#reconnection fics are my jam

[ablobwhowrites]

That soul jam of compassion was so good!! Please, I beg for more!!

This is probably just some lore stuff cause I don't know if I'll cook with fic for it. But also here's the first fic of this au here.

The new y/n and the ancient y/n who sacrificed themselves are kinda two different cookies. Cause reborn y/n is kinda like a exact copy of ancient y/n except for minor changes cause when I tell you ancient y/n actual got incinerated like they where just cookie crumbs at that point.

Plus it I ever do make another fic for this au. Then let me tell you, the ancients are devastated cause y/n has bascially no memories of them, the adventures they went on, making their first kingdoms or even how they met. That y/n is gone for good like I'm not joking when I was writing the fic I got reminded of that tiktok audio of when that girl lost her applepen in her blanket so that's why ancient y/n is dead. (If it wasn't for that video to pop up in my head then maybe y/n would have lived.) But this reborn y/n cookie is basically like a timeline of y/n never became a ancient but y/n is treated like one when looking for shelter in the kingdom built for them.

I do imagine y/n being able to easily befriend a lot of cookies on their travels like how they did before when they were a ancient. But the other ancients don't want to lose y/n again, the friend that saved their kingdoms and themselves from being hurt by the blast of the spell but their soul jam is looking for them and trying to reconnect with them but y/n hasn't connected with their necklace that could basically house the soul jam in cause if they do then they'll become a ancient again but the cycle will happen again as well. Cause like think of it and how horrible that would be to see your best friend in the whole wide world basically sacrifice themselves and basically be evaporated before your eyes but come back like almost decades later like nothing happen but they aren't the same, they don't remember you or even recognize you like they haven't even seen you or just forgot all those memories, the quiet moments, the moments filled with laughter, celebration and sadness or fear and anger just all gone. Plus the legendaries seeing y/n basically reset because y/n doesn't remember them to as they know the sacrifice y/n had made just like their mom.

But I love the thought of y/n cookie just reuniting with hollyberry cookie after princess cookie invited them over for the night as hollyberry was hosting a party and when hollyberry saw y/n, she took a quick second to let her mind process if that really y/n and when she realized it was y/n. She gave y/n probably the biggest bear hug known in earthbread as poor y/n would have been crushed to death if princess cookie didn't step in but the realization of y/n actually not being her y/n hadn't set in yet and hollyberry changed the party into a celebration of y/n's return. I have so much planned for this au.

(that's all for my short yap session for now. But if you like this or want to share your ideas please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[winterchimez]

Read Your Mind | Lee Hyunjae

SUMMARY: both you and Hyunjae had a mutual agreement to begin this whole friends-with-benefits relationship from the start, but now his contradicting actions and behaviour make you question what you both truly are at this point.

PAIRING: fwb Hyunjae x f!reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive

WARNINGS: kissing, making-out, arguments, unrequited love (like the first ⅔ of the fic, but there's a happy ending folks 🥹), mentions of s*x

WORD COUNT: 3,661

A/N: i've been jamming to sabrina carpenter's read your mind lately, hence this fic was born! special shout-out to my fellow sabrina enthusiast @heemingyu for hyping me up throughout the process & reading it through for me as well 😭🫶🏻

update!! this is now part of emails i can't send fwd: series

You slammed your laptop down shut as soon as you saw that the clock on the wall struck at half-two. Not wasting any time, you quickly packed all your belongings into your backpack and left the lecture hall immediately. 

Oh, how you’ve always dreaded long lectures like today, which lasted for approximately three hours since your lecturer insisted on finishing up the modulus before letting you off for the long weekend ahead. 

As you made your way out of the hall, you were immediately joined by your group of friends, who were quickly catching up with you, telling you how there’s this new Korean BBQ restaurant in town and how you guys must try it since there’s a limited promotion going on there. It was a Friday night—of course, you had to agree. 

That was until your phone from your back pocket buzzed. 

You took out your mobile and quickly scanned through the notification that just popped up on your screen. 

🎁: Hey, meet me at my place tonight at 8pm? The usual.

A long exasperated sigh left your lips as soon as you saw that message since you knew what it exactly meant.

And how you have been doing it constantly for the past 6 months without anyone besides you two knowing about this whole deal. 

Your friends clearly noticed how quickly your facial expressions shifted and began asking if something was the matter. As usual, you brushed them off and told them how your family issues had come up again and that you wouldn’t be able to join them for the night.

Using your usual pouting facial expression to convince your friends that you’ll definitely make it for the next one, you hope that it will indirectly tell them how you feel sorry about it and stop making them pressure you with more questions. 

Waving them goodbye, you turn your heel in the opposite direction, making your way to the destination that your so-called friend has been expecting you to be.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath before you eventually mustered up the courage to head to where you had to be. 

Here we go again.

You were now on his lap, straddling his waist while his grip tightened around you. Both of you were having a steamy makeout session, lips exploring each other’s like there was no tomorrow, while both of your hands began touching one another, which increased the arousal that you both were feeling at that moment.

Finally, after a while, he gives you a little moment to have a breather while he travels down to your neck and begins leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your collarbone. Once he got there, he began sucking it a little too hard, one that you knew would definitely leave a hickey behind, and you’ll definitely need to use your handy-dandy concealer to cover them up the next day. 

His hands begin travelling up to your chest, where he begins squeezing one of your breasts, which is where he gets an elicit moan in return, turning him on for the next move he is about to pull. 

“Can I… take your clothes off, Y/N?” 

“Go ahead, Jae.” 

The next thing that happened was that both of your clothes were scattered throughout the floor, and you were now lying in bed with Hyunjae hovering over you. Both of your lips are now reconnected, tongues intertwining with one another, leaving no room for a breather. 

Just as you thought things would get a little spicier, the male suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

“No.” 

“Hyunjae? Is everything alright?”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t do this anymore.” 

Hyunjae then gets up and sits on the bed, and you follow by sitting up next to him. Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, you looked at him with the look of concern and sincerity in your eyes. 

“Care to share about what’s going through your mind?” 

Hyunjae sighed deeply before furrowing his eyebrows as he stared off into the ceiling. “I’m not sure, Y/N. I know we both agreed on this from the start. But lately, I just don’t feel like this was the same as before.” 

It was true. You both began this whole friends-with-benefits situation because Hyunjae had recently broken off with his ex, and he was feeling slightly lonely. Both of you were only coursemates and nothing else. Eventually, you both got close with one another when you were assigned to be lab partners in one of the subjects within the course.

You noticed how Hyunjae wasn’t as goofy and bright as he was previously, and you decided to check up on him and asked if anything was the matter and if you could at least extend a helping hand to him. Initially, he was reluctant to tell you the truth. After a period of time, he made the deal and spat out what had been bothering him for so long.

Making it clear that he was heartbroken and needed a company, you somehow convinced him that you could do that if he desperately needed them. Though both of you had made it clear to one another that he would not envision you as his ex whenever you did the deed, he merely needed company to satisfy his sexual desires. Adding to the fact that neither of you would fall for each other. You were more than happy to do that so long as you both did not break each other’s boundaries. 

Things started out fine in the beginning, and he started to feel better and presentable at lectures, which made it seem like everything was working out fine. In return, you got to expand your knowledge on romance since you have never had a partner in the past 22 years of your life. In other words, it was kind of a win-win situation for both parties. 

However, you have begun to notice how things have changed from all of your recent makeouts with the male himself. There was this awkward tension in the air, contradicting what you both had agreed on beforehand. There are multiple times—like tonight when Hyunjae suddenly breaks off the kiss and tells you both how you guys are done for the day.

Something was bothering him, and neither of you knew what it was all about because the male himself did not understand his emotions. 

Every time this happened, he felt guilty about it and constantly apologised for everything that had happened. 

But tonight, something was different. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I think I really need some time alone to myself.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just go to bed-” 

“I’ll walk you home, at least.” 

Oh. 

This was the first time Hyunjae asked you to give him space. Usually—even during the recent not-so-good makeout sessions, he would always insist that you stay for the night, reassuring you that his flat is way safer than going back home with the dimly lit streets at night. 

But this? It was something you had least expected to happen, though you didn’t question the male as you could tell it wasn’t the right timing to do so. 

Instead, you just nodded and quickly packed away your stuff before the both of you were ready to head out towards the front door.

The entire walk back to your flat didn’t take that long—it was about a five minute walk, to be exact. But what made this whole short-distance road feel like an eternity was how neither of you spoke a word throughout the whole journey. You could tell Hyunjae wasn’t in his right mind, his face was pale. Hence, you decided to just wrap your arms around yourself and walked close by next to him, respecting the peace and silence for now. 

As you reached your flat, Hyunjae didn’t say much and rather just muttered a simple “goodnight” before he smiled weakly and turned his heel back towards the direction of his residence. 

Whatever happened tonight, you knew that something had changed between the both of your relationships. 

This went on for an entire week. Ever since that fateful day, you’ve noticed how Hyunjae slowly returned to his previous self, where he always seemed so lonely and gloomy. He was quiet for a few days, but the usual message came in, and you find yourself back at his flat two days later.

However, it ended up the same way as it did, pausing suddenly when you both got down to the climax and decided to call it quits before walking back home once again. 

The cycle then continued. He would tell you that he needed to be alone and work on his thoughts for some time before eventually typing down the usual that would keep you busy and occupied with him throughout the night. You would return to him every time, knowing how you’d be left feeling confused and unsatisfied with the entire ordeal.

Yet, your heart yearns for the man, and you’re always hoping that you’ll at least be able to ease his pain and loneliness, even in the slightest bit. 

But tonight is when you decided that enough was enough and would confront him about it. What exactly was bothering him? Or rather, if he was actually getting bored of your company.

You needed to know. 

“Hyunjae, I’m here to talk.” 

When you replied to the male with your usual messages, being the gentleman he was, Hyunjae welcomed you immediately at the front door when you arrived. The usual deal would be that the two of you would get straight down to business without having much say, to begin with. Tonight was when you decided that this would not work out, and you both have to come to terms with one another before things go straight downhill. 

He looked at you with a surprised look, where you could tell that he was definitely taken aback since you were usually the quiet one and would let the male take control of everything. A deep sigh left his mouth, and he invited you into his living room, where you both sat on the couch, distancing ever so slightly from one another. 

You hesitated for a moment before you decided that it was the right time to put together the right words to ask the male what exactly had been going through his mind for the past weeks. 

“What exactly am I to you at this point?” 

It seemed as if the male knew that the day would come when he would eventually have to face the question he had been avoiding for so long. In the beginning, he has always seen you as a good friend who would understand his point of view of where he was coming from and how he deeply appreciated the help you were willing to give him.

But lately, he has been having second thoughts and has begun questioning himself about what he truly felt about you.

Are the both of you still in this whole friends-with-benefits situation? Or even, are you both still good friends at this point? 

It took a minute or two for the male to speak up finally, and what he replied was something that had never once crossed your mind. 

“I fear that I might be crossing the line, Y/N.” 

“And why is that?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know myself.” 

This uncertainty back and forth has really started to get on your nerves, and the fact that you came here tonight to clear the air proved nothing at all. Hyunjae wasn’t sure of his emotions, yet you were desperate to know his point of view. 

Frustrated, you stood up from the couch and raised your voice slightly, facing the male to express your frustrations throughout the past week.

“Hyunjae, you keep telling me that you always needed some time alone, and yet you always want me back by the end of the day. If we’re not going to do this like how we have intentionally started with, then we’re both just wasting all of our time, really.” 

“Y/N, I thought that we could just be casual about all of this-”

“Casual?” You scoffed. “You never were my best friend to begin with. We are just lab partners, and I was merely concerned about your well-being, so I decided to help out a little.”

“And because I love you.” You choked. 

Hyunjae’s eyes widened upon that statement, and he was about to refute it until you managed to fire back again.

“Have you perhaps fallen in love with me?” 

Hyunjae? In love with you? That can’t be. Both of you agreed upon the rules at the start that all of this was merely helping one another out, and there was no room for falling in love with the other party at all. 

You knew that you had already broken the rule from the start, but it didn’t matter to you as long as you were aware that Hyunjae was getting all of the necessary help and support he needed. But with what Hyunjae has been going through lately, he knew that it was why he had begun to see you differently and how he could not touch and feel you like before. 

The question was if he was ready to move on from his ex. With your help, he should have gotten over it and begun to take things a lot easier, right?

If only your theory were right. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

That was enough to tell you that all of the efforts that you have put in over the past few months have gone down the drain that easily. 

You were getting teary-eyed, and you began stomping towards the front door, wanting to escape this suffocating environment that you were in. 

With one final sigh, you fired back at the male once more. “Why the fuss, Hyunjae? If you just say you wanna be mine?” 

Just as quickly as you opened the door, you were instantly gone. Tears begin pooling down your face as you take that long, dark, dimly light road back to the comforts of your flat.

Is it that hard to just admit you have feelings for me, Hyunjae? 

Back at Hyunjae’s flat—he was standing there still, fingers running through his hair in a frustrated manner as he took his phone and dialled the only number he knew who could knock in some sense of mind at this hour. 

“Sangyeon-hyung, I messed up real bad.”

You have never felt so dead over the next few weeks ever since that incident at Hyunjae’s flat. Neither of you has spoken a word to one another or even come close to having eye contact at all.

It was tough when you were both assigned lab partners for your chemistry subject and had to talk to your advisor to have your partner physically changed for the rest of the year. It was tough coming up with plausible reasons as to why you wanted him to be switched out with someone else—but ultimately, your request was approved. You were now paired with one of the girls from the class with whom you were not too familiar with, but that was fine by you so long as it wasn’t him. 

Obviously, your efforts did not go unnoticed, and the male eventually tried his best to reach out to you again. But every time you managed to get a slight glimpse of him walking your way, you have always done your best to keep yourself occupied or even walk away to avoid starting up a conversation with him. 

You even tried blocking him off of all of your social media and on your contacts list—he was already swarming you with calls or messages, trying to just talk to you or even apologise for what happened. But honestly, you were just not ready to hear whatever he would say to you, especially when you fell for the man before you started this whole friends-with-benefits relationship. 

I have been such a fool to think he would eventually love me back. 

It was a quiet afternoon when you decided to spend the rest of the day finishing your assignments before the final exams were due in about a week. The library has always been your comfort place to be on campus. Not only can you take a little breather from all the chaos on campus, but you also could take a little nap in between, especially during times like this when you’ve always pulled an all-nighter and your sleep schedule was all messed up. 

Standing up from your seat, you decided to walk down towards one of the halls to get some textbooks that would be helpful as your source of references for the current report you were typing on your computer. 

The peace wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt a presence behind you that you had avoided for the past month. The cologne was what gave his identity away, you would’ve recognised it immediately without a doubt because you used to spend the nights with him all the time. 

You tried your best to ignore the male, constantly trying to fidget through the shelves until you finally grabbed enough materials to return to your table. 

That was until he decided to grab hold of your arm, and now you were left with no escape and choice but to come face-to-face with the person you have been avoiding at all cost. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. But please, at least, hear me out for a few minutes.” 

Taking in a deep sigh, you laid your head down and looked at your books before muttering to the male. 

“Five minutes.” 

He then lets go of your arms and straightens his back as he clears his throat to finally muster up the courage to tell you what has been trying his best to tell you over the missed calls and messages. 

“First of all, I’m an idiot. I messed up so bad, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have done nor said what I did back then-”

“Cut to the chase, Hyunjae. I have no time to waste.” 

“Listen. I haven’t been able to look at you the same nor touch you the way I did before because… I am starting to care a lot about you, Y/N. I’m not talking this from a friends-with-benefits stance, but rather as a friend.” 

You scoffed. “So this is what it’s all about? Coming here to apologise and tell me you have changed? I have to laugh if that’s what it is, Hyunjae. Look, if you are sneaking up on me just to tell me that you need me back to do whatever shit that we used to do, then I’m sorry, but I’m done with that phase.” 

He now grips both of your shoulders, trying to knock some sense into you. “No, Y/N. I’m not seeking a sexual relationship with you anymore. I’ve been a jerk not to notice how, during this whole time, I have begun to care a lot about you because you mean more to me as a friend.” 

“And because I have fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 

No. 

No way, it can’t be. Hyunjae has made it clear how he only needed company back then, and he was nowhere near or wanting to begin a new relationship after how messed up his and his ex’s one was. You’ve got to be hearing things, maybe your lack of sleep lately was the key to this. 

“You don’t, Hyunjae. You don’t love me. I was just merely a company for you.” 

“That was before, Y/N. But not anymore.” 

He now takes a step closer to you as he pins you against the bookshelf. 

“And I’m going to make myself clear, miss Y/N. I can now confidently say that I am ready to start anew and begin this new chapter with you. The old Lee Hyunjae that you have known is now gone, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life with you as your boyfriend.” 

Tears began forming in your eyes, and you had to try so hard to fight back the tears and respond to the male. 

“I can’t read your mind, Hyunjae. One day, you told me you needed space and to be alone, and the next thing that happened, you came back to me saying you wanted me back. I do not enjoy this joke in the slightest bit, Hyunjae.” 

He notices how your tears are on the verge of streaming down the beautiful face he has longed to yearn for over the past month, and he now closes the gap between you two, lips now brushing against one another.

“Then let me prove it to you.” 

He shuts you up by placing his soft, gentle lips against yours, and with that, the tears that you have held back for so long begin pouring down like there’s no tomorrow. 

He rests one of his hands around your waist while the other seemingly rests on your right cheek, slowly catching each drop of tears as he wipes them away. 

Oh, how badly you have missed this—the familiar sensation, his cologne, presence, and the soft, luscious lips against yours. 

Both of you were kissing one another as if it was just like the first time you both had done it—tongues were now intertwined, and neither of you were planning to let go anytime soon. 

“Hyunjae—God—Don’t—Stop.” You said in between the kisses as you tried your best to catch your breath. 

“Never planned to do so, Y/N.” 

As he breaks off the kiss and travels down to your neck to nibble and leave a trail of kisses behind, he whispers into your ear before continuing the deed. 

“You may have fallen for me first, but I have fallen for you harder.”

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu (join my permanent taglist here!)

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 19 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3165 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

James, upon spotting us, shot up too, his long blond hair cascading over his shoulders. He was decked out for the gig, sporting his classic Venom t-shirt, leather jacket, and a bullet belt. A grin naturally spread across my face at the sight of him. Any disagreements and reservations I'd had over the past few months vanished in an instant. I couldn't help it; seeing him was like coming back home.

✦ summary: Nore finally reconnects with James, Cliff, and Lars on a chaotic but happy night in San Francisco.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, violence, drinking, harassment, blood

✧ when everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am ✧

I rolled up at Leanne's place on Saturday afternoon. The gig wasn't happening until way later, and the guys were neck-deep in pre-show preparations, so our meetup had to wait till nightfall. In the meantime, I had some catching up to do with my friend.

As soon as she spotted me, Leanne let out this excited little scream and bear-hugged me before I could even get off my motorcycle.

"Damn, Nore! It's been a hot minute! Look at you, girl! You look awesome!" She was talking a mile a minute, so hyped it cracked me up.

"Easy, easy! You're gonna flatten me like this."

"Easy? It's been forever since we kicked it. Can't believe you ran off with Dave and left me hanging."

"I did not!" I playfully nudged her arm, and we both laughed.

“So, you excited for tonight?” she asked as we strolled into her house. I dumped my backpack on the couch and plopped down to unlace my combat boots.

“A bit, yeah,” I replied, and she shot me an incredulous look. I let out a soft chuckle. “Okay, maybe more than a bit. Just not sure how it'll feel seeing everyone after so long.” 

“Don't sweat it, they'll be stoked to have you back.” 

“What about you? Seen Cliff yet?” 

“Nah, not yet.” She sighed. “They went straight to The Stone. Hey, had lunch yet?”

We had lunch together, then spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on news, half-watching some random flick Leanne had snagged from the video store, and munching on popcorn. As the sun dipped below the horizon, we changed into our outfits. Leanne gave me a hand with my makeup, lending me her crimson lipstick and midnight black eyeshadow. Even though I enjoyed putting on makeup sometimes, I was terrible at it; Leanne, on the other hand, was really good, her hands handling the brushes with the finesse of an artist, finishing me up in no time.

Once we were all set, we strolled over to The Stone. I couldn't believe the size of the crowd lining up outside the venue. Leanne grabbed my hand and led me to the back, where we exchanged nods with the security folks before slipping into the backstage area. A burly security guard guided us straight to the dressing room. He swung the door open, revealing James, busy tuning his guitar with a curly-haired guy. Lars sprang to his feet as we walked in, grinning when he saw us.

"Hey, look who's here!" he exclaimed, all smiles as he welcomed us.

James, upon spotting us, shot up too, his long blond hair cascading over his shoulders. He was decked out for the gig, sporting his classic Venom t-shirt, leather jacket, and a bullet belt. A grin naturally spread across my face at the sight of him. Any disagreements and reservations I'd had over the past few months vanished in an instant. I couldn't help it; seeing him was like coming back home.

"Hey," he said in a hushed tone, but before he could say much more, the dressing room door swung open once more, and in walked Cliff.

"Cliff!" Leanne cheered and darted over for a hug. He laughed, scooping her up and twirling her before planting a kiss on her lips. They exchanged soft words, and I couldn't help but grin at their reunion. James ambled my way.

"Hey, Jam... Oh!" I blurted out, blushing, when he pulled me into a tight hug.

"You chopped your hair," he observed, his voice hushed, lips brushing against my ear as he held me close. I gazed up, meeting his familiar blue eyes, and he flashed a warm smile. "I missed you."

"Missed you too," I whispered, unsure of how to react, feeling my cheeks warming up.

