy kisses on my neck, his hand resting flat on my belly. His blond locks tickled my cheek, his breath warm against my bare skin.

"I feel like something's off with me," I mumbled, and he stopped kissing me, his lips lingering against my neck.

"I’ll stop if you want me to," he whispered, his arms enveloping me, drawing me snug against his bare skin. James had this knack for drawing me in tighter whenever I hinted at pulling away. He just couldn't resist keeping me close, and honestly, I didn't mind one bit. "Just say the word if you need me to back off," he murmured softly.

"No, it's not that," I replied, turning to face him with a sigh. His blue eyes locked onto mine, curious. I let out another soft sigh, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. He responded instantly, pulling me closer, his grip firm.

"What's on your mind then?" he asked, his lips trailing from mine to my neck once more. I sighed again, closing my eyes, my fingers tangling in his hair as heat pooled between my legs.

"I don't want you guys to leave," I admitted, and he paused his kisses, pulling back to meet my gaze. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks as I looked away. "I know it's part of your job. I know you've been on countless tours, and this one won't be any different. But... I just wish you'd stay, just this once."

James gave a nod, pulling me into a tight hug and planting a gentle kiss on my temple. The whirlwind of tours and gigs wasn't a walk in the park for either of us. Sure, it had its perks, but the constant movement, the jam-packed schedule that I struggled to keep pace with, and the long stretches of time apart definitely took their toll on our relationship. Especially now that the band was hitting new heights of success; I wanted to be there for them every step of the way, but reality dictated otherwise with my own commitments.

It hadn't been such a big deal in the past; after over two years as James's girlfriend and spending loads of time with Cliff and the boys, I was used to the drill. But this time, there was this gnawing feeling in my chest, like something wasn't quite right. It wasn't exactly that I wanted them to stay or that I wanted to tag along but couldn't; it was more like I just didn't want them to leave. I didn't want them out there while I was feeling this jittery, like something was about to go south any second.

"I'm probably being a bit selfish," I admitted, meeting James' eyes.

"Nah, not at all," he countered, running his fingers through my hair and flashing me a grin, clearly trying to lift my spirits. "I'll make it up to you, promise. I'll bring back souvenirs from everywhere we hit. What do you say? We'll be back before you know it, Nore. Trust me."

I gave a nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. There was no point in dumping all my worries on James; things would work out, somehow. I nestled closer to him, giving him a hug before planting a soft kiss on his jawline.

"Meanwhile..." he started, his lips meeting mine as he settled over me. I let out a soft chuckle, looping my arms around his neck; he leaned back, giving me a smile tinged with mischief, his hands trailing up my thighs in a way that sent shivers down my spine, anticipation building within me. "I think we should make the most of my being here while we still can. What do you say?"

"Hmm... sounds like a plan," I answered, and he chuckled, leaning in to kiss me once more.

March 13, 1987

Backstage used to be my sanctuary, but not anymore.

The buzz, the drinks, the laughter, the pounding music — those were the things that used to make me feel alive. Completely in the moment. But ever since Cliff had left us, the whole scene had just become another stress trigger. It was cruel, how I would still catch myself hoping to spot him any minute, beer in hand or puffing on a cig before hitting the stage, tuning his bass with that grin of his like he was born to rock out. Then reality would hit me seconds later, reminding me that I would never see him again.

That he was gone.

That night’s gig marked my first outing since the accident. I only agreed to go 'cause I knew James was missing me like crazy, especially after everything went down. It stung how Cliff's death had torn us apart, making it damn near impossible for us to even be in the same room despite still loving each other; it was all just too raw, too painful to wrap our heads around.

But I stuck it out for the whole show, even though my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice seeing the band up there with a different lineup, knowing it shouldn't be that way. Jason, the new bassist, was actually pretty damn good; I knew my aunt and uncle had loved him, and knowing he had their stamp of approval made things a bit easier to swallow. I didn't know him too well yet, but he came off as friendly and laid-back. Plus, his passion for the band and music had me smiling, thinking about how Cliff would've dug having someone with that same fire taking his spot.

