#NOT A KNOCK AT MY BUDDIES WHO ALL DO AMAZING EDITS (better than this cover tbh)

[whiskeyswifty]

.

[kikis-writing-world]

Who’s The Boss

Summary: Max has a late night meeting with his boss to discuss his recent poor performance. She might have an idea or two on what he can do to keep his job.

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!OC (It is written third person, but there are very few descriptors. Could be read as F!Reader)

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating/Warnings: 18+ SMUT! D/S dynamics (sub!Max, use of “ma’am” and “good boy” honorifics), abuse of power (consensual boss/employee,) oral (f receiving,) squirting, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, role playing, established relationship, aftercare conversation (he’s a vamp and doesn’t really need any, but it’s brought up CUZ ITS IMPORTANT!) Swearing. No beta/editing. As always, if I miss a tag please feel free to let me know! I wanna keep my bbys safe <3

A/N: Idk why I thought I should write Max being dommed? I guess I wanted our vampire frat boy to be put in his place?. Anyway... here it is, I’m only mildly ashamed lol

Max watched as the final person boarded the elevator, finally leaving the office. He’d been anxious all day, uncharacteristically so, for the rest of his coworkers to leave for the night. He nearly felt like shooing Elaine out of the office by the time she was packing up. With the floor empty, he finally turned towards the closed door of the office.

She’d disappeared into the office about 40 minutes ago. The door was closed but the light was on, bleeding through the crack under the door. He steeled himself, not truly knowing what he was going to meet on the other side once he knocked. Grabbing the nearest file folder off the nearest desk, he shook his arms loose and crossed the room. His knock was answered by a clipped voice, calling for him to enter.

She was sitting behind the desk, looking over various papers and reports. Her bottom lip, perfectly painted bright red, was caught between her teeth. The cardigan she’d worn earlier in the day was draped over the back of the chair. The top two buttons of her tight blouse were undone, the third looking ready to pop open over the swell of her breasts. He cursed the desk from blocking his view of her lower half. He’d seen the pencil skirt she was wearing as she walked the office earlier and he would love another look at her bare legs.

“Can I help you, Mr. Phillips?” She drawled. Her voice oozed with boredom and she didn’t even look up at him. Something about his disinterest had him aching to catch her attention.

“Uh, yes, Mrs-”

“Miss.” She cut him off with a sharp glare before he even had a chance to say her name. It was so abrupt, he almost felt like he was slapped with the syllable.

“It’s Miss.” She repeated, eyes boring into him. “I’m not married. What use would I have for some useless husband?” She scoffed, sitting up and giving him her full attention. His eyes dropped to her chest, seeing the way the movement put even more strain on the fabric covering her.

“Well? Are you wasting my time for a reason, Phillips, or are you here to stare at my breasts?” She snipped, eyebrow quirking up in challenge. Her lips pursed, proud of herself for catching him. He might have blushed if he was physically capable.

“It’s my sales numbers.” He grimaced. She was already in a bad mood and it was about to get worse.

“I’ve already seen your numbers, Phillips.” She sighed, standing up. His eyes followed her hands as they smoothed down the front of her skirt. “Have a seat,” she ordered, gesturing to the chair opposite her. He sat as requested, keeping the folder in his lap as she rounded to the front of the desk. The red patent stilettos she wore nearly made his mouth water.

“Now Max,” she paused to perch on the edge of the desk. He fought to keep his eyes on her face and not the long legs on display in front of him. “May I call you Max?”

“Of course.” He nodded, desperate for her approval.

“Max, we had very high hopes for you when you came to us but lately your numbers have been dropping. You’re not quite up to par. What’s going on, buddy?” She asked with an exaggerated pout.

He struggled to answer, not only because he was scared to disappoint but also because she crossed her legs as she spoke. Any thoughts he had about defending himself disappeared, the only thoughts on the smooth inner thigh and scrap of red fabric she’d flashed him.

She tsked, stopped his ambling for a coherent thought. “That’s a shame. You had good credentials, good references, you did amazing in your interview.”

She leaned back onto her desk, both arms stretched behind her to keep herself propped up. He wished beyond wishes that button in the center of her chest would finally give way.

“If you don’t start impressing me, we’re going to have to let you go.” She stated.

Max’s eyes widened, tearing his gaze away from her body to her eyes. “There has to be something I can do. I need this job. I’m better than these numbers, I promise.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, biting her lower lip as she thought. Despite the worry over losing his job, he wondered how it tasted. “There may be something you can do for me, Max.” She decided, uncrossing her legs.

“Anything.” He breathed, and by god did he mean it.

The last thing he was expecting was for her to lift her leg, resting the arch of her foot on his shoulder. The overhead lights bounced off the shiny material of the shoe as it found its perch, the thin heel pressing not uncomfortably into his collarbone. His mouth ran dry as he followed the line of her leg up from her foot to where it disappeared under her skirt. The skirt that had ridden up her thighs as she lifted her leg high enough to pin him in the chair.

“Why don’t you show me that silver tongue you bragged about when we hired you.” She purred.

Max’s jaw dropped and it took his brain a second to catch up. It didn’t help that what little blood he had coursing through his vampiric veins was entirely focussed below his belt.

“Yes ma’am.” He breathed. He tried to move forward, but her leg kept him in his seat.

“You can start there.” She instructed, very glib for what she was asking him to do.

“Yes ma’am,” he repeated. He cupped her calf in his hand, pressing his lips to the inside of her ankle. He kissed it tenderly, eyes on her to see if he was pleasing her. Her lips quirked up, almost imperceptibly so but it egged him on regardless. He kissed her ankle, licking the soft skin. He tested the pressure against his shoulder, moving his lips farther up her leg. When he met no resistance, he continued upwards.

He nipped at the skin of her calf, worshiping every inch of skin she permitted him to reach. When she felt his teeth against her skin, she didn’t jump, but warned him not to bite. He glanced up at her, trying to show his apology in his eyes. She seemed appeased and didn’t say anything more, letting her leg drape over his shoulder as he moved higher.

He reached her thigh, looking up for permission to push her skirt out of the way. Instead of verbalizing a response, she hooked her other knee over his shoulder. Trapped between her soft thighs, he could already smell her arousal. She lifted her hips from the desk, pushing her weight onto him. He slid the skirt up to her waist, revealing the lacy red number that she had been hiding all day. He moved to pull the garment down over her ass, but she stopped him with a hard pull of his hair quickly grabbing his attention.

“Do you really think you’ve earned that yet?” She asked. He could tell it was rhetorical, that he hadn’t earned it. He responded by releasing the lace, which earned him a good boy. He didn’t have a chance to preen under the praise as she pushed his head forward to her core.

He gripped her thighs as he licked at her through her panties. The fabric was already damp and tasted of her. He groaned, gripping her plush thighs tighter.

She sighed above him, releasing her tight grip on his hair to stroke it instead. Her nails dragged along his scalp in the most delicious way.

The lace grew slick quickly, his own saliva mixing with her arousal as he worked at her. It clung to her skin, almost showing him what she looked like underneath. He longed to taste her without the damn barrier between them.

Her hand left the back of his head, but having received no further instructions, he kept licking and sucking at her. He pushed his tongue as deep into her as the underwear allowed, swirling his tongue against her walls before focusing back on her clit. Chancing a glance upwards, he saw that she had unbuttoned her blouse, her hands playing with her nipples through the matching red lace bra. He moaned at the sight.

“Focus.” She chided, although her tone was breathy with pleasure. He obliged, hoping that if he made her feel good enough, she’d give him more. “So easily distracted.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He muttered, not daring to move away. He heard her breath hitch as his voice vibrated against her. He hummed against her, hoping to recreate the sensation.