"Nore, you haven't met Kirk yet!" Lars interjected, excitedly. James promptly stepped back as Lars grabbed my hand. "Come on, I'll do the honors. Hey, Kirk!" he beckoned me over to where the other guy stood, and that's when it dawned on me – he was Dave's replacement. With his curly hair and friendly brown eyes, he had an endearing, shy smile when he spotted me. "Kirk, this is Nore, she's Cliff's cousin," Lars introduced me. "Nore, meet Kirk, our new guitarist."

"Hey," Kirk greeted.

"Hi," I smiled.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Cliff.

"Hey, we better get going. The show starts in ten minutes. You guys can hang out by the side of the stage," he said, smiling at me.

"Right," Lars got up, all pumped, and grabbed his drumsticks. "We're all set, right? I just need a beer first."

James grabbed a beer and popped it open, handing it to Lars, who downed it in one gulp. He raised his eyebrows at the sight, and I laughed.

James, Lars, Kirk, and Lea exited the room, but Cliff stayed behind. He took hold of a strand of my hair.

"Good to see you again, Nore," he murmured, then pulled me into a hug. I smiled, burying my face in his chest. It was so great to be back there, despite everything.

"I missed you, Cliff," I replied softly.

The gig didn't take long to kick off. As soon as the guys hit the stage, I spotted the whole crowd, all settled in and hyped up. I grabbed a beer and found a spot next to Leanne right at the edge of the tiny stage as they kicked off the show. A grin spread across my face, the excitement bubbling up as the music filled the air. Man, it felt great to be back. All the crap from the past few months just vanished in that moment; right there, I felt alive.

"We're back, San Francisco!" James hollered, grinning from ear to ear after their first song. He shot me a look from the corner of his eye, a playful smile dancing on his lips before he added, "We missed you. We're gonna tear it up tonight, yeah?"

I was kinda surprised by how much more confident he was up there on stage, how they all seemed to be in sync. I remembered a shy James, struggling to talk to the audience, but the guy I was watching now was just brimming with energy and confidence. It was hard to take my eyes off him.

Once the gig was over and we'd packed up the gear, we decided to hit a bar for some drinks. The night was beautiful, and we were all in high spirits, not ready to call it quits just yet. We ended up at this joint near The Stone, snagged a table, and I wound up sitting between Leanne and James. We were all having a good laugh while Lars attempted to explain some Danish joke to Kirk and Cliff, who were cracking up at his explanation.

“I gotta hit the restroom," I chuckled, getting up. It hit me that I was a bit more buzzed than I thought; I almost stumbled over my own two feet, but James caught my arm before I took a tumble. 

"You alright? Need some backup?" he asked, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. 

"Nah, I'm good."

After my pit stop in the restroom, I splashed some water on my face, attempting to sober up a bit. I was heading back to our table when out of nowhere, a tall, strong man grabbed my arm.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Weren't you at the show earlier today?" he slurred, clearly more hammered than I was, and that was saying something. I had no idea who this guy was, and I had no interest in finding out. I tried to shake my arm free, but he had an iron grip. 

"Back off, man." 

"Are you dating one of those guys? I bet not. You must be some groupie. Why don't you come with me..." 

"Hey!" somebody shouted. I let out a startled yelp as James, appearing out of thin air it seemed, forcefully shoved the guy, forcing him to release my arm. "Find someone your own size, moron."

"James!" I yelled, taken aback, as the guy swiftly turned, snatching up a nearby beer bottle and smashing it over James' head. James staggered, his blue eyes flashing with anger and shock. I acted on instinct; with him releasing my arm, I balled my hand into a fist and aimed a punch right at his nose. "Ow!" I exclaimed, surprised that my hand hurt more than his face did. He stared at me, clearly stunned. But that split second of distraction was all James needed. He quickly recovered, clenched his fist, and delivered a punch of his own to the guy's face, sending him stumbling backward, almost on the verge of falling.

James grabbed him by the collar, his jaw set and blood trickling from the cuts on his forehead caused by the glass. I'd witnessed my fair share of fights, especially back when Dave was in the band – they were almost routine, often among the boys themselves. But I'd never seen James being so aggressive before. Now, though, he seemed genuinely furious.

"You better scram," James growled, his voice low and menacing. The guy raised his hands in surrender, avoiding eye contact, and promptly bolted when James released him. James kept an eye on him as he walked away, his brow furrowed.

"Hey, are you guys all right?" I heard a concerned voice, and when I looked up, I saw Cliff, his face filled with genuine worry, sizing up the situation. He wasn't alone in his concern; half the bar seemed to be watching us, including Kirk, Lars, and Leanne.

"It's all good," James grunted, still looking pissed. "This creep was giving Nore a hard time, but I sorted it out."

"Dude, you're bleeding," Cliff remarked, and James arched an eyebrow, touching his forehead and only just then seeming to notice the blood. Cliff turned to me, noticing my slightly dazed look, while my hand, the one I'd used to punch the guy, was throbbing with pain. "You guys look pretty roughed up. Maybe you should head back. Leanne's got a first aid kit at her place, I can come along if you want."

"I'm good," James grumbled, then turned to me. "Nore, you all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," I muttered, slowly. "But Cliff's got a point, James. You're bleeding; we should clean that up."

"It's not a big deal."

"I think we should head home," I said, a bit more assertive. "I won't let you stay with your head cracked open on my account."

He shrugged, but I could swear I spotted a little grin on his lips.

"Fine, fine."

"I'll grab Leanne's keys," Cliff chimed in, stepping off and returning quickly with her house keys. "We'll square the tab and take Lars and Kirk home, then we'll follow you guys home too. Cool?" He shot me a concerned look. "Take care, both of you."

The walk to Leanne's house was dead quiet. James, still looking pissed off, and me, getting more sober and concerned about him by the minute. His wounds seemed to have stopped bleeding, but he still had dried blood staining his hair and on his forehead. I just wanted to reach home fast to check how messed up he really was, and I was feeling pretty crappy about him getting hurt on my account.

"Fucking idiot," James grumbled, still wearing an annoyed expression. "That guy was a total jerk. Can’t believe he tried to fucking mess with you."

"James, it's alright. Seriously, I’m okay," I replied, stopping on the sidewalk as we waited for the traffic light to change.

"I should've punched him a few more times. If Dave were here, bet he'd have sent him straight to the ER," he grumbled, and I gave him a surprised look.

"You miss him," I realized. James snorted, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"It's just... we were something else," he said softly as we kept walking. "Not just in the band. And now... everything's different. Gone."

I smiled slightly, a sad smile that conveyed everything I couldn't say; that I understood perfectly how he was feeling. I missed everything from the time when we all lived together – a whirlwind that swept through my life and changed it forever.

We finally made it to Leanne's place. I swung the door open, and James trailed into the kitchen. He plopped down at the table, and I grabbed a glass, filling it with water and handing it over.

"Drink up," I commanded, standing beside him as he obediently took sips. I watched him, still a little tipsy myself, absentmindedly running my fingers through his blond locks. "I'll fetch the first aid kit. You just chill here. And, for heaven's sake, try not to bleed all over the place."

"I keep telling you I'm alright," he grumbled, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"You've got a forehead full of blood. You planning on making modern art with it?" I quipped. He chuckled. "I'll be back in a sec."

When I returned to the kitchen, he'd ditched his jacket, shoes, and belt in a messy heap on the floor, raiding Leanne's fridge for something. It was a different side of him, almost smaller, less like the stage presence he was learning to master, more like the boy who'd always been my friend. I leaned against the door frame, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

"I told you to wait quietly, didn't I?" I teased, raising an eyebrow. "You're gonna start bleeding all over again like this."

"It's not that bad," he said, shutting the fridge while munching on something. He plopped back into the chair beside the table, grinning when he noticed the disapproval in my gaze. His hand rested on my hip, the rough palm brushing against the skin beneath my shirt, drawing me in gently. "Sorry," he apologized, softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

"How can you smile when your forehead's split like that?" I muttered. We were close, closer than we'd ever be if we were sober, but the amount of beer I'd downed made me care a whole lot less about that.

"I told you it's not that bad," he responded but winced when I started dabbing the cuts with a piece of cotton. He had a point, though; the cuts weren't too deep, except for one near his hairline.

"This one's a bit gnarly. It might leave a scar."

"That's metal," he smirked.

"Oh, please," I gently pressed the cotton against the wound, and he winced. "My bad."

"It's alright," he said, giving my hip a light squeeze to reassure me. I applied a band-aid to the larger cut and stepped back a bit, gazing into his blue eyes.

"Please, never pull a stunt like that again."

"How about a little gratitude?" he raised an eyebrow, sporting a laid-back smile. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Thanks. But seriously, please don’t ever hurt yourself for me again. Promise."

"If I do, will you be my nurse again?" he chuckled softly, holding my hand in his. My knuckles were still a bit sore, and upon closer inspection, I noticed they were a bit swollen. He tenderly massaged them. " I had no idea you knew how to throw a punch like that.”

"Dave taught me," I revealed, and he burst into hearty laughter.

"Yeah, sounds like him alright." He gazed into my eyes, our matching shades of blue meeting. "I missed you, Nore."

“I missed you too,” I admitted, our eyes locked in a moment of uncertainty about what to say next. Maybe there wasn't much to say in this moment, but the warmth of his hand in mine and how close we were brought back memories of that night months ago when he called me, his voice filled with pain, longing, and desire. I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer; I needed to address this. “James…”

I jumped when the door swung open, and James quickly released my hand. I shifted my gaze away from him as Cliff and Leanne entered the kitchen.

“You guys alright?” Lea inquired as she stepped into the kitchen, her expression one of relief as she looked at James and saw that his injuries were relatively minor. “Oh, good, it wasn't too bad. I thought you'd need stitches when I saw that guy smashing the bottle on your head.”

"I’m alright. Thanks to Nore," he flashed me a smile, and I couldn't help blushing. Lea glanced between James and me, clearly intrigued. Before she could pry, Cliff piped up, lighting a joint.

"Hey, I'm not feeling the bedtime vibe just yet. How 'bout we order some pizza and blaze a bit?"

"I'm all in," James chimed in, enthusiasm in his voice as he got to his feet. "Oh, right! We haven't dished out Nore's presents yet."

"Presents?" I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

"Your birthday happened while we were on the road, didn't it?" Cliff asked with a grin. "I'll grab 'em from the car. Hold tight."

He came back shortly with two packages, which he handed to me.

"The big one is mine, open it first. The other one is from all of us," Cliff said, and I chuckled, excited. I tore open the first package and smiled when I revealed a studded leather jacket, so new it almost shimmered.

"Damn, Cliff! I love it," I smiled, and he smiled back, genuinely pleased with my reaction. I picked up the other package, a square one that was definitely a vinyl record, and looked up to find Cliff and James' expectant gazes. "Is this what I think it is?" I asked.

"Open it up," James smiled, and I quickly did.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, excited, when I opened the package and saw the brand new vinyl record. On the cover, the shadow of a hand over a hammer thrown into a puddle of blood perfectly reflected the album's name: Kill 'em All. The album was there, ready, brand new. I couldn't wait to listen to it. "Oh, guys, this is so fucking cool!" I exclaimed, and James laughed. "Thank you, really."

"Couldn't make it for your birthday, but I'm damn glad we're all back together," Cliff said, a slight grin on his face. I couldn't help but grin back because, despite the earlier mess, that night had been one of the best in a long while.

After that show, I knew I couldn't keep my distance from them any longer, no matter what. It had been pretty foolish of me to even try, because truth be told, I didn't wanna be away from friends who made me feel so happy. I realized their presence and friendship in my life meant more than I'd ever thought. 

That it had changed me, more than I ever knew. 

And I was happy.

[favefandomimagines]

A fluff fic request for Frank Langdon where the reader and Frank dated in undergrad but mutually broke up before they each went to different med school. And only reconnect at PTMC, years into their retrospective residency but Frank thinks the reader is engaged even though she called off the wedding and is single

I LOVE this!!! Second chance romance is my jam

[kiraziwrites]

dear yuletide writer letter (2023)

These are a few of my favorite things: missing scenes, romantic interludes, reflective moments, epilogues and aftermaths, porn with feelings. I love thoughtful exploration of the power dynamics (smutty or otherwise) between characters, battle couple vibes, intrigue and adventure, extensions of canon worldbuilding, and stories that explore queerness and gender nonconformity. I strongly prefer canon-consistent settings, but canon-divergent plotlines are okay. Any rating from Gen to E is fine, and mild-to-moderate kink is welcome. Angst is great as long as it comes with a happy (or at least gentle) ending, and I love a bit of hurt/comfort as long as the hurt isn’t on the DNW list. 

The DNWs: dubcon/noncon; torture or violence beyond a canon-typical degree; A/B/O and alien or magical creature AUs; kink involving ageplay, blood/piss/scat, medical/school/prison settings, or non-standard anatomical features like tentacles and oviposition. I strongly prefer canon settings and canon-aged characters, so no high school/coffeeshop/other historical period AUs, please.

Fandom-specific preferences and prompts below, in no particular order of preference! If you got assigned one of these requests but we happen to share multiple fandoms, pick whichever sparks the most joy for you.

Fandom: The Watchmaker of Filigree Street, Characters: Keita Mori, Thaniel Steepleton, Six.

I enjoyed Keita and Thaniel in the first book, but it was The Lost Future of Pepperharrow that really made me ship it hard: all that delicious angst and pining and misunderstanding and devotion is extremely my jam. I’d really love a missing scene (or scenes) fic about Keita and Thaniel recovering and reconnecting in the immediate aftermath of their departure from Japan, or a post-canon fic where they reckon with the big revelations from the epilogue of Pepperharrow. And while I’m not usually a big fan of kidfic, I adore Six, so a glimpse at the three of them growing and changing as a family would also be lovely. If smut is your writing preference, I would certainly enjoy some character-centric Keita/Thaniel porn, with or without plot, from any stage of the relationship. I'd especially like to see their first time together after the reunion, either while they're still in Tokyo or once they are back on the boat home.

Fandom: Prophet, Characters: Sunil Rao, Adam Rubenstein.

Give me post-canon anything about these two! I just want more of whatever comes after the book’s ending. If you’re up for writing E-rated, I’d love to see what happens immediately after that fade-to-black in the last chapter, or a subsequent sex scene focused on kink exploration (particularly one that builds on the canon hints about Rao’s BDSM interests and experience). But if you’d prefer to avoid anything explicit, I’d be equally delighted to read post-coital cuddling or morning-after conversation, or a near-future fic about these two working out how to be together now that they’ve finally moved past the pining stage. I'm especially interested in seeing Adam coping with the aftermath of his grief and the uncanny nature of Rao's resurrection, and Rao reckoning with what he's come to understand about the depth and duration of Adam's feelings for him (that moment in when he realizes "he's done real damage there"—how does he make amends?) While I enjoyed the book's worldbuilding, the draw for me here is the dynamic between these characters, and I would prefer a strong focus on their relationship.

Fandom: The Last Binding Series, Characters: Violet Debenham, Maud Blyth.

I loved A Restless Truth and need more fic about the Boat Lesbians (even if only one is technically a lesbian and they are no longer on the boat). I will be reading A Power Unbound the day it drops, so feel free to involve its protagonists and plot developments! I’d like the focus to be on Maud and Violet, but Hawthorn and Ross are welcome to crash the party (and Robin and Edwin cameos are also fine, unless it’s a sex party, in which case they should probably keep their distance). Some ideas: if you want to write smut, I’d love to see Violet follow up on her promise to introduce Maud to the possibilities of strap-ons, or further exploration of those glimmers of interest in bondage and sensation play. I would also definitely enjoy a threesome/moresome involving Hawthorn and Ross (perhaps they decide to restage the encounter Maud interrupted? or some other voyeurism scenario?) If smut is not your jam, I'd love a fic of their next meeting(s) after the voyage, or missing scenes about what they're getting up to while offscreen during the events of the third book, or a post-canon fic about what happens afterwards. I'm particularly interested in seeing how they negotiate the leap from the hothouse intensity of their boat affair to something more long-term, especially given Violet's baggage and Maud's lack of relationship experience.

[arysthaeniru]

i just wanted to tell you how much your yakuza kiwami rewrite fic from like 2021 genuinely changed my life!! I finished kiwami pretty recently and it felt like there was a lot of little things that felt off to me - you've taken all of those things and made them a hundred times better. in the game nishikis story and motivations always felt somewhat unfinished (and I think that was interesting, since in a way that reflects how kiryu never had the chance to reconnect with him before he died) but you expanded on that so so well, you balance his being a morally fucked up person and someone who can be redeemed amazingly! i love all the points you kept from the game, especially majima's... everything as well as all the funny little substories. you did the trio SO SO WELL, i felt like i could really get into all of their heads whenever you wrote about them and their dynamics were always so interesting (in one of the early chapters when yumi talks about kiryu and nishiki only loving the idea of her i knew it was going to be an amazing fic lol) and I'm genuinely in awe of how incredible your writing is. I adore how you've given so many characters more depth and intricacies, and how you managed to bring in such a massive familiar cast!! every single chapter was such a treat to read and I'm so grateful that you've given us such an amazing story, it's probably one of my favourite fics ever!!

hope you've been doing well :)))

Ahhhhh, this is so sweet, I'm so happy you enjoyed it! Looking back at it now, I can see so many flaws and odd pacing issues, and as a writer, I end up fixating on these kinds of flaws, but I'm so happy you enjoyed it and I'm glad it felt like it helped round out Kiwami more!

Writing Yumi as a real person was a lot of fun!! I love women and it was fun to try and jam as many of the women from the 0 side-stories into Kiwami as I could, haha. And I'm glad you felt like I balanced Nishiki's motivations! I love his resentment/love for the people in hsi life all tangling together into something very ugly, and although he's not really a good person by the end of the fic, he's trying!! And that means something to everybody! Thanks for this super sweet ask, and I'm sorry for how late I am to reply to it ^^;;;;;

[prismatoxic]

[NateKen] From the Ashes

i have finally finished the first nateken story i ever started writing, after some mild revisions and new ideas for how to make it mesh with how their story has evolved. i'm not even going to attempt to make a case for posting it to ao3, but it will be here under the cut, and i will also be putting it on my new dreamwidth for OC fic once it looks nicer.

(original title was "camisado", after the p!atd song, but without that context the term actually wouldn't make sense here at all, so.)

From the Ashes NateKen, OC fic mild references to sex, more overt discussions of death, one entire use of the f-slur 3,733 words Five years after his father's sudden death, Ken's mother is dying. He'd cut her out of his life following Newt's eighteenth birthday, but he can't bring himself to let her die alone, contemptuous harpy though she may be. Nate's here, too. Ken is having trouble deciding whether he actually wants that to be the case or not.

It’s strange, really. A little over five years ago (christ, has it been that long?), Ken never set foot in a hospital. His father had been tended to by a live-in nurse, and had died at home. Ken never even went there, always meeting him out in public, sort of assuming his father maybe had a new lover the way he dodged the idea of them going to his place. He never saw the place where his father was wasting away. He never saw the deathbed.

His mother does not have the means to go the live-in nurse route, or at the very least, her Medicare plan won’t pay for it. She’s stubborn, not unlike his father was, and resisted giving up for a long time. She only reached out because she knew it was over. She only reached out because she knew there’d be no other chance to fix things. Ken hates her for it. He hates his father all over again for doing the same fucking thing. He wishes people would consider him first for once, rather than being relegated to an afterthought, a last resort. 

Newt is in class when Ken gets the call. He tells him anyway, of course he does, but assures him he can swing by the hospital when he has time. He has a feeling Newt might not, but maybe he’s just a little bitter about his brother and father never reconnecting before his father was dead. Honestly, what does it fucking matter to him if his mother doesn’t get to reconcile with them both?

He’s here, though. Against his better judgment. He can’t even really reason it away, and his mother is still a bitter harpy when they finally speak, him sitting at her side for a while before leaving the room to sit out in the hall. He’s angry and resentful and wishes he hadn’t even come.

He wipes his face on the sleeve of his father’s jacket, streaking it with tears. Goddammit.

But—he’s not alone. He’d been so shaken up by the call that there was no way to hide it from Nate, who was over at he and Newt’s apartment to hang out. (“Hanging out” for them is usually fucking, but today they were both lucky to be fully clothed, because Nate brought his guitar for some sort of impromptu jam session. His social language is, frankly, kind of bizarre.) When Ken explained what the call was about, Nate recognized the weight of the situation fairly quickly. He knew Ken hated his mother, but also knew Ken’s father had died under similar circumstances. So he offered to drive.

Ken knows there must be better people to have with him right now. Like Newt. Reluctantly, he has to admit to himself that he’s actually immensely grateful that Nate is here. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to tackle this alone, that it could be anyone; he knows that’s not true. Ken can dance around his feelings as much as he likes, but said feelings are, regrettably, present. (He doubts it’s mutual. Nate’s admittedly an enigma at the best of times, appearing at first to have the emotional depth of a puddle but ultimately revealing that he’s doing some sort of 4D Chess game in his head with his feelings at all times.)

Ken’s mother has never been particularly supportive of the gay thing, nor does Ken think she’d mesh well with Mr. I Express My Feelings By Fighting People, so Nate doesn’t go into the room with him. He’s not even here now, while Ken slumps in a plastic chair out in the hall and tries not to start bawling. Part of him thinks he should be concerned that Nate just up and left, but he’s almost positive he’s just in the bathroom.

Ken’s trying in vain to clean his glasses on his shirt when Nate returns, his boots hitting the hospital tile heavier than the shoes of any of the doctors or nurses in the area. Red-faced and teary-eyed, Ken doesn’t look up, hands trembling as he tries to get a particularly stubborn stain off of one lens.

Nate offers him something. Ken looks up enough to see that it’s a bottle of water, likely from one of the vending machines. He glances the rest of the way up to Nate’s face, then takes the bottle in one hand, putting his glasses back on with the other. Still smudged. Goddammit.