Once the show wrapped, I didn't stick around for the inevitable after-party. While James and the guys were all caught up sorting out post-gig stuff, I slipped out the back, lighting up a smoke with a sigh. A persistent headache throbbed away, making me regret coming in the first place.

"Miss you, you dumbass," I muttered to myself, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over.

If I'd known that accident was coming, I would've done anything to stop Cliff from stepping foot on that bus. I would've volunteered to take his spot, even crawled into the bed he was in when it all went down. I would've traded places with him in a heartbeat, and I would've gone to my grave with a smile on my face. 'Cause living in a world without him was a nightmare worse than anything I'd ever imagined.

And now, all I could do was wish I would wake up back in our cozy home, catching a whiff of the coffee he used to brew up and hearing his gentle chuckle as he teased Leanne about tying the knot some day, all in that playful tone that barely masked his real longing — to live . To start a family, maybe have some kids, buy a house for his folks, and grow old doing what he loved, soaking up the rewards of his talent.

But none of that was in the cards anymore.

And I had remained, an empty, unrecognizable shell of the lively girl I used to be. I didn't know a life without Cliff — he had been my rock since forever. He'd been there since day one — I mean, literally, he was around before I was even born. We grew up side by side, like two peas in a pod, and now what was left of me was rotten, alone, and meaningless.

What was I without him, if he was such a huge part of who I was?

How many more losses in my life would I have to take?

Suddenly, I remembered Dave. The first boy I'd ever really loved, that kind of love that shakes you to your core. Losing him hurt like hell, no doubt about it. But compared to losing Cliff, it was like small fry. Still, Dave was the first real loss I’d ever faced. When all my efforts to track him down hit dead ends, I had to learn to live with the hole he left behind. After all these years, I still thought about him from time to time, but it didn't sting as bad as it used to.

I couldn't help but wonder if the ache in my heart from Cliff's absence would ever dull down like it had with Dave. Or if I'd have to face an even bigger blow, something that'd make this pain seem like child's play in comparison.

After roaming the city streets for hours, I finally headed back to the hotel. When I got to the floor where the band was crashing, I bumped into Jason, standing by his room’s door.

"Hey, Nore," he said, his voice sounding rough, and I gave him a puzzled look. Was he crying?

"Hey, Jason. You all good?"

"I-I'm good," he mumbled, voice low, avoiding eye contact as he sniffled and wiped his face with his hand. Yeah, definitely not okay.

"You're not out there with the guys. What's up?" I asked, and he glanced up, his brown eyes a bit bloodshot, cheeks flushed.

"It's just... It's been kinda rough trying to fit in with the band. Especially with all these pranks they pull..." he trailed off.

"Pranks? What do you mean?" I frowned.

"Oh, it's nothing!" he rushed to say. "You know, just dumb stuff. It's just that it always catches me off guard, like now... I went back to the room to grab a jacket and found they'd messed it all… Up…" He slowly stopped talking as I brushed past him, turning the doorknob of his room and pushing the door open.

I froze in my tracks, utterly stunned by the sight before me. Jason's room was a complete disaster zone — suitcases torn open, clothes strewn all over, mattress gone, and beddings tangled up in the ceiling fan. Furniture flipped over like a hurricane had blown through. I just stood there, dumbfounded. Whoever did this wasn't messing around — it was straight-up hostility, so blatant it snapped me out of my own sadness and fired me up with anger.

"Jason, who did this?" I spun around to face him, my expression blazing, and he took a step back, clearly rattled.

"Nore, it's no big deal, really..." he started, but I cut him off.

"Whoever trashed your room needs to answer for it. This is not okay! I'm going straight to James; he'll sort this out..."

"No, please," he pleaded, cutting me off. "Please, that'll only make things worse! Don't talk to them, I'm begging you…"

I gawked at him, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing, the pieces slowly fitting together in a puzzle that made no sense.

