#Second Chances

[incognitopolls]

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[wordvomit555]

I think that the most special thing about David Wymack is the fact that he not only gives people another chance, but also doesn't force them to do anything with it. There are so many characters out there who give a second chance and are disappointed if the person doesn't then raise to their full potential, but not Wymack. He will give you a chance and what you do with it is entirely up to you. And if you fuck up he will give you another one, and another one and not once will he make you feel guilty for fucking up again.

[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

[zephyra-in-the-house]

Chapter 1 Summary for Second Chances

(Art Credit: @elirastudio )

Several months after LBD's defeat, Macaque remains in Megapolis despite his better judgment. One afternoon while lounging in his submarine, he gets a visit from the Monkey King who has brought him food.

While unexpected, Macaque finds himself reminded of a time a hundred years ago when Wukong and him got into a fight only for Wukong to take him back to Flower Fruit Mountain to nurse him back to health.

In the present, Wukong makes an irresistible offer. A chance to train MK again. Macaque initially thinks it's a joke. When he realizes it isn't, he outright refuses the offer. Wukong chases after him and asks him to reconsider but Macaque still says no.

(End Summary)

My duuuudes look at the fuckin artwork!! Holy shit man I am so excited to share this project with you guys! As some of you may know, I have been working on chapter summaries for Second Chances for a little while now and, just a few weeks ago, Elira came and suggested we do a collab and I said absolutely!! And I am so glad I did because Elira's artwork is absolutely stunning~ I mean just look at that!

So, give all of your love and support to Elira and we shall have more for you guys in the future!

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The other woman

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, smau, fluff, comfort, second chance

An: The end :) I hope you all enjoyed! (click on the images to see them in their entirety)

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. | Part five.

tags: @tqd4455 @coffeeisbehindyou @moonchild701 @moony-looni @sokkasfavgroupie @elitesanjisimp @mrsjoequinn @shokosbunny @channnee @yuuuumii

@miscellaneous-misty @thirtykiwis @ghostswhoretbh @mostly-sunshine @pandabiene5115 @crocodilethesir @thejujvtsupost @starlightanyaaa @babyblue0t7 @chckn-pi @jenniferdixon05207 @v1x3n @ghost-buddies @ind1col1te @luvsymai @idiotgojo @san-it-is-i-guess

sorry if i missed anyone! i tried to get everyone who commented and requested!!

[artofalassa]

Since Rebirth's out and zines are long gone at this point, I figured I could make an actual post with this, instead of just dropping it in an ask answer. <3

Some of these I never posted outside of patreon, so there’s link to them! (mostly just jokes which aren’t that important to the story)

TIMELINE

YEAR - EVENT

0002 - September - The Visit

0006 - Day Off

The Succulent (ptrn)

0010 - The Ending of Advent Children

0011 - The Lost Friend

0012 - The Hidden Lab

The Report

The Coordinates

0013 - February - Zack found

The Reunion

The Letters

Beans

The Earring

Campfire

The Gardens

The Truth

The Showoff

Itchy (ptrn)

The Victory

The Gift

The Arguments

0013 - July - Rooftop 

Angry Spooning

The Delivery

To Do List (ptrn)

On the House 

Epilogue - The Dawn

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bankruptcy is very, very good

On THURSDAY (June 20) I'm live onstage in LOS ANGELES for a recording of the GO FACT YOURSELF podcast. On FRIDAY (June 21) I'm doing an ONLINE READING for the LOCUS AWARDS at 16hPT. On SATURDAY (June 22) I'll be in OAKLAND, CA for a panel and a keynote at the LOCUS AWARDS.

There's a truly comforting sociopathy snuggled inside capitalism ideology: if markets are systems for identifying and rewarding virtue, ability and value, then anyone who's failing in the system is actually unworthy, not unlucky; and that means the winners are not just lucky (and certainly not merely selfish), but actually the best and they owe nothing to their social inferiors apart from what their own charitable impulses dictate.

It's an economic wrapper around the old theological doctrine of providence, whereby God shows you whom he favors by giving them wealth and station, and marks out the wicked by miring them in poverty. And like the religious belief in providence, the capitalist belief in meritocracy is essential to resolving cognitive dissonance: it lets the fed winners feel morally justified in stepping over the starving losers.

The debate over merit and luck has been with us for millennia, and even the hereditary absolute monarchs of the Bronze Age had to find a way to resolve it. For the rulers of antiquity, the way to square that circle was jubilee.

Bronze Age jubilees were periodic celebrations in which all debts were canceled. Different kingdoms had different schedules for jubilees, but imagine some mix of "every x years" and "every time a new ruler takes the throne" and "every time something really portentous happens." To modern sensibilities, the idea that we would simply wipe away all debts every now and again is almost inconceivable. Why would any society practice jubilee? More importantly, how could a ruler get the wealthy creditor class to countenance a jubilee, rather than seeking a revolutionary overthrow?

The best answers to this question can be found in the scholarship of historian Michael Hudson, who has written extensively on the subject. Hudson doesn't just write for a scholarly audience, he's also a fantastic communicator with a real commitment to bringing his research to lay audiences:

https://michael-hudson.com/

Hudson's most famous saying is "debts that can't be paid, won't be paid." It's in this dense little nugget that we can find the answer the the riddle of jubilee:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#debt

Let's start with a simple model of debt and credit in an agricultural society. In agricultural societies, everything exists downstream of farming, which is the core activity of the civilization. If the farmers succeed, everyone can eat, and that means they can do all the other things, all the not-farming work of your society.

To farm successfully, you need credit. Farmers enter the growing season in need of inputs: seed, fertilizer, labor; they need still more labor during the harvest. Without some way to acquire these inputs before the farmer has a crop that can pay for them, there can be no crop.

No wonder, then, that the earliest "money" we have a record of is ancient Babylonian credit ledgers that record the debts of farmers who borrow against the next crop to pay for the materials and labor they'll need to grow it. Debt, not barter, is the true origin of money. The fairy tale that coin money arose spontaneously to help bartering marketgoers facilitate trade has no historical evidence, while Babylonian ledgers can be seen in person in museums all over the world.

Farming requires an enormous amount of skill, but even the most skillful farmer is a prisoner of luck. No matter how good you are at farming, no matter how hard you work, no matter how carefully you plan, you can still lose a harvest to blight, drought, storms or vermin.

So over time, every farmer loses a crop. When that happens, the farmer can't pay off their debts and must roll them over and pay them off with future harvests. That means that over time, the share of each harvest the farmer has claim to goes down. Thanks to compounding interest, no bumper crop can erase the debts of the bad harvests.

That means that, over time, "farmer" becomes a synonym for "debtor." Farmers' productive output is increasingly claimed by the rich and powerful. No matter how badly everyone needs food, the whims of the hereditary creditor class come to dictate the country's agricultural priorities. More ornamental flowers for the tables of the wealthy, fewer staple crops for the masses. "Creditor" and "debtor" no longer describe economic relations – they become hereditary castes.