“How’d it go?” Nate asks, sounding like he has a hunch about how poorly it went.

“She’s a raging bitch and I hate her,” Ken mutters, cracking the bottle open. He doesn’t even know if he means that. It feels wrong to say, she’s literally dying, but their relationship has always been garbage and she’s still some sort of demon, so does it even matter? He sips the water, realizes just how dehydrated crying has made him, and takes several deep gulps.

Nate didn’t get his own drink, by the looks of it, and stands in front of Ken with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He’s in one of his button-ups instead of his usual hoodie, because it’s the middle of summer, and Ken knows he should also be dressed lighter. Nate gave him a look when he pulled his father’s jacket on before they left, but he’s long since learned the significance of it and didn’t actually say anything.

Ken looks at the bottle of water, half-empty, then looks up at Nate. “Want some?” he asks, tipping it in Nate’s direction.

“You need it more than I do,” Nate declines. Ken wasn’t crying when Nate saw him last; did he anticipate this, hence the water? Or did he just want to do something nice? Ken would have expected soda. 

“Afraid of an indirect kiss?” Ken teases, smirking up at Nate. He’s exhausted and sad and angry, but this is easy. It’s one of the few fucking easy things he has going for him.

Nate snorts. “I sucked your dick like two days ago,” he reminds Ken, raising an eyebrow. “Think we’re past me being afraid of kissing, indirectly or otherwise.”

They’ve been doing this for several months. They don’t really use the boyfriend label, and absolutely never will, but they’re almost assuredly exclusive, and surprisingly they’ve steadily been more and more open with their emotions and traumas. Ken never thought he’d have an issue with doing such a thing, but the first time he really talked about his dad, it felt like pulling out his own teeth. Sure, he fully expected Nate to be emotionally constipated, and he absolutely is, but finding out that he was the exact same way sort of put things into perspective.

He sips at the water, thinking about the humor of it all. If you’d told him a year ago that he’d be back in contact with his mother with Nate Donovan at his side, he’d have laughed in your face. Or punched you, maybe. He’s gotten pretty comfortable punching people when they push him too far.

“Are you gonna sit down?” Ken asks when he lowers the bottle again.

Nate wrinkles his nose. “Are you gonna go back in there? I figured you’d wanna leave.”

Ken looks away. “...I don’t know. If I leave, I might never come back.” He’s sort of expecting Nate to ask if that’s a bad thing, but he doesn’t. Maybe that’s just his own internal monologue. Nate has a fantastic relationship with his mother, and though he resents his father, the man is both presumably still alive and also unlikely to ever reach out again. His situation is so different.

Then again—Ken needs to stop treating Nate like he doesn’t experience empathy. He does, he just seems to suppress it a lot. He’s a lot more complex than Ken ever thought before, but part of his entire image seems to be hiding anything that he assumes makes him weak, so maybe it’s excusable to take him at face value. 

Nate sits in the chair next to him without any immediate comment, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. Ken finds himself wishing this hospital was funded well enough to have better chairs, or maybe benches, because the gap between them feels cavernous. He realizes, reluctantly, that he’s aching for comfort. He’s not even really sure how to ask for it. He’s not sure if Nate would give it.

He did get this water, though. And he’s not asking questions, not being snide or critical. The bar is on the floor, maybe, but Ken mostly just feels like he underestimates Nate a lot.

“Thanks,” he mutters, eventually. “For coming with me.”

Nate huffs a short laugh before Ken can get wrapped up in his own head about saying such a thing. “Kinda surprised you even want me here,” he admits. “I almost thought you’d turn me down when I offered to take you.”

Glancing over to look at the side of Nate’s face, Ken wonders if maybe Nate underestimates him just as often. 

He thinks about making a joke, saying that there are certainly worse people he could be here with. Yet despite not thinking Nate is fishing for reassurance or anything, Ken feels like there’s something vulnerable about this moment, and maybe it’s not just on his side. Sure, he’s the one with the dying mom and the trauma about his dead dad and the tear tracks staining his cheeks, but Nate willingly walked into it with him. Where Nate thought he might be turned down on his offer, Ken had sort of thought Nate would simply go home when he was informed of the situation. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Ken says softly, looking at the reflection of the fluorescent lights above in the water. “I want you here,” he decides a moment later. When he looks over, Nate is staring at him in evident surprise. “You know you’re the only person I’m close to outside of Newt,” he says. Then, when Nate seems unconvinced, he adds, “Right?”

“...You’ve got to have friends,” Nate says uncertainly. 

“Have you ever seen me hanging out with any?” Ken counters.

Nate seems to prod the inside of one cheek with his tongue, then objects, “You’re so cool, though.”

Genuinely shocked by that assertion, Ken barks out a laugh. “Since fucking when?” 

“You’re smart, and you know lots of obscure shit,” Nate mutters, sinking down in his chair. Ken knows he hates being laughed at; Ken’s not laughing at him, though. He’s laughing at himself, at the idea he could ever be cool. Especially coming from Nate, who’s made a point since they met of telling him he’s a faggot loser.

Rather than try to argue, because it’s actually kind of sweet that Nate would even say that, Ken asks, “You really think that?”

“I’m not with you just because you give good head,” Nate huffs. “Dumbass. Of course I think that.”

With you.

Ken leans back in his own chair, looking at the water bottle again, fixating on it to avoid looking at anything else. Things have been weird, lately, haven’t they? Nate’s been... more gentle. Ken hasn’t been sure why, but as he carefully broaches the idea that maybe it’s intentional, his heart surges painfully in opposition to the concept. Nate is Nate, he will only ever be Nate. People don’t change, Ken, for fuck’s sake. You know that.

He swishes the remaining water in the bottle, distressed to realize that the thoughts steadily mounting in his mind are somehow even worse than the fact that his mother is dying. He doesn’t love her; he hasn’t for a long time. If anything he just feels some sort of weird obligation to her, as her son. If he thinks about it, though—really thinks about it, allows himself to open up just enough to retrieve the feeling from the chambers of his heart—he knows he’s in love with Nate. 

It hurts.

He did get this water, Ken tries to reason, but his heart is adamant: that changes nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. One nicety in a sea of aggressions does not a real relationship make. Nate is a bastard and an asshole, and someday, maybe even soon, he’s going to get bored. He’s going to break your heart, Ken, and then what? You’re going to wallow in misery and pain, so blindsided by your emotions that you didn’t stop to prepare for the inevitable?

He’s tearing up again, throat tight. The water bottle creaks in his grip. “I think,” he manages, “I want to leave. Actually. Please.”

Nate doesn’t ask.

The next few weeks, Nate seems like he’s trying to overcompensate for something, which makes Ken feel worse. It feels like Nate’s trying to appease him to ensure he keeps getting access to sex. Maybe Ken’s perception is skewed by grief; whether that grief is about his mother or about the relationship that is still technically ongoing is anybody’s guess.

He doesn’t want to upset the balance of his life while his mother is dying, but she proves to be surprisingly resilient. The nurses assure him she doesn’t have long, but the stubborn old bat holds on, and Ken’s heart is breaking more every day as Nate tries to keep things together for them both. Why is he even trying?

He ends things. It’s not easy. Nate takes it poorly, and Ken knew he would (that’s why he does it in public), but not in the way that actually happens. He’s not angry; at least, not at first. He actually seems crestfallen, and asks Ken what he did wrong, which is a baffling question that receives no answer. 

Ken hears Nate kick over a table or chair or something when he walks away. He doesn’t look back. His mother calls him later that day, asking when he intends to come see her again; frustrated, heartbroken, Ken breaks down sobbing. She assumes it’s about her. That’s fine. Better that way, really.

He never wants to think about Nate again.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Newt doesn’t sound worried, honestly. If anything, he sounds excited—he’s just making sure Ken is actually prepared to go through with it. Ken flashes him a smile. “Would you believe I’ve wanted to do something like this since I was fourteen?”

Newt laughs.

It’s been six months since their mother was placed in the hospital. She’s declining more and more rapidly, but she’s also becoming more and more of a bitter wench in the process; though Ken feels conflicted on the whole situation, he’s trying to live more for himself than for her expectations of who he should be. Her deathbed will not be the place where his dignity also dies.

She’s been hounding them for a few days now to come see her again. This is it, she says. This is the end for real this time. Ken is skeptical after the numerous other calls like this, but Newt insists she sounds more frantic than usual, so they may as well take the idea seriously. Newt’s relationship with her was always relatively fine, and she’s certainly forgiven him more readily for “abandoning” her, as opposed to her continual guilting over Ken cutting her off. (She also rags on them both for their piercings, and Newt for his hair, but that was honestly fully expected.)

So, here they are. Visiting hours have only just started and they’re lingering outside her door, waiting. Ken is valiantly disregarding the temptation to skin his lower lip with his teeth out of sheer anxiety, but he does keep catching himself biting it anyway. There’s really nothing to be anxious about; she’s a pile of bones with no authority over him. Even so, the childhood he spent under her thumb is not so easily forgotten.

“Yo, catch.”

They both turn around, and Newt manages to catch the water bottle tossed his way as instructed. Ken knows it was directed at him specifically for his reflexes; Ken is very precise but not very fast. The second water bottle is simply placed into his hands.

“Thanks,” he says warmly as Newt puzzles over the intent of the water. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Nate chuckles, looking a little nervous himself. He doesn’t usually care what people he actively dislikes think of him, and he’s certainly not the biggest fan of Ken and Newt’s mom, but there’s also the weight of her specific identity hanging over his head. She’s not just any cantankerous old bitch—she’s Ken’s mother, specifically. 

Newt opens the door, and the three of them head inside.

She’s asleep, or appears to be, but based on the EKG monitor her heart is actually going at a pretty standard pace of alertness. This is pretty typical for her, honestly.

“Hey, Mom,” Newt greets gently. “We’re here.”

She opens her eyes, and despite her declining health and age, her vision is still plenty sharp enough to notice the anomaly in the room: a tall man with obviously bleached hair, several piercings, ripped jeans, a dog collar around his neck, and her son hanging off of his arm. She gives Ken a venomous look.

“Mom, I wanted to introduce you to Nate,” Ken says, grinning from ear-to-ear despite the tumultuous anxiety in his gut. “My boyfriend,” he adds, pointedly. He holds Nate’s arm tighter as he says it, earning him a kiss on his head.

“Your—” She cuts herself off before actually repeating the word. “When did this happen?”

“I think our first anniversary is coming up soon, actually,” Nate notes offhandedly, and Ken knows he’s referring to the date they both got arrested for publicly fooling around in the wake of a brutal fistfight. That just makes this even more hilarious. “You’re better at math than me, baby, does that add up?” he asks sweetly.

“I think so,” Ken agrees, though admittedly between everything else going on he hasn’t actually given it much thought. 

“Nate’s the frontman of my favorite band!” Newt elects to share, hopping on the balls of his feet. “I still can’t believe this happened—it’s like being brother-in-law to a celebrity!”

Their mother balks. It’s not hard to imagine what sort of music Newt listens to these days, judging by the state of his wardrobe; she’s surely imagining the sort of filth that is, admittedly, very in line with Nate's musical stylings.

“Why did you bring him here?” she finally settles on asking.

“Because he’s important to me, Mom,” Ken replies evenly. “I love him. I wanted you to meet him while you still have the chance.” Pause. “Dad would have loved him, don’t you think?”

She hates talking about her ex-husband, let alone being compared to him, so that seems to shut her up, at least for the time being.

Nate doesn’t talk much, and Ken’s not sure if it’s because he feels unwelcome or because he simply doesn’t know what to say. He’s at least very physically present, at some point slinging his arm around Ken’s shoulders to better pet him and draw him in for kisses to his head or face. Newt and Ken have a lot to say, in any case; about Nate, about how things have been, about how they will be in the coming days.

Ken and Newt’s mother is clearly disapproving. At some point she makes some snide comment or another about Nate’s “trashy” appearance, and though Ken is just about ready to leave on the spot in response, Nate just laughs. 

By the time they do leave, the only one worse for wear seems to be her. They’re heading back to Nate’s car when he finally asks, “Do you think she’s really gonna die soon?”

“She looks awful,” Newt supplies. “Worse than she has been. So, maybe.”

“She’s been claiming it’ll be soon for months,” Ken sighs. “It’s exhausting. She’s exhausting.”

Nate scratches his cheek with the hand not currently laced with Ken’s. “We kinda owe it to her, though, don’t you think?”

Ken stops in his tracks to give Nate a perplexed look. Newt is also confused, halfway into a sip of the water Nate had gotten for him earlier. 

“That first time we came here,” Nate explains. “It’s why you...”

“It’s why I broke up with you, yes,” Ken finishes for him, brows pinching together. “That was a bad thing, babe.”

Nate shrugs. “Look where we ended up, though,” he counters. “Would you have ever had a reason to tell me you loved me if it didn’t get forced like that?”

Newt snorts. “Uh, yeah, probably when you finally performed that song you wrote for him.”

“If I even did,” Nate shoots back. “It was really rough. I almost scrapped it.” Funny, that; it’s one of Ken’s absolute favorite songs, burned onto a disc of other favorites that he plays frequently in his car. It’s a wild tonal shift from the rest of the tracks, being that they are largely ska, but it makes him considerably happier than any of those do, so he considers it a fair trade-off.

“I’m not crediting my bitch mother with getting us together,” Ken says with a little smirk. “It wasn’t about her, anyway. I just got panicky at the wrong time.”

Nate shrugs again, then leans in to kiss Ken's cheek. “Well, whatever the reason, if she hadn’t wound up here when she did, things probably would have gone differently.”

“Better, maybe,” Newt suggests, continuing the approach towards Nate’s car.

“I dunno,” Nate says, “I think I like how it went just fine.” He winks at Ken, then tugs him toward the car as well.

It’s strange, really. If you’d told Ken five years ago, at his father’s funeral, that he could ever feel this way about anything or anyone, he’d absolutely have punched you in the face. Now, heart swelling in his chest, the thought of his mother’s imminent death barely a blip on his emotional radar, Ken has to wonder if he’s just been wrong his entire life about people’s ability to change. Nate changed. He changed. His entire life has changed, and maybe for the first time since he was very small, it’s been for the better.

He knows one thing, in any case: his father really would have loved Nate. Regardless of his mother’s disapproval, that’s the only metric that Ken thinks really matters.

[rapha-reads]

Went through the notes, noticed that you were welcoming fic recs, saw what the fandom has been reccing, decided to add my brick to the edifice (fair warning, it's heavy on Jason Todd. He's my boy).

Jason Todd: The Not-So-Outlaw by GoAwayOlivia

Jason Todd isn't what Batman made him, he isn't what the Joker made him, he isn't what the League of Assassins made him, and he isn't what the Lazarus Pit made him. He's his own person and he's taking himself back, one home renovation at a time. Also he might just make friends with the people who are supposed to be his brothers while he's at it.

192k words of Red Hood Jason healing from all the PTSD, renovating an old flat, reconnecting with his family and building his own. Will make you cry. Will make you laugh. Will make you go mad in the dark at 3 in the morning.

Foreign Object, part 1 of the Cor et Cerebrum series, by audreycritter

Bruce Wayne deals with a serious illness, one that threatens the most crucial part of himself. He and the family try to cope with their own fears and expectations about it and then the aftermath. This is written partly as character study, partly as family drama.

No one has recced that one yet, and I'm offended. Cor et Cerebrum is just. I don't have the words. It's family, you know? It's the trauma and love, the anger and loyalty that brings and bounds people together. Also it is the introduction of best boy Kiran "Dev" Devabhaktuni, Audrey's original character that's since become a staple of a part of the fandom, and I personally think Dev is worth knowing.

Gotham Banksy by LananiA3O

Red Hood: Lost Days AU. After finding out that he remains unavenged, Jason returns to Gotham, but instead of deciding to kill Bruce, he decides to channel his rage into a more creative endeavor: spray-painting Gotham until the message is loud and clear to everyone: fuck Batman.

This one. I love it when Jay channels his anger and fondness for the dramatics into arts and crafts. This one is amazing, because the descriptions of the paintings, the giant paintings, are some of the most vivid, intense, powerful stuff I've read.

The Social Media Saga by Wallyallens

The batkids get instagram and all hell breaks lose.

I'm a huge fans of social media AU. This one is hilarious, and it has ALL the family feels.

Needless to say, part 1 of the Family Vacations! series by Aaren

Jason decides to take a vacation. It goes well. Mostly. Except for the part where everything is going to hell. –––––––– “I am going to murder him.” Tim slowly told the room at large, voice flat and tightly controlled. He was pouring coffee directly besides his mug, dark circled eyes never once leaving the television. Damian hummed in agreement, trying to dislodge his jam covered knife from where he had stabbed it in the breakfast table. “You shall not stand alone in this endeavour, Drake. ”

A series about siblings being siblings, except these siblings are simultaneously highly-trained vigilantes and the dumbest guys ever. It's hilarious, it's badass, it's dumb, it's full of family feels. The last part isn't complete.

Colony and Flock, part 1 and 2 of the Nighttime Fliers series, by halfmoonmagic

The Bats are a family like any other--they argue, they laugh, they dress up in costumes and beat criminals to a pulp with their bare fists. You know, normal family things. A series of unconnected one-shots centered around Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. Other characters will appear periodically.

Exactly what the summary says. Expect various family feels Batman style: fighting baddies, fighting each other, 4am breakfast fluff and 3pm lunch angst, school trips, space trips, de-aging and time travel... Some chapters are connected, but most are not.

it's always sunny in coast city, part 3 of the we're in this mellow mayhem together series by atlasky

Jason flashes Hal the black credit card between his fingers. The name Bruce Wayne is printed on it in golden, cursive letters. He says, “My teenage rebellion phase is long overdue. Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” “This is your third existential crisis this year,” Hal replies, but he gets into the Lamborghini and pulls out his phone to text Carol about missing work, because who is he to say no to putting a dent in Bruce Wayne's wallet? (Or: a road trip for people who, for once, choose to deal with emotions.)

This series follows the friendship between Jason and Hal Jordan, from Jay's childhood all through his dead and return. Every instalment is a standalone and is great, but this one is my favorite. It's just very... melancholy and slow. Very nice when you need the day to slow down and your brain to shut up.

Harvest, part 6 of the Minefield series, by coyote-nebula

Bruce knows how Jason died. Bruce knows how Jason returned to Gotham. He knows very little about what happened in-between. When Clark Kent prevails upon him to complete the corn harvest at the Kent farm, Bruce is forced to make peace with his own shortcomings to be the father that Jason needs him to be. You know the Hallmark movie where the city slicker comes to the small town with unaddressed baggage and leaves having healed all their personal relationships with the help of adoptive country moms against a charming rural backdrop? This is that, father-son edition.

The Minefield series is about dealing with trauma and love when you're a family of vigilantes who have all died at least once. In that series, Harvest is one of those stories that will grip you by the throat and make you yell in your pillow. It's 30k words of anger, grief, hard conversations, unconditional love, tending to crops and escaping a furious bull.

World’s Saddest Breakfast Club by motleyfam

Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake.

This one is one of the most popular in the fandom (close to 54k hits, almost 10k kudos), and it's just. The best. It's 7k words of love through food and banter and one of those 4 to 6am half fluff half angst breakfast, when the world barely exists and it's just you and your favorite people messing around and existing together.

Alright, I'mma stop here. Enjoy the hyperfixation!

It's been well over a decade since I've touched any of the media, but I can feel my hyperfixation careening back into the Batfam fandom.

All of it.

I was awake at 4am this morning reading Batman comics from 1939, and my little gremlin brain, high on the endorphins of this fixation, is like, "What if, now hear me out, what if we just read ALL of them."

Like brain, I don't know how to tell you this, but there is just under a hundred years worth of content. We can't. We, no, stop. Please, no, I have a family, I have a Mop to feed! Please, we, we... ah. Fuck.

[bangtaninborderland]

LETS TALK.

Hello my lovely readers, I wanted to come and have a little chat with everyone here.

For a few weeks I stopped updating, everything came to a standstill and I wanted to give you all a little update on where I’ve been - I’ve been applying (and accepted) to universities. This has meant I’ve had to go for interviews so I’ve been very busy!

On top of that I am still fighting against my college for not dealing with the sexual harassment I was subjected to by my business teacher.

On TOP of that, my 5 year relationship ended.

So… a lot.

But nevertheless, I am back. I am writey (that is not a word) and I am excited to reconnect with you all.

I will say that I hope now I’ll have more of you sending me asks, when I say this I don’t just mean requests I mean ask me questions, tell me about your day, connect with me. I’m a human too and I care for you all, it’s nice to have some interaction here.

As always, my DMS are open for whoever would like to talk, if you ever have a question about a story, character, or anything at all really then I will be here! I promise I don’t bite.

Another thing (now I don’t even believe I’m good enough of a writer to do this) but I’ve opened a Kofi. I have my reasons and eventually I’ll probably share that with you all.

You can find that here -> KOFI

Within the next month I’ll be opening up membership tiers with a array of content that will be exclusive, this will include pre released works, drabbles, deleted content, character explanations and exclusive Fics. Anyone who joins these will have the ability to dm me for a 2k fic!

I’m also taking commissions, my ask box is jam full and there’s so much there. You are all welcome to request, I promised when I opened this page I won’t close my requests but if there is something you want done asap then commissions will be open.

I want to make it clear you do not have to support me through Kofi, your support on tumblr, your messages, your comments. It all means so much to me, more than you could all know. I will still take requests here, I will still be uploading stories, I will still be connecting with you all.

Anyway, I hope you are all okay and I love you sm!! You are all beautiful, handsome, smart, funny, kind. You are all the good things in life.