"Jason," I began cautiously, "did James and the guys pull this stunt on you?"

He stayed silent, which I interpreted as a confirmation. My gut twisted in discomfort. What were they thinking? That wasn't our style. Sure, we'd get a bit wild sometimes, drink too much, goof around — but deliberately messing with someone? It just didn't add up.

Just then, the elevator chimed, and out stumbled a clearly wasted James, grinning when he spotted Jason.

"Hey, Newkid!" he slurred, stumbling over his words as he came over and slung an arm around Jason's shoulders, who shot him a nervous grin. "Check out the new decor in your room, dude! Pretty rad, huh?" He burst into laughter.

"James, what the hell is this?" I demanded, my voice shaky. He glanced up, looking surprised to see me there.

"Hey, babe. You dipped out, what's the deal?" he asked, dropping his arm from Jason's shoulders and stepping toward me. I folded my arms, taking a step back. He furrowed his brow, confused. "What's eating at you?"

"You tell me. What's the deal with this mess?" I gestured to the chaos in Jason's room. James just grinned, shaking his head.

"Princess, it was just a prank... Come on," he said, reaching for my hand, but I shrugged him off, stomping heavily toward our room. "Hey, hold up... Baby!" James called after me, trailing behind.

Ignoring him, I swung open the door and grabbed my bag, hastily scooping up the scattered clothes and belongings. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall — not now.

"Nore, what the fuck are you doing?" James rushed into the room, grabbing my arm. I shook him off, backing away, glaring at him through teary eyes, my breaths coming in uneven gasps. "Babe, what's going on?"

"How can you even ask? What, you think it's funny to be some kind of bully now?" I demanded, my voice quivering. James shook his head, looking utterly baffled by my reaction.

"Nore, chill out! It was just a prank..."

"What kind of prank is this? This isn't us, James. Why are you guys messing with him?" I snapped, continuing to pack up my stuff. "Cliff would never stand for this."

James took a step back, looking like I'd slapped him. His brow furrowed, jaw clenched.

"And how would you know?" he shot back, and I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"You think you knew him better than I did, James? Seriously?"

"Nore, it was just a joke..."

"A joke ? Really?" I shouted, tears finally breaking free. "I can't deal with this, James. What's gotten into you? He's not to blame for what happened to Cliff!"

"I get it. Nore, just try to calm down," he said, coming closer and taking hold of my wrists, locking eyes with me. "Take a deep breath, okay?"

"James, this isn't fair," I choked out through sobs. "Can't you see? We've been falling apart since he left. You're angry, and you're bitter, and you're mean , and sometimes I don't even recognize you anymore, and I hate it! And I feel like nothing — I don't feel like me anymore without him. You don't need me like this."

"I do need you."

"I'm fucking broken, James."

"No, you're not!"

"I am !" I burst out, my voice cracking. "You deserve someone who won't lose it over every little thing like this, James. You deserve better than me. I'm not good for you anymore. I'm not good for anyone, for anything."

"So what's the fucking deal?" he asked, his voice shaky, desperate, his blue eyes brimming with pain. "You’re breaking up with me now?"

I didn't say anything, just locked eyes with him, feeling my heart twist painfully as I realized something had broken right then and there. I loved James, but how could I love anyone fully when my pain consumed me like this, leaving little space for anything else? How could I let myself be loved when his anger kept driving us further apart, drowning out our love in all the noise?

I let out a heavy sigh, my breath trembling, and released his hands from mine.

"I'm heading back home. I'll pack up and catch the next flight..." I mumbled.

"Nore, don't do this," James pleaded, reaching for my hands again, but I pulled away.

"I can't, James. I'm sorry. Just... Please, let me go," I sobbed, burying my face in my hands as I sank onto the bed.

Not too long ago, James would've never left me like this. He would've been there, comforting me, holding me tight and never letting go. But things weren't like they used to be, and the world didn't work the way it should anymore.

So, he just walked away, leaving me alone with my pain.