Her hips bucked as she gasped. He smirked proudly against her, but a moment later she was pulling him away by his hair again. He looked up at her, licking her taste off his lips as he wondered what he’d done wrong.

“Take them off.”

He barely stopped himself from ripping the delicate fabric into pieces, instead sliding it hastily down her legs. He dropped the red lace to the ground, diving back into her core. He moaned at the taste of her with nothing blocking his way this time. He devoured her like a man starved.

His increased efforts seemed to be working for her, as she leaned backwards onto her elbows with a moan. He wanted to tell her how exquisite she tasted, but was worried taking his mouth off of her to do so would just annoy her. He tried to convey it with his actions, licking as deep into her as he could. He groaned as her juices coated his tongue, dripping down his lips and chin.

Her hand was back in his hair, firm grip directing him up to her clit. He obliged, circling the bud with his tongue. He tried different motions, listening for her reactions to find what she liked best. Anytime she moaned or gasped, he tried to make her do it again and again. His chin was soaked, but it felt like she was growing wetter by the second against him.

“Fingers,” she breathed, a pleading tone to her voice. The sound made him ache in his pants, her in-charge facade losing power as he pleasured her.

He plunged two fingers inside her, her walls fluttering around them as she whimpered. He worked them in and out, crooking them upwards against her muscles as he searched for the spot that would drive her wild. He knew he found it when her hips jerked against him, heels digging into his back as her grip on his hair grew near painful.

“Right there,” she confirmed, voice breaking. “Oh god Max, right there.”

He thanked whatever evil magic behind vampires that he didn’t need oxygen to live. Even if he did need to breathe, he wouldn’t have been able to pull out of her tight grip as she came. As her taste flooded his mouth, he acknowledged that this would have been a valiant death indeed. She ground her hips against him, using him to prolong her pleasure.

He only pulled away as her body went limp, her hand releasing the back of his head as she reclined against the desk, panting to catch her breath. He sat up, devouring the sight of her splayed out in front of him as he licked her from his lips. Her lipstick was smeared so slightly from biting her lips, her skin shimmering with a sheen of sweat. He could see her nipples peaked against the lacy bra. Her legs were still propped on his shoulders, giving him an exquisite view of her twitching pussy. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he began undoing his pants.

The sound of his belt clanking open had her looking down at him. She frowned, despite her relaxed stance.

“Oh no, no, no.” She practically sang, stopping Max in his tracks. “You think one little orgasm and I’m going to let you fuck me?” She laughed, breathless. “It’s going to take more than that. Especially if you want me to forgive those awful sales numbers.” She sat up, chest still heaving. She fanned her blouse, trying to cool her body.

When Max’s voice finally returned to him, he asked “What do I need to do?”

She cupped his chin, making sure he kept his eyes on her face. “Such a good boy,” she cooed, caressing his cheek with her thumb. He leaned into the loving touch, craving more of it. “If you want to make me forget those numbers, you better make me soak this desk. Make a mess of those reports and I won’t be able to read the numbers, will I?”

The grip on his chin tightened as she leaned forward, holding in place as she stared him down. “And then maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” He gulped, staring deeply into her eyes.

“Good boy.” She smiled, giving his head a quick shake before she released her grip and laid back against the desk once more.

Max didn’t need to be instructed further. He wanted to fuck her. Wanted to prove that he deserved to fuck her, that he could make her feel so good if she let him. The second she laid back, he dove between her thighs once more.

She was still sensitive from her first orgasm, if her twitching muscles and breathless moans were anything to go by. He eased two fingers back inside of her, searching once again for that spot. She was tighter but wetter than moments before and he throbbed in his pants. He could feel his dick leaking with excitement, but he had to ignore it for now. It would be worth it if she finally let him fuck her.

He sucked her clit gently to start, easing her back into the sensations, but worked up to a feverish pace quickly. She was writhing under him in no time as his fingers twisted inside of her.

He heard objects falling off the desk as she squirmed. She was making a mess and he loved it. Anything that could serve as proof that he was rocking her world was good in his book.

“M-Max, I’m-” She moaned as something heavy clattered to the ground.

He growled against her, massaging and pressing inside her. If she wanted to make a mess, he’d make a mess of her.

He felt her whole body tense up and shake before exploding as she cried out. Her convulsing walls pushed his fingers out of her as she came, warm and wet against him. He moaned as it soaked him, drinking up as much of the sweet nectar as he could as he circled her clit with his fingers. He felt his shirt sticking to him as her cum dribbled down his chin and neck.

As quickly as it happened, it was over. She lay whimpering and twitching on the desk as he sat back against the chair beaming with pride. She didn’t even look up at him as he gently lowered her legs from his shoulders, bringing them into his lap instead.

He caressed her lower legs, grounding her and letting her know he was there as he waited for his next orders. He was almost painfully hard as he waited for her to come back to him, to finally give him the permission he craved. If he didn’t get to fuck her, god he was going to kill something tonight.

She sat up slowly, her hair a mess. She looked like the perfect centerfold of the dirtiest magazine he could think of, eyes hooded and dark. She reminded him of the MTV video vamps he jerked off to as a teenager, only hotter. Teenaged him would have blown his load twice-over by now.

“So, you can follow directions then.” She hummed.

Max couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling in his chest. “When there’s an incentive.”

She chucked with him, leaning towards him. She reached out to wipe his face, collecting her juices on her fingers. “The carrot instead of the rod then.” She smirked before sucking her fingers clean.

“Whichever one gets to fuck you.” He shot back, adding a ma’am as he remembered himself.

“Don’t get cheeky,” she warned although she grinned. “But you’ve earned it.”

Max thought he might faint as she crooked her finger, beckoning him forward. He stood so quickly the chair toppled behind him. He stood between her legs, pressing as close to her as he could. He could feel his pants dampening across his thighs where he leaned into the desk under her. He was trembling with anticipation, but he waited for her permission to go any further.

She caressed his cheek, tiling her face in thought. He nuzzled into her hand, aching for more of her touch, to please her.

“You want me?” She purred.

“Please.” He nearly whimpered.

“How do you want me?”

“Anyway you’ll have me.”

“Good boy.” She grinned, patting his cheek twice. She turned his head, pressing her mouth to his ear to whisper “bend me over the desk and fuck me like your job depends on it.”

He was never so glad for super-human speed. She was bent over the desk, ass on display in a second. He heard her gasp as she was laid flat over the top of the desk, but he could hardly care. He was too busy pushing his pants down his thighs, finally freeing his cock.

He lined himself up, not daring to ask if she was ready lest she take back the permission she’d given. He thrust into her, groaning loudly as he finally sank into her warmth. She moaned, back arching under him. He had to pause, already so close to cumming after the long wait.

“Fuck, Max.” She panted as she adjusted to his size. It only took a second until she was wiggling back into him.

He gripped her hips tightly. Not having been able to bite her, mark her up, he hoped her hips bruised. Hoped she would have a lasting reminder of him taking her over the desk in the days it took to fade.

He thrust in and out, hearing the breath punched out of her lungs with every stroke. Her hands were scrambling for purchase, looking for something solid to hold onto as he fucked harshly into her. He grit his teeth, trying to stave off his own increasing pleasure. He had to make this last. She moaned beneath him, pushing back into his thrusts once she gripped the edge of the desk for leverage.

He was glad he’d had the patience to wait until the office was empty. There was no doubt what was happening in this room from the lewd sounds. Skin slapping skin; moans, grunts and cries. Watching her ass bounce against him, he was glad he hadn’t died between her thighs. He wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.

Feeling bold by the noises she was making, he reached forward and gripped her hair, pulling her head back. She whimpered before moaning his name loudly. He felt her tighten impossibly around him. Taking that as approval, he kept the grip tight.