Thank you. 💛💜

[stusbunker]

Laws Unspoken

A Supernatural A/B/O Fan-fiction

Featuring: Omega!Teacher Reader x Alpha!Lawyer Sam

Written for: @calaofnoldor​​ for my 1k Jam Basket Fic Exchange

                :  @spnabobingo​​​

                : @supernatural-jackles​​​ Tell Me a Story Bingo

A/B/O Square filled: Daisies/Fresh Bread/Pine

TMASB Square filled: Quote C “Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.”

Word Count: 9908

Rating: Teen to Explicit real fast

Summary:  You’re a single Omega whose mother lost her mate early. She always warned you to never let a mate determine your life. Your grandmother, your favorite person in the whole world told you different, spun tales of romance and everlasting love of a bonded pair since you were very young. At 30 you were ready to give up hope, until a dashing lawyer, and widower, Sam Winchester agrees to help you petition to save the local wetlands.

Warnings: Death of a spouse, mild angst, fluff, drunk Sam, protective brother Dean, hinted masturbation, smut, knotting, Hallmark level plot and gooey-ness.

A/N: Sweet, sweet Cala. I am so incredibly sorry this took me MONTHS longer than I had intended it would. I really hope you find it satisfactory and that enough of your jams were included. Thank you for putting up with me! xoxo Thank you to @cracksinthewalls​ @rockhoochie​ and @lastactiontricia​ for helping this in all its various forms!

    Sundays were the best day of the week. A day of relaxation and reconnection. The day you set aside to visit your grandmother for brunch, no matter how busy you got, you made time for her. She was your favorite person, and though she’d never admit it to your cousins, you were hers too.

    You arrived just after ten, having spent the night before out with friends. The house smelled of eggs caked in cheese and freshly baked bread, warm and as inviting as ever. She hollered at you to join her and soon you were wrapped in the comfort of her embrace. You were at once five and fifteen and the thirty year old you presently were; her love and your bond were timeless. 

    You ate while telling her about your previous week and catching up on the gossip from her neighborhood. Her crass talk was only equaled by her compassion and it was such a relief to feel her acceptance after your last phone call with your mother.  She grinned at you in a way that only meant trouble.

    “How ‘bout we forget the dishes and get some fresh air?”

    Sam Winchester didn’t exercise as much as he’d like. On the off chance he didn’t have work overflow onto his weekends, he made sure to get a long run in. Sundays were best because they were quiet and the trails were nearly empty. It gave him time to think, to breathe and to feel alive. Something he would never take for granted again.

    He began with a rushed stretching session, however thorough. The gravel was still wet beneath him from the nightly spring dew. Sam inhaled, letting the cool air clear his head. He checked his watch and started down the eastern trail that looped around the entire wildlife sanctuary. Sam had the whole day and he wasn’t going to waste a single second of it.

    By his third mile he was rounding the bend, returning to his starting point, the juncture of all of the trailheads. Just as Sam turned to take the smaller inner loop, for a more picturesque route a gravelly feminine voice huffed out conspiratorially, “now that’s an Alpha.”

    Sam looked back to see an older woman with her daughter or granddaughter turn and giggle. Embarrassed at their acknowledgement, and perhaps a little empathetic for the younger woman, Sam grinned, but didn’t reply. He continued to run, but his mind was elsewhere. Something about the women’s blatant objectification of his sweaty self gave Sam pause. It had been a long time since he thought of himself that way. It almost felt like a joke. But the longer he thought it over, the longer he felt flattered. 

    He slowed to a walk for his cool down, again taking the outer trail with deliberate hope that he would run into the women. What was he doing? Going out of his way for a chance at an ego boost? Real mature, counselor. But he couldn’t help it. Something about the brief encounter made Sam curious. And that was not something he ever left unfulfilled.

    Forty minutes later and Sam had given up on seeing the pair of catcallers again. It was a silly venture anyway, but it had given Sam such beautiful scenery along the way. Which only reinforced his drive for the coming work week.

    The town council meeting was scheduled to begin at six thirty on Thursday the twelfth. You arrived at six fifteen, hoping to get a good spot, skipping dinner in the process to make it in time after work. The meeting hall was already half filled, while the council member chairs were empty. Security casually stood at each exit, giving the air of formality you weren’t used to. You swallowed and held your bag close, filing down the center aisle to an open spot in the third row. You didn’t recognize anyone from the school you worked at or from growing up in town. Suddenly you felt very out of place. 

    Out of habit you scrolled through your phone until a quick gavel knock and amped voice announced the start of the meeting. You soon realized it had become standing room only. Making the reason you were there all the more desperate, because if all of these people had an opinion, you wanted to make sure your concerns were heard at the very least. 

    They read the minutes from the previous month’s meeting and did some other formalities until the council chair began to read the agenda for the evening.

The development proposal for the wetlands was near the end of the list, which meant if enough people spoke, it would be pushed to next month. Something that would plague you for the interim, you needed to shut it down as soon as possible to stop the greedy bastards from pushing their agenda any longer.

    Two hours and only three topics had been voted on. Leaving you and twenty or so others crabby and vocal about the remaining agenda items. It was then that a tall, well-dressed man stepped out of line and spoke to the council out of turn.

    “I’d like to move for the Morningstar Wetland Development to be discussed next.”

    “You can’t just cut in line, Sam.” The man heading the council reprimanded. “We’ve got protocols for these things. What kind of lawyer are you?”

    The man ducked in front of the microphone at the front of the line, whispering his apologies to the grumpy Karen type who had last aired her grievances. “Sorry, Bobby, it’s just a big deal. And not just to me, but it was to Jess.”

    The entire room was silent. Clearly, the two men knew each other. The councilman looked empathetic. You didn’t know who this Jess was, but it touched a nerve. There were whispers throughout the room as everyone waited for the man to reply.

    “Yeah, I know it was. But we’ll hear your pleas next meeting.” Bobby then spoke to the whole room, “we will hear all of your pleas next month. Thank you, but this meeting is adjourned for time. Good night and drive safe, folks.”

    The room erupted in protest, but logical brains won out. Letting the outrage simmer as everyone gathered their belongings and slowly moved to the exits. You knew the parking lot would be a mess, so you stayed put, hoping to catch up to the disruptive attorney. You potentially had someone on your side and you couldn’t lose that hope.

    As the room cleared, you spotted him deep in conversation with another Alpha, also in a well tailored suit. You inhaled deeply and marched up to the men, determined to get to the bottom of your suspicions.

    “Hey! I’m curious, what is your stance on the wetlands development proposal? Because that was what I wanted to speak on, not that I got the chance,” you interrupted the conferring men, both a little wide eyed at your brazenness.

    “Decidedly against,” the towering Alpha with long hair replied. Something told you that you knew this guy, but you couldn’t place him. Meanwhile the man beside him was not so discreetly eyeing you suggestively. “Sam Winchester, and you are?”

    You introduced yourself, taking his large hand in a firm handshake. “Now, I’m no lawyer, but my grandmother lives in The Veil Villas and I can’t stand to have some shopping monstrosity built next door.”

    Sam looked at the other man and chuckled before returning his earnest gaze to you. “The kind of grandmother that catcalls younger Alphas out on a morning run?”

    You instantly blushed, the heat and revelation coursing through your veins. “Maybe. Oh Christ, that was you?”

    “Guilty.”

    “I’m gonna go find Bobby. Talk to you later, Sammy,” the other Alpha bowed out respectively. Which oddly made you feel more comfortable, being one on one.

    “I’ll see you at home, Dean,” Sam answered without breaking eye contact with you.

    Once the other man was out of earshot, “I don’t know many Alpha couples,” you pointed out fondly. 

    “Me neither. He’s my brother,” Sam replied glibly. Again, struck with embarrassment, you found yourself shifting on your feet.

    “Look, I’d love to get your help on this. Want to grab a drink and discuss what we can do before the next council meeting?” Sam offered just as your stomach growled audibly.

    Sheepishly you giggled. “Make it dinner and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

    “Deal,” Sam promised with another firm handshake.

    Sam couldn’t help watching the clock on the wall. He hadn’t hated that clock until now. But tonight, it wasn’t moving fast enough. He waited in his office after work for a strategy meeting on community organizing against the recent wetlands project. With a very particular Omega that had thrown him for a loop. 

    Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t a date. Even when you two had gone to dinner after the previous week’s town council meeting you had been painfully professional. He didn’t want to lose your help, but he could feel his feelings rushing past attraction and straight to affection for you. It was unsettling to say the least. Sam hadn’t had feelings like this in so long. Not since Jessica. 

    It had been over two years since her death and Sam had forgotten the thrill of getting to know someone that made him like this. This being internally flustered and outwardly excitable. Eighteen minutes, Sam just needed to keep it together for a little longer. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. After all, you had work to do.

    Once Sam had his desk reorganized and his tie and jacket resituated, he heard a gentle knock on the doorframe. 

    “Hey, Sam,” you called out, smiling bright as Sam stood hastily, knocking back his chair. “Whoa, everything alright?”

    Sam, obviously flustered, righted the chair. “No---- it’s fine. I’m--- good. You? How are you?”

    You chuckled at his awkwardness, it was actually pretty cute, not that you were letting yourself think that. “Good. Tired. Same old, same old. Whatcha got for me?”

    You eyed the stack of manila folders on the side of his desk, hopeful you could be of use. Sam smirked and sat back down, trying not to breathe in your scent too deeply. “Lots. How do you feel about canvassing?”

    And he did his best to convince you to join him on the huge undertaking of collecting signatures of the people living around the wetlands. It wasn’t a struggle exactly, but you had a lot of questions. Questions that often came when Sam was looking into your eyes instead of listening to your words. He was doing his best, he really was. At the end of it all, the entire proposal and explanation, a mere thirty minutes had passed. 

    “When are we going to do all this?” You asked, slightly flustered, eyes wide with the reality of your already limited free time.

    “Whenever we can. I know my work schedule is a little demanding, but I try really hard to keep my weekends open. I was hoping we could start Saturday. If you’re free.” Sam raised his eyebrows and almost puckered his lips. Hoping you had the time to spare, for saving the wetlands, of course. He only needed your help, he didn’t need to see you. At least that is what he told himself.

    You exhaled through your mouth and opened your phone’s calendar. “I have to drop off some things for a fundraiser Saturday morning, but I should be done before nine, since that’s when the event starts. I don’t have to be there in person, per se. But it is for work.”

    “The school is having a---?” Sam asked, curious and slightly impressed by your generosity.

    “A bake sale and rummage sale, nine to three,” you explained with a sigh. 

    “Why don’t we do a booth? I mean, if that’s okay? I can have information printed and that way you’re there, you’re supporting the school and hopefully getting some signatures. If it doesn’t work, we can go out for real on Sunday?”

    Sam internally kicked himself. He just asked you to spend your entire weekend with him. 

    “You’d do all that?” You asked, clearly surprised by the lengths he would go.

    “Absolutely. Besides, I have a brother who eats pie by the tin. I owe him after ditching him last week. And what better way than a trip to a bake sale?”

    “So, Dean will be there too?” Sam caught a touch of disappointment in your voice.

    “I doubt he’ll stick around. But he’ll help us set up. So? What do you think?” Sam was earnest, the possibility was intoxicating. Both of spending time with him again and of stopping the development.

    “I’ll check with the PTA, but since we’re not asking for anything monetary, I think we should be good. I’ll text you when I hear from them?”

    “That’d be great,” Sam smirked. “But for now? Let’s just plan on me picking you up on Saturday morning around 8:30.”

    “Let’s say 8, we can stop for coffee on the way.” You returned his easy smile.

    “Deal.” Sam had to look away, the butterflies in his stomach were beginning to give him false hope.

    You made it inside your apartment and exhaled, for what felt like the first time all day. Seventy-two signatures and seven and a half hours after Sam picked you up, you were exhausted. You don’t think you had ever talked so much in your life and all you wanted to do was relax. But instead you had to shower and get ready for dinner with your mother, who had called in the middle of the day nearly demanding to see you.

    Might as well get it over with.

    It wasn’t that you didn’t get along with your mother, but as an only child you had dealt with her every expectation and worry for as long as you could remember. And the interruption of your day by her phone call had put a definite kink in your momentum with gaining support and signatures. It would be good to see her, it would. You just needed to psych yourself up for the task.

    An hour and a half later she was buzzing to be let in. Her timeless Omega beauty still notable into her fifties, she smiled softly at your frenzied appearance. 

    “Is everything alright?” She just had a way of reading beneath the surface, especially yours.

    “Yup! Just had a long day is all,” you answered, slipping into your light jacket before grabbing your keys. “How’ve you been?”

    “Oh, you know me, nothing too pressing. Ready?” She hugged you and kissed the side of your head. 

    Dinner was decadent, the restaurant your mother had suggested was new and certainly lived up to the hype you’d seen on your friends’ socials.

    “Isn’t this great? All locally sourced and owned and operated by people who get what the town wants,” your mother conspired over her entree.

    “Funny you should say that, I’m working on a new project.” Your mother’s face lit up, she always liked to hear that you kept busy. “Community focused. I’m working with a local lawyer gathering signatures to stop that awful development from going in by Grandma.”

    She barely paused. “When’d this all happen?”

    “Last week, but we just started the petitioning today. That’s why I’m so tired--- lots of talking.”

    “Who’s the lawyer?”

    You started to fidget. “Um, younger guy, but also local. Though I don’t remember him from school. Sam Winchester?” You took a drink of your water, trying not to make a big deal of it. Praying your mother didn’t deduce how impressed and invested you were becoming with Sam himself and not just the project.

    “Winchester, sounds familiar. But I can’t place it. When do you need to gather the signatures?” She was clearly working out a timeline for following up with you. Not micromanaging at all.

    “Next town council meeting we hope to present them. Though we’re not sure it will even make a difference. That’s a lot of revenue the town could lose if we stop it before it starts.”

    “Well I’m glad to hear you’re being level-headed about it. You know I hate you to get your hopes up.” She seemed to miss her cue for encouragement.

    “Of course,” you added shortly.

    “And it’s not interfering with work?”

    “Not at all. Sam works even more hours than I do. We agreed to keep it to nights and weekends.”

    “So, it’s only the two of you?” Now she was really sinking her nails into this thing.

    “For now. I suppose we should discuss recruitment when we get together tomorrow.” Why hadn’t you thought of that?

    “I see. That’s an awful lot of time to spend with someone. Is he an Alpha?”

    “Mom!” You huffed in annoyance.

    She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I just want you to be safe---.” She stabbed at the last bit of her meat. “And smart.”

    “Yes, he’s an Alpha. But he’s a widower, so I don’t feel like I have as much to worry about, overall. You know?”

    Your mother froze midchew, giving you a wet grimace. She didn’t have anything more to say on the matter. It was a low blow for you to use Sam’s loss against her, but it was the clearest path. She could understand his situation in a way no one else could. Your father had died when you were a toddler and, as your mother always told you, you were the only thing that kept her going. The loss of a mate was unbearable for her and so she raised you to be independent, to never let an Alpha try and solve your problems.

    She had your best interests in mind, but it left a lonely life path laid out for you. You’d dated Beta’s, but they always grew too insecure in the end, your Omega needs and tendencies too overwhelming when you’d let your guard down. You didn’t want to end up like your mother, especially without pups of your own. But you didn’t dare disappoint her either.

    She changed the subject once the emotion had left her features, and the rest of the meal went smoothly, however clouded.

    In the end, recruitment hadn’t been necessary, not once you had revealed your plans to your Grandmother during your weekly brunch. So, that is how the following weekend Sam was stuck playing twenty questions with her while they canvassed her neighbors. You were paired with Tonya, a fellow teacher from your school. You went door-to-door along the manicured lawns of the houses on the far side of the nature preserve. There weren’t as many people home as you’d hoped for a Saturday, but you still managed an additional two dozen signatures.

    “Ninety-seven?!” You gaped at your grandmother over lunch. You looked to Sam for confirmation.

    “It would have been ninety-eight, but Glen Wilson died last week,” she clarified. “But got his wife to sign anyhow.”

    “You’re cruel,” you teased.

    “She’s vindictive,” Sam pinpointed it. Everyone laughed.

    “Tonya, honey, maybe we should partner up this time? Us pro’s ought to show the slow pokes how it’s done?”

Vindictive isn’t the only word you wanted to use for her. Your grandmother was none too shyly playing matchmaker and it instantly made you warm in the cheeks.

“Samuel, you’ll have to teach my granddaughter some tricks. Those puppy dog eyes are a real clincher.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam agreed, grinning bashfully.

Two hours and Sam and you had already matched your morning total.

“And I thought it was just schmoozing old ladies! You really know how to say what people want to hear,” you praised in near dismay.

Sam waved off your compliment with the clipboard. “Comes with the territory. Knowing how to lead a witness or sway a jury---,”

“I thought you handled corporate law?” You stopped in confusion.

“I do. It’s--- I--- I was a prosecutor. Almost the next Assistant D.A. actually. But someone I got locked up killed my wife.” You gasped. “It’s okay. I mean--- it’s not--- it will never be okay. But, anyway, I switched focus after that. I couldn’t do it objectively anymore. I just kept seeing monsters instead of people.” Sam exhaled and started moving once more. 

“Sam, I’m so sorry! I had no idea,” you apologized for bringing up such a dreadful subject.

“I know. Jess is why I had to get this thing stopped. She loved this place.” Sam turned, sighing as he looked over the sunkissed pond. “We used to come out here when we were kids. ---- Dean and whoever his significant other was at the time, Me and Jess, our friend Garth and his Alpha Bess. Just spend the day.---- The trails are all I use anymore, but there’s lots of love left behind here. I can’t lose that too, you know?”

Hearing Sam talk about his late wife hit you with a wave of emotion, sympathy, awe and that forever present loneliness. Which then made you feel guilty and ashamed. He’d been through such horror, you couldn’t envy him his memories. They were all he had left. 

“My father died when I wasn’t even three.” Sam inhaled audibly. “I don’t remember him, it’s okay. But my mother--- from what I gather--- was never the same. So--- I just wanted to say that I think you’re an amazing man, Sam Winchester. Losing your Omega so young and working to preserve her memory---- I’m glad we’re doing this. I’m honored to help.”

You didn’t realize you had grabbed Sam’s arm until he leaned into your touch. He bit his bottom lip before he started to speak,” Thanks. And I’m sorry for your loss too.”

You gave him a gracious smile before turning to head back to the sidewalk, but Sam didn’t follow.

“It’s--- I--- well, Jess wasn’t my Omega. Yes, she was my entire world. But we fell in love before either of us presented. She never did. Jess was my wife, but she was a Beta. So--- whatever your mom went through--- it was probably a lot different.”

You took that all in, nodding dumbly as he caught up to you. Sam hadn’t been mated, he’d only been married. Only?! But your mind wouldn’t stop playing with that part of his story. What kind of person were you, feeling something akin to relief in someone else’s tragedy?

“Shall we?” Sam gestured you to the next walkway. You stepped forward to lead the way, still lost in your own thoughts.

    One thousand eighty three signatures, seventeen walked miles, two late night dinners turned philosophy sessions, and several blisters later, you and Sam arrived at the town council meeting, together. Dean escorted your grandmother in on his elbow, while Tonya and your mother promised to meet you there. It was show time. Sam had filled you in on how he knew Mayor Singer, a crotchety family friend who won his position as a write-in candidate. Which gave you hope that he’d be lenient to your pleas. But the unamused look on the man’s face as he took the center seat made you rethink all of your aspirations. He didn’t seem like the type to suffer fools.

    The meeting began, much like the previous month’s, except this time you were on the edge of your seat. Sam looked over everything, whispering under his breath as he reread his proposal. If anyone could get this thing stopped, it was Sam. You had seen his brilliance and his tenacity in action. Your faith in him, in his abilities, had only grown over the past few weeks. 

It was the “it’s just business” defense that you were banking on plowing over everything you all had worked for. Because no matter how many people were on your side, or how many more you could still gain, money always spoke first and loudest. Dean cleared his throat and nodded Sam toward the back entrance. Sam’s face dropped and a deep growl escaped his chest. Taken aback, you spun to see who had set him off. A smarmy looking man, maybe ten or fifteen years older than you swaggered in late. He was blonde and he looked like he felt he was too good to be there.

“Morningstar himself,” Dean muttered for your benefit.. The competition had arrived.

Your mother mouthed at you down the row, ‘who is that?’. You just shook your head, a clear ‘not someone we wanted to see’. This shifted your agenda and Sam turned and whispered in your ear. “I want you to open. We’re going to make this about the town, about regular people.”

You looked at him in panic, but he only gave you a wolfish smirk. He shouldered out of his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, showing off the bottoms of his upper sleeves of tattoos. The cords of muscle on his unmarred forearms drew your focus and you had to swallow the drool that had filled your mouth. You closed your eyes against the pleasing sight and willed yourself to focus.

You looked over your shoulder, passed Dean, to your grandmother, she gave you an encouraging, if knowing smile and two thumbs up. You rolled your eyes playfully but held her gaze. She believed in you, even if it was for an entirely different reason than the one you were looking at her for. It was enough. 

You were ready. You followed Sam into the aisle and queued behind three other citizens waiting to bring their items before the council. Many of the attendees had returned from last month’s meeting, their familiarity gave you the clarity to speak candidly. All too soon, it was your turn at the mic.

    You introduced yourself and Sam, stating your addresses and occupations before you truly began. “And we’re here to ask the town council to deny the rezoning plea for the Wetlands and to stop the negotiations with Morningstar Investments for their proposed commercial developments of the area. It is not right for this town and it is certainly not right for the pond and the countless species that call those acres home. My grandmother included.” You earned a few laughs, of which you knew one was from Dean. You looked up at Sam and he gave you a mischievous dimple.