Over the next few years, James and I attempted to patch things up time and time again — but it was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. We just couldn't get back to where we were before. Eventually, we drifted apart and started seeing other people, searching for happiness in different eyes, different embraces, different kisses.

But it was useless.

The ache in my chest lingered, a constant reminder of the emptiness that echoed in both of us. And no matter how hard we tried to keep our distance, we always found our way back to each other. We never went back to using those labels — boyfriend, girlfriend — but we couldn't deny the pull between us. I always found myself drawn back to James, and he always found his way back to me.

Eventually, I got used to that kind of love, a mix of joy and sorrow that felt like the only steady thing in a crazy world, a way to bury my own unhappiness. Over the years, me and the guys stayed tight, because what other choice did we have? They were my family, and I was theirs.

I tried to tell myself that maybe I'd never feel that same spark of life again, but hey, at least I wasn't totally miserable. Even though I'd lost a lot and sadness seemed to follow me like a shadow, I still had some good things left — maybe with time, I could figure out how to move forward again. Maybe this was as good as it got.

I almost bought into it.

Until Dave found me.

February 18, 1992

In the end, it was him who found me.

After all the failed attempts, all the heartache, all the rage, all the emptiness I'd been carrying around for years without him, it all came crashing down in that moment when our eyes locked. Time seemed to stand still, his hand on my shoulder sending a jolt through my body, making my heart lose any sense of rhythm.

"Dave?" I whispered, and the sound of my own voice seemed to stir something in his eyes, an old and familiar pain, but also hunger, happiness, and ecstasy.

It was really him.

It was really, really him.

"Hey," he said, and the normalcy of his answer made me chuckle. He grinned at my laughter, that old, beautiful smile, and my heart seemed to melt into pure warmth and affection.

How could I have lived so long without him?

"Hey," I replied, a smile stubbornly appearing on my face. " What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Junior's dating that Music Now anchor; she hooked us up with some tickets. David, David Ellefson," he clarified, noticing my confusion. "I ended up calling him that. Can't have two Daves in the band, and I called dibs first, so..." He trailed off, a small grin playing on his lips that I couldn't help but mirror. "Wanna grab a table? You were getting some food, right? We can catch up for a bit..."

"Sure thing," I nodded eagerly. We snagged an empty table and settled in. I poked at my food, but my appetite took a backseat with him sitting across from me. Dave seemed both different and the same, all at once. He was still as good-looking as ever, with his ginger hair cascading over his shoulders, warm hazel eyes, and that familiar crooked smile that always got me.

"So, what brings you here?" he asked.

"Oh, I work here," I answered, grinning when he raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

"Really? What do you do?"

"I act. Just landed my first lead role in a TV series."

"So you ended up in the arts, huh?" he remarked. "I remember you were tossing around the idea of studying something like that back when... Well, back when we were a thing."

I blinked, feeling the flush rise to my cheeks. I was so thrilled to see him again that, for a moment, I almost forgot how our last encounter had been a train wreck for both of us. How the end of our relationship had left us both hurting and confused. How so many misunderstandings had ruined our love beyond repair.

"Dave," I began, my voice faltering with nerves. "I know it's been forever... But there's so much I want to say. So much I need to explain. I—" I trailed off as he reached for my hand, his grasp enveloping mine, so much larger and warmer, sending my heart racing.

"No worries," he answered, his voice gentle as he kept his gaze locked on mine. "We can talk. I reckon doing it here might be a bit tough, huh? How about we pick a day just for that?"

The idea of meeting up again brought a wave of relief to my face. He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I wondered if he too would be feeling the happiness that sang in my chest at that moment, like a little miracle had just unfolded before us. It was hard to find another word to describe it.

He’d found me.

After so many years, he’d found me.