That's where jubilee comes in. Without some way to interrupt this cycle of spiraling debt, society becomes so destabilized that the system collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

In other words: debts that can't be paid, won't be paid. Either you wipe away the farmers' debts to the creditor class, or your society collapses, and with it, the political relations that made those debts payable.

Jubilee is long gone, but that doesn't mean that debts that can't be paid will get paid. Modern society has filled the jubilee gap with bankruptcy, a legal process for shriving a debtor of their debts.

Bankruptcy takes many forms. The most important split in bankruptcy types is between elite bankruptcy and the bankruptcy of the common person. The limited liability company was created to allow people with money to pool their funds to back corporations without being responsible for their debts. This "capital formation" is considered "efficient" by economists because it creates the backing for big, ambitious projects, from colonizing and extracting the wealth of distant lands (Hudson's Bay Company) to spinning up global manufacturing supply chains (Apple).

Limited liability means that companies can take on debt without exposing their investors to risks beyond their capital stake. If you buy $1,000 worth of Apple stock, that's all you stand to lose if Apple makes bad decisions. Apple may rack up billions in liabilities – say, by abusing its subcontractor workforce – but Apple's owners aren't on the hook for it.

Economists like this because it means that you can invest in Apple without having to be privy to its daily management decisions, which means that Apple can accumulate huge pools of capital, "lever them up" by borrowing even more, and then put all that money to work on R&D, product development, marketing, and, of course, "incentives" for key employees and managers.

But limited liability also does a lot of work in the political sphere. Once an individual crosses a certain wealth threshold, they become an LLC. Accountants and wealth managers and financial planners insist on this. For freelancers and other sole practitioners, the benefits of forming an LLC are modest – a few more tax write-offs and the ability to get a business credit-card with slightly superior perks.

But for the truly wealthy, transforming yourself into the "natural person" at the center of a vast pool of LLCs is essential because it allows you to accumulate and shed debts. You can secretly own rental properties and abuse your tenants, accumulate vast liabilities as local authorities pile fine upon fine, and then simply dispose of the LLC and its debts. Plan this gambit carefully enough and the debtor LLC will have no assets in its bankruptcy estate apart from the crumbling apartment building, and its most senior secured creditor will be another of your LLCs. This lets the slumlord move an apartment block from one pocket to another, leaving the debt behind.

For the corporate person, shedding debts through bankruptcy is an honorable practice. Far from being a source of shame, the well-timed, well-structured bankruptcy is just evidence of financial acumen. Think of the private equity looters who buy a company by borrowing against it, pay themselves a huge "special dividend," then wipe away the debt by taking the company bankrupt (which also lets them shed obligations to suppliers, workers, and especially, retirees and their pensions). As Trump (a serial bankrupt who has stiffed legions of contractors and creditors) would say, "That makes me smart."

The apotheosis of elite bankruptcy is found in massive corporate bankruptcies, in which a corporation kills and maims huge numbers of people, then maneuvers to get its case heard in one of three US federal courtrooms where specialist judges rubber-stamp "involuntary third-party releases" that wipe out the company's obligations to it victims for pennies on the dollar, while the company gets to keep billions:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#morally-bankrupt

This process was so flagrantly abused by companies like Johnson & Johnson (which spent years knowingly advising women to dust their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talc, creating an epidemic of grotesque and lethal genital cancers) that it is finally generating some scrutiny and pushback:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

But the precarious state of elite bankruptcies has more to do with the personal corruption of the small cabal of judges who run the system than public outrage over their rulings; like that one judge in Texas who was secretly fucking the lawyer whose clients he was also handing hundreds of millions of dollars to:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

Certainly, we don't hear much about the "moral hazard" of allowing the Sackler opioid family to keep as much as ten billion dollars in the family's offshore accounts while walking away from the victims of their drug-pushing empire, no matter what bizarre tricks they deploy in pulling off the stunt:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

But when it comes to canceling the debts of normal people, the "moral hazard" is front and center. If you're a person who borrowed $79k in student loans, paid back $190k and still owe $236k, we can't cancel your debt, because of the message that would send to other people who want to (checks notes) get an education:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

The anti-jubilee side also wants us to think of the poor creditors: who would loan money to the next generation of students if student debt cancellation was a possibility? Of course, these are federally guaranteed loans, risk-free, free money for people who already have money, a kind of UBI for the people who need it least. The idea that this credit pool would dry up if you were limited to only collecting the debts that can be paid – rather than insisting that debts that can't be paid still be paid – elevates the hereditary creditor class to a kind of fragile, easily frightened, endangered species.

But the most powerful arguments against bankruptcy are rooted in the idea of providence. In an efficient market, anyone who goes bankrupt was necessarily reckless. They were entrusted with credit they weren't entitled to, because they lacked the intrinsic merit that would let them manage that credit wisely. Letting them walk away from their debts means that they will never learn from their mistakes, and that their fellow born-to-be-poors will learn the wrong thing from those debts: that there's an easy life in borrowing, spending, and discharging your debts in bankruptcy.

As it happens, this is an empirically testable proposition. If this view of personal bankruptcy as a personal failure is correct, then people who go bankrupt and live to borrow again should end up bankrupt again, too. On the other hand, if we accept the jubilee view – that debt is the result of accumulated misfortunes, often including the misfortune of birth into poor station – then bankruptcy represents a second chance with an opportunity to dodge misfortune.

In a new study from IZA Institute of Labor Economics's Gustaf Bruze, Alexander Kjær Hilsløv and Jonas Maibom, we get just such an empirical analysis. It's called "The Long-Run Effects of Individual Debt Relief," and it examines the lives of people for a full quarter-century after a bankruptcy:

https://docs.iza.org/dp17047.pdf

The study follows Danish bankruptcies following the introduction of continental Europe's first modern bankruptcy system, which Denmark instituted in 1984. Prior to that, the Danes – like most of Europe – did not allow for a discharge of personal debt through bankruptcy. Instead, a debtor who went bankrupt would be expected to have about 20% of their lifetime wages garnished to pay back their creditors, until the debts were repaid or they died (whichever came first).

After 1984, Denmark bankruptcy system imported features of US/UK/Commonwealth bankruptcy, including the ability to restructure and discharge your debts. Not everyone is eligible for this kind of bankruptcy: there's a bureaucratic system that verifies that people seeking bankruptcy discharge don't have a lot of assets that could go to their creditors.

But for the (un)lucky people who qualify for bankruptcy discharges, there's a fascinating natural experiment in which the fortunes of people who see debt relief can be compared to bankrupt people who couldn't get their debts wiped out.

It turns out that the Bronze Age has a thing or two to teach us. Here's the headline finding: people who discharge their debts in bankruptcy experience "a large increase in earned income, employment, assets, real estate, secured debt, home ownership, and wealth that persists for more than 25 years after a court ruling."