“God, Max,” she moaned loudly, voice echoing off the walls. “If you could make sales with your dick, we’d be rich.”

He growled through clenched teeth, eating up the praise. Releasing her hair, he wrapped his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against his chest. She whimpered as it changed the angle inside of her, her eyes fluttering closed.

“‘S’at mean I’m keeping my job?” He huffed into her ear before licking a stripe up her neck.

“Seal the deal first.” She shot back. He nearly laughed that she was still trying to hold authority over him in such a vulnerable position. Her legs were shaking, her voice trembling and hoarse.

He released her neck to palm her breast. He squeezed at the soft skin as he nosed along her shoulder. She smelt like sweat and sex, her typical perfume all but faded. He swore he could even smell the blood in her veins, flowing so fast, so hot.

She cried out his name as he pinched her nipple. He pushed her back over the desk, feeling her legs close to giving out. He could feel her getting close to her third orgasm, her walls fluttering around him. He stopped holding back, ready to chase his own release. Sneaking his hand beneath her, it only took the barest flick to her sensitive clit until she was wailing beneath him.

His eyes rolled back as her walls clamped around him. Feeling her walls fluttering around him, convulsing with release, it only took him a few more shallow thrusts until he was joining her. His loud groans bounced off the walls of the small office as he buried himself deep within her. She whimpered softly, reaching back to hold the hand that was clasped around her hip.

As he came down from his high, he pulled his softening length from her. He watched her walls flutter against nothing, his seed dripping out of her. He gripped a cheek in each hand, massaging them. It made the milky liquid drip out of her quicker, spreading over her lips. It was hypnotic.

He stopped himself before any could drip down onto the carpet. He took a kleenex from the box that had miraculously stayed on top of the desk throughout the encounter, using it to clean her up. She whined softly at the touch, overstimulated and spent. He threw the used tissue in the bin with perfect accuracy.

Lifting his pants back to his hips, he rounded the desk to sit in the rolling chair she had occupied when he entered. He couldn’t help but laugh at the goofy sated smile on her face as she remained on the desk. She looked up at his laugh, eyes bright but tired.

“So, do I keep my job?” He asked with a grin, smoothing down her hair.

“Mmhmm.” She nodded, closing her eyes at his touch. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

He laughed heartily at that before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Another round, maybe.”

“Ugh, vampire.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t say anything-”

“No, you were perfect.” He promised her.

“‘Kay. Good.” She sighed. “Cause if you needed, I’d move right now. I would.”

“I believe you.”

She groaned as she stood up, stretching her tired muscles. She kicked her shoes off, legs shaky enough without the heels, and padded slowly around the desk, leaning heavily on the furniture for support. Max watched with a smug grin.

“Shut up.” She pouted, sitting delicately in his lap.

“Didn’t say anything.” He argued, wrapping his arms around her.

“You were thinking it. It’s not my fault I can’t keep up with you.” She complained, nuzzling into his neck.

“Nope.” He denied, letting the word pop. “I was wondering if I get to be your… what did you say, “useless husband” again.”

“I was getting into character.” She laughed softly. “You’re always my useless husband, Mr. Phillips.”

“Don’t you forget it, Mrs. Phillips.”

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @thisisthe-wayson​ @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​ @gorgeousgrogu​ (you replied to my post about writing this, but I can remove the tag if you’d like)

[ryleighisapanda]

Love Ain’t

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: slight smut? just at the very, very end, and cursing

Genre: slight angst?, fluff, bestfriend to lovers

Summary: Peter and [Name] are forced to confront their feelings about one another when she turns to him for comfort after being stood up.

Inspiration: @spiderbabyparker‘s long-ago (when you were still lovely-parker, haha) ask sent to @petersshirts - “Stark!reader getting stood up on her date and rushing to her room crying when she gets back from her date leading to Peter (her best friend) going to comfort her, and he kisses her forehead and says “it’s okay babe” and they end up admitting feelings for each other?”

Notes: So it’s a little different from the ask, but I hope it’s still up to par :)

--

At the time, [Name] wasn’t even sad. She was pissed. She had put way too much time and energy in to be stood up like this - no call, no text, nothing. Not to mention she had bought a new dress specifically for this occasion (she blamed her dad for raising her to believe a new outfit had to be bought for every event). 

[Name] plopped down on the spinny bar stool and flagged down a waitress. After ordering a milkshake and cheese fries, she pulled out her phone and opened TikTok. Already her “grwm: date edition” video had a couple thousand views. There were those stupid comments like “first” and “early”; annoying ones like “legend has it she replies if you’re early” (what do you even say to that??) and “bet she won’t reply” (guess what, you’re right); heartwarming ones like “omg where did you buy that dress??” and “can i be that pretty”; and then excited ones like “let us know how it goes!” and “someone remind me to come back”. 

When the waitress came back, [Name] thanked her and gave her exact change. [Name] scrolled through her For You Page for the next hour, long after she’d finished her shake and fries. She probably would’ve sat there until the diner closed had it not been for a TikTok Flash had posted featuring - are you fucking kidding me? - Lance Thompson, Flash’s cousin but more importantly: [Name]’s date. 

[Name] had tried giving Lance the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his phone had died, and his car had broken down. Maybe his mom had gone into labor. Maybe he’d been attacked by a pack of sewage rats while taking the subway. 

The last one was a bit extreme, but after seeing that Flash’s video had been posted a mere seventeen minutes ago, [Name] wished it had actually happened. She clicked on the tag that led to Lance’s account -- for why, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but multiple videos of her was not on the list. She clicked on the most recent one, a video taken just the other day. 

“Lance, I’m cold,” [Name] had pouted, tugging on Lance’s hoodie sleeve.

Lance raised his eyebrows, but after seeing [Name]’s wink and playful smile, he knew what she wanted him to say. “Well, damn, [Name], I can’t control the weather!”

After a giggle and a combination of pouty lips and puppy dog eyes up at him, Lance had yanked off his hoodie and given it to [Name] before planting a kiss on her lips.

The bittersweetness of watching the video proved to be more bitter than sweet after [Name] read the caption: week five of making the snobby rich girl fall in love with me before giving her a taste of her own medicine.

Snobby? Her own medicine? Confusion washed over [Name], but it was nothing compared to the heartbreak she felt. She wasn’t in love with Lance by any means, but she had started to genuinely care for him. 

This small heartbreak would take a little time to get over, but there was one person who could make it just a bit more bearable. 

--

To say that there was no privacy between Peter and [Name] would be an understatement. After May had told her that Peter was in his room, she’d walked in without even knocking. Without a word, really, because her heart hurt so much, she didn’t feel like talking. 

“[Name]!” Peter exclaimed, surprised yet happy nonetheless, to see her. “How’d your da--” He didn’t need his Spidey sense to tell him that that question was better left unfinished. 

[Name] went to Peter’s desk where she kept a drawer of the things she’s needed before that she couldn’t snitch from Peter (bras, panties, etc). Been through this routine a million times, Peter turned his back to [Name] as she stepped out of her dress, pulled on a sports bra, and stepped into a pair of his sweatpants. [Name] threw her hair up into a bun, then yanked the scrunchie out and hoped Peter would play with it; that always seemed to put her at ease and content.

After crawling under the covers and wiggling her way into Peter’s arms, [Name] finally mumbled, “He stood me up.” Peter didn’t say anything, just started twirling a lock of her hair. She closed her eyes for a minute, enjoying the moment. “He doesn’t even like me. He put it on his stupid TikTok.”

“Are you serious?” Peter’s temperature was rising; he never liked this guy from the beginning, and him being Flash’s cousin didn’t help his case. 