We chatted away for the rest of the party, mostly about work stuff. Everything felt oddly familiar yet different at the same time, and we kind of danced around the real thing: all the emotions we'd been through during our time apart, the fights and secrets that tore us apart when we still cared about each other, and whether we still felt the same way. 'Cause, honestly, I could barely look at him without feeling my whole body fill with a wild happiness, feeling alive like I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

As the party wound down, we lingered by the entrance, chatting quietly while Charlie made the rounds saying her goodbyes. We seized the moment to swap phone numbers, sharing hopeful smiles and whispered words. The night air was chilly, sending shivers down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the cold.

"Feeling cold?" Dave asked, already slipping off his blazer and draping it over my shoulders before I could respond. I looked up at him, feeling my cheeks flush, and he grinned. "You can hang onto that. Gives us a good excuse to make sure we see each other again."

The ride home flew by in a blur; I hardly paid attention to Charlotte's excited chatter about the party. Instead, I clung to Dave's coat, feeling its warmth seep into me. His scent lingered in the fabric, intoxicatingly close, like it could drive me crazy.

I must’ve been dreaming, right?

It felt like I was living in a dream. Running into him after all these years, completely by chance, seemed too good to be true. For so long, I'd convinced myself that happiness and hope were out of reach. Turns out, I was dead wrong. I had no clue what the future held — no idea what would come of this unexpected reunion. But the chance to make things right, to clear up the misunderstandings of the past, even just a little bit, felt like a gift too good to pass up.

All I could do that surprising night was hope it wouldn't all vanish by morning. Hope his voice would be there when I called the next day, because I could hardly wait to see him again.

That night, I didn't have any nightmares.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope

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cgsf · 1 year ago

Text

Men's Hockey (RPF) fanfiction recs:

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"Sommeil" (M) by MJBadger | 1,622 | Jonny being weird about public bathrooms and lots of sleepiness.

"let it all unfurl" 🔒 (M) by poeelektra | 2,545 | "Brooklyn is not Bumfuck, Tazer. And, you know, irony noted, seeing as you're from Winnipeg." "Whatever," Jon says darkly, punching fists into his jacket pockets like there’s some satisfaction to be had in stressing the seams of their linings. He doesn't care where Brooklyn is—if it belongs to this city, he's already made up his mind about it. "You're paying for the cab ride. There and back." Sharpy just laughs like Jon has told a good joke. "Sure thing, Tazer."

"and it's over, and i'm goin' under" (E) by mockturtletale | 15,011 | And that’s the story of how Kaner finds himself slumping down to the floor against his best friend’s front door, shaking a little and half covered in goosebumps. Sporting a semi and fighting the urge to cry.

"kiss and tell" 🔒 (T) by sloom | 2,169 | “Trust me,” Sharpy says, “this will be good for you.” And then, he shoves Jonny into what appears to be a mostly empty coat closet and slams the door shut behind him. “What the fuck, Sharp!” Jonny calls, pounding at the door which is, of course, locked. “Enjoy your seven minutes in heaven, Tazer,” Sharpy singsongs. Then, the bare bulb mounted on the ceiling flares to life, illuminating one Patrick Kane. Fuck.

"i don't play hard to get (i play to get you hard)" 🔒 (E) by sloom | 4,666 | Jonny starts out in twink porn - of course he does, he’s nineteen, all big dark eyes and delicate features. He never planned on being a porn star, it just sort of happened. He got injured and lost his hockey scholarship and, well, everyone has their story about how they got into porn. Jonny needed the money. Simple as that.

"left standing in the wilderness downtown" 🔒 (M) by poeelektra | 4,051 | They’re friends, though that’s always felt like a watered-down word for what they are, teammates and halves of a whole and things that are too big for language. Jonny’s his person, is all.

"anxious like the ocean in a storm" 🔒 (M) by poeelektra | 4,169 | “Did you know Savvy and Larmer combined for 220 pts in ’87-’88? Last week I watched them pummel the North Stars, a 6-point night for Savvy, with a hat trick.” He leaves off how his eyes were glued to the screen watching the two of them, because Jonny has no poetry in his soul. It just made Patrick wonder—about their futures, if what everyone’s saying is true, what it’ll be like to go all the way like he thinks him and Jonny can do—and the wondering gave him goosebumps.