After people are given the benefits of bankruptcy, they are less likely to rely on public benefits. They get better jobs. Their families live better lives. Their creditors get some of their money back (which is all they can realistically expect, since "debts that can't be paid, won't be paid").

As Jason Kilborn writes for Credit Slips, "the benefits of debt relief are not only substantial but robust, as debtors learn their lesson (if there was one to learn) about managing their finances, and they capitalize (literally) on their fresh start."

Score one for the luck-based theory of wealth, and minus one for the providential meritocracy hypothesis.

Americans should take note of these findings. After all, Danes are insulated from the leading American cause of bankruptcy: medical debts. In America, breaking a bone or getting cancer or even kidney stone can wipe out a lifetime of hard work, careful planning and prudential spending. The US refuses to seriously grapple with this problem. The best we can come up with is the (welcome, but tiny) step of banning credit bureaux from trashing your credit score because of your medical debt:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/06/11/fact-sheet-vice-president-harris-announces-proposal-to-prohibit-medical-bills-from-being-included-on-credit-reports-and-calls-on-states-and-localities-to-take-further-actions-to-reduce-medical-debt/

Millennia ago, everyone understood that debts that can't be paid, won't be paid, and they created a system for discharging debts and freeing productive people from the tyranny of accumulated liabilities, to the benefit of all. Dismantling that system required us to invent an elaborate theological system and dress it up in economic language.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/17/lovilee-jubilee/#debts-that-cant-be-paid-wont-be-paid

[haverdoodles]

never again. i won't lose another

— (aymeric & meke'li)

.

heavensward man

[sweettofuki]

"Every relationship is different, but ours was my favourite" | part two

pairing: hoshina x emotionally reserved reader genre: second chance, angst -> fluff, a little smut summary: Hoshina finds ways to rekindle your love for him warning: minors do not interact, slight cursing mentions: @swivi @kaoiyeva @sleepymeix @lillycore thank you for your support!! I hope you enjoy this continuation!! a/n: part two! part one here

wc: 3.1k

“I’m home,” you heard the door to your shared apartment clicked open.

You walked over to greet your boyfriend, Hoshina, at the front door, who came home late again.

“Hey baby, how was your work today?” you asked

“It was okay. I’m so tired though,” he replied.

You helped him with his bag and got him settled down.

“Do you want me to warm up your dinner? I made your favorite, katsu curry!” you beamed.

He took a sharp inhale. “Actually, my coworkers and I went out for dinner after work. I’m so sorry, dear.”

You sighed, disappointed, before turning your heel to heat up your portion.

“It’s fine, I can keep yours for lunch tomorrow,” you mumbled.

“When’s your next off day?”

“Wednesday.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m off that day too! Do you want to do something together? I was thinking of going to that new cafe that just opened—”

You started rambling about plans for your shared day off, but he seemed uninterested. He just wanted some peace and quiet when he got home. He clicked his teeth against his tongue.

“Actually, is it okay if we stay in? I’m just exhausted from being out every day.”

“… You always do this”

“Do what?”

“You always find excuses not to spend time with me. ‘Captain Ashiro needs me to finish this paperwork.’ ‘Officer Hibino is causing trouble again.’ ‘There’s a new weapon that needs testing.’ When is it gonna be ‘Sorry, I can’t, I have plans with my girlfriend?’’ you huffed.

“You neglect me all the time Soshiro. When are you finally gonna make time for me?” you yelled, frustration boiling over.

“Why are you getting mad at me? We can still spend time if we stay in. I just don’t want to be around people on my off days.”

“But we never go out anymore! Do you even remember the last time we went out?”

“Maybe. I’d be more willing to spend time with you if you didn’t spend every single minute of our time together nagging me,” he snarled.

“well, I’m SORRY for wanting to spend time with my boyfriend. Shoot me!” your voice raising a volume higher, hands balling into fists.

It wasn’t usual for you to raise your voice at him.

His eyes widened before his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fuck y/n. Can you just shut up for a moment?? I don’t have time to deal with this. I have responsibilities y/n. You can’t expect me to just drop everything because you’re clingy.” he snapped.

A veil of silence fell over you. A sharp pang hit your heart, discomfort spreading across your chest.

“You…you think I’m clingy?” you whispered.

His words resonated repeatedly in your head. You looked down, not even wanting to hear his answer. Slowly, hurt morphed into anger. You felt something inside you snap.

“How the fuck do you think I’m clingy? I barely see you. We live together, and I only see you once a week. And even if we do see each other, you look irritated just talking to me, like it was a chore. You're always late coming home or to our dates—”

“Don’t you think I’m always out late because I don’t want to deal with you!? You’re always breathing down on my neck, suffocating me. I have a duty to serve, y/n.”

You let out a sharp gasp, pain etched across his face as he immediately regretted his choice of words.

But it was too late; he knew there was no taking them back. His words would be forever engraved in your mind.

“Fuck you and your fucking duties. Did you forget that I’m also working the same job as you? You don’t see me giving you excuses just because I’m exhausted. You know what? I’m done.”

Then you turned on your heels and stomped towards your shared room.

Hoshina leaned against the counter, breathing out a deep sigh. Then he heard the sounds of something zipping open, closet doors being thrown open, and frantic rustling.

Suddenly, the drop in temperature was the least of his worries. Panic overtook his exhaustion.

“Y/n, dear? What are you doing?” he shouted down the walkway.

You didn’t answer him .

Until he figured it out himself, reluctantly. He watched as you emerged, dressed and lugging a large suitcase behind you.

“w-where are you going at this hour?”

A stupid question he knew the answer to.

“y/n, please wait. Talk to me, baby—.” he pleaded but got cut off by your cold tone, something he had grown to hate.

“I think we’ve talked enough, Hoshina.” you hissed.

He never knew he could hate the sound of his own family name.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his dry throat. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to tell you that what he said wasn’t true, and apologize endlessly.

He wanted to tell you that he loves you, that when he comes home after a long day and holds you in his arms, he likes the feeling of your warmth and comfort. He adored your bright, contagious smile and your endless patience and love for him.

It wasn’t his first relationship, but he would be damned if you were his last.

Yet, his feet stayed rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

The moment he saw you take your keys, he knew there was no way of turning back time.

He watched your figure disappear behind the closed door, leaving him to stand alone in their empty apartment.

Well, he finally got what he wanted.

You repeated the line in your head, trying to reassure yourself that what you did was the right choice. With you gone, he could focus on his career without anyone holding him back.

But damn, does it hurt.

Hot heavy tears streamed down your face as you drove towards headquarters, where you had a spare private room.

You managed to hold in your tears until you left, refusing to let him see you at your weakest.

You felt like a dam, that broke down from holding in too much pressure for too long. The pain jabbed at your chest, obstructing your airways, making it hard to breathe—

You gasped awake.

Sitting up in bed, you clutched your chest, breathing heavily.

Calm down. Calm down. It was just a dream.

You sank back down into your bed, back in your dorm, your eyes still brimming with unshed tears. Hugging yourself, you sought comfort and fell asleep in your own embrace.