    “In all seriousness, for those of us who grew up here, who can remember a summer without a dip in Crowley Pond? Or a spring without a class field trip to collect tadpoles or a founder’s day picnic before the weather turned each fall? That land is as part of this town as the people are, because it helped make us who we are. We can’t give that up for the sake of progress or more buildings. Buildings and jobs don’t make a town. Memories do. People do. Those connections with the natural world keep us human. Don’t let big city money come in and try and change us, just so they can use us for more tax breaks. Please, Mayor Singer, council members, my fellow citizens, please deny their rezoning application and stop these absurd negotiations.”

    You paused long enough for a barrage of applause to rage around the room. Sam grabbed your shoulders encouragingly and you stepped to the side to let him close.

    “Over the last few weeks we have gathered over one thousand signatures from voting citizens who agree this deal needs to end now. I present them to the council in good faith.” Sam held up a manila folder and Mayor Singer waved him forward. They shared a brief exchange, but each man kept his poker face. “We’d like this item to be voted on tonight. But are prepared to come back until the council is ready to take this issue seriously.”

    The room stood silent as the mayor glanced through the collected petition. He passed it to the alderwoman on his left and let them each assess the presented information. You felt your entire body thrumming in suspense. 

    “For the record, I’ve known Sam Winchester since before he was born. So I’m airing my biases for public transparency. I’ve also been fishing at Crowley Pond longer than that. And I’ll be damned if I see it turned into a hoity toity boardwalk with designer shops that I can’t even pronounce the names of. But it’s not just up to me,” Mayor Singer explained honestly.

    Another alderwoman in the last seat at the right end of the council stage spoke into her mic. “I represent 70% percent of the residents that live on or near the wetlands. The amount of calls I’ve received, both on my home phone and my office line, over this deal have tripled over the last month. The vast majority, upwards of 4 out of 5, do not want this thing to proceed. Call it N.I.M.B.Y or just plain stubbornness, I don’t care, but I am prepared to call this item to a vote, Mayor.”

    “Thank you, Jody,” Bobby obliged. “Alright, seconded?”

    The lone black man on the council leaned forward and replied. “I second this motion.”

    “Thank you Rufus,” Bobby continued. “All in favor?” Five more alderpeople spoke up. “All opposed?”

    A single voice spoke up. You won, it was seven to one, not counting the Mayor’s vote. The room erupted in triumph. You jumped into Sam’s embrace, feeling his strong arms jostle you in victory. “We did it, huh?” His voice rumbled through his chest into your very being.

    The gavel silenced your celebration, causing you to break apart from Sam’s hold. “On the second item. Ceasing any and all negotiations with Morningstar Investments on a proposed commercial district within town limits. I believe it is too early to vote on this matter, as the petitions were about the aforementioned wetlands. Anyone else think we should table this for future discussion?”

    The council members whispered among themselves, hands over their microphones. Sam’s arm hung heavy over your shoulder, but you faced the deciding members head on.

    “I move that we wait for more information, sir. It is too early in the process to stop any sort of deal with Morningstar or their subsidiaries. We have no clue what else they could propose,” the lone dissenter pressed. 

    “Seconded,” Linda Tran, your alderwoman agreed. The crowd murmured, but the council moved forward with the vote. Five to three the council voted to table ceasing the negotiations. It took the wind out of your sails a bit, but it wasn’t the crux of the battle for you. Sam thanked the council and you both returned to your seats, and the flood of congratulations from your ragtag group of supporters. 

    “I think the tats sold it, Sammy,” Dean teased, flicking Sam’s tricep.

    “Whatever, it was all Y/N,” Sam argued, giving you a proud smirk. You felt higher than ever, too excited with your combined success to feel self conscious over his praise.

    “We did it, all of us,” you affirmed with a stage whisper.

    “Harvelles’ to celebrate?” Dean asked Sam over your head.

    “Definitely.”

    You rolled out of bed the following Sunday morning feeling the twisting ache of an upcoming heat. You’d been on suppressants for years, so they didn’t come regularly, but you never were completely free of them. You mentally started making plans for your usual substitute teacher as you got dressed to go to your grandmother’s. It was one of the perks of working for a small school district, knowing the entire pool of substitutes and being able to have your pick. It kept things consistent for your students and smooth for both you and the sub. 

    After sending out an email to your principal, you made your way across town. You were a little late, so you didn’t notice the familiar Charger parked near the end of the street, but you certainly smelled Sam the moment you opened your grandmother’s patio door. He had always smelled good to you, but it was thicker today, like he was excited about something. Once you calmed down your body’s response to Sam’s scent, your mind caught up. What was he even doing there?

    “Hi?” You called out as you slipped into the breakfast nook, keeping your distance.

    Sam looked up from his coffee nervously, a tee shirt clung to his chest and everything clicked into place. He hadn’t been expecting to be there, but your grandmother had dragged him in off the trail to have brunch. Talk about pushy.

    “Sorry?” Sam sifted in his seat, visibly breathing shallowly through his mouth. He could already smell your simmering heat.

    “It’s okay. I mean, who could have known?” You offered, tugging your cardigan tighter around your neck.

    “Known what?” Your grandmother made her appearance. “Young Omega, you did not show up here on the cusp of a heat. What are you doing out?! We have a guest!”

    You rolled your eyes. “I see that. MAYBE I wouldn’t have come over if I had known you were going to force feed Sam breakfast.”

    “That’s the hormones talking, she doesn’t get lippy with me like she does her mother,” your grandmother explained to Sam, who looked more uncomfortable by the second, with his large body overflowing her tiny chair.

    “Sorry, Grandma,” you acquiesced. “Can I help with anything?”

    She looked between you and Sam and sighed. “How about we eat on the veranda? Samuel, think you can manage the table?”

    Fifteen minutes later and everyone was something closer to relaxed. The spring breeze was strong enough to keep your mingling scents from becoming too powerful. Your grandmother led the conversation, asking Sam about his family, his summer plans, his work, always working in an anecdote or a sly boast about you in the meantime. 

    “Grandma, when does your shuffleboard league start up again?” You started off diplomatically enough. “I think you have too much time on your hands these days.”

    Sam choked on his French toast.

    “What about yourself? Now that this wetlands ordeal is over with. You going back to your usual nightly Netflix binge?” You should have known better to even question her; fire with fire was one thing, but she was a blow torch.

    “This is an amazing recipe, I bet Dean’d love it. Would you mind?” Sam started asking your grandmother, but she was not amused by his segue. He promptly shut up.

    With little fanfare, your grandmother stood and collected her place setting. “Look, I think you two need to talk, so I’m going to start the dishes. I do not want nor do I need your help. There are a lot of them. Take your time. Do you understand?”

    You squirmed under her directness, but you nodded as you nibbled on a slice of bacon. Sam mumbled a ‘yes ma’am’, which only earned him your side eye. Once she was out of earshot, you drooped against your seat back.

    “Again, I’m sorry for intruding on your meal, I just ---- I wanted to check in after you ditched us at the bar,” Sam began.

    “I didn’t ditch you, it was a school night! Tonya left too,” you deflected.

    “Totally understandable, but I haven’t heard from you since--- I kind of thought--- did I do something wrong?” Sam soldiered on.

    “No, of course not, it’s just---.” You didn’t know how to explain your upbringing without insulting his Alpha status or making assumptions about where this conversation was going.

    “Just, what?” Sam looked at you with a soft curiosity and you pinched the inside of your knee to stop yourself from getting too comfortable under his gaze.

    “I guess, I didn’t know what this was? Now, you know? Now that we accomplished what we set out to do. I didn’t want to make you feel obligated to my friendship or---,” you talked with your hands, thoughts and words stumbling over each other.

    “Hey, no one is obligated here, okay? I enjoy spending time with you,” Sam said it like it was easy, simple even. You sighed at his certainty.

    “I like--- spending time with you too,” you agreed, a bit fuzzy. He smiled shyly and looked away.

    “You know, this doesn’t have to be just friendship, right? If you’re interested, I mean, of course,” Sam didn’t quite meet your eye. Damnit. He was leaving it all up to you. Of course you were interested, but it didn’t mean you could do anything about it.

    “I really wish it was that easy,” you whispered, dejection hugging you tight. “But I can’t exactly let an Alpha in, not with my mother and not with my mind so fuzzy. I know you’re a good man, Sam Winchester, but I don’t want to be the next woman you lose.”

    Sam’s eyebrows shot to the sky, his face dropped at the rough path your words cut through him. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to stay friends. For now.”

    “Sure, if you’re going to be okay with that?” You were surprised by his olive branch.

    “I am if you are,” Sam looked you straight in the eye, silently pleading for something you didn’t know how to give.

    “Good,” you broke off, almost like a question. Even with the warm wind, you found the air to be stifling on the porch. You quickly cleared yours and Sam’s plates, leaving him to his thoughts for a few minutes of reprieve for you both.

    Your grandmother was scrubbing a glass pan when you brought in the last remaining dishes. She didn’t have to look at you to know something was wrong. “Please don’t lose this one. He’s good for you, sweetheart.”

    You hadn’t realized you’d been silently crying until you sniffled. “I can’t have an Alpha, not after Dad, Grandma, you know that.”

    “Can’t or won’t?” She turned, leaning her sudsy hands against the lip of the sink. “Your mother filled your head with only the worst case scenarios. There is so much more to love than loss. It’s just a part of the journey. Sam knows that and if he’s willing to try again, you’ve got to be brave enough to try at all.”

    “You act like this is easy! Like taking a dive into Crowley Pond on a dare! This feels like suicide, like I’m digging my own grave.” You screech at her, gasping when a sudden wave of cramps knocks on your heels. 

    “Now’s not the time to be too rash. Let’s get you home? Do you think you can drive yourself, yet?” She quickly wiped her hands on a dishtowel and looked around for her purse.

    You nodded, too afraid to answer as you worked to gather your emotions. 

    “Okay, let’s just take Sam the leftovers and call it a day?” Your grandmother had bundled all of the extras for Dean afterall. But when you both had made it back to the patio, Sam was nowhere to be seen.

    You didn’t know which emptiness was worse, the one in your core, or the one in your chest.

    You didn’t remember answering the phone, but suddenly, in your hormonal haze, Sam’s voice was in your ear. 

    “I’d be able to protect, you know,” Sam sounded off, a bit slower and gruffer in pitch than normal. 

    “Sam? What time is it?!” You squinted in the dark of your bedroom, knowing it was the middle of the night.

    “It’s late. But I just needed you to know--- that. That I’d be a good Alpha. I’d take care of you. I wouldn’t let you get hurt, I’m stronger now. Since Jess.”

    Oh, boy. 

    “How much have you had to drink?” You sat up, swallowing against a sudden wave of nausea.

    “Some--- and then some more. I’m fine. Dean’s here. He says hi. He’s got a black eye, but it’s my life, you know?”

    “Hey, Sam?”

    He hummed in pleasure. “I like the way you say my name.”

    He’d be really annoying if he wasn’t so adorable. “Can I talk to Dean for a second? Just a quick sec, then we can talk some more.”

    “Dean didn’t want me to call you, but sure, go ahead, talk to my brother, why not, right?! It’s not like you’re my girlfriend or anything, can’t get jealous over nothing.” You had a growing suspicion that Sam was going to regret this phone call in the morning.

    There were some muffled voices and something that sounded like a struggle, but soon Dean’s voice came on the line, smooth and placating, “I’m really sorry about this, but the fucker cold cocked me when I went to hide his phone.”

    You laughed at the grown men behaving like teenagers. “How long has he been in the bottle?”

    “Since I got home from disc golf around 3. I know it’s not really my place, but what even happened?” Dean’s big brother worry was endearing, but you really didn’t want to embarrass yourself or Sam any further.

    “Let’s just say I messed things up and now Sam thinks I think he’d let me die--- or get hurt--- or something if we were together,” you hoped that made any sense whatsoever. You covered the mic on your phone as a sudden cramp made you groan, gasping, you tried to catch all of Dean’s response. 

    “--- a big baby. I don’t know what you know about Jess’s death, but you gotta know he did everything he could. The low life was never gonna stop. He got the death penalty. He’s never coming back. Anyway, just know that my brother is the best there is. And I hate seeing him like this. So either state your case or make a clean break, because I am not putting up with him like this for long.”

    You rolled over and reached up to turn on the bedside light, vertigo slowing your movements. You didn’t know where to go with this conversation. “Understood. Can I talk to Sam again? If he’s lucid enough, I mean.”

    You heard Dean bark at Sam to take the phone. You tried to breathe through your pain.

    “Y/N? You there?” Sam sounded panicked.

    “I’m here. How you feeling Sam?”

    “Sleepy. How are you feeling? Are you okay all alone? Does it hurt? They always say it hurts. But I don’t know if it’s worse or better than a period. God you guys really have it bad. All we get is ruts, and that’s not even that bad. Just messy and---,” 

    You interrupted before you started down a path from which neither of you would be able to resist continuing. “I’m fine, Sam. I’m used to being alone for this.”

    “Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Sam conceded. “Dean says I should let you go. But I don’t want to.”

    Your heart crystallized inside your chest. “He, uh, I think he means to hang up, Sam. You don’t have to let me go-go.”

    “Yeah?” He sounded almost euphoric.

    “Yeah. Hey, I’m going to call you tomorrow. I’m not sure when I’ll be up. But I’m guessing you’re going to be calling in sick for work anyway. Is that okay?”

    “You calling me is okay, but I don’t understand why you can’t just talk to me now,” Sam had a point.

    “Because, one, you’re drunk and two, I really need to take care of things here before I can talk to you again.” You laid into the innuendo.

    “Okay, sure, yeah, you go take care of things. I’ll--- I’ll, uh, talk to you tomorrow,” Sam chuckled. You could picture his face, eyes slightly unfocused, but still earnest, still sweet.

    “Okay, goodnight Sam. Drink lots of water for me, okay?” 

    “Dean’s already got me covered. Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he sounded more alert than he had the entire call. You tried not to feel good about turning his mood around, since you had sent him into this spiral in the first place.

    “You too,” you hung up just in time for a chill to run down your spine. You reached for your side table and prayed you had enough batteries to last you the rest of the night.

    Sam knew this was a bad idea, showing up at your place. But you said you’d call and you never did. You hadn’t answered your phone, from either his or Dean’s number. He just had to be sure that you were okay. Once he reached your apartment door he could barely stand from all the blood rushing to his groin. Your all too familiar scent of daisies, fresh bread and pine had sweetened with your heat and  permeated the entire hallway. With a quick glance around, Sam adjusted his hardening cock in his pants before he knocked.

    With his ear flush to your door, Sam listened for signs of life. He heard something vaguely like footsteps and a groan. He tried to remember if you had mentioned any pets, but before he got too far into his guessing game, the door opened a crack. Your scent was so powerful, he could taste your slick through the four inch window your chain lock granted him. Sam couldn’t move, he was struck dumb by your needy stare.

    “Al---What are you doing here?!” Your voice was rough as if you’d just awoke.

    “You didn’t call.” Sam shrugged, trying to be casual. “I thought I’d check on you.”

    You had forgotten about your promise, the mindless hours between sleep had left you barely human. You tried to remember where you’d set down your phone. You shifted and then said the first thing that came to mind. 

    “Do you want to come in?”

    Sam swallowed and tried to stop himself from breathing. “If I do, I’m not going to leave.”

    You shut the door in his face. Sam closed his eyes and accepted your rejection. Before he could turn to leave, he heard the scraping of the chain unlatching and the door reopening before his very eyes. “By all means.”

    He had no idea how you sounded so strung out and sexy at the same time, but his feet followed while his brain was left in the hallway.     Sam was on you before you could relock the door, one hand on your jaw and the other gathering you to him at your waist. He stopped just short of kissing you blind, needing to see the consent in your eyes first. You whined against his lips and pecked at him, once, twice until Sam could do nothing but open up for you. Your kiss was everything he had been missing, hot, sweet and unbelievably soft. 

    Your body melted into his as you stood on your tiptoes, letting him feel the hard press of your nipples through your thin cami. He reached lower to grab a handful of your ass, hauling you tighter against him. His fingers instinctively curled into the crease of your thigh, teasing the hem of your ruined panties.

    You broke the kiss in sudden panic. “Sam! I’m so sorry. I never thought you’d get me hurt. That’s not what I meant when---- I can’t lose you. Please!” You kissed him again, desperate and sputtering. When your voice grew too tight with want and you breathed out a choked, ‘Alpha’, Sam set you back on your feet. He exhaled and looked you in the eye, hands cupping your cheeks.

    “I know, Y/N. Let me take care of you and we’ll figure the rest out?” You pouted your kiss swollen lips and nodded up at him, eyes at half mast. Sam smirked down at you and kissed you again. He chuckled at the lazy purr that left your mouth once his lips slithered down your jaw and onto your neck. “Why don’t you show me your room, Baby?”

    You hooked your index finger around Sam’s and dragged him pointedly down the hall. Sam would have been able to find it blindfolded, the sheets were so sullied with your slick. But he wanted you to let him in, in every sense of the word. He was the sober one tonight and he would only give you what you asked of him and nothing more.

    You tugged at his coat, and then his shirt. Your hands roamed his body with enthusiastic admiration. He rubbed your arms, feeling the skin pebble from his touch. When your tiny fingers started undoing his belt, Sam let his head fall back, letting the sensations rush over him. Soon enough you had freed him from his shorts, your warm palm stroking him to full hardness. God, your hands were so soft, he shuttered from it all.

    “They weren’t kidding about how big you guys are,” you whispered conspiratorially. 

    “Not all Alphas,” Sam cracked, but stopped once you reached down and cupped his balls. “Omega, please, let me?” 

With the most willpower Sam had ever used, he unfurled your grip on his dick. Slowly, Sam dragged your wrist above your head while walking you backwards toward the bed.

    You giggled once he dropped you onto the tangle of sheets and pillows, your pathetically erected heat nest soon demolished by the frenzy of his touch. Sam took notes, watching as you shivered or moaned. He kissed every place he could reach until you were completely bare to him. He took in every gorgeous inch of your flesh, hot and shuttering, glistening and firm; his eyes devoured you. Then his mouth did too.

    Sam knew Omegas were made to be the most desirable, the most fertile of partners, but when he finally, truly tasted you on his tongue, he forgot everything he’d ever learned. It was as if you were made for him, there was simply no other explanation, no other thought besides pure bliss. He lapped up your juices, sucking on to your clit for dear life only to delve back into your sopping cunt at last. Sam tongue fucked you as you mewled somewhere above him. He had no bearing on what was up and where was down, there was only you. And he needed all you could give.

    You came in a shocked gasp, once his fingers had started to work you open. He growled at the sound and the fresh taste of you. He wanted to make you do it again. Your hands found his hair, tugging you struggled to get him to face you, to tear him away from his new mission.

    “Alpha, please!” You begged.

    Sam soothed you, rubbing up your sides as your body calmed from the onslaught. “It’s okay, Baby. Just tell me what you need.”

    “Knot me, Sam. God, I need it so bad,” you croaked, face contorted with both pleasure and pain. Sam crawled up your body and kissed you, shoving his slick covered tongue nearly down your throat as you hummed in thanks. Spreading your legs, you cradled his body with yours, bucking against his weeping tip as he continued to dominate you with his kiss.

    Sam pulled back, shaking his hair out of his face as he watched you grind up into him. His sack dragged against your tightest hole, as his shaft slipped through your messy folds. “You want me to knot you like this? So I can watch you come for me again? Or do you want me from behind, so I can be as deep as possible?”

    You moaned and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at your neediness.

    He brushed his hand down the center of your chest, feeling the steady thrum of your heart as he teased you stupid. He waited for your decision, holding you each in place, with only the slightest room to rock back into him.  Your eyes were hooded and your bottom lip was pinched under your front teeth, plump and inviting.

    “Tell me what you want,” Sam tried to get you to use your words. You whined, twisting against the sheets, arching against him with the little strength you had left. Sam chose the merciful path and sank back onto his haunches. Carefully, he lined himself up. “Ready for me?”

    You nestled into him, rolling your hips to accept him. Sam breathed out and then entered you, inch by inch. He watched you, needing to make sure you were okay as he filled you. You took him so well, Sam had to remind himself to breathe or else he’d pass out from the sheer overwhelming feel of your walls hugging his dick.

    Slowly Sam pulled out, but slammed back harder than he’d meant to.

    “Yeah, that’s it, Baby, just like that. Fuck! You feel so good,” finally your words returned to you. That was all the encouragement Sam needed, because now he was released from the tempered pace. Now, he was unbridled, an untamed Alpha taking what was his. He thrust into you, again and again, rocketing you up the bed until there was nowhere left to go. He braced his massive hands on your headboard and found the leverage he wanted, only to pound you from a muttering heap into a howling mess.

    Your thighs trembled along his hips, but still he fucked you. You came, gushing hot and loud, and still Sam fucked you. He’d never felt so fucking free in all his life, the way he could give and give and you just kept on taking him, harder, faster, deeper, longer. As his knot started to swell, that old worry crept back into Sam’s mind. He was used to stopping, to pinching himself tight and pulling out. But when he tried he felt your fingers cuffing his wrist. He looked down to see you challenging him.

“I need that, thank you very much,” you huffed, grinning at him defiantly. Sam melted instantly, shoving your thighs impossibly wider until he felt the unmatched ecstasy of your cunt choking on his knot. He thrust into you, as his orgasm hurled through him. He snapped his hips one final time and came with abandon inside of you. You snarled his name and yanked him against you, claiming him with a heated kiss. Sam couldn’t think but to nip back, more teeth than lips as your body took all he had left to give.

Ten minutes later and you both were more or less sane, yet definitely sated. Sam brushed the sweat from your face as he took in your calming features. It was like he was seeing you for the first time, but he was only experiencing this small part of you for the first time. He wondered what other pieces you’d share with him, if he’d ever get the full picture. He couldn’t wait to find out.

“You okay with this? With everything?” he asked, voice deep and scratchy.

Your face softened. “Okay? Baby, I’m stuffed full of your cock, I’m beyond okay here.”