“Yeah, something about giving me my own medicine?” [Name] picked up Peter’s phone from his chest and went to Lance’s TikTok. “I didn’t even know he had an account, and now there’s all these videos of us being all cute together and his caption is always the same: “week whatever of making the snobby rich girl fall in love with me before giving her a taste of her own medicine”. I don’t even know what that means.”

“Let me see.” [Name] gave Peter his phone and watched him scroll through the videos, even the ones without [Name] in them. “Who records the videos? The ones of you and him?”

“I dunno, I never really paid attention,” [Name] sighed. “I mean, in all those videos, we’re with our friends.”

Peter paused a video [Name] herself had recorded; it was some football TikTok Lance and a couple of his buddies had done. “Who’s this?” Peter asked, pointing to a guy with dyed black hair and one dangly earring. 

“Braxton?” [Name] looked up at Peter. “That’s Lance’s best friend from, like, Kindergarten. Why?”

Peter didn’t answer for a minute; he was concentrating on something. “Do you remember that party your old friend Lorelai threw back in middle school? The one her parents sent her away to some troubled behavior school because they couldn’t keep her under control?”

“She preferred Rory, but yes,” [Name] answered. “Where are you going with this? That I had a lapse in judgement when it came to friends and hung around the wrong crowd during my preteen years?”

“Well, you did, but no,” Peter chuckled; this provoked a small chuckle from [Name] as well, which meant Peter was doing something right. “Remember the kid with the round glasses and freckles and carrot top hair?”

“Yeah,” [Name] furrowed her brows and thought back to that dreadful night. “I didn’t like him, but she knew he liked me, so she forced us to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. I didn’t wanna hurt his feelings so I let him kiss me, but then I dodged him at school and avoided his texts. Oh gods, the rest of that semester was SO awkward and embarrassing.”

“[Name], that’s what Lance is getting you back for,” Peter realized with a heavy sigh. “That kid was Braxton.”

All the color drained from [Name]’s face. She felt like she’d been sucker punched in the gut. Maybe Rory was right; being nice did backfire. 

[Name] didn’t feel like talking anymore. She grabbed her phone and pressed play on her previously made breakup playlist. As the songs spoke the words she felt, [Name] synced her breathing to Peter’s and fell asleep to his heartbeat. 

Not long after [Name] had fallen asleep, her phone rang. Peter picked it up off his stomach and saw that Mr. Stark was calling. Peter’s face burned; Mr. Stark and May both had seen he and [Name] cuddling and sleeping on the same bed or couch or even chair, but when it came to Mr. Stark, Peter still felt as if they were caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing--even though they weren’t even together. Not wanting to make Mr. Stark wait even longer, Peter slid his thumb across the screen. “H-Hi, Mr. Stark.”

“Peter. How’s she doing?” At Peter’s scrunched eyebrows, [Name]’s dad elaborated, “May told me she’d come over visibly upset and looking for you. Don’t tell me it was that boy.”

Peter pursed his lips, but there was no sense in being vague; Mr. Stark already knew. “Yes, sir. Apparently he’s been playing her all this time.”

Mr. Stark groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Peter?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take care of her, will you? And one more thing.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.

“She loves you more than she realizes. Remember that.” And just like that, Mr. Stark was gone. Peter refused to let himself think about Mr. Stark’s last message. He’d morph it into something it wasn’t, and his and [Name]’s whole friendship would be ruined. 

The first thing [Name] noticed when she woke up was that Peter wasn’t there. She rubbed her eyes, which were irritated from crying, and looked around his room. He was nowhere to be found. He was most likely in the bathroom and grabbing a late-night snack, but that didn’t soothe the ache in her heart that always came when Peter wasn’t around. 

[Name] grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked the time.

Oof. Too bright.

She turned the brightness down. 2:16.

As it always did, the picture of Peter made her smile. They’d done the chubby bunny challenge, and Peter had stuffed so many marshmallows into his mouth, it was impossible for [Name] not to snap a picture. 

The events of last night felt like a faded memory, even the hurt. Peter always managed to do that, somehow, make everything else disappear. Some lucky girl was going to have an amazing husband that would make a wonderful father.

Maybe MJ.

Hopefully [Name] herself.

[Name] dropped her phone. She ignored it as it clattered to the floor. Consciously, she had never thought of Peter as anything but a best friend. But now everything--the way her face lit up when he walked in a room, the tingling down her spine that accompanied Peter’s breath when he whispered in her ear in class, the giddiness in getting ready for their friend dates, even the occasional dreams of them together that she’d refused to acknowledge--all made perfect sense.

Peter walked into the room then, his shower hair now curling in ringlets.

“I love you,” [Name] blurted, before her fight or flight had a chance to stop herself.

Peter’s face warmed as blood rushed up his neck and on his cheeks. He seemed happy for a split second, before he laughed nervously. “Uh, yeah, I love you, too, p-pal.”

[Name] shook her head vigorously. She was filled with so much adrenaline now that she’d have a panic attack if she didn’t release it. “No, not like that, I’m in love with you, Peter. You make the world disappear and there’s only me and you, and every time you put the suit on I lose my shit worrying about you, but then you come in my room every night to assure me that you’re okay, and I’m always thinking about you, and it pains me if I ever think you might not be in my future. You weren’t my first kiss, Peter, but I want you to be my next and the one after that and the one after that until it’s my last. Stark is a very infamous and honestly really cool name, but I don’t want it forever, I don’t want anyone’s name but yours, Peter Parker, and I love you so much it hurts, and I may have only just realized it now but I’ve loved you for so much longer and now that I think about it, you may not even feel the same, and I very well could have just jeopardized our who--”

No longer was Peter standing by his bedroom door. It was closed now, and Peter was hovering over [Name], his hand around her throat. “Do me a favor, baby girl, and stop talking.” He smashed his lips against hers, and when he pulled away, he raked his teeth along her bottom lip.

Peter rested his forehead against [Name]’s, his eyes closed; they were both breathing heavily. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted breathily.

“Then get back here and do it again.” [Name] grabbed a fistful of Peter’s shirt and pulled him back down to her. 

Needless to say, there was not only a meeting of the minds and souls that night, but also the bodies.

tagged: @marvel-lously @k-a-t-h-r-y-n-sbin @lilyholland

[isolavirtuosa]

Starting Over

Hello, I have returned with something not so new but edited for canon compliancy and no longer a one-shot.  Part 2 which is actually new will come out tomorrow.

[fanfiction] NaruSasu

Naruto’s living the dream, but whose dream is it?

Starting Over

Isola Virtuosa

  I leaned back into my chair, surveying the piles of paperwork still covering my desk.

“Ughhh,” I groaned, resisting the urge to sweep the desk clean with a well-placed rasengan.  A glance at the clock told me that it was past dinner time, so Hinata and the kids had probably already eaten without me.  I sighed, kicking my desk petulantly.  “Ow…” I muttered.

There was a knock at the door, and I quickly put on my hokage face.

“Come in,” I said, picking up the closest document to my hand and pretending to study it.

“Excuse me, Hokage-sama,” Konohamaru said, bowing as he entered.  “I’ve brought you some records from the accounting department that need your signature.”

“Leave them on the desk,” I said, gesturing towards the already towering pile of papers awaiting my signature.  I pretended to be deep in thought, projecting a general sense of Hokage-ness as Konohamaru added the papers to my stack.  I refrained from screaming and throwing the papers back in his face.

Konohamaru was of course suitably impressed.  “Naruto-niichan, you’re amazing!  You work so hard all day and night just to keep Konoha safe.”

I waved off the compliment with an imperious gesture, keeping my eyes focused on my document despite having no idea what said document was even about.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to your work,” he said, giving me another bow as he left.

I gave it a few seconds before heaving out a sigh and dropping the document back on my desk.  “Graaaaah!” I exclaimed, shoving the papers to the floor in a sudden fit.