[…]

The next morning, you carried your duties on as usual. In your Captain’s office, you reported on recent improvements among your officers. Then, you discussed upcoming drills and training plans with your Vice Captain.

“Focus up Officer Izumi. You’re doing well,” you called out.

You nodded in approval as Officer Izumi swiftly took aim at the furthest target.

You have been monitoring your platoon’s progress during the drills, and recently, you’ve noticed Officer Izumi had climbed up to one of the top few spots in your squad.

“Hey, Platoon Leader L/N, did you see that shot? Pretty impressive right?” he said, standing a bit too close to your comfort.

“Yeah, good job officer,” you replied nonchalantly, not bothering to meet his gaze.

Lately, you couldn't shake the feeling that Officer Izumi has taken a liking to you. He always finds ways to strike up conversations with you and sometimes he would ‘accidentally’ brush his arm against yours. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the squad, resulting in him being teased constantly behind your back.

Yet, you can’t deny feeling a hint of flattery from receiving said attention. It had been a while since anyone had paid you this much attention since your breakup.

Thank god my dry pussy spell has lifted.

As you walked down the hallway, you heard your name being called out from behind you.

“Platoon commander L/N! Wait up!”

You turned to see Officer Izumi jogging towards you.

“Do you need something, Officer Izumi—”

“I know this is sudden but…I think you’re pretty and I’d like to get to know you better. Will you go out with me?”

Stunned, you’re not sure how to respond to something like that. For a split second, it brought back memories of the last time someone confessed to you—by a vice-captain.

“Officer Izumi, I’m flattered and I appreciate your interest, but I’m sorry. I can’t accept your confession. It crosses professional boundaries.”

He moved closer, you instinctively stepped back, feeling your back hit the wall.

“Why don’t you take some time to consider it? I can wait. Maybe one week or two—”

“She said no, dumbass. Learn to take no as an answer.”

Izumi froze. You turned to see the figure standing behind Izumi. As if just thinking about him made him materialize into thin air.

“What are you doing here, Vice-Captain Hoshina?” you asked

Your division and Hoshina’s share the same headquarters, so it’s not that odd to run into each other. What’s odd, though, is the sheer frequency of running into him, despite the base being HUGE.

Hoshina grabbed the officer by his jacket, effortlessly pulling him back despite Izumi's towering height. Even though Officer Izumi was a head taller than him, it did not seem to affect the vice-captain. However, the mere presence of the Vice-captain and his menacing grin seemed to have affected Izumi.

His grin bore nothing of its usual friendliness.

He smiled at you as he sent Officer Izumi away, flashing his canines. His menacing grin quickly shifted to a gentler smile upon facing you. You can’t deny that his smile didn’t stir up old butterflies in your stomach.

“I leave you alone for one minute and some poor bastard is already chasing after you, with additional borderline sexual harassment.”

“Why would he be a poor bastard? You don’t believe that I’m capable of dating Officer Izumi or anyone else for that matter?” you retorted

You saw a slight twitch in his eyebrows when you mentioned Officer Izumi.

He backed you against the cold, dry wall once more, slamming his hand beside your head with his thumb brushing against your ear. You felt a flame ignited at where his thumb is touching your earlobe, warmth radiating. His body hunched forward, completely caging you in.

“I know you, Doll. You wouldn’t settle for someone like him” he whispered, his intense gaze locking with yours in the close distance, his pupils dilated.

You blushed, immediately looking away and taking a deep breath.

You heard him stifle a laugh, feeling victorious from gaining a reaction from you.

“I don’t think exes normally care about this kind of stuff, Hoshina,” you teased “Like I said before, you don’t know me.”

“Hm, we’ll see about that, L/N,” he replied.

[…]

You were heading to your dorm when you passed by the training room. Light illuminating from an opening in the door.

“Seriously? They never remember to turn off the lights,” you mumbled to yourself

As you entered and made your way toward the light switches, you were about to flip the switches when your attention was drawn to the sparring dummy standing in the middle of the room.

Memories flooded back as you recalled the time when you were training alone, when Hoshina walked in, and you’d asked for his help.

“Baby, you’re not punching hard enough.”

“I don’t want to hurt you Soshiro,” you whined.

“How many times do I have to tell you, dear? I can take a hit! I won’t get hurt that easily, ya know?” he smirked

“Alright, you asked for it, love.”

Stepping back, you closed your eyes to clear your mind, then launched an attack on Hoshina.

Your right arm swung with full force, but he swiftly caught your fist and pulled you close. His arms wrapped around your waist, and with a swift move, he tripped one of your legs, sending you falling backward. In an instant, you went from aiming at his face to gazing up at him against the bright ceiling. His smirking face hovered just inches from yours.

Then his lips closed the distance.

You let out a small squeak at the surprise kiss.

Even after he pulled away, you still felt the softness of his lips lingering on yours.

You wet your lips.

His hungry, crimson eyes glanced down at your mouth.

He breathed out a deep sigh.

“Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”

“Not that I remember.”

In that moment, he fell harder in love by how your lovely lips curled up into a smirk, replicating the one he perfected.

You felt the hands around your waist and the back of your thigh grip harder, his fingers digging into your skin. His breathing grew heavier than before.

“Well, I’m telling you now sweetheart.” He whispered against your lips “You take my breath away.”

This time, he pressed into the kiss harder. He nibbled on your bottom lip, seeking entry with his tongue.

You let out a sharp gasp, which was immediately swallowed into his mouth, feeling something hard pressed against your crotch.

Trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his warm lips gently nibble at your most sensitive spots.

“Babe not here. People might walk by and see us,” you panicked, whispering in a high pitch.

“Let them watch,” he muttered lowly into your skin.

You palmed hard at his hard-on through his pants. He let out a deep groan.

“Are you suggesting we find somewhere more private? Use your words, you naughty girl,” he added, chuckling lowly.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

You were deep in thought when a familiar voice interrupted you.

“Oops, my bad Y/N! I forgot to switch off the lights again," Hoshina said, lightheartedly.

You couldn’t remember when he started going back to first name basis with you again.

You turned and narrowed your eyes at him.

With him, nothing is ever a mistake.

“Oh? What had you so preoccupied that you forgot something so trivial?”

You noticed irritation flicker across his face. You mentally cheered for getting under his skin

“It was an honest mistake, y/n. Surely you've made mistakes in your life too.”

You paused halfway through switching off the lights.

Meeting his gaze, in a hard tone, you replied, "No, I haven't." If your words had made any impact on him, he made sure not to show it, his expression remained neutral as ever.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I suppose I have my moments of absentmindedness.”

You stared aimlessly at the wall ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him, tension thickening the air between you. Finally, he asked, “Did you remember? That night when the kaiju attacked and you exhausted yourself to the point that you blacked out.”

“what about it?” you replied, your voice hinting with intrigue.

There was a brief pause before he continued, his words carefully chosen.