"Okay, So Now You're a Vegetarian" 🔒 (M) by anonymous | 33,854 | Patrick Kane secretly decides to go vegetarian. Jonathan Toews draws the wrong conclusions.

"Good Times Never Seemed So Good" (E) by juliusschmidt | 21,171 | Johnny is a miserable bastard. Kaner is a needy fuck. They are meant for each other and also for summer on Mackinac Island, fratbro paradise.

"Media Vita In Morte Sumus" 🔒 (T) by jezziejay | 2,556 | Life is standing on the observation deck of the surgical theatre when Death finds him. “Nobody called for the grim reaper,” Jon says without turning around. There’s a soft snicker from behind him. “I’m omnipresent, I don’t need to be called.”

"I Could Dream of Ways to See You, I Could Close My Eyes to Dream" (M) by Frosting50 | 2,686 | Jonny’s head falls back against the metal stall divider with a resounding thud. He keeps making these small punched out grunts, even as he bites his lips in an effort to keep quiet. He has zero desire to get caught by some homophobic Jets fan while he’s getting his dick sucked in the men’s room at the MTS Centre, but -- Jesus Christ -- this kid has a mouth on him.

"Go, Johnny, Go" (E) by juliusschmidt | 4,387 | Jonny gives Kaner a ticket. To the courthouse. Kaner gives Jonny a ticket. To the love shack hockey game.

"don't look up, down, or to the side" 🔒 (M) by hazel | 8,282 | His mom had told him not to fall in love with houses; so had his dad, made some crack about them being worse than women, son, while his mom fake-punched him in the arm and then added, "and like people, it's what's underneath that matters, Johnny." But this is the first house he's looked at that he's liked, though he doesn't know why: it's got narrow, pointy windows with stone pieces on the tops like eyebrows, and it sits between its larger, tidier, neighbours like a poor cousin. Johnny thinks it maybe just needs someone to love it; and then he thinks: fuck.

"Let It Be" (E) by juliusschmidt | 60,127 | There’s one person who knows more about Pat than Brisson, one person who’s closer to discovering Pat’s secrets than his mom, one person who always, always, calls bullshit on him: Jonathan Fucking Toews. And following the launch of the Sun-Times article, which runs with the unfortunate headline “Patrick Kane Admits He’s Not God,” Jonny does not disappoint.

"Power Balance" (E) by thisissirius | 13,476 | The body of the email just says, “don’t fuck seguin” because Jonny doesn’t know what capital letters are and he’s a controlling asshole even when he’s miles away, and attached to it is a spreadsheet that Patrick reluctantly opens. It’s color-coded with tabs and he’s not sure whether he wants to punch Jonny in the mouth or laugh in his face. Calling him in the middle of the airport is a really bad fucking idea and Patrick knows something about those, so he settles for sending Jonny a message. YOU SENT ME A JERK-OFF SCHEDULE FOR SWITZERLAND?!

"break me in" (E) by thundersquall | 5,386 | Today Patrick comes into the locker room, shrugs off his coat, and underneath he's wearing a fucking tight tee that clings to every dip and curve of his musculature. It looks fucking painted on, and the sight of it slams Jonathan like a puck to his face, stunning and somehow primal and just bordering on the edge of obscene, how good Patrick looks in that.

"the high road is hard to find" (M) by anonymous | 11,304 | Patrick guesses this is his “third strike, you’re out” in the Jonathan Toews friendship book and he doesn’t know how to remedy that. He doesn't think he deserves the chance, to be honest.

"you look so perfect" 🔒 (E) by tarcanza | 4,270 | His eyes land on Jonny, and his rage chokes in his throat. Dries right up and flips on a dime like a fucking chemical reaction. Jonny’s lying on his stomach in the middle of his bed, reading a book. He’s in nothing but those stupid, tiny black boxer-briefs, stretched tight over the swell of his ass. One side’s jacked, fabric pushed up so that his cheek’s just hanging out all casual, fucking taunting Patrick.