I wanted to go home.  I wanted to eat whatever delicious thing it was that Hinata had made.  I wanted to play with Boruto and Himawari, and then I wanted to sleep.  For hours.  And hours.  In a row.  Just sleep.

Instead, I was trapped in my office with a never-ending supply of menial requests awaiting my approval.  It wasn’t like we were at war.  It wasn’t like there were any uprisings or fights or threats or anything of remote interest going on.  Did it really matter if I signed off on a new soap delivery to the hospital today or tomorrow?

Probably not.  But if I didn’t sign it today, then the pile would double or triple by tomorrow.

I resigned myself to another boring late night in the office.

I was sleeping on my desk when a knock startled me awake.  A pile of papers went crashing to the floor, and I flailed uselessly at them, unable to stop their descent.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru said, sticking his head in the door.

I stopped mid-flail, grinning at him sheepishly.  Shikamaru was one of the few people in Konoha that knew I wasn’t half as together as I pretended to be, mostly on account of him coming into my office all the time without waiting to be invited in.

Shikamaru opened his mouth to speak, and then I felt it, that old, familiar chakra tingling along my skin.  I was already heading to the door when his words finally reached my ears.

“Uchiha Sasuke was seen heading towards the village.”

I started off at a quick walk, which escalated into a run, and then full-on rooftop jumping until I reached Sakura’s house.

“Sakura-chan!” I called, banging on the door.  I threw it open without waiting, kicking off my shoes and stepping up into the house.

The door to the living room opened, and Sarada stood there, looking taken aback at my sudden appearance.

“Hey, there, Sarada-chan,” I said, clamping down on my excitement and putting my hokage face back on.

“Lord Seventh,” she said, bowing politely.  We were still getting used to being in one another’s lives since the battle with the Ootsutsuki Clan.

“Oh, Naruto, that was quick,” Sakura said, appearing from out of the kitchen.  She rested a hand on Sarada’s shoulder.  “Why don’t you finish setting the table for me?”

Sarada nodded and quickly moved into the kitchen.

“Is he here yet?” I asked, glancing around from side-to-side.

“Not yet,” Sakura said, smiling at me.  “Have a seat, Hinata’s bringing the kids over.”

I attempted to sit, but found that I needed to be on my feet and moving, filled with excessive energy.

Sakura was the same, moving through the rooms of the house, cleaning and adjusting and fussing when really no cleaning, adjusting, or fussing was necessary.

Sarada tried to look disinterested, but the same energy was buzzing through her.

When the sound of the front door opening reached our ears, all three of us scampered to the entryway.

Sasuke looked up from removing his shoes.

“Welcome home,” Sakura said, grinning.

“Dad,” Sarada said, trying to play it cool and failing miserably, running to her father and attaching herself to his waist.

Sasuke patted her on the head, sliding out of his other shoe and stepping into the house.  “I’m home,” he said to Sakura.

Sakura’s smile softened, and she touched Sasuke’s arm gently as he passed by, Sarada still attached as he went.

I hated to intrude on such a touching family scene, but some things needed to be said.  “Where the hell have you been, bastard?”

“Here and there,” Sasuke said vaguely.

I frowned at him.  “You should report back properly to your hokage.”

“Moron,” Sasuke said, smacking my shoulder with his stump.

I tried to look affronted, but I couldn’t help but grin.

Our arms were still touching.

Then there was a knock at the door, so I went to answer it, knowing that it would be my own family.

We all gathered around the table, Sakura pouring tea and Hinata passing out dessert.

It was familiar to the point of predictability, a repeated scene that had taken place every time Sasuke had come home since the defeat of the Ootsutsuki Clan.  Sakura and Hinata took care of everyone, Boruto and Sarada tried to put up their best fronts while covertly sniping at one another, Himawari glued herself to my side, and Sasuke and I bickered until we got drunk.

Boruto ended up staying up with the two of us past his bedtime, lingering between Sasuke and I as we poured each other drinks.

I was in the middle of drunkenly telling Sasuke how much of a better drinker I was than him when Boruto finally spoke up.  “Are you stronger than my dad?”

“Hell no he isn’t!” I protested before Sasuke could get a word in.

“That has yet to be determined,” Sasuke said, picking up the sake bottle and pouring some into my empty cup.

“Whaddya mean?” Boruto asked.

“I won the last fight,” I said, glaring at Sasuke.

“You said we’d fight again,” Sasuke said, tilting his head suggestively, like we should settle things here and now in his living room.

“I’ve been kinda busy and you’ve been kinda not around,” I accused.

“I know,” he said quietly, eyes slowly meeting mine.

I felt my chest tighten.

We both fell silent.

“I bet you could kick my dad’s ass!” Boruto declared suddenly.

Sasuke smiled, but there was something dark about it.  “Yeah, I could.”

“Oh, really, jerkface?” I asked, feeling rankled that 1) Sasuke was still a superior bastard who thought he could beat me, and 2) my son liked the superior bastard better than me.

“Let’s go, Naruto.”

Hearing my name roll off of his lips always made me tingle a little.  I tried to ignore it and look sufficiently threatening and hokage-like.  “What did you have in mind, Sas’?”

Sasuke rested his elbow on the table, palm open.

I grinned, inching closer and resting my own elbow on the table, entwining our fingers.

Boruto seemed delighted by this turn of events, getting between us and staring at our hands.

“You start us off, buddy,” I told Boruto, tousling his hair with my free hand.

Boruto nodded excitedly.  “Ready… set… go!”

Thirty minutes later saw Boruto curled up in the crook of Sasuke’s arm, asleep.  Sasuke was sipping his sake and smirking, pleased with his victory.

“It was my bad arm,” I muttered.

“Pathetic.”

I thought about giving Sasuke a rasengan to the face, but I risked hurting Boruto.

“Naruto.”

I stared at Sasuke petulantly.  “You could at least address me by my proper title,” I said, even though I actually found it very pleasing every time Sasuke called me by my name.

“Hokage-sama,” Sasuke corrected himself.

I bit my lip, taken by surprise.  “I think I just came a little.”

Sasuke let out a surprised bark of laughter, then quieted down, casting a glance at Boruto who was still sleeping.  “I didn’t mean to turn you on, Hokage-sama.”

“Stop that,” I said, my face burning with embarrassment.

“You’re the one who wanted to be called by your title, Hokage-sama.”

“Jerk,” I muttered, staring at the floor.

Sasuke stayed thankfully quiet, allowing me to recover my dignity.

“What were you going to say before?” I asked when I’d finally composed myself.

“Nothing really,” Sasuke murmured, pouring me more sake.

“Don’t be like that,” I said, giving him a light push.

Sasuke leveled me with a sour look.

I smiled winsomely at him.

His eyes slid up my body, and when his eyes met mine again he was smiling back at me, slow and easy.

I swallowed.

The door slid open, and we looked away from one another guiltily, as though we’d been caught doing something we weren’t supposed to.

“The girls are asleep,” Sakura informed us, hefting three futons into the room like they weighed nothing.

Hinata followed her, looking like she wanted to help but not really sure how to.

“Hinata and I will sleep in our room,” Sakura informed Sasuke.  “Do you want Boruto to stay with you two, or he can come with us?” she asked, now directing the question in my direction.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Sasuke was already saying, “He can stay with us.”

“Okay,” Sakura said, laying out the three futons.

Hinata hovered nearby, trying to help.

Sasuke glanced at Boruto, still sleeping at his side, and picked him up carefully with his good arm, carrying him over to one of the futons and laying him down.  “Poor kid, he looks just like you,” he murmured glancing at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I growled.

Sasuke shook his head, smoothing Boruto’s hair and looking at my son in such an affectionate way that it twisted something in my gut.