“ When I saw the medics carrying your lifeless body on a stretcher, I felt like my heart dropped. I waited for you to wake up. I was there first thing in the morning and stayed by your side until you regained consciousness. I brought you flowers, hydrangea, your favorite, hoping that the scent will wake you up."

You remembered. The flowers. The empty chair.

Your hand reached out to brush against the beautiful, delicate petals. You ponder to yourself who could have left such a thoughtful gift. Fresh hydrangeas! Coincidentally, your favourite. What you didn’t notice was the pair of footsteps receding after one last glance.

“Thank god you woke up only after two days. If you had died before I could atone my mistakes, I would never forgive myself for watching you take your last breath.” He choked out the last few words, the pain evident in his voice as he imagined the worst. "It made me realised how much I still love you."

He fought back the tears that were pushing against the water gates.

You have never seen him this vulnerable before. A sharp pain throbbed in your chest at the sight of his unshed tears.

“Did you know how I noticed you hadn’t been leaving your office? Because I’ve been passing by your office every day since you left, hoping to see just a glimpse of your face. To know that you’re doing alright. After a week with no signs of you, I started to wait until you fell asleep on your desk before I dared to enter.”

He vividly remembered the moment he quietly stepped into your office, praying that you were too busy or asleep to notice. There you were, sleeping peacefully with your arms cradling your head. He cracked the door open wider, stepping closer to the front of your desk. Taking a peek at your sleeping face, he noticed your deep sunken eyes, the purple hue under your eye, and the discoloration on your cheeks. Almost as if life had drained from you. He gently tucked a strand of loose hair strand behind your ear.

Despite being overworked, and looking like you hadn’t slept in days, he couldn’t help but admire how angelic you looked at that moment. Then he noticed your petite hands trembling from the chill. He looked around the room, his eyes fell on the thick quilt on your couch. With a sigh, he retrieved it, carefully draping it around your shoulders and tucking it in, making sure no amount of warmth could seep out.

You stood frozen in place, staring at him, unsure what to make of his sudden confession. His heartfelt words clashed with your memories, particularly of your last argument with him. You clench your fists involuntarily.

“I don’t know….I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that again, Soshiro!” you cried. “When I left our apartment, I was nothing but my aching soul. It felt exhausting being in that relationship,” You started crying in hysteria, tears pooled in your eyes before they streaked down your cheeks. It was the first time you had really cried in weeks since the breakup. It felt good.

Without another word, you let him slowly embrace you, tightly, as though gathering your broken pieces.

Then you felt something wet hit your head, followed by another. Looking up, you saw tears flowing down his face.

“Please…give me another chance. We don’t have to start off strong right away. We can start at whatever pace that feels comfortable for you! I know I’m the last person who deserves your love right now, but when you left, I never realized how big our apartment was. I finally understood how you must have felt each time I left you alone. I promise you, if you take me back, I’ll never make you feel something like that again.” he begged.

With a shaky breath, you gripped his shirt close as you cried, whiffing in his familiar scent. “Okay, Soshiro,” you said. “Let’s give it one more try.”

“Really?!” he exclaimed, pulling you back to search your face. He held you tighter. “Thank you, baby! Thank you!” His words muffled against your hair.

Both of you stood there engulfed in the soft glow of the dim lights, reunited at last, each feeling as if a missing piece of the other had finally been rediscovered.

[luvgam3]

Summery: The space from one another used to feel completely normal. But now it’s a month after you found yourself wrapped up in his arms once more, and everything feels out of place. The scent of you has faded from his pillow and your days feel like one endless cycle. But you can both still co-parent like you used to… right?

cw: afab!reader, angst + fluff, second chances, daughter calls reader “mama”, sigh the boyfriend was 100% Toji…

The long awaited part 2 to the Ex-Husband Nanami fic! I was so excited to post that fic I’m so glad you guys liked it as much as I did. Warning! I did originally start writing this in October so the autumn themes are heavy but not entirely specific- now let’s go those guys back together >:)

A lot has happened these past couple of months. You dove a little deeper into the dating pool, it bit you in the ass more than once; your daughter started preschool, that was a kick in the heart— and oh yeah! You slept with your ex husband…

That wasn’t apart of the plan, not even in the slightest. But it also wasn’t something you regret…

The morning after, you woke up with his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your ear pressed against his chest, the beating of his heart made your tired eyes droop again as you nuzzled farther into his warmth, a content hum bubbling up your throat as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead before sleep claimed you once more.

The thick smell of coffee and bacon invades your dreams as you stir. Stretching your arms above your head you listen to your body pop back into place before sitting up in a bed that isn’t yours. Clothes… you throw back the covers only for the cold to nip at your skin. On the foot of the bed are fresh clothes— his of course— folded neatly waiting for you. With chattering teeth you quickly dress in borrowed the clothes.

“Mama!” Little hands wrap around your leg, one shoots up in a quick grabby motion before she’s nestled tight in your arms. Your little one clings fiercely to you, shrill squeals worm their way into your heart as you pepper her tiny face in a million kisses. “Good morning baby!” You coo, voice light as you bounce her on your hip. “Did Mama surprise you?” You ask. She chirps in your arms and nods, the corners of her mouth sticky with jam. With a sleepy hum you wipe the grime away with your thumb after sitting at the table.

Nanami places a steaming mug of coffee infront of you, quickly scooping up your giggly daughter before you can protest. You lean back in your seat, the wood creaking with the motion as you watch them. She has his golden hair, it’s pulled back into two neat braids, little blue ribbons faceting them in place. Even after the divorce your stomach filled with butterflies as you watched him handle her so gently, pure joy etched onto his face no matter the time of day. But that was normal, right? He’s the father of your child, the thing that binds you even more together.

He feeds her a piece of egg before piling the rest onto a plate with bacon and toast, spinning on his heels wordlessly and sliding the steaming plate in front of you. A crooked grin graces his lips as he sits across from you, your little family all together. Rested and eating and happy.

It all felt so normal, like nothing had changed besides the weather and time and the clothes you wore. But things did change.

You left his house that afternoon in the dress you arrived in, your phone pressed to your ear as you listened to your (ex) boyfriend plead for your forgiveness. If that night had gone differently that anger would still be bubbling at the surface, but you were happy and forgiving then— even as you heard that man whine into the receiver like an overgrown child.

You pushed away that pitiful feeling of regret every time you called Nanami after. “Could you watch her tonight? Only for a couple of hours?” The answer was always a happy yes, and yet it always felt like you were kicking him over and over again. Hurting him in a way only you could. But he was just happy to hear your beautiful voice, to hear you had plans even if they didn’t involve him. Your world shouldn’t revolve around Nanami, your life was yours to live however you saw fit.

Did his heart ache when he heard his voice bleed through the background as you called to check in some nights? Yes. Did he spend every night cuddled up with the pillow that smelt like you until it eventually faded away again? Yes. Did he purposefully leave small things of his at your house after dinner nights in hopes your boyfriend would find them? Yes… but that means nothing.