"easy does it" (E) by robokittens | 2,137 | Jonny tips his head forward, rests it against Patrick's shoulder. "You got this, baby," he whispers. "You can take this; you were made for it. Made for me." It doesn't even feel like dirty talk, just like the truth.

"The Scars That Words Have Carved" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | 15,694 | “Forgive me for asking, Peeks,” Sharpy says, slowly. “But did you just kiss our illustrious captain, here?” “Um.” Patrick’s not sure what this captain business is about, but: “Yes?” Jonny’s still staring at him like he’s grown four or five extra heads, and, okay. Patrick definitely read this wrong.

"Wide Eyes" (E) by Tedda | 44,832 | When he starts hooking up with Patrick, Jonny slowly begins to realize a few things about himself.

"a hot summer night" (E) by Tedda | 5,267 | Patrick arrives in Arizona on a hot summer night. He hasn't talked to Jonny in five years, and it would have felt weird to do it over the phone for the first time.

"Dress Well, Test Well" 🔒 (M) by Kerfluffle | 9,649 | A liberal arts college AU.

"Streets of Chicago" 🔒 (E) by TheNorthRemembers | 79,749 | Patrick is 29 years old when he finds out he is HIV positive. Patrick is 29 years old when he realizes that despite giving up everything for hockey, he still might lose it over one stupid mistake, one careless, reckless night.

"blue eyes, velvet lips" (E) by Tedda | 10,356 | Prince Jonathan finds a runaway slave. Clearly, the only solution is taking the boy home.

"Wide Eyes" (E) by Tedda | 44,832 | When he starts hooking up with Patrick, Jonny slowly begins to realize a few things about himself.

"It Must Be Something in the Water" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 40,228 | After five years away, living on the west coast, coming to terms with his sexuality, Patrick comes back to his coastal hometown to be with his family again and to start working at his dad's dealership, determined to get his life back on track, to leave behind all emotional messes and complications. But on the first morning of his return he meets Jonny, his sister's new boyfriend, and falls hard in lust with him, throwing an enormous wrench in his plan.

"Sleepless in Chicago" 🔒 (E) by sahiya | 4,894 | “Babe,” Jonny said, “how long has it been since you slept?” “Three nights,” Patrick said.

"Muscle Stim" 🔒 (E) by sahiya | 7,672 | The last thing Patrick needed was a stupid crush on the dude whose job it was to get him back out on the ice as quickly as possible.

"Didn't Know That Was a Thing" 🔒 (T) by AnythingThrice | 1,303 | Patrick notices it as he's searching the shelves in Jonny's bedroom for Madden 08: a weird glass sculpture, glossy black with bands of a trippy, swirling white pattern that seem to sit just under the surface. He figures it for a knickknack at first, some art piece his decorator suggested or—more likely—one of those locally-and-sustainably crafted souvenirs Jonny tends to bring back from his vacations.

"Not Something You Rub in (Just) Anyone's Face" 🔒 (E) by AnythingThrice | 6,736 | "Don’t wanna talk about it," Patrick cuts in, voice firmer now. As far as he's concerned they'd done all the necessary talking back in April. Offseason rules – offseason lives – set and followed and fucking done. World Cup over. Summer gone. Long past time to get back to the good stuff: friendly ice, Blackhawks hockey and being first star in Jonny's eyes.

"Shitshow" 🔒 (E) by AnythingThrice | 19,989 | Jonathan thought they'd outgrown this. Or no, if he's being honest with himself, he thought Pat had outgrown it while he'd merely shoved it aside, banished it to the realm of things it didn't help to dwell on.

"Fill Up Your Mouth with Something Sweet" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | 3,904 | The amazing thing, Jonny reflects after a couple of months with the Blackhawks, is how Patrick Kane manages to be such a good hockey player and yet so wrong about everything.