Sakura gave Sasuke the saddest look, then turned around abruptly.  “You two don’t stay up drinking too late,” she warned, her tone cheerful but with a threatening undertone.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, saluting her.

Sasuke went back to the table without a word, picking up his cup and drinking more.

“Good night,” Hinata said to me after pressing a kiss to Boruto’s forehead.

“Good night,” I said, smiling at her.

Hinata and Sakura disappeared back into the main house, closing the door behind them.

“Let’s go outside,” Sasuke said, getting a new sake bottle and picking up his cup.

I followed him out to the porch, and we sat outside, listening to the cicadas and feeling the warm breeze bring slight relief from the endless heat of summer.

“Sas’, I’m bored,” I said, knocking his stump with my wrapped arm.

“Can’t you ever just sit quietly and appreciate the moment?”

“No.”

“Ugh, why do I waste my time with you?”

“’Cause I’m your best friend,” I said with a grin.

“You are not.”

“Am too.”

“Are not.”

“Am too,” I insisted.

“Did you develop at all after the age of twelve, or did you just enter some kind of state of suspended animation?” he scowled at me.

“Huh?  Was that an insult?”

“Over your head, Naruto.”

“No…”

“Just shut up and drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Sasuke?”

“You’re already drunk, stupid.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!” I declared, downing the sake in my cup like a shot.  It went straight to my head, making me dizzy.

“Are too,” Sasuke murmured, resting his head on my shoulder.

About then I realized how drunk Sasuke was.  “How about you, lightweight?”

“You cheat,” Sasuke mumbled, his voice sounding lethargic.  “You and the damn fox…”

I couldn’t deny that Kurama helped by breaking down the alcohol in my system quickly, so instead, I just patted Sasuke on the head.  “Whatever, drunky.”

Sasuke growled some kind of response, but his breathing was getting steadier and heavier.

“Good night, Sasuke,” I murmured, my fingers lingering in his hair.

Sasuke didn’t answer, already asleep.

I sat there for a while, sipping at my sake and feeling content.

I finally nudged Sasuke awake and helped him stumble over to one of the futons.  I lay down between him and Boruto, falling asleep quickly.

“Wake up!”

My eyes shot open.  Sun was pouring into the living room.  Boruto was still snoring on my left, Sasuke asleep at my right.

I sat up, rubbing my hands through my hair.  I finally got up, moving to the kitchen where the girls were sitting and drinking tea.

“Good morning,” Hinata said, smiling up at me.

“Morning!” I said in an overly cheerful way.

“Did you leave Sasuke’s liver in one piece?” Sakura asked, getting up and pouring me some tea.

“Sas’ is fine,” I said, taking the tea.  “Probably.”

Sakura had that sad look on her face again.

Before I could say anything, she was back to smiling, talking to Hinata about some picnic the two of them had planned to have later in the day.

“Am I invited?” I asked, perking up at the thought of spending the day with the kids and Sasuke at the park.

“Don’t you have a job?” Sakura asked, raising her eyebrow at me.

I stuck out my lower lip.

“You’re already late,” Hinata reminded me gently.

My lip stuck out further.

“Why don’t you go in for a few hours and then join us for lunch?” Hinata suggested.

I beamed at her.

“Laziest hokage in history,” Sakura muttered.

“Hey, I’m a great hokage!” I protested.

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” Sakura said, poking me in the cheek.  “I’m sure Sasuke would be very happy if you joined us.  Well, his version of very happy.”

“Okay, I’ll get everything I need to get done and meet you at the park!” I said, pasting a kiss on Hinata’s cheek.  I dashed off to the office without so much as brushing my hair or washing my face.

Shikamaru followed me into the office.  “Drinking with Sasuke?”

“You betcha,” I said, taking a seat at my desk.  “What do I have to get done today?”

“Well I canceled all your meetings, which I might add was incredibly annoying, and I strongly suggest you take a shower.”

“Shikamaru, my man, you are the greatest ninja that ever lived,” I said.  “Besides me.  And my dad.  And-”

“Yeah, whatever,” Shikamaru said.  “I’m surprised you even showed up today.”

“I have a work ethic.”

“If you say so…”

I sighed, eyeing all the papers on my desk.  Then I formed a seal, made a bunch of clones, and started signing.  Work breezed by.  I hadn’t been this productive since… the last time Sasuke came back to visit…

I didn’t linger on that thought too long, finishing up my work and speeding off to the park.

Himawari attached herself to my side the moment I arrived.  I slid my arm around her shoulder, trying to remember what it was that was so important that I couldn’t spend more time with my little girl who meant the world to me.

Sasuke was teaching Sarada and Boruto how to start a fire without chakra.  The both of them stared at him in awe like it was some kind of impressive feat.

I wondered what was so important that it kept Sasuke away from his little girl.

Our eyes met and I quickly looked away.

The day passed like a dream, like it was everything I could possibly want.  I found myself in our kitchen, idly drying dishes while Hinata washed up the remains of our picnic.

“It was so nice having you with us today,” she said.

“Huh?” I said, head snapping around towards her.  “Oh, yeah.  It was fun.”

“I haven’t seen Boruto smile at you like that in a while,” Hinata said softly.

I grinned at her.  “Yeah, it’s almost like he doesn’t hate me anymore.”

“Of course he doesn’t hate you,” Hinata said, shaking your head.  “He just misses you.”  She hesitated, then continued, “We all miss you.”

I touched her arm gently.  “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Hinata said, turning away with a blush.  “It’s just…”

“Just what?” I prodded gently when she didn’t continue.

Hinata shook her head.  “You’re different…”

“Huh?”

“When Sasuke’s here.  You’re different.  It’s like you’re finally you again.”

“But I’m always me?” I said, scratching my head.

Hinata shook her head again, smiling a sad smile.

“Hey…” I said, wanting to cheer her up.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hinata said, putting the milk back in the fridge.  “The kids were so happy to be with you today.”

“I was happy, too,” I said, leaning down and kissing the top of her head.

I expected that to cheer her up, but Hinata smiled that sad smile again.

Later that night found Sasuke and I inebriated on his porch again.

“Never have I ever impregnated Hinata,” Sasuke said blandly.

“That’s cheap, bastard,” I muttered, taking a shot.  “Okay, never have I ever… uh… er…”

“You suck at this game, Naruto.”

“I do not!  Just give me a sec, okay?”

“I’ll give you as many seconds as you want, and you still won’t come up with something.”

“Just because I’ve taken… ten…?”

“Twelve,” Sasuke corrected.

“Twelve shots to your… one?”

“Yes, one.”

“…one shot…  It just means I have more life experience than you.”

“‘Never have I ever kissed a dog’s butt,’” Sasuke said, reminding me of my first attempt at the game.  “Why would you think that I would have ever done that?  Why would anyone, besides you, ever do that?”

“I said I never did it!”

“I think you’re lying.”

“I never kissed a dog’s butt!”

“Hn.”

“Probably…”

Sasuke cracked a smile.

I smiled, too.  “You look good when you smile.”

“Dumbass,” Sasuke said, pushing me away from him.

“Sasukeeeee,” I whined, tackling him into a bear hug.

“Get off of me,” Sasuke growled, but he didn’t try very hard to push me away again.

I kept my grip on him, resting my chin on his shoulder.  “Never have I ever… um…”

“God, just think of something that you know I’ve done that you’ve never done.  Like, ‘never have I ever used the sharingan.’  It’s not fucking rocket science.”

“Oh, that’s good.  Yeah, that one.”

“No, you have to think of something on your own.”

“But I want to use the sharingan one.”

“Use your great hokage brain and think of something else.”

“Mm, it is a pretty great brain.”

“Then think of something.”

“Never have I ever… uh… oh!  Never have I ever seen Orochimaru naked!”