Sam huffed at your bluntness, smirking at your saucy side. “Just checking.”

“Hey, you okay?” You asked back, sensing his deeper worries.

“Yeah, I just didn’t mean this to happen like this, you know?” Sam, ever the gentleman, wanted you to know you were more than a quick fuck in a hormonal cloud.

“Yeah, but I’m kinda glad it did. Otherwise who knows how long we would have worried ourselves out of it. I’m really glad you showed up tonight, Sam.” You always gave him an answer he wasn’t expecting. 

“Me too.” Sam smiled down at you, still in awe he got to have you at all. You leaned up and kissed him firmly. All too soon, his knot receded, releasing him from your embrace. He blindly gathered discarded clothing and cleaned you both up; your heat had zapped any remaining energy you had. Sam carefully drew the sheet over your exhausted form.

“Stay?” You asked, without opening your eyes. “Please?”

It was the only time you ever had to ask.

Six months later

    Sam held the keys above your head, tauntingly. Unworried, you pinched his side, forcing him to double over from ticklishness and allowing you to steal the keys to your new townhouse.

    “Alright, break it up, I don't want the neighbors calling to complain about the newlyweds going fisticuffs on moving day,” Dean demanded.

    “Sorry, Dean,” you apologized to your brother-in-law turned realtor. The Alpha instantly softened. 

    “Ready to do the honors?” Sam asked, gesturing Vanna White style to your new front door. Giddy, you pranced forward and unlocked the heavy oak door. You stepped inside, the smell of freshly finished floors, paint and warm apple pie welcomed you home. 

    "I really thought you were joking when you said you baked for all of your clients," you gushed over your shoulder at Dean.

            "I'm hurt that you thought I would ever joke about pie," Dean replied dramatically as you marched to the kitchen to inspect his efforts. 

            Sam laughed at yours and Dean's antics. "Alright, guys, we've got the keys. Why don't we start moving things in?"

            You turned in annoyance as you licked the finger that had grazed the pie filling which had oozed over Dean's lattice work. 

           "First we toast, Sammy, then we move," Dean interrupted with a surprise bottle of champagne. "To new beginnings, to my oversized little brother and his Omega. I wish you both all the happiness in the world. Thanks for trusting me to find you your first place."

        Sam's hand curved around your waist, tugging you to his side as Dean spoke. You looked up at him and back to Dean, nothing short of joy filling both of their faces. Until Sam pointed out the obvious, "we don't have anything unpacked, how are we going to drink that?"

        Dean popped the cork, "I guess you'll have to figure it out!" He then showered you both in foam. You shrieked and backed away, while Sam ducked and tried to catch some in his mouth. It was so silly and messy, but it was hilarious. Soon Dean took a long pull off the bottle and handed it to you. 

       You gingerly took a sip and wrinkled your nose. "I'll just take some pie," you decided aloud.

       Sam chuckled, taking another drink before handing the bottle back to Dean. Then he leaned in and kissed you on your temple."We did it, Baby. We're home," he whispered, hugging you close.

       It had been a whirlwind the past few months, but you wouldn't change anything for the world. Sam and you had tried to take it slow, but you agreed to let him claim you after only three months of dating. The following morning he proposed, ready with a custom made ring on your kitchen floor. 

      The wedding was small, but neither of you needed big. You had found each other, you didn't need anything else. Your mother walked you down the aisle. After seeing how happy Sam made you and how supportive he was of your career, she had finally learned to let go.

      After some maneuvering, Sam had dug through a few boxes marked kitchen and found enough forks for the three of you to devour Dean's housewarming gift. It was the perfect start to an exhausting afternoon. That night, Sam carried you bridal style into your bedroom, gently kissing the scar he had given you as he went.

       This was not the life you thought you'd have, but you were all the more grateful for how that had changed and where it was going. You had found the love of your life, and Sam had found a new kind of love. You both couldn't be happier.

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part 18 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3287 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

His words hit me like a punch in the stomach. I knew Dave wouldn't like the idea of me reconnecting with Cliff, James, and Lars. But I didn't expect him to be so shaken by it. Dave, who had always been kind to me, who had protected me from everything and everyone, was now staring at me like I'd double-crossed him. Actually, it was worse – like he was straight-up disgusted by me.

✦ summary: Amid the hustle and bustle of life in Los Angeles, Nore finds herself torn between her loyalty and love for Dave and the longing she feels for her old life in San Francisco and her friends.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, romance, fluff, angst

✦ a/n: Hello! It took me a while to post this new chapter, I haven't been able to keep a consistent posting schedule lately because I've been real busy but here it is! Apparently Ao3 is down again, so I haven't posted this one there yet, but I will upload the fic there as soon as it's back! A lot happens in this part so I hope you guys like it, feedbacks are always welcome ❤

Life with Dave had settled into a comfortable rhythm, even amidst the constant energy of our bohemian neighborhood. It was eye-opening how my interactions with the boys, particularly Dave, had shaped me since the start of the year. I was taken aback by the reflection in the mirror, where a more mature version of myself stared back; I had chopped off my hair after my birthday, trading long locks for a shoulder-length cut.

The shyness that had accompanied my arrival in San Francisco had been replaced by a quiet resolve. The parties in Los Angeles were far more chaotic than what I was used to, and I quickly needed to adjust myself to the new scene. Despite my denial, I found myself drinking more than ever before and soon started carrying a pocketknife with me wherever I went. Not that I needed to use it, anyway; everyone knew that Dave would be more than ready to pick a fight with anyone who dared to bother me.

Dave's whole idea of jumpstarting a new band wasn't exactly going according to plan. He'd rounded up some friends to jam with since he got back to California, but things hadn't really moved past that point. Plus, they were still on the hunt for a bassist. But all of this was about to change.

I woke up one Monday to this crazy loud music blasting. I squinted, puzzled, as I glanced around and realized I was alone in bed. I scrunched up my face, feeling a throbbing headache creep in — Dave and I had knocked back way more drinks than we should've the day before, so I could tell a killer hangover was looming.

"What. The. FUCK!" I heard Dave's voice shout from the living room. Scrunching up my brows, I dragged myself up to see what the commotion was all about. And then it hit me: the racket I was hearing was some bass guitar being played at full blast. It took me a sec, but I finally caught on to the tune — it was the bassline from "Running With the Devil" by Van Halen.

"Dave, what's the deal?" I managed to say, my voice thick with sleepiness. I noticed him standing by the living room window, his face all riled up. He turned my way, the annoyance softening as his eyes met mine.

"And now the asshole woke up my girl too," he muttered, disgruntled, making his way over to me. He pulled me into a hug, planting kisses on my cheeks and then on my lips, prompting a small chuckle from me. "Hey. Sorry about that. Our new neighbor is a real jerk."

"They're definitely making a statement with that volume," I mumbled, still half in dreamland, my headache not improving with the noise. "Ever thought about just closing the window?" 

"I've got a different plan," he said, dropping his voice a notch, easing his grip before stepping back. He picked up an empty beer bottle from the table, and I raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the windowsill, giving the bottle a solid toss towards the window below. "Shut the hell up, already!"

Miraculously, this time, the noise actually stopped. Dave looked at me, letting out a sheepish laugh. I bit my lip, trying to stifle my laughter.

"Damn, Dave. I hope they don't come up here to beat you up."

"They can try," he answered, his laughter low and warm, his arm finding its way around my waist as he planted a kiss on my cheek. "Let's just get back to sleeping."

I didn't bother when he guided me to bed, and we laid down; it was still pretty early. I was almost drifting off to sleep again when a knock on the door disrupted the calm. I opened my eyes, giving a frustrated groan, and Dave mumbled as he got up to answer. 

"Hey, know where we can grab smokes?" a guy's voice came from outside. 

"There's a store on the corner," Dave replied shortly before closing the door with a thud. He returned to bed soon after, pulling me close in a tight embrace, his face nuzzling my neck. 

He had barely settled when there was another knock on the door. 

"Fuck off!" he muttered, annoyed, yanking a pillow to cover his head. I got up to answer the door, my headache intensifying, my patience wearing thin.

“Oh, hey,” I was met with a grin from a tall boy, around my age. He had brown hair and was rocking a Kiss t-shirt under a worn leather jacket. His buddy, dressed in a similar style, watched with interest. “Can I talk with your... uh, boyfriend?” 

“Uh, he's…” I was gonna say that Dave was sleeping, but he beat me to it. He swung the door open and glared at the two guys, not hiding his annoyance. 

“What do you jerks need?” 

“Hey,” the guy greeted, not seeming bothered by Dave's standoffish vibe. “So, you old enough to score us some beer?”

I glanced at Dave and caught a hint of a smirk on his face. He still looked annoyed, but the boy's persistence seemed to impress him a bit. 

“Well,” Dave said. “You're growing on me, kid. Gimme a sec.”

He snagged his leather jacket, wallet, and keys, giving me a quick goodbye before heading out with the guys. I sighed, pretty sure sleep wasn't coming back to me, and decided to get changed and freshen up.

They rolled back in a while later, arms loaded with crates of beer. Turned out the boy's name was also David — Ellefson — and his friend went by Greg. David was a bit younger than me, and he was the one who had been playing bass at full volume in the morning. Funny thing, Dave seemed to have dropped his earlier annoyance. Actually, as they got talking, it was clear they were getting along really well.

I split for work a few hours later, leaving them chatting and drinking. When I got back home that night, I found Dave more pumped than I'd seen him in ages. He hadn't paid much attention to Greg, but I could tell he had really clicked with David.

"Thinking of roping him into the band," he told me, grin wide. "He's cool, and damn good on that bass. I think this might be it."

I grinned back and agreed. Back then, I had no clue about what lay ahead. No idea this was the inception of Megadeth, the big project that'd define Dave's future. I was just happy to finally see things going well for him. And to finally see him making some new friends — that's exactly what he needed right then.

A few days later, I was fixing up something for lunch before heading to work when my phone rang.

"Hey there, Nore," Cliff's voice chimed in when I picked up, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. We hadn't talked since my birthday, even though I'd catch up with what they were doing through Leanne once in a blue moon.

"Hey, Cliff. What's up? Why the sudden call?"

"Oh, thanks for the warm welcome," he retorted with a hint of sarcasm. "Can't a cousin catch up anymore?"

A faint blush spread across my cheeks. 

"My bad. Of course, you can," I said, secretly relieved that Dave wasn't around. He hadn't exactly been very happy lately when Lars, Cliff, and James were brought up.

“Relax,” he answered, in his usual laid back way. “Actually, I've got an invite for you. We're on tour, and we're swinging back to San Francisco…” 

“Hold up a sec, what?” I cut in. “You're on tour? What about the album?” 

“Album's out already.” 

“And no one bothered to clue me in.” 

“Figured you already got the memo.” 

“How would I, if you didn't bother giving me one?” I frowned, a bit ticked off. Cliff let out a sigh. 

“Fine, my bad. Look, money's been a bit tight, so I couldn't exactly ring you up all the time. But we've got a gig in San Francisco next Saturday. Wanted to see if you'd wanna come.”

I chewed on my lip, pausing for a moment. Of course, I totally wanted to go. Despite the whole mess with the guys after Dave got kicked out, I couldn't deny they were still my friends. More than that – Cliff was family, and it'd been weeks since we saw each other. LA was a whirlwind, but it sure got lonesome at times. But I didn't want to upset Dave about this. Something told me he wouldn't exactly cheer if I said I wanted to hit up a Metallica gig right now.

“Cliff, I'm not sure,” I said. “It's just… Dave…”

“Screw Dave, Nore. You worry too much about him,” he shot back, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "And seriously, everyone's been missing you. Please?”

I sighed. I knew I might get into trouble for this, but how bad could it be? It was just a concert, after all.

"Okay, fine, I'm in. But only 'cause I've been missing you guys," I caved. "So where's this gig gonna happen?"

"At The Stone. Lea's gonna be there too, you can crash at her place if you need."

"I'll hit her up later. Catch you at the gig then?"

"Count on it."

“Missed you,” I mumbled before he hung up, and he chuckled.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Geez, Nore! You look like hell.” 

I squinted at Pat, trying to stifle a yawn as I met her blue gaze. Patricia, my co-worker, was the spawn of Roger Anderson, the boss at my new job in a downtown LA record store. She was a bit younger than me, and we clicked fast after realizing we were both crazy about pretty much the same bands. Thanks to work, we'd become good friends over the past two months. 

“Hey there, Pat,” I dumped my bag behind the counter. It was early afternoon and I'd just walked in for my shift, but I couldn't wait to get back home; that night had been a difficult one. “Mornin' to you too.”

“Good morning,” Pat greeted, giving me a curious look. “Rough night?” 

“Yeah, kinda... a lot on my mind,” I mumbled, seizing the quiet moment with no customers to leaf through a Kerrang! magazine lying on the counter. 

“Is this about your boyfriend again? You're always worried about him,” she quipped, heading to the small kitchen in the back. I let out a soft chuckle. “Here you go,” she plunked a coffee mug down in front of me. I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling the rich scent rising from the freshly brewed drink. “To help you wake up.” 

“Thanks,” I yawned, taking a sip. She grinned, snagging a chair beside me behind the counter, flipping open the magazine as well.

"He's like, so handsome," Pat swooned, her tone dreamy. I peered above my coffee mug at the magazine she was flipping through; her attention was glued to photos of the Thin Lizzy guitarist. "Think I stand a chance?" 

"To find out, you'd need to actually meet the guy," I chuckled. She grumbled, faceplanting onto her crossed arms, then shot me a look with her bright blue eyes. 

"So, what's with the insomnia?" she asked. I let out a sigh. 

"It's just... You remember Dave was in the same band as my cousin, right?" 

"Yeah, and then they booted him out and you got super pissed," she pointed out. I gave a soft chuckle. 

"Yeah, that. But now they're coming back to California, and my cousin invited me to catch their next gig. I wanna go, but..." 

"You haven't dropped the news on Dave yet?" 

I shook my head, thoughtful, draining the last of my coffee.

"He took everything really hard," I mumbled, my voice low. "I'm not even sure if he'll be cool with me wanting to go." 

"But you do wanna go, right?" she questioned, stretching her arms before picking up my now-empty mug. "I mean, from what you've shared, you and your cousin are super tight. You shouldn't ditch seeing him just because of your boyfriend. You gotta talk it out with Dave, he'll get it."

I absentmindedly nodded, letting out a sigh. Pat was hitting the nail on the head with that one: I did wanna go. I missed Cliff big time, but it wasn't just that. I missed San Francisco and my friends too. Life with Dave was great, and Los Angeles was a whole new chaotic, bustling universe, but sometimes I also felt kind of lonely.

I just hoped Dave could understand that.

Later, when I finally got back home, I was welcomed by the sound of Dave's guitar as he played. I closed the door, tossed my bag on the couch, and headed into the bedroom. There he was, sitting on the bed, his guitar in his lap, and a half-finished joint chilling in the ashtray on the bedside table.

"Hey there," I greeted, and my smile matched his as he glanced up, his grin growing even bigger at the sight of me. He got up, setting the guitar down, and came my way. 

"Hey," he said. I chuckled softly as he wrapped an arm around my waist, planting kisses on my lips and then my neck. "How was your day?" 

"Same as usual," I answered, letting out a little giggle as he nuzzled into my neck, pulling me close. "And yours?"

"Same as usual," he pulled away, looking at me with a smile, his eyes flickering to my lips in a way that made my heart race. "Thinking about hitting the shower. You're welcome to join if you're up for it…"

“Oh, um, Dave…” I started, my voice kind of shaky with nerves. If possible, I'd rather handle the whole concert talk with him later. But after Pat's pep talk, I knew if I didn't tackle it now, I'd never get around to it. Dave looked at me, curious. “There's something I wanted to talk about…” 

“Huh? Did I mess up or something?” he asked, a smile on his face, though I could sense the worry behind it due to my uncertain tone. 

“No, not at all,” I muttered, then took a deep breath. “It's just that... Cliff called a few days ago,” I paused as his brow creased, but there was no going back now. “They're playing a gig in San Francisco. I thought about going…”

Dave's brows knit together, his expression shifting as he sort of pulled away, his gaze fixing on me with a weighty silence. I met his eyes, my heart doing a somersault in my chest. I figured he wouldn't take the news super well, but that wasn't exactly the reception I was hoping for.

“You want to go see Metallica,” he finally spoke up, his voice low and devoid of emotion.

“I want to see Cliff…”

“Oh, not James and Lars?” he quipped, a touch of bitter sarcasm lacing his words.

“Dave…”

“Nore, remember they showed me the exit door? No warning. No second chances. And now you wanna kick it with 'em?” he seemed more incredulous than anything, incredulous and hurt, which only made the situation worse. He shook his head, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, running a hand through his hair and looking at me, torn between disappointment and anger. “Damn it, Nore. I can't tell if you're being dumb or if you just don't love me anymore.”

His words hit me like a punch in the stomach. I knew Dave wouldn't like the idea of me reconnecting with Cliff, James, and Lars. But I didn't expect him to be so shaken by it. Dave, who had always been kind to me, who had protected me from everything and everyone, was now staring at me like I'd double-crossed him. Actually, it was worse – like he was straight-up disgusted by me.

I couldn't react, I just stood there in silence as tears welled up in my eyes. This wasn't fair. I had chosen him. I had distanced myself from my cousin and my friends for him. I had stood by him from the beginning. Somehow, I had expected him to be angry, but not like this. Cliff and I would butt heads all the time, sure, but me and Dave? This stung way more than I'd ever figured it could.

“Dave, seriously... This isn't playing fair,” I managed to get out, my voice breaking as a sob hitched a ride on the tears that were falling. I could see it all hit him, the weight of what he'd just said settling in his eyes, a mix of horror and regret. But the moment had passed, the words hung in the air, and now there was no going back. I shook my head as I turned around to leave the apartment.

“Nore. Wait up, Nore!” Dave's voice hurried after me, his grip on my arm pulling me to a halt just before I could duck out completely. I tried to rein in the tears that were breaking through,  causing me to sob and tremble. “Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I really didn't…”

“I'm right here with you!” I shot back, my voice shaking like crazy, not as strong as I'd like, but definitely loud enough to make a point. “Fuck, Dave. You think I'm some kinda idiot for wanting to see my friends? I've got no one else – my parents practically booted me, my old Long Beach friends act like I've got the plague.” I edged away, the words tumbling out in a jumble, trying to stem the flood of tears. I looked into his brown eyes and saw them gazing at me, filled with pain. “Metallica was all I fucking had too! Do you want to snatch that away from me? You think I'd be standing here if I didn't love you?”

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice sounding more fragile than I'd ever heard, as he pulled me into a tight embrace. "I'm a fucking idiot. I'm really sorry." 

"You're everything I've got too," I murmured, my sobs gradually calming down as I buried my face into his chest. "Just... Please don't make me choose, Dave. I can't, I really can't." 

"It's okay. I'm sorry," he soothed, his fingers softly running through my hair, his voice quivering as he held me close against him. "I love you. So damn much. Please, don't leave me. Stay here with me." 

"I'm not leaving you," I sniffled, finally managing to get a grip on my tears. He rested his forehead against mine, his pained eyes locking onto mine. "I'm here because I love you. But you've got to trust me, Dave."

"I do trust you, Nore. For real. I'm sorry," he whispered, seeming relieved now that I was starting to calm down. "Of course you can go. You don't need my permission. It's just... I can't face them anymore. I need to be something, Nore. If I fail, if I'm just a loser…”

“Dave, you're not a loser. You're an amazing guitarist, remember? Didn't I tell you that when we first got together?" I cut in, and he let out a soft chuckle. 

"Yeah, and you also mentioned I was really handsome," he quipped, and I laughed, a shaky laugh that still carried the traces of tears. He looked at me for a moment before adding: "I don't think you're dumb, by the way. You're the smartest girl I've ever met."

“You haven’t met many girls, have you?” I mumbled, and he rolled his eyes. 

"Hush, Burton," he grumbled before leaning in to kiss me.

[enigmaticxbee]

S6 Rewatch - Fic Recs

Need something better to read than Padgett’s florid drivel? These are a few of my favorite season 6 fics that aren’t connected to a specific episode. This got long - turns out there are a lot of great old school casefiles that are set in season 6:

Overnight Sensation by @syntax6 - novel length casefile with great msr as Mulder and Scully try to get back in sync post Two Fathers/One Son. This is an old fave.

Amish Country by lolabeegood - great long undercover casefile. Fake married! One bed! All the good stuff. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

Queen’s Gambit by Suzanne Schramm - early season 6 casefile with great angsty msr. It’s a serial killer case, but features Psychic!Scully. And a great series of motel scenes where Mulder and Scully slowly, angstily, ust-ily work their shit out. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

Quietus by Allison Johnson - casefile follow up to Paper Hearts set early season 6. No overt romance, but delves into their dynamic in an interesting bittersweet way.

Lesser Evils by Hannah Mason - dramatic, tropey Scully is kidnapped, will Mulder save her in time? fic. Set post FTF, dealing with the aftermath of their almost kiss.

No Earthly Means by Circe Invidiosa aka @invidiosa - A Genderbender follow up casefile set in season 6. Great UST and an ending that harkens back perfectly to the episode’s own WTF ending. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

Ensky by ViXen - serial killer casefile with some great slow burn msr. My jam.

And a few non-casefile recs as well:

Dividends and The Seven Year Itch by Suzanne Schramm - a late night motel room conversation set early season 6 and a mid season follow up. In the first the FTF almost-kiss is finally addressed and on the precipice of changing their relationship Scully says Oh god, this is it, isn't it? which just captures the irrevocability of that shift for me and why they teeter on the edge for so long. Don’t worry, RST in the second part. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

I Never and Imagine Yourself Magic by artemisx3 - takes place in early season 6 when they’re on manure duty and margaritas give them the push they need. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

Opposite of Impulse by Maria Nicole - pitch perfect broken down car on a hot summer day interlude set between The Unnatural and Biogenesis.