It was all such a rotted twisted feeling that never seemed to go away for either of you, even as the leaves changed from green to red and the air felt crisper and the sun set earlier— that feeling lingered.

It lingers now, you sit on your couch with your legs tucked under you as you type and delete a text to Nanami. It should be simple— fuck— it used to be simple. But now it’s just,

Type, type, type, delete, delete,delete, type type type—

Sent, sent, sent—

You throw your phone onto the cushion next to you with an exasperated sigh. Tomorrow is Saturday, it’s a lazy day where you’d usually sleep in and the night before fills you with such joy. But you’re digging the balls of your palms into your eyes and groaning. It’s like you can feel the tension in your shoulders worsen as the days drag by.

Work, doctor’s appointments, calls from the preschool, ‘hey girly-‘ texts from your now ex boyfriend’s secret girlfriend. It all weighed on you now as you sank farther into the plush cushions, hugging a pillow to your chest with a groan as the smell of your leftover takeout food hung heavy in the air. The now cold contents sat infront of you as you waited in silence— it was that sharp ping that made you bold right up.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

Autumn air fills your lungs as you stand in the morning sun, drinking in the way the chill reddens your cheeks and prickles your scalp.

Nanami pulls into your driveway— as punctual as always. You hear the excited pitter patter of your daughter hopping from one foot to the other as she watches him get out of the car, his arms held wide for her as she runs to him.

“Oof—“ you hear the muffled impact of her ramming into him with all of her strength, her shrill giggles carried by the chilly breeze as he pick her up, bouncing her on his hip. Nanami smooths her hair with the back of his hand as you make your way after them.

“You look beautiful today, sunshine.” He coos, readjusting her sweater to ensure she’s safe and warm. “Thank you, Daddy!” She chirps, her words so adorably jumbled, her ‘thank you’ coming out as a confident ‘tank yoo’ that warms your heart a million times over.

When she’s secure in the backseat Nanami finally allows himself to slip into the drivers seat. He runs a hand through his neatly combed hair, readjusts his beige scarf and grips the steering wheel before turning his gaze to finally meet yours. You look at him with a sweet grin, that look in your eyes tells him you have something. Is it a gift? Is it trouble? He hums before asking, “what?”

Your eyes dart to the cup holder, then to his face, and then to the cup holder and then to him—

He follows your bouncing eyes and they land on a blue travel mug, a small tendril of steam swirling its way out and into the car. “I brought you some coffee.” You say as you wiggle awkwardly in your seat.

Bringing him coffee used to be such a normal thing, but now it felt odd. It made your palms sweaty and your ears burn as you watched him eye the cup. A small smile ghosting his lips as he reaches for it, smelling it quickly before taking a sip, a hum of gratitude rumbles in his throat. It’s bitter and perfectly hot, it’s the same as all of the other coffees you’ve made him and yet he finds himself loving this moment alone.

“Thank you.” He says, he smiles freely now as he sets it down, quickly putting the car in reverse and avoiding your watchful gaze.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“Be carful!” You yell after your daughter, her little legs carrying her farther and farther down the green and orange patch as you quickly walk after her, Nanami on your heels. “Jesus—“ you sprint now, quickly scooping her into your arms, she white knuckles a dead leaf in one hand and a twig in the other as you pant. Spinning on your heels you catch sight of Nanami trailing after you with a perfectly round pumpkin in his grasp.

He takes in your disheveled state, your hair slightly frizzy, your daughter babbling in your arms, your already tired and flushed cheeks as a gentle smile twitches on your lips— he turns around, waving his hand back at your before breaking into a sprint.

What a freak… you look down at the little girl in your arms, exchanging a wild look of confusion, “your daddy is…” you look up to watch him flag down a worker as he slows his pace, “an odd man.” The tips of your ears heat as you watch Nanami march back with a little red wheelbarrow covered in hay.

You place her down, she immediately drops her previous findings to play with the dried hay under her. “Aren’t you smart.” You say. He rolls his shoulders, burrying a look pride that threats to rear its head.

“I just thought it would be more efficient.” He adjusts his scarf again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. He fidgets as you chuckle.

You don’t remember when you wondered off but you find yourself crouched down next to a lumpy pumpkin, running your fingers over the wart speckled skin. With gentle hands you scope it up, a warmth fills your chest as you turn to look for Nanami.

You hear it before you you see it— see them.

A woman presses her dainty hand on his shoulder, her lips curled into a pearly smile as she giggles at whatever he’s said while he cradles your daughter in his arms, a little pumpkin in her chubby grasp.

That beautiful warm feeling in the pit of your stomach turns sour. You swallow it down, biting back the nausea as you place your pumpkin in the wheelbarrow. “I’ll take her so you can talk.” You say, your lips pulled into a sickeningly fake smile as you hold out your now empty hands. You meet the woman’s gaze, her smile faltering as you quietly coo “come to mama!” as Nanami hands her off. You don’t stay long enough for him to introduce you, but then again how would he introduce you? You aren’t dating after all, not even married anymore. So why do you even care?

Nanami watches you leave, watches as you bounce your little girl on your hip as you step over vines and disappear into the patch. What was that about?

He pushes his glasses on top of his head as he leans down and grasps the handle to the wheelbarrow “It was nice to meet you.” He says, his voice slightly strained as his mind wonders.

He doesn’t hear as she calls out to him, he’s already gone.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

The car ride home is quite aside from the soft music bleeding through the speakers and the tiny yawns coming from the backseat. Neither of you have spoken a word. Nanami wordlessly helped you load the pumpkins into the trunk, wordlessly warmed up the car as you buckled in your daughter, and now he wordlessly drove you home.

Why were you so quiet? You were all smiles this morning, you looked just like you did when he first met you. Gleaming, brimming with wonder and awe and mischief. Now you looked out the window, curled in on yourself in the passenger seat picking at a string on your jeans as he pulled into your driveway.

Your perfume hangs heavy in the air even as you slide out of the passenger seat, quietly clicking the door closed behind you. He just doesn’t understand. You let Nanami gather your sleeping daughter into his warm gentle arms while you unlock the door as quietly as humanly possible.

You work as a team to carefully remove her boots and her jacket before safely tucking her in. Not a word was uttered as you worked in tandem.

Unloading the car.

Slipping off your shoes.

Getting the kitchen ready to make lunch.

You aren’t stupid, you can feel Nanami’s eyes burning holes into the back of your skull as you wash veggies in the sink. Snatching a dishtowel you whip around to face him, your brows furrowed. “What?” You snap, your tone unintentional but it’s too late to take it back.

His eyebrow twitches, your arms folded over your chest, your eyes holding something he’s only ever seen a small handful of times on you— rage.

“You look upset.” He says, his tone unbothered as shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Your skin prickles, you muster the best fake smile you can and say, “I’m not.” But he can see through it. Your eyes don’t crinkle and there isn’t a drop of light in your tone as you move to turn back around, his hand grips your shoulder so suddenly his touch firm but gentle, and that somehow makes you angrier.