“Why the hell would you think I’ve seen Orochimaru naked?”

“Because it’s Orochimaru.  He just seems like the kind of person you’d see naked.”

“You’re stupid,” Sasuke said, picking up his glass and downing a shot.

“Then why are you drinking?!”

Sasuke remained silent, staring out into the yard.

“You saw him naked!” I shrieked in horror.

“Go to hell.”

I laughed into his shoulder, clutching at the folds of his shirt.  “Oh my godddddd…” I finally gasped out.  “Was it… I mean… oh my goddddd…”

“Stop.”

I could tell Sasuke was embarrassed, seeing the tell-tale tinge of red at the tips of his ears despite his stoic countenance.  “So was this a bath-time situation, or was it something I should be concerned about?” I asked, unable to let it go.  When it came to Sasuke, I was never going to grow up.

“Never have I ever been a stupid asshole moron kyuubi vessel.”

“I am neither stupid nor an asshole-” I tried to protest.

“Drink.”

I kept my left arm wrapped around Sasuke, using the other to pick up a shot.  “That was under protest,” I said, setting the glass down after I emptied it with a little shake of my head.  Kurama helped me process alcohol more quickly, but I’d taken a lot of shots in the last hour and I was definitely feeling the effects of it.

“It’s your turn,” Sasuke said, turning to look me in the eye.

With my cheek pressed to his shoulder, I suddenly realized how close we were.

Sasuke seemed to have the same realization, becoming unmoving like a statue.

My breath caught in my throat, and I was filled with an intense longing that I couldn’t understand.  “Sasuke…” I said softly.

“What?” he said.  It almost seemed like he was nervous, but it must have just been the alcohol clouding my brain.

“I…” I started.  What was it that I was about to say?  “Stay,” I finally breathed out.

“Naruto,” Sasuke said, sounding pained.

“Look, I know you want to do your shadow hokage thing all out in the world and crap,” I rushed on, not wanting to hear what I knew was the inevitable response.  “But we need you here.  I need you here.  I… you…”

Sasuke was biting his lower lip, looking conflicted.

“You’re… you’re my best ninja,” I said, because that seemed like a reasonable explanation for why he should stay.  “You’ll serve Konoha better here, you know, actually in Konoha.”

Like always, it was the wrong thing to say.

Sasuke shrugged me off of his shoulder, picking up a shot glass.  He threw his head back, downing the shot, then slammed it down in front of him.  “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

I stared at him aghast.  “You just got here.”

“And now I’m leaving.”

“But-”

“There’s no reason for me to stay.”

“Uhhh, your wife and daughter are two pretty big reasons.”

“I can protect them better out there.”

“The world is peaceful…”

“There are always insurrections.”

“Uh, not lately.”

“You don’t know what I see out there.”

“Yeah, ’cause you never report in to me, you stupid bastard.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

I stared at him long and hard.

Sasuke flinched, reaching out subconsciously to touch his stump.

I felt like I was winning.

“It’s better when I’m not here,” Sasuke finally said.

“What the hell are you talking about?!  Nothing is better!”

“You know that’s not true.”

I didn’t know what he meant, but for some reason that shut me up.

Sasuke went back inside, lying on his futon without another word.

Watching him, my heart ached.  ‘He’s my best friend,’ I thought.  ‘Konoha needs him.’

But none of that seemed quite right.

“Wake up!”

My eyes snapped open.

Sasuke’s futon was already folded beside mine.  I could hear movement in the kitchen, and got up to investigate.

The girls were making breakfast, while Sasuke seemed to be holding court with the kids.  Boruto was hanging off of his arm, staring up at him adoringly.  Himawari was touching his hair.  Sarada sat back from it all, but she seemed pleased.

“Hey, guys,” I said, scratching at my hair and yawning.

“Dad, did you know?!” Boruto exclaimed.  “Sasuke-sensei was telling us about the time he went to the Village of the Hidden Mist, and there were these bad guys, like ten or a hundred or whatever, and he-”

“He’s very pretty,” Himawari commented over her brother’s rambling.  “Daddy, why don’t you grow your hair long?”

“Because manly men have short hair,” I said, patting Himawari on the head before pressing a kiss to Hinata’s cheek.

“And then he used his sword and cut down the third guy and-” Boruto continued on in his praises of Sasuke.

Sasuke and I didn’t speak.

Even as he was walking out the gate of Konoha, with the children waving and Sakura’s eyes tearing up, I just stared at his retreating back without saying a word.

This was the way it had to be.

I went home to my family.

The next day, I sat at my desk with Himawari in my lap, stamping budget reports.  Boruto was wearing my hat, practicing taijutsu in the corner, while Hinata sat in the chair across from my desk, knitting.

It was everything I’d ever wanted.  A family of my own.  Love.  Respect.  To be the freaking hokage.  My life was perfect.

“WAKE UP!”

“I am awake…” I said.

Hinata glanced up at me, smiling warmly.  “Did you say something?”

I squinted at her.  “Did you say something?”

“No…?” she said, smiling in confusion.

“WAKE UP!”

“I don’t… understand…” I said, touching a hand to my stomach.  It was burning hot.  “Kurama…?” I said slowly.  When was the last time I had talked to him?  When was the last time… where was he, anyway?

“Daddy, look!” Himawari said, turning to me with a grin as she pointed to the picture of a flower she’d drawn.

“That’s gorgeous, sweetheart,” I said, patting the top of her head and turning back to my paperwork.

“WAKE UP!”

Had I… what was I doing?  Where was I?  The room was wavering with that shimmer that seemed to hang over everything when a genjutsu was cast.

“Daddy?” Himawari said, but it sounded like she was talking underwater.

“Naruto-kun?” Hinata asked, her voice having the same fuzzy quality.

“Look, Dad!” Boruto called, trying to get my attention.

Everything was perfect.  There was no reason to ruin everything.  This is how the world was supposed to be.

Except…

“USURATONKACHI!”

“Sasuke,” I breathed, feeling my office slowly fading into darkness.

“Naruto-kun!”

“Daddy!”

I gasped.

“Wake up, stupid.”

“I think he’s coming to.”

I felt a sharp sting on my cheek.  Then I felt a horrible pain flare through my bad arm.  I screamed, quickly focusing back on my office.

“No, no way, not this time, Naruto,” Kurama growled at me.  “You have to wake up.  There’s no more time.”

“Should I hit him again?” Sasuke asked.

“Yeah, give him a real good slap.”

Another hit stung across my cheek.

Hinata, Boruto, and Himawari were broken into pieces, scattering in the wind.

I screamed again, my heart breaking.

“God, you’re such a fucking baby,” Sasuke muttered.  “Can’t I just pull him out?”

“Not until he’s fully awake,” Kurama cautioned him.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Sasuke said, punctuating each word with a slap to my cheek.

I groaned, letting my eyes flutter open.

“Finally!” Sasuke hissed, leaning into my vision.

I realized that I couldn’t move.  I stared at Sasuke, feeling panic well up inside of me.

“Hey,” he said softly, resting his hand on my head.  “I know it hurts, but you’re going to have to bear with it.”

“Sasuke?” I croaked out, my throat dry and blistered.

“I’m here,” he said, then cringed, pulling his hand away from me.  He was so pale, his entire body heaving with every breath.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, the words ravaging my throat.

“I’m going to pull you down from there,” Sasuke said, taking a deep breath and slowly relaxing.  He looked just like he did when we were seventeen, only with a terrible, patchy beard.

“Where am I?”

“Don’t worry, Naruto,” Kurama said.  “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Where’s Hinata?” I asked.  “Where’s Boruto?  Himawari?”

“This is going to hurt even more, so try not to cry,” Sasuke said, coming back into my line of vision.

“Like I’d cry,” I hissed at him, but the pain in my arm was already pretty overwhelming.