Snow in Alabama by Tesla - offbeat little fic with a memorable motel room first kiss featuring embarrassing misunderstandings and their classic lack of communication.

Blame the Weather by @softnow - first time fic, not much plot but HOT, NSFW obviously.

Show Me by ArtemisX5 - Scully responds for once to Mulder’s late night what are you wearing jokes. NSFW. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

Contemplating by Dreamshaper - a late night visit from a bored Mulder, turns surprisingly sweet. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

Cherry Blossom Season by @peacenik0 - a fun, fluffy slow burn over the end of season 6, turns NSFW after The Unnatural!

The I in Team by @spookydarlablack - Sensing their discord, Skinner sends Mulder and Scully to a team-building seminar. It goes about as well you’d expect at first. It’s so satisfying to see them actually work through some of their season 6 issues.

No Regrets Compiled Part 1/Part 2/Part 3 by MystPhile - after running into Detective Kresge during the case in Arcadia Scully embarks on a journey to recover her sense of self and reconnect with the people in her life. Ultimately MSR but definitely NSFW Scully/Other. I read this years ago and was searching everywhere for it. Thank you again to @arboreta for helping me find it again! Takes place over the back half of season 6 and includes some wonderful introspection from Scully and insightful conversations with Kresge, her mother, and in the end with Mulder. (On Gossamer so if link doesn’t work you can search for it there.)

Triptych chapters 14-18 by @iconicscullyoutfits - AU where Mulder and Diana were married at the beginning of the show, but otherwise following canon. WIP but these chapters set over the course of season 6 can be read as a standalone arc (although you really should read the post FTF chapter 13 because it is FANTASTIC and sets up this season’s dynamics). Conveys the complexities and contradictions of these characters so, so well - ease and warmth and tension and heartbreak all at once.

Contact High by Penumbra - I also rec’d this under 6x21 Field Trip since it’s a post-ep but it’s one of my favorite fics of all time. A trippy, beautiful first time fic, captures Mulder and Scully and this moment perfectly. If you haven’t read it just GO.

See individual episodes S6 Rewatch posts for episode-specific fic recs.

[fighterkimburgess]

Hi, sorry to bother you but you are the first person that came do mind that might be able to help me: I’m trying to find a Brettsey AU fic where there were dating in high school but then fell apart and she comes to Chicago and she, Matt and Kelly reconnect. Was it in my dream or maybe someone really wrote it? Please help your girl!

I have no idea! High school AUs aren’t my jam surprisingly, it’s just not something I read.

Brettsey folks does anyone have any ideas on this?



[poetry-protest-pornography]

Last week, I read a really wonderful slow burn fic. Beautifully written, blended flashbacks that built up the relationship with the present day story/pining perfectly. Angsty, hurt all your feelings, hurt very little comfort-- which isn't even usually my jam -- but I was waiting for that reunion-and-finally-get-together pay off at the end, because the writing was so good.

Over 20 chapters, over 100,000 words.

The "getting together" was barely 6 paragraphs, the longest of which was basically "in the time since they had been reunited, they'd barely done more than spend a few quiet moments in the same room together, sometimes holding each other at night".

They exchanged perhaps three sentences.

I'm still so mad. It was such a massive let down.

There was no healing, no resolution, no reunion. No rebuilding or reconnecting. Any of this that happened was (apparently) off screen and hand waved away in a careless way that was incredibly confusing after so many chapters in building it up.

I kudos-ed in an early chapter, and I wish I could un-kudos.

It would have been better tagged as a friendship fic, and how it ended would still have been beyond disappointing.

Anyway, there's no moral to the story, really; I mostly just wanted to whine, but if you intend something to be slow burn, there needs to be something on fire at the end (sex not required, but ffs if you have tens of thousands of words leading up to the relationship, it deserves more than one hundred slapped on the end like an after-afterthought.)

[letapollojusticesayfuck]

“would you come to my funeral?” + narumitsu

"I'm going to write something short," I say, and then come out with nearly 1300 words of Angst. But this really was the perfect line for some good angst, and so I hope you like it! (and please excuse any typos, I very much have not done any editing here)

Thanks, Sparrow! :)

Send me a randomly-generated line of dialogue and some characters, and I'll write a (relatively) short fic!

............

It’s raining. That’s the thing that Phoenix notices, first—the way the water collects on the pane-glass of the window, the office dark and silent otherwise.

How long has he been in the building for the weather to have changed so drastically? How long did it take to extricate himself from the aftermath of the trial, to escape the celebrations and cheer once he’d noticed the conspicuous absence where someone should have been?

Long enough for the cup of tea abandoned on the desk to have gone stone-cold, he realizes, when he presses his fingers gently against the side of the delicate china vessel. Long enough that Miles Edgeworth might be long gone by now, and he’d have to ride his bicycle home in the storm, without even getting a chance to check in with his oldest friend.

Motion, from the corner of his eye, and Phoenix swings around to a previously unexamined corner of the room, in the shadow of the vibrant pink sofa and the framed jacket on the wall. A hiding place, of sorts, and for half a second he feels the chill of adrenaline through his veins as he wonders if he’s about to be attacked in Edgeworth’s office, victim of a trap planted for the prosecutor and not for him.

But he relaxes, as much as is possible, when he recognizes the figure slumped against the wall by his distinctive cravat, his steel-grey hair. Miles Edgeworth, looking distinctly miserable, but Phoenix will take it if it means he’s here.

“Of course you’d manage to find me,” the man grumbles, and Phoenix laughs, awkwardly.

“Well, you know what they say about defense attorneys,” he jokes, hand combing through the hair on the back of his neck. “Always sticking our noses where they don’t belong.”

Miles huffs, as though he can’t be bothered to dignify that with a response. With some trepidation, Phoenix moves closer, kneels next to him, attempts to put himself on a level with the prosecutor. He doesn’t quite reach out, the way he so desperately wants to, because he’s never quite sure where exactly he stands with Edgeworth, these days. He’d hoped, that since they’d cleared up the history behind the DL-6 incident, that they would have properly reconnected, but…

Well. It’s unfortunate that they only ever seem to see each other at opposing ends of the courtroom, or so it seems.

But Edgeworth looks so downtrodden that Phoenix can’t help but want to help him, and so he crosses his legs and leans against the wall, nearly casually, and risks his life to ask his next question:

“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you out with everyone else, celebrating a job well done?”

“Wright. Really?”

“Well, yeah, maybe it didn’t turn out quite as well as it could have, but...we’re still a step closer to fixing the justice system, aren’t we? Sure, the Chief Prosecutor’s….in jail, and the Police Chief is...alsoin jail, but--”

“Wright, I’m going to stop you before you can jam your foot even further in your mouth than it already is.”

“That’s...probably a good idea, yeah.”

They pause, for a moment, listening to the wind and the raindrops against the window. A distant lightning strike illuminates the office, and Phoenix is reminded of quite how high up they are.

“Would you come to my funeral?” Edgeworth asks, apropos of nothing, and Phoenix’s head whips around almost faster than he can process the words.

“Your—Miles, what are you--” He can’t form a full sentence, finding his mind blank even at the prospect. Edgeworth sighs, deeply, and leans his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

“My funeral, Wright, it’s not that difficult of a question. At such a time as I perish, whether through natural or unnatural means, would you attend the event that I assume someone would inevitably arrange for honoring my memory or other such tripe.”

Phoenix is still stuck processing, the very prospect of Edgeworth and death and funerals all sparking associations he’d rather not think too hard about, calling to mind the ceremony they’d had for Mia not even six months ago—and, even earlier, the image of a far younger Miles Edgeworth in a black suit, surrounded by arrangements of lilies and with an unreadable expression.

“I—well, in a purely hypothetical scenario, because you aren’t going to have a funeral anytime soon—in that case, of course I would come to your funeral, Miles, what do you take me for?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know. I’m not—” and Edgeworth pauses, clutching at the fabric of his sleeve as he averts his gaze to the opposite corner of the room. “I’m not exactly a paradigm of innocence, and your reputation for...well…”

“Are you still trying to say that you’re guilty when we’ve proven that time and time again to be untrue? Miles, c’mon, that’s bullshit. And—my reputation?What, do you think I’d even care, if you were—”

“Wright, surely you’re not that much in denial. I’m as much guilty of evidence tampering as Lana Skye. And worse—you know the tactics us prosecutors employ. I did not gain the name Demon Prosecutor for nothing. I’m not—you shouldn’t even associate with me.”

Phoenix frowns, eyebrows furrowing. He’s clenching his hands into fists, he realizes, as he takes a deep breath and focuses on trying to have this discussion rationally, as much as possible.

“Miles Edgeworth, you can’t blame yourself for doing as you were taught. You were only a child, you should have been able to trust your mentor figures—it wasn’t on you to be able to construct a detailed critique of the legal system! And you think that I wouldn’t associate with you because of that? I guess…” he swallows, looking away from the prosecutor. “I guess you don’t know me as well as I thought you did, then.”

The silence is almost tangible, as they let Phoenix’s words sink in, settle around them in the dark office. In his mind, Phoenix begins to count the seconds that it’s taking Edgeworth to answer—one, two, three…

“I suppose I don’t,” he finally supplies, and that’s it, then, the kind of sentence you don’t continue a conversation from. It’s not the only thing he seems to want to say, Phoenix notes, but it’s the only thing he vocalizes, letting the sound of the rain fill in the empty spaces.

Phoenix breathes out, slowly, and stands up. His knees pop as he does, tiny cracking noises competing with the rumble of thunder from outside.

He looks over his shoulder, and Edgeworth’s still on the ground, avoiding eye contact. It’s not like he wants to leave, but…

Maybe Miles just needs some time alone. He seems to have a lot on his mind, and Phoenix probably isn’t helping by bothering him with conversation.

He lets himself out of the office, vowing to himself that he’ll check back in tomorrow morning, when the rainstorm’s let up and the world’s back to normal. He isn’t going to let Edgeworth wallow in his thoughts for too long, at least.

Overnight, the rain fades to nothing, clouds making way for soft sunshine, promising bright blue skies for the day and uncharacteristically warm weather for February. Miles Edgeworth’s office window lets in the sunlight, where it illuminates the grand desk and the items on top of it. In turn, the light falls on a pen, a nameplate, a lamp.

A teacup, still half-full from the night before. And…

A note, with one single line of neat cursive penned in the middle of the crisp, textured paper:

Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death

[hajimewhore]

Million Reasons ⛅ (Matsukawa Issei/Reader) on [Ao3]  ➸Rated E, fem!Reader, 7k+words    ➷Part 2 of the Haikyuu Song Fic Collection    ➷Angst, depression, fluff, this one is pwp    ➷Left in Matsukawa’s wake, you find yourself struggling to come to terms with your break up. Everything reminds you of him. From the sheets that smell like him, to something as simple as coffee.

After everything, you know you should let him go, but you can’t help but search for reasons to stay. 

[Masterlist] [part 1]

A/N:

Here’s part two for my song fic collection, as promised! Highly recommend reading part one, linked above.

This one is Million Reasons, Lady Gaga. Despite it endlessly being played on the radio in the car and at work, I can always jam to it. I think it’s a nice follow up to Harry Styles’ Falling!

It had been a long week, and you found yourself mindlessly going through your days.

You rely entirely on muscle memory to carry you through daily tasks and basic human needs, but barely have an appetite to finish meals or the energy to leave the house.

You haven’t seen Matsukawa or heard from him since your ‘break up’, you’d only gotten confirmation from Hanamaki that he ended up staying at his place.

After the first day, you noticed Matsukawa had picked up some of his things when you came back from work.

The closet you shared was emptier, stray coat hangers and missing sweaters and tees. You’re ashamed to admit that you slept in one of his tee shirts that night.

Wrapped up in his scent between his shirt and the sheets, you were able to wake up the next morning in your sleepy haze, believing that it never happened. That Matsukawa hadn’t said any of it.

If only you said more, told him all the things that he needed to hear. But any words of encouragement went out of his head, and no amount of I love you’s would get through to him.

And as the week progressed with radio silence, the intrusive thoughts in your head began to convince you that he might have meant everything he said.

You told yourself otherwise, that he just needs a break to sort everything out himself. He just wasn’t in the right state of mind when he snapped at you, he hadn’t been for months. Matsukawa struggled to love himself as much as he did you, and though you tried to support him, he wouldn’t accept it.

You lay back in the empty sheets, lonely sigh bouncing off the walls into white noise.

You already miss being wrapped up in the sheets with him, whispering in each other’s ears and laughing about nothing. You’ve missed it for awhile now, but now that he’s not here the longing sits heavier on your chest.

You’d noticed the signs, Matsukawa had started to lack affection and his depressive episodes became more frequent. You thought you were acknowledging them, but every time he brushed you aside, you stepped down so easily.

Every time he interrupted your concerns with a subject change, you accepted it. You’d confront him later, you always told yourself.

Curling into your side, arms aching to wrap around him, you fret yourself over things you should’ve and could’ve done.

After tossing and turning, you’re finally able to drift to sleep, caught in the dream of a memory.

“Welcome home!”

You cheer, when Matsukawa arrives home from work.

You’d been used to serving food at the restaurant, but not cooking it. You’re grateful Matsukawa at least knew his way around a kitchen, you mostly aided him to the best of your abilities. But tonight, you wanted to make sure a meal was sitting at the table when he arrived.

Despite your underwhelming talents in the kitchen, you’d researched recipes to prepare his favorite hamburg steak.

Admittedly, you played the recipe video back about six times after every direction to make sure you were doing it right.

But you’re pretty confident how it turned out, and you repeated the process with several other dishes he liked, all in time for his arrival home.

You’d even spent the day cleaning and organizing. Even though it wasn’t your designated cleaning day, you wanted him to come home to a brighter apartment.

You’d decorated the walls with photographs that the printing place finished earlier. High school photos from Hanamaki line the wall, mostly of their volleyball team, as well as photos of you and Matsukawa together.

You got caught up sorting through the old pictures of Matsukawa, excitedly giggling at his younger face, his hair style then, how lanky he was, same thick eyebrows.

You almost thought you hadn’t given yourself enough time to prepare the food.

When the front door swings open, you set off a party popper, just for the sake of being extra. Simultaneously, you scare the living shit out of Matsukawa.

“Woah! What is all this?”

Overcoming the initial surprise, his eyes flick around the room. His arms outstretched, you accept the hug eagerly as he peers at you with curiosity.

“It’s not our anniversary. Or my birthday. Or your birthday. What’s going on babe? Are you pregnant—“

He mentally ticks off important dates, before his eyes blow wide at his own assumption.

“No, no. Nothing like that, silly. You’ve been working so hard at your new job, I figured I’d reward you for it!”

You slide your hands up to link behind his neck, attempting to tug him closer as you straighten your posture.

He laughs, leaning down to meet your awaiting kiss. Your lips feel warm against his, and you can feel him unable to resist smiling into the kiss.

Matsukawa’s hands move to caress your hair, he separates momentarily to read your expression.

You open your eyes and peek through your lashes to see his warm gaze.

Ever since he had to work at the funeral home for his father, his mood had plummeted.

It was completely understandable, his goals and aspirations were put on the back burner.

And when he was told he needed to take over the business entirely, the dreams he worked tirelessly for were completely out of his reach.

Needless to say, he’d been despondent. For awhile, nothing you could say could pull him out of it.

But day by day, he grew accustomed to it, even told you things he started to like about the seemingly grim business.

Even though he managed to find a silver lining, it never brought him back to his usual self.

So seeing the light in his eyes and his rosy cheeks made you beam with pure, unadulterated, joy.

“I’m so proud of you, Issei.”

You mumble, words dancing across his lips, and he thanks you with a contented expression, running his thumb softly across your cheekbone.

He reconnects your lips into another gentle kiss, and you easily find yourself lost in it.

Despite complaining about how cold he is all the time, he radiates warmth, and it encompasses you wholly.

He trails his hand down your cheek, slotting his thumb and fingers to either side of your jaw.

When you feel the soft pressure of his fingers, you open your mouth at the gesture, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide his tongue against yours.

Threading your fingers through his curls, you hear the softest moan of satisfaction from him. As your hot tongues slick together, you drag your nails from his hair, down his neck, broad shoulders, to his chest.

You pop open the buttons of his collar with relative ease, but as your excitement grows the difficulty of the task increases.

Matsukawa’s arm wraps around your middle, pressing you close to his body. He rests his free hand to the back of your neck, and to accommodate your tight proximity you tilt your head back.

Bodies now flushed together, you feel the heat exchanging and rising between the two of you, and he hasn’t stopped attacking your mouth for a moment.

Matsukawa bites your bottom lip softly, teasingly, and his mouth covers the gasp that threatens to escape your lips.

He presses a knee between your legs, and you stagger back.

“Ah,”

You separate momentarily,

“Fuck,”

He grunts out as your bottom hits the edge of the dining table. His palm quickly flattens against the surface of it while using his other arm to maintain your balance.

“Sorry, I got a little excited there.”

He mutters close to your face, but the clatter of the plates at the table echoes in your ears. The noise winds up bringing you out of your haze, back to your senses.

“Ahhhh! The food is getting cold!”

You press your hands to his chest, and he lets you push him off with minor hesitation.

“Mmm, and we were getting to the good part.”

He sighs, running his hand through his dark hair.

“We can get to the good part later! We need to eat before all the food dies!”

You settle at one end of the table, and he smiles taking his seat across you.

“This part is just as good too...”

He comments, making you flush as he helps himself, his eyes practically glitter at the meal you worked so hard to prepare.

“I can’t fuck you as good if I’m running on empty, anyways.”

You sputter at his brazen comment, and by the look on his face you can tell he feels zero shame.

“Issei!”

Your cheeks brighten, and he holds a piece of steak up to your lips as a peace offering.

“Kidding.”

You know he’s absolutely not kidding, but you accept it nonetheless, laughing with a blush after getting over the initial shock value.

You banter and laugh through the meal, blushing at all the praise he gives you for your cooking. It leaves you satisfied that your efforts payed off and he enjoyed everything.

When you clean up the table, you try to convince him to let you do the dishes yourself.

“I’ll take care of it! Don’t worry,”

You collect the plates on your arms with practiced ease, despite not working at the restaurant anymore you can still balance everything perfectly.

“You cooked, I should clean.”

Matsukawa insists, of course, and he’s much stronger than you so you don’t resist (much) when he takes the plates from your hands.

In the end, due to your excessive pouting and puppy eyes, you compromise by cleaning the dishes like you two normally do. Side by side at the sink together, elbows brushing occasionally.

The domesticity of doing a regular household chore together with Matsukawa makes your heart feel full.

When you leave the kitchen, you catch him staring fondly at the photos of the both of you, newly framed and hung.

“I like how this one came out.”

You point out your favorite one. You were a brand new couple then, eager to impress each other and afraid to mess things up.

Matsukawa wraps his arms around you, pressing his front to your back. He rests his chin at the top of your head, and you hold his hands softly and lean back into the touch.

You take the next opportunity to roast the fuck out of Hanamaki’s haircut in high school, pointing at the old Seijou volleyball team photos.

“Maybe that’s why he put up a fight when I asked for them.”

You snicker, he didn’t look... bad. But it was certainly a contrast to his K-Pop reminiscent hair style now.

“How’d you manage to convince him?”

“I told him I’d just ask Oikawa for pictures instead, and Hanamaki immediately said he could find some for me.”

Matsukawa snorts at your response, knowing exactly what your play was,

“You’re pretty evil. I’m positive Oikawa has a stockpile of team photos where he’s the only one that looks good.”

“Really? Should I text him now for some?”

“Please don’t.”

“Mmmm, I’ll let it slide. But only for tonight.”

You tease, and you feel the laughter rumble from his chest.

When you make your way to the bedroom, the both of you make good on your promise before dinner.

Matsukawa is quick to press you into the mattress, lips back against yours.

Before you get too excited, you make sure to finish unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt this time.

You don’t trust yourself enough to be able to do the job right later, especially now that his hot breath is trailing past your jawline down to your neck.

The feeling combined with his tongue now laving at the junction between your neck and shoulder sends a shockwave down your spine.

You arch into him, just barely muffling the noises behind your lips shut tight.

“I wanna hear it all, baby,”

Matsukawa whispers against your neck, sliding his hand up to grab your chin. His thumb presses against your bottom lip, and you open your mouth obediently.

He’s careful not to leave any marks behind, despite how badly he wants to. But recalling how you scolded him fairly recently for the discolored bruises in obvious places, during the summertime no less (where it’s impossible to wear scarves or turtlenecks, apparently), made him think twice.

The feel of his hot breath ghosting across your neck makes you sigh with pleasure. You make a noise of upset when he pulls away, lips turning down into a pout.

Your disappointment doesn’t last for long, when you see him shrugging his dress shirt the rest of the way off.

Your eyes catch his broad shoulders, traveling down to his abdomen, and you thank god for high school volleyball for giving him a routine as you trail your hands across his chest to his abs.

“You’re so hot it hurts.”

You whine out, pouting as he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s gonna hurt for sure.”

You know he’s just teasing, and you roll your eyes.

Matsukawa wouldn’t hurt you if he could help it, you’d have to beg for it before he did anything remotely close to harming you.

“You’re full of it.”

“Hey, I’ve got a big dick and the attitude to back it up.”

He shrugs, slipping his fingers under the bottom of your shirt.

You laugh at the route your conversation turned.

At least he didn’t say something like ‘You’re about to be full’.

You aid him tugging your shirt overhead,

“You really do though.”

And you can feel said ‘big dick’ pressing against you when he leans back down to kiss you.

The first time you saw it, released from the confines of his unbuckled pants, you thought instantly that it wasn’t going to fit. His briefs and pants dropped to the floor along with your jaw.