You don’t talk as you throw the dishtowel onto the counter, pushing past him and storming outside. The air hits your exposed skin as soon as the door flies open, cooling your reddening face. Nanami trails after you, “wait— wait, please—“

“What!” You seethe, the word coming through gritted teeth as you run your hands over your face. “What— whatwhatwhatwhat— what, Kento what do you want?” Your words run together, a feeling of dread sitting like a rock at the bottom of your stomach.

“Woah!” Nanami grips your shoulder, rushing to face you head on. “What’s happening? I just want to know what’s wrong!” Two strong hands grip at your shoulders now, the weight of them grounding yet irritating.

It’s like reality is crashing down all around you. What’s happening? Why do you feel like this? A scoff pushes past your trembling lips, panicked and on the verge of a sob. His voice is gentle, laced with concern as you shrug off his hands, “Honey, what’s happening?”

It’s a bullet through the heart.

Before it sounded like music, the way he’d cradle you in his arms and call you such sweet names.

But here you are, jabbing your finger into his chest as you look up at him with fiery eyes.

“That!” You yell, leaves skitter across the lawn. “God I thought we had it so figured out!”

His shoulders sag, angry tears prickle the backs of your eyes, the clouds overhead cast out the sun. Shades of grey.

Nanami stays rooted in place. “We do, what’s going on with you right now?” His voice is so calm, so caring, it makes your throat tighten and you prey, prey that you can choke it down.

You open your mouth, you can taste the wretched gasp that threatens to squeak through “I don’t get it—“ the wind picks up and it does nothing to cool the fire raging in your chest.

“God I fucked this all up—“ you don’t mean to say it, why are you saying it? It isn’t true. At least that’s what Nanami thinks, he steps forward, his fingers brush your arm. “I should’ve just gone home that night, but you lived so close and I just needed…” it happens, that awful weight in the pit of your stomach migrates to your chest as you choke.

He doesn’t ask, doesn’t think, the action coming back to him as if he’d done it just yesterday.

One moment you’re choking on your own words as a sob is wretched from your throat, the next your ear is listening to the firm beating of his heart as it hammers against his ribs. The warmth of his skin searing and welcome as your fingers ball into the fabric of his shirt.

His hand cradles the back of your head, his palm shielding the nape of your neck from the bitter wind. “Breathe, focus on breathing.”

It sounds so simple, but you’ve forgotten how as you choke on air. But he clings to you, combing his fingers through your hair and trailing the tips of his fingers down your spine and back up again.

“I’m sorry.” You sob, your brows furrowed as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Ugh this is so stupid, I don’t even know why I’m upset.”

His fingers continue to trail up and down your spine. “You do, just take a second.”

Up and down.

Tears cool against your cheek as you sigh, that first healing gulp of air that fills your lungs makes your shoulders sag. You unball your fists, letting the throbbing ache ease away as you wrap your arms around his middle.

“I think I’m just confused.”

Up and down.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His fingers still and you can feel him nod before he answers, “of course.”

It’s stupid, you’ve known each other for years this shouldn’t be as hard as it is!

“Was it weird for you too?” You hate how small your voice sounds. “The morning after I mean.”

Nanami chuckles, the sound light. “Was it weird having you back in my life again if only for a night? Yeah it was a little weird.” His words hold no anger or disgust, his fingers trail up your spine again. “I missed you, if that’s what you were asking.”

You don’t say anything, letting the softness of this moment seep into your bones as you breath.

“I’m sorry for how I acted, I shouldn’t have iced you out like that. I was just mad at myself.” You say, your words muffled as you press into his chest, the thought of looking him in the eyes after this makes your stomach flip, so you cling to him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Now you laugh, it’s startling how quickly it came about but you both welcome it. “No! I was just…” you groan, more at yourself than anything, “jealous.”

The clouds part slightly, golden rays of midday sun shine down as Nanami laughs, his shoulders bouncing and his lungs burning as he clings to you a little tighter.

“Hey, that’s not funny!” You yell, the ghost of a giggle trailing after as you slap his arm.

“Now can I ask you a question?” His voice is so sweet, you nod against his chest.

“Do you think maybe we could go out for dinner,” he stops, making a face to himself. It was exactly this painstakingly awkward when he asked you out for your very first date. Even now his palms are getting clammy, why is he making it so weird! “Just us.”

Your laugh is the same as it was back then, but now it’s aged. It’s warm, it makes his stomach flutter just like it did then.

“Kento Nanami,” you smile as you lean back, your eyes meeting his. Both of your minds are reeling, cheeks heating like this is your first time seeing one another. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Ugh that smile on your face, it makes his heart clench. He’s such a strong man, tonight he’ll pat himself on the back for not kissing that smile off your face.

He gives a bashful nod, “you can say no, this whole situation is weird and all but…” his hand trails down your arm until it grasps yours, his rough thumb ghosting over your knuckles. “I’m willing to try again if you are.”

The sun shines down on his face, your favorite parts of him coming into view more clearly the longer you look at him.

It’s scary, there’s no denying that. There’s also no denying how right this moment feels. Here in his arms picking up the pieces of the life you swore you’d build together. Bit by bit.

You chuckle, that beautiful smile he thinks about so often gracing your lips, “I expect you to pick me up by five and have me home no later then ten.”

Leaves fall from the trees overhead.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

It isn’t ideal, but it’s yours— this moment in time. Your hand in his as autumn air sends chills up your spine, leaves crunched under your bare feet as you stay close to one another.

A lot has happened these past few months, this was no where close to being in the plans, and somehow it feels like it was always meant to be.

[brandyschillace]

Tonight I will watch the animated Christmas Carol. It’s an annual tradition every Christmas Eve for my partner and I—we even eat plum pudding! It’s meaningful to us because Dickens’ tale of second chances performed its own Christmas miracle at a time in our lives when we both—independently and together—most needed it. On this present Christmas Eve, I wish you all the joy of finding you can start again… and that making a start can never come too late. Start that journey, begin that novel, take the first steps of that return trek. Tis the season.

And a special Merry Christmas Eve, by the way, to Molly Oldfield and @neil-gaiman for a rare opportunity to hear A Christmas Carol the way Dickens himself would have wanted.

May the magic continue!

[stupidbingus3]

So yeah. The new chapter right???? (I am NOT okay) little doodle I made with my mouse (while procrastinating to buy a new stylus because I lost mine lol) based of chapter 30 of @zephyra-in-the-house fic Second Chances I am obsessed with this fic SO MUCH and I NEED them to make up and kiss or something

[planetpedri]

Love ur work! How ab a lamine angst fic where things between them didn’t work out and now that he’s willing to try, reader is upset/confused bc why now

Toothache — Lamine Yamal.

Pairing: Lamine Yamal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lamine wanted to try again—to give you his all, but all you could think about was ‘why now?‘

Word count: 1.35k

Disclaimer/s: angst , second chances , crying , messy past breakup.