"the whole of him" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 2,258 | Patrick did nothing else for this moment but live with inconvenient erections since they talked about doing it, only showing up at Jonny’s door in sweats and a t-shirt and his morning-long semi he’d made sure to trap in the kind of tight underwear that would make Jonny proud. Well fine, Patrick also did some video research. Watching review tapes is important. But Jonny--fucking Jonathan Toews--he got ready for this.

"What It Means" 🔒 (T) by allthebros | 1,312 | They’ve never been like this with each other before. He doesn’t know if it’s the sun, being away from Chicago and their lives, or just them finally being able to have this, but it catches inside Jonny’s chest. Little swoops in his stomach that surprise him every time, make it hard to breathe.

"Tell the Stars I'm Coming Home" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 15k WIP | Jonny and Patrick have three weeks left to live. Three weeks to find their way back to each other.

"La Piscine" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 2,484 | Pat didn’t think it was possible, but if anything, Jonathan Toews has gotten hotter since Pat saw him last summer. It’s kind of a bummer that they don’t go to the same college, but Pat appreciates the surprise. He doesn’t know what’s in the water up there in Montreal, but God Bless Canada.

"S(t)ick" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 2,842 | “What’s gotten into you, man,” Jonny says, softly. The ‘you’ is on Patrick's lips before he can realize he’s thought it, hysterical laugh bubbling into his throat at the cheesiness of it, the disgusting idiocy, but instead he says, “it’s this heat, man, I can’t—” Think. Sleep. Fucking drink a beer like normal. Look at Jonny and see what he used to see.

"Shawty With You" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 6,764 | 5 times Pat and Jonny needed mistletoe to kiss, and one time they didn't.

"134 Days" 🔒 (E) by allthebros | 3,406 | It's been a long winter without him.

"Nothin' But Blue Skies" 🔒 (T) by allthebros | 2,708 | Perhaps the middle of Wisconsin wasn't the right place to tell Jonny.

"Sonoran" 🔒 (T) by allthebros | 2,177 | Somewhat newly retired, Patrick makes his way to Arizona where Jonny's ostensibly getting his own shit together. It's summer in the desert, and it's been too long since they've seen each other.

"Just to Break My Own Fall" 🔒 (M) by Linsky | 9,092 | Patrick used to play a game with himself, when he was younger and considerably dumber: see how close he could get to Jonny, for how long, and not do anything to give himself away.

"trouble when you walked in" (T) by tourdefierce | 2,253 | The only thing more confusing than Twitter is Patrick Kane. Thankfully, Pat keeps Jonny busy enough that the former doesn't even matter.

"farmer au" (E) by anonymous | 13,940 | “No offense, man, but who steals a bunch of corn? It’s not really in short supply around here?” “It’s or-gan-ic,” Jonny says, pointedly drawing out each syllable. Deputy Kane clearly doesn’t fucking get it. His corn is probably full of pesticides and fertilizers.

"Loosen Up My Buttons (Babe)" (E) by tourdefierce | 4,848 | Tazer is always pushing him to be better—little psycho that he is—so it doesn't surprise Pat when he finds himself looking at a too tense, wound up Jonny and saying to himself, "Someone needs to fuck that douchebag silly". And then obviously high-fiving himself because heyoh, that's totally his job.

"High and Tight" (E) by tourdefierce | 2,609 | Jonny Toews gets a hair cut.

"the quiet between us" 🔒 (M) by tarcanza | 13,852 | There are screams. Thousands of them. Thousands of people. Claps, chants, cheers of victory. It should be loud. But it’s not. Here with his face hidden in the curve of Kaner’s neck, it’s not. There’s only Kaner. And Jonny wrapped around him, never letting go.

"(All My Life I've Been) Burdened by the Dreams" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | 30,170 | Patrick has two goals for himself when he comes to Chicago: Win the Stanley Cup. And don’t let anyone find out he’s a wolf.

••••••

This list is ongoing.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fic recs #mens hockey rpf #patrick kane x jonathan toews #1988

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