And you’d never thought something so ridiculous before, but that was how big Matsukawa’s dick was.

But he took things slow, let you grow accustomed to him, and only fucked you hard into the mattress when you cried for it.

Matsukawa is proud of it to this day, and you’ve never told another soul, but he wound up putting you out of commission the next day.

You had to call in a favor for Iwasaki to cover your shift because there was no way you’d be getting in thousands of steps at work after the night you had.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, you moan against Matsukawa’s mouth when he grinds against your lower half.

The two of you have gained a lot of experience in the bedroom over the course of your relationship, attuned to everything the other likes and dislikes, and what feels best for the other.

And Matsukawa is able to find the right spot and angle to grind his hips into you, and he does so with practiced ease.

As much as you love the feeling of his hard on pressing through his slacks and your shorts, the friction and pressure driving you wild,

“You’re wearing to much.”

You break the kiss with a whine.

“You’re wearing just as much as me.”

He laughs, but doesn’t wait another moment longer to pull your shorts down.

You raise your knees to make the task easier, and he tosses the garment aside carelessly. It falls to the floor to join your previously discarded shirt,

“Hey, I worked hard to clean today you know,”

You tease, as he makes quick work of his belt and his own pants.

“I’m sorry, babe. Do you want me to fold it as I go?”

He laughs lightly, pulling his slacks down.

You wonder in the mean time how he’s able to get undressed in bed without looking awkward.

He actually starts to fold them, and you snatch the fabric from his hands with a laugh, tossing it to join the rest of the clothes.

“I was kidding, just hurry up and kiss me!”

You pull him back to meet you in another searing kiss, and he laughs against your lips, pressing you back into the sheets.

Your banter is quickly forgotten, in favor of hot mouths and tongues getting reacquainted.

He snaps your bra and you meet his satisfied smirk with a glare, but the bite is lacking due to your lust addled state. He unclasps the hooks easier than you can yourself, but before you can feel jealous of his skill he’s slipping the lingerie off.

He’s sure to give your breasts the same attention your mouth received, licking and biting gently.

Matsukawa’s fingers trail down your side, the touch so light it’s almost nonexistent, until his hand is slipping past your panties to the wet heat behind them.

“Issei,”

You gasp, body tensing on reflex at the touch, and he tucks his face back into your neck with calming words of reassurance.

You sigh contently when his fingers slip inside, giving a few slow thrusts.

Your hips arch into his hand, and he bites your neck, causing you to moan out his name once more.

“You’re so wet baby. Were you waiting all night for this?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod with a hum, threading your fingers through his hair.

“Hm? You’re usually so good with your words,”

He clicks his tongue, pumping his fingers at a slow and teasing pace,

“Slow, or faster? Use your words baby.”

There’s that hot breath against your neck that sends shivers throughout you, and the pet name that warms your body in an instant.

“F-Faster, please!”

He smiles against your skin, kissing up to your jaw.

“You even said please, good girl.”

He praises, increasing his pace. The sounds become embarrassingly loud, and you can hear what he’s doing to you as well as feel it to your core.

You gasp out when he presses his thumb to your clit, hands dropping to find purchase on his back. The bundle of nerves so suddenly abused sends your back arching off the mattress.

“I-Issei, please, I think I’m ready—“

And with that, he slips his hands out and tugs the flimsy garment down your legs.

Your body misses the feeling of his long and slender fingers deep inside you, but you know very well that his cock can reach the places his fingers can’t.

And though you love the way the dark under armour briefs look hugging his thighs, barely concealing his hard on, you’re way more excited to see them coming off.

You let out a gasp when he hikes your leg up his shoulder, and you’re physically brought back into the moment when he lines up his erection against your slick folds.

He rocks his hips gently against them, cock sliding just outside your heat. His voice sounds thick with anticipation and lust,

“Ready?”

You love how even now he’s still looking to you for permission, and you nod eagerly,

“God yes, just do it, Issei.”

And with that he slowly pushes his cock inside you with a low moan. Your jaw slackens, and your eyes screw shut with a moan of your own.

You swear, every time it feels like he’s splitting you open. But his fingers and care from earlier certainly helps, and you feel your walls accommodating the width of his girth as he slowly pushes in.

It’s tight, it always is with him, but you love the feeling of being so full of him.

He pauses when he’s nearly fully in, and you peek up to catch his hesitant expression.

“Keep going, babe,”

You instruct with a pant, your raised leg and hips shaking despite your wishes.

He smooths his hand over your thigh up to your knee, waiting for it to subside while he gently pets caresses your skin.

When your body arches for more contact, he decides to push all the way in.

You’re panting, and it’s barely started. Sweat drops down Matsukawa’s brow in concentration, and you internally praise him for his willpower to not absolutely plow you when you know he really wants to.

“How are you feeling?”

His other hand traces at your hip, thumb brushing gentle circles.

“I’m good, how are you?”

Your lidded eyes catch his and he laughs at the mundane response.

“Ready for me to absolutely rail you?”

If you could muster any excess energy, you might even roll your eyes at him,

“Just shut up and fuck me.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, the sweetness of the action contrasting heavily with the indecent things he’s about to do to you.

He quickly busies himself with the task of ‘shutting up’ and ‘fucking you’, though with the rough moans slipping out of his mouth he’s not sure he could even tease you properly.

He feels a surge of pride at the delighted noises coming from your pretty lips, and he eats them up with a kiss.

You keen when the leg you have hooked on his shoulder presses to your chest to accommodate the kiss, his pace not faltering as he thrusts his hips to yours.

“I-Issei!”

And you can tell by the way he speeds up he loves the way you call his name so impassioned, and despite his increased tempo he remains attentive.

It’s when you feel his fingers back to abuse your clit in tight circles that you immediately start meeting his thrusts sloppily, not quite aligning with his rhythm.

Your mind (and body) is so full of Matsukawa, you don’t think you can concentration on matching his pace properly, but your sloppy thrusts at least give you a shred of the satisfaction your body is desperately craving.

Various iterations of his name spill out of your mouth, alongside other blissful noises.

In your hazy vision you take in the the man before you. The sheen of sweat covering his neck, his chest, abs, catching the dim lighting.

Every part of your body is practically bouncing as he pushes you harder into the mattress, his thrusts unforgiving and unrelenting.

Your eyes screw shut for a moment as you cry at a few consecutive thrusts where his cock hit deep, but you glance back so you can catch his expression.

His brows are knit tight in concentration, eyes fixed shut, lips parted occasionally for every curse and moan that escapes him.

And when it all becomes too much for you, his cock pushed as far as it can go, if not farther, his fingers keeping up their mission to stimulate your overly sensitive clit, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, your nails raking across his back, every sound filling your ears whether it’s from his lips or your bodies, you throw your head back with a cry.

“Come with me baby—“

Matsukawa voice is rough and hot, he thrusts deeper than you thought possible. Your name falls from his lips, soft flesh red from biting.

He presses his palm beside your head, creating an indent to the mattress. In the process, he catches your hair as he grips the sheets, balancing himself on a shaking arm.

You arch into him, hot skin pressing to hot skin.

White hot flashes over you when you feel his body shaking, painting practically your guts with his release as he pants and moans above you.

And it throws you headfirst into your own euphoric release.

And against better judgement, you cry out,

“Mattsun!”

Matsukawa’s dark eyes, hazy with lust and the satisfaction of release, immediately blow wide with momentary confusion.

“What the fuck—”

He scrambles off of you in a disoriented haste, and the bed dips when he presses his knees beside you on the mattress.

“What the fuck was that?”

He growls out, but it sounds more like a cry, or maybe a whine.

You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, stifling it behind your palm as you will your aching body to sit upright,

“I-I’m sorry!”

You’re still laughing, and his glare eases when he sees your rosy cheeks, watching your shoulders shake with mirth.

“Thanks, my dick is completely soft now.”

“You wanted to go again? You have work early tomorrow.”

“I might’ve stayed up for another round. But now we’ll never know, because of that stunt you just pulled.”

He pinches your nose, and you have the audacity to giggle as he grabs a stray towel to clean you up.

Pitching it with a perfect arc into a bin across the room, he lays back beside you grumbling something about your aforementioned audacity.

Even though he was mildly distressed by the prank you pulled in the throes of passion, he still made sure to clean you himself.

You turn on your side with a wide, blushing smile, wrapping your arm around his middle.

“I can’t believe you’d use that nickname. And while I’m cumming, too.”

He complains again, grudgingly slinging his arm around you.

“Oikawa always calls you that, and you never let me use it when we first met. I thought it would be funny to try it then.”

“Right. As much as I’d love to talk about Oikawa in the afterglow of our mind blowing sex—“

“You would?”

You snort, and he rolls his eyes,

“No. Honestly, I wish I could convey to you how much I don’t want to do that.”

The sour look he sends you makes another laugh bubble up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Issei. You just... have seemed so down lately. I wanted to do something special for you, and make you laugh.”

“You thought something special would be using one of that guy’s crappy nicknames during hot sex?”

You slap his chest lightly when he raises a skeptical brow, deciding to ignore for now how he verbally sidestepped your concerns with a jest.

“No, I meant the dinner, and the pictures. That was just so you could look back and laugh!”

You pout, feeling the rumbling from his chest as a laugh escapes his lips.

“Ahh, now I can look back on the night my beautiful girlfriend made a special dinner, and decorated our apartment with lovely photos. And when I had sex with her she called out the terrible nickname one of my best friends gave me.”

“Issei!”

You drag out each syllable of his name with a cry, of course when he says it like that it sounds more like a bad idea.

“I know, I’m just teasing. I’m very, very grateful for tonight. You really surprised me, in a good way.”

He gives you a soft expression that makes your chest warm up.

“...but I’m letting you know now, I’m not telling anyone how it ended. Not even Hanamaki,”

He pinches your thigh and you yelp, grabbing for his wrist as he continues,

“And you better not tell anyone either.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t! Just don’t start tickling me!”

He flattens his palm against your thigh, leaning over to kiss your pink cheek.

“Good girl.”

The pet name sends butterflies stirring in your stomach, and you pull him closer to cuddle.

Matsukawa pulls the covers to settle comfortably over the both of you, tangling your legs together and wrapping a strong arm over you. He settles snug against you, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, Issei. So much.”

“I love you too,”

He whispers your name affectionately, kissing your nose this time, as you both let sleep overtake you.

“I don’t think this relationship is working out.”

“I cheated on you.”

“You’re in denial.”

“Stop looking for excuses!”

“—I don’t love you anymore!”

Matsukawa’s last words to you rattle your sleep addled brain, and you blink awake, the haze of your pleasant memories forgotten.

Tears sting at your eyes, and you wipe furiously at them as they start to pool.

Regretting the nap, and your next actions, you pull your phone from the covers to call him.

You don’t end up building the courage to press the call button in the end, and hastily settle for a text reading ‘I miss you’.

And god, you miss him so much.

But the immediate silence that follows puts that pit right back in your stomach.

You spend the rest of the day, periodically checking your phone for any updates.

Your hand constantly itches to grab for it in your pocket, and you resist the urge to check less often than you’d hope.

Each time you’re met with an empty notification screen, your lock screen ready to shove a photo of you and Matsukawa in your face.

But the wound is too fresh to replace it, and you ache to see his face even if it’s through a screen or a photograph on the wall.

You slip your phone back into your pocket for the millionth time, returning to your tablet to get some work done.

Every time your stylus meets the screen, you can’t come up with the ideas or muster the creativity to produce anything.

You miss when Matsukawa would have you snug in his lap, and you could lay your head on his shoulder while sketching away.

Those moments were second nature to you, you’d grown so accustomed to his company and comfort. You never thought once that something as simple as cuddling on the couch with Matsukawa during downtime wouldn’t be an possibility anymore.

You never contemplated losing the encouraging words whispered against your ear. About what colors he liked, what a good job you were doing, or even the silly doodles he laughed at when you were getting sidetracked.

Your head gets stuck in the same cycle you’ve gone through every day since Matsukawa left.

What could you have said? What could you have done?

You miss his voice, his warmth, his touch, his face, you miss him.

You look off and stare out the window, resting your chin against your palm.

Is this really it?

It feels like your breathing cuts off then, and you feel numb as your chest tightens.

Despite it all, you feel completely aware, as the thought sits heavy on your mind. Do you really have to let him go?

It’s nearing a month now, and since that moment in your apartment it didn’t take long for your thoughts to go into disarray again.

You desperately want to believe in Matsukawa, give him the space he clearly needs, but the radio silence ends up driving you crazy.

You’re left with your heartbreak, your intrusive thoughts, the devil on your shoulder constantly telling you he meant everything he said.

You���re clinging to anything that’ll convince you Matsukawa loves you, that he wouldn’t leave you like this, but the distance between you two has diminished anything to hold on to.

All you have to keep you sane are memories of I love you’s.

But he hadn’t said it in a long time, and he hasn’t been here to give you any semblance of closure, or a reason that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit.

He’s giving you a million reasons to let him go, but you keep hanging on.

Normally, you’d be curled up in your sheets letting your emotions run wild, the memory of that night playing back in your head as if it were a big screening of a drama.

Your friends convinced you to get outside, anything to make the worst seem a little better. You told them you would heed their advice.

Instead of lying in sorrow at your apartment, you’re at yours and Matsukawa’s favorite cafe.

Getting out of the apartment was a good idea, your friends were right about that. It never truly felt like yours alone.

It was yours and Matsukawa’s, everything belonged to the both of you. It was decided together, down to the furniture and the kitchenwares.

Getting fresh air was healthy for you, your friends weren’t wrong, but coming to this cafe was the worst idea possible.

You’d been a frequent customer prior to the incident, but you’ve since ghosted the place. You thought it would be fine, just one latte to bring your spirits up.

But you only managed to satisfy the sick, subconscious urge to feel sorry for yourself in the place you and Matsukawa made memories in together.

Your favorite drink overdosed with sugars tastes bittersweet on your tongue.

And it doesn’t help that the smells and images of the cafe are attached to memories that are starting to feel even more bittersweet.

“...Mm... It tastes great...!”

You struggle to keep your lips from turning down, and even more to swallow down the bitter black coffee. Nonetheless, you flash a smile Matsukawa’s way.

After Matsukawa had given you his number, your conversations flowed with ease. It was surprisingly natural texting him, and even more so conversing with him over the phone or in person.

After a few dates, you found yourself at a local cafe with him.

It seemed to be climbing in popularity, and you’d known Matsukawa was passionate about his coffee.

“You don’t have to pretend to like it.”

He laughs, eyeing the look on your face.

Your extreme distaste must have been more obvious than you thought, or maybe he’s just more perceptive than he lets on.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s actually pretty disgusting. How do you drink it like this?!”

You gently slide his coffee cup over, and try not to think too hard and combust when his fingers brush over yours to take it back.

You also try to convince yourself that the burning heat on your fingers is from the heat seeping from the to-go cup, and not from Matsukawa’s brief touch.

Taking a swig of your own coffee, you attempt to wash away his coffee’s aftertaste.

“How do you drink it like that?”

He points his finger at your drink.

“...Fair. I just like coffee with milk and sugar! It’s common.”

“You like your milk and sugar with coffee.”

He teases, expression straight and neutral. You smile thinking that you’re beginning to understand Matsukawa’s sense of humor.

You poke your tongue out at his deadpan correction, and his eyes flash with amusement.

“It’s better with flavor, and sugar makes almost anything taste good! You’re just drinking bean juice, but plain and without all the extra stuff.”

“If anything, you’re just drinking bean juice with sugar in it, and that doesn’t sound much better.”

He points out, and you hum at his wit.

“....I think we’ve reached a stalemate, Matsukawa.”

You pout. He laughs, and it sounds so charming to your ears.

You hold your hand out to him, and he cuts himself short to peer at it in confusion.

“Truce. I won’t make fun of your plain bean juice as long as you don’t make fun of my sugary bean juice.”

“I accept. But only if we stop saying bean juice.”

“Deal.”

You accept his hand into a firm shake with a bright smile, and a pink hue creeps up your cheeks when you notice how much bigger his palm is compared to yours.

You blink when you attempt to pull your hand back and he doesn’t let go.

“Come on, we’ve got a movie to catch. Don’t wanna miss making fun of the trailers.”

He stands from his seat, pulling you up to your feet.

Your brain short circuits then. Does he want to hold your hand?

How are the two of you going to hold right hands while walking?

Would it be too awkward to just let go and try to hold his other hand? But he’s holding his coffee in it!

You don’t have to think much longer on it, Matsukawa’s already swapping his coffee with his other hand, placing his newly freed one into your palm.

It’s warm from the heat of the coffee, and your heart swells when you come to the realization that he was in fact trying to hold your hand.

“Ready?”

You glance up to see his expression, and your heart practically skips a beat at the shy look on his face.

He’s looking for any distraction, sipping at his coffee as he waits for your reaction.

When he risks a glance at you, he catches the eager smile that spreads across your cheeks.

You lace your fingers with his, holding his hand tightly,

“Mm. Let’s go!”

After that memory, you start to feel sick.

You can’t even stomach the coffee anymore, and you toss it in the trash in a rush, ignoring the questioning looks sent your way by the customers and employees. You pull your coat tighter to your body, before hurrying out of the cafe.

Pacing down the street, you decide to head back to the apartment.

Anywhere else is just another memory.

The park, the theatre, restaurants, bars, you can’t even see Hanamaki, and you don’t want to bother your other friends.

It’s better to wallow in your misery at home than in the public eye, anyways. You can’t stand the looks of confusion or pity being sent your way.

You kick off your shoes at the door, freezing when you notice the pair that wasn’t there before.

Is your mind playing tricks on you?

No, Matsukawa took these before he left, you’re almost positive.

Your knees shake as you take the first step forward, scanning the living room, but there’s no sight of him there.

When you open the bedroom door, you find him sitting at the edge of the bed.

The bed you shared together, that you’d slept in alone for a month now.

When he perks up at the sound of the door swinging open, he’s at a loss for words when he catches your shocked stare.

Your name leaves his lips, and it’s almost a whisper, so easy to miss, but it’s what you’ve been wanting to hear for weeks now.

“...here to collect the rest of your things?”

Your voice is shaky at best, lacking nerve.

“No, no. I... really wanted to talk to you—”

“Now you wanna talk?!”

For the briefest of moments, you felt happy to hear he wasn’t back to grab his things and leave you again, but it’s quickly replaced by your pent up emotions.

He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him speak.

“I get you needed space. I didn’t try to call you, I didn’t go to Hanamaki’s. I was happy to give you time, but what the fuck Issei? You ghosted me! I kept convincing myself that it was my fault, that I should’ve been better, or I should’ve done more for you. And you left me completely alone and heartbroken!”

You’re panting after the outburst, but there’s still so much more you want to say,

“You told me you wanted to break up, you lied to my face, and then you keep me in the dark! Did I not deserve at least a small explanation? Fuck, Issei, you’re giving me a million reasons to walk away!”

You don’t want to, of course, but the words spill out with everything that had remained unspoken in his absence.

Your lips purse shut, and your heart aches when you see his jaw clenched tight and his watery expression.

“Issei... I just need one good one to stay.”

You finish with a sigh, gazing up at him hopefully. You desperately want to reach out and hold his hands, but you clench your fists at your sides and keep yourself back.

The silence is deafening, the tension and dread in the air thick as you swallow tightly.

“...I love you. I don’t think I could live without you.”

Matsukawa finally says, staring at you resolutely. He immediately panics at the statement though,

“Fuck, I shouldn’t talk like that. I meant to say, I want to... keep living my life with you, or something like that.”

He runs a hand through his hair nervously before clicking his tongue,

“Shit, that sounded dumb. Ahhh... I’ve actually been seeing someone...”

His eyes widen at his own words, and he quickly waves his hands as if to wipe the words out of existence,

“N-Not like that though! You were right, actually, I lied about... cheating on you. I talked to Hanamaki, I’ve actually been getting therapy now. I haven’t had many sessions yet but...”

He trails off, fidgeting and wringing his hands together as your brain catches up with all the information he’s dumped on you.

Your eyes water as you lunge forward to pull him into a tight hug,

“That’s all I needed to hear!”

You cry into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, petting your head softly, he missed holding you like this,

“That I got a therapist?”

“Not that silly,”

You whine, pulling away to peer up at him through teary-eyed lashes,

“That you love me. I haven’t heard it in awhile. I’m sorry I forgot... I just really wanted to hear it.”

He stares at you with a regretful expression, brushing your tears away. It only makes you cry harder, strange happiness filling you that he’s finally here in person to wipe your tears away.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I had a hard time believing someone like you could love someone like me. I know you were always there to support me and love me with everything you have, but I kept thinking you deserved better,”

He tucks his chin on top of your head and pulls you back in, close to his chest,

“And that was selfish of me to decide for you. I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

You can hear how shaky his voice is, and press your face to his sweater. Your tears drip down and catch the soft fabric, and you think about how hard it must’ve been for him to come to terms with himself.

“But you really do deserve better,”

You pull away to scold him for that but he’s quick to interrupt,

“And I’ll be better for you if you’ll let me. I’ll work hard on handling these thoughts and anxieties.”

“Issei...”

You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, and it’s your turn to wipe the tears brimming at his eyes,

“Only if you accept that I can do better for you, and let me support you every step of the way.”

“Deal.”

You slide your hands around the back of his neck and lean in close.

At your gesture, he instinctively brings his hands to your sides, and tilts his face towards yours.

Your lips catch his in a kiss, filled with all the bitter and sweet emotions. Your longing and heartache fades away with your growing promise to each other.

“I love you, I love you.”

He says between each kiss, and you can’t help but smile into it each time.

“I love you too.”

A/N:

sorry for the absolute ANGST of the first part and a majority of this part, but I thrive in chaos. I made it better right? :’)

[Masterlist]