A/N: I love writing angst ^_^~

Heavy breathing was what you heard the second you picked up the phone. You hadn’t bothered checking the caller ID, it was two in the morning and the call had woken you up from a deep slumber.

“Hello?” You mumble, clearing your voice to rid it of the sleep induced rasp.

“Hey, it’s me.” He didn’t need to introduce himself, you recognized his voice even if he whispered. Lamine wasn’t someone you could forget.

You were wide awake now. His voice shooting blots of energy throughout your body. “Lamine? It’s—“ You pull the phone away from your ear, looking from his caller ID, to the time at the top corner of your phone, “it’s two in the fucking morning.”

Lamine plays with the corner of his textbook, he’d been attempting to work on homework, but you were the only thing on his mind. “Yeah, I know.” His voice is quiet, like his mind was elsewhere.

Although you knew you didn’t have to feel concern, it was hard to ignore. “Are you okay?” You mirror his quiet voice, softening it to show your genuine care. Lamine’s heart felt heavy with guilt, he hated when you used that voice.

He knew he didn’t deserve the concern you’d always showed him throughout the years of knowing each other, let alone when you’d dated.

“Yeah, yeah.” He clears his throat, “can I come over?”

Your eyes fluttered shut. Not only were you exhausted, you also knew your parents wouldn’t like to see him showing up without their knowledge. “That’s not a good idea… we can meet elsewhere. I can come over, are your parents home?”

Lamine glances up from the kitchen table where he’d been doing homework, “yeah, but they won’t mind.” There’s a pause before he continues, “they miss you.”

Unnecessary. That did not need to be added, and Lamine knew that.

Rubbing your eyes, you climb out of bed, head tilted to the side to keep your phone next to your ear as you reached for a hoodie. Sliding on a pair of slippers, you reach for your keys on your desk. “I’ll be over in a few, do you need anything?”

You were always far too willing to comfort your ex. He’d called you like this many times. Mostly, he just needed your company, but sometimes he needed to talk to someone. For some reason, whether intentional or not, Lamine could only open up to you.

No matter how messy your breakup had been, you hadn’t been best friends for over a decade just to stop because he couldn’t put effort into an actual relationship.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

The drive was only fifteen minutes to Lamine’s house. You hadn’t played music, an unsettling feeling coming over you. This time, something felt different. Lamine’s tone was different.

Unbuckling your seatbelt and locking the doors behind you, you make your way up to the familiar household—one that you had at one point, practically lived in. You don’t knock, simply opening it slowly and slipping inside. Taking your slippers off, you pad your way into the dining room.

Lamine was staring at his texbooks, head in his head with an annoyed expression, which softened the second his eyes flickered up to you. “You’re here.” He smiles slightly, and you forced yourself to return it.

“Can we make this quick? I have work at nine.” You pull out a chair beside him. “What are you working on?” You ask, though you knew the answer as you had the same textbook in your backpack at home.

“Math.” Lamine answers simply, his eyes trained on you, memorizing your face as if he would never see it again. And, maybe after tonight, he wouldn’t.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you give him a questioning look. “So… what is it?”

“I’m ready.” He stops, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m ready to try again. I want to make this work. I will do better this time.”

Your body felt light, like he’d knocked the wind out of you. Your brain flew into over drive, millions of questions slamming against the walls of your skull. He was ready to try, again? After five fucking months?

You almost scoffed. Almost.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Your bottom lip tugs between your teeth, a smile forming on your face—not a happy one, but one of disbelief. “Lamine. We—you have had about a dozen chances! I’ve given you five months, and each time you weren’t ready. Why now?”

He had to battle the thoughts telling him to look away, to cower in shame. He doesn’t get a chance to speak, because you are still going.

“I love you. I haven’t stopped, but—I was nearly healed and ready to move on. This is so.. it’s selfish!”

Lamine’s fingers played with each other nervously. His lips pulling into a deep frown. “I love you, too.” He whispers, but you shush him. “Can you let me explain?”

You tap your foot against the wooden floor, thinking. Your head hurt, shit—your teeth hurt. Your heart hurt, everything hurt.

This was what you’d wanted for months, so why didn’t you feel happy right now?

The small whispering of your name called you back to reality. Rubbing your face, you finally look back to Lamine. “Sure, go ahead.”

He began his explanation, weak attempts to find an excuse for his past behavior. His mouth eventually shuts, a long exhale leaving his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He continues to repeat his apologies until your head falls onto the table out of annoyance.

Lamine watches you, taken aback by your dismissal. “I just want to show you I can love you like you deserve. Just one more chance, please?” His voice had thinned, little emotion showing other than desperation.

Shifting your head to the side, you glare up at him. “You make my life so God damn difficult, Lamine.”

He couldn’t stop the small twitching of his lips, “that’s not new.” His light hearted tone unfortunately had a small, almost unseeable grin threatening your lips.

“This is it. Okay? One, last chance. And if you fail, thats it.” You sit back up, “we are over, forever, if you mess this up.”

“I understand.” Lamine nods, eagerly. “I won’t let you down.”

Your eyes narrow at him before nodding as well. “Fine. We start new. You’ll take me on dates, ask me out, ask me to be your girlfriend. You will put more effort in than you’d ever had to put into anything before. No excuses, nothing.” Your rules were set and Lamine was more than ready to comply.

“Are you free tomorrow—“

“Nuh-uh.” You wag your finger. “You’re going to surprise me. And go all out. Pretend like it’s a fucking movie, I don’t care. Just.. show me you care enough so I can trust that you’re genuine about this—about me..”

Lamine agrees with a grateful sigh, “I will. I promise.”

“Can I go home now?” You look at the time on your phone; 4:04 AM. Your parents would be waking up in twenty-six minutes.

“Of course.” The boy nods, “goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” You hum, standing up and leaving the room without another word. A lingering sense of doubt flooding your heart the second you left, but it was overclouded by the genuine hope you felt for the first time in five months.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future lamine posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @ar4ujos @spidybaby !

[zephyra-in-the-house]

Second Chances Update: Chapter 29

♪♫♬ Guess who's back~ Back again! Shady's back! Tell a friend~ Guess who's back Guess who's back Guess who's back ♪♫♬

It's me bitches! I'm back with another chapter for Second Chances! Go check it out!

[adaptive-dragonet]

I was writing GF fanfic when I realized the stark differences between Bill in TBOB and Bill in Weirdmageddon. And then I realized. The Nightmare Realm, Bill’s second home, was on the verge of collapsing in on itself and being destroyed. Déjà vu much? I think Bill must’ve been going through so much PTSD trying to save a whole realm from the fate of his first home dimension, explaining his ruthless desperation toward Ford despite his previous OBSESSIVE AFFECTION for him. Maybe in his brain, this was like a second chance? A way to do it over, right this time. And those pesky Pineses were getting between him and “undoing” the root of ALL HIS TRAUMA.

Oooooo this is JUICY

[secondchances31]