“Then what’s that water coming out of your eyes?” Sasuke asked snidely.

I glowered at him, but I knew what he was doing.  I tried to focus on being angry instead of the overwhelming loss inside of me.

Sasuke started yanking at whatever was holding me suspended in the air, and I felt horrible pinpricks all over my body.

“Bastard!” I yelled, but Sasuke just continued pulling.  He knew I wasn’t really yelling at him.  I screamed as many curses and insults as my addled mind could think of, trying to hold myself together.

Sweat started to bead on Sasuke’s forehead.  He was so pale, the color drained completely out of his face, and every movement seemed like a struggle.  He gave a hard tug and I suddenly found myself falling.

When the world stopped spinning, I tried to sit up, but my body felt too weak.

“Sasuke?” I called, my voice still barely above a whisper.

Sasuke didn’t answer.

“He’s in rough shape,” Kurama warned me.

‘What’s happening?’ I asked in my head.  But I already knew.

“Sorry, kid,” Kurama murmured.

I rolled onto my stomach and crawled over to Sasuke, who was lying on the ground passed out.  He looked exactly like he looked when he was seventeen because he was seventeen.

The last twenty years of my life were starting to fade away like they’d never existed.

They had never existed.

I looked up at the God Tree, staring at the endless dangling figures trapped in its roots.  I could feel the pull of the moon, urging me to look up into the Infinite Tsukuyomi.

I looked at Sasuke instead.

“Hang in there,” I whispered, touching his cheek.

Sasuke didn’t move.

“We’ll get out of this somehow, I promise,” I said.  “That’s my ninja way.”

I thought about three 12-year-old kids sitting on a rooftop.  One wanted to be hokage, one wanted to resurrect his clan, and one wanted to marry the man she loved.  The Infinite Tsukuyomi made all those dreams come true.  Everyone had been happy.  Everything had been perfect.

But… why did Sakura seem so lonely?

And why did Sasuke seem so full of unresolved pain?

And why did I… actually… hate… being the hokage…?

Manufactured happiness wasn’t happiness at all.

But I had a second chance now.  We all did.  We could start over.  If only…

“Sasuke, don’t die,” I whispered, but I could see his breath getting shallower and shallower.

“Naruto, stay with me…” Kurama growled.

“I’m… trying…” I said, but everything around me was getting so fuzzy.  I felt something creeping along my leg, and kicked at the root helplessly.

“Naruto…”

“I’ll… save… every… o…”

Everything went black.

[inyournightmares97]

The Studded Pants

You’re a professional photographer, so you’ll work with whatever you have. Even if all you have is Park Jinyoung. 

Word Count: 7k+

Warnings: Language. Also, I don’t really know what this is. Is it fluff? Is it angst? Is it crack? I’m not sure. It’s more of a set of ramblings and admiration of Jinyoung than it is a real story, so read at your own risk. 

(don’t own this photo: not sure if it’s like an official photo from the Allure photoshoot or someone’s screenshot of the video but like, if you want credits pls let me know)

In retrospect, you weren’t entirely sure why you had believed that you could rely on Bambam.

It was almost inevitable that he would blow you off. Bambam lived in the moment. While that was a nice philosophy that allowed him to go about his life happy and carefree, it often left the people who relied on him in the lurch.

You were left completely alone in the empty photography studio as the clock ticked. The lights were all set up, you had the cameras and the equipment ready. You had explained to Bambam a hundred times how important this photoshoot was to you. It was your one chance to finally shine and show off your creativity in front of your boss. Mr. Kim was a celebrity photographer; he covered rich people’s weddings and often even contracted his services out to magazines and fashion shows to help with photoshoots. But so far, you had only been allowed to assist him and follow him around while he did all the work.

“There’s a celebrity wedding in two months that clashes with the fashion show in Thailand,” Mr. Kim had mentioned to you lightly one evening. “They want us to do the pre-wedding photoshoot.”

You had glanced up from your laptop and blinked.

“Oh. How are we going to be in two places at once?”

“I’m thinking I’ll let you handle the pre-wedding shoot by yourself. With a team, of course,” Mr. Kim replied. He chuckled when your eyes widened in shock. “Don’t look at me like that. The hallway outside has been looking empty since we renovated it. Do a photoshoot-anything, using your own creativity- that I wouldn’t be ashamed to hang outside my photo studio and the celebrity wedding is yours.”

You beamed at him. “I will; I’ll do it!”

Mr. Kim smiled. “Well. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

You had called up Bambam, a struggling model that you’d once befriended at a photo shoot, and begged him to pose for you. You had even promised to pay him a fee for helping you out. Bambam had made big promises and acted like he would do anything to help a friend out. But now the time had arrived and he wasn’t even responding to your messages.

You slumped down onto a chair.

You were pretty sure that this was an appropriate time to cry, really.

Your phone buzzed and you jumped. It was a text from Bambam and you opened it nervously, hands shaking.

Bambam: Hey! I can’t make it tonight. I’m kind of stuck in Busan, long story. You should hear it sometime. This buddy of mine is just CRAZY. We got into a car and just drove out without any plans, man. We’re so high right now.

You ran your hand over your face and groaned. Just as you had expected. You would have had better luck just picking a random person off the street and asking them to pose for you. What was the point of being friends with a professional model when he didn’t even turn up? You hoped Bambam was enjoying himself in Busan because you were miserable. You prepared to send him a picture of your middle finger when your phone buzzed again.

Bambam: Anyway, I’m sending over this dude I know. He’s an aspiring actor and he’s gorgeous. He’s on his way now so just text him the address of your studio, yeah?

The next message was an attachment; the contact file of somebody named Park Jinyoung.  

You hesitated. You didn’t know who this Jinyoung person was. He wasn’t even a professional model; although you supposed that if he was an actor then he would at least be comfortable in front of the camera lens. You stood up, took a deep breath and calmed yourself down.

You could do this. You had to submit the results of the photoshoot to Mr. Kim by Monday.

You would just have to work with whatever you could get.

--------------------------------------------

Park Jinyoung appeared to be a rather no-nonsense sort of person.

You took a full five minutes to draft a polite and friendly message to the man, explaining how grateful you were that he was willing to help you out with this and giving him easy-to-understand directions to the photo studio. The reply you received was prompt and short.

Jinyoung: Will be there in fifteen.

Well. Perhaps not the friendliest of men but he seemed reliable. You jumped to your feet and hurried to make sure that all the lighting and the camera were still in place. It would probably take longer than usual since this guy wasn’t a professional model but you were prepared for the struggle. You had convinced crying babies to pose for you. Surely Park Jinyoung would not prove to be too difficult.

You were just setting up your laptop and the photo editing software, when you heard a soft knock at the entrance to the studio. It was late at night on a Saturday. All the other employees had locked up and gone home. This was the only time you’d been able to get the studio room to yourself since it was fully booked by paying customers during working hours.

You ran out to the front desk to let Park Jinyoung in.

“Hi, thank you so much for coming!” you began to chirp as you opened the door. You had expected Jinyoung to be handsome, (almost all of Bambam’s friends were), but you were completely unprepared for the beautiful man that stood on the other side of the door.

Park Jinyoung looked like he’d been ripped straight out of the pages of a glamour magazine.

“Hi. You’re the photographer who texted me?” Jinyoung asked. His voice was deep, yet smooth, and you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his plush lips when he spoke. His dark, piercing  eyes looked down at you as he raised an eyebrow. “Hello?”

You cleared your throat. Oh god. Why was he so handsome? You had learnt to handle yourself around handsome men in your line of work and you’d met your fair share of celebrities too. But Park Jinyoung had this attractive, intimidating aura about him that made you feel like a shy schoolgirl. You tried not to let the blush creep up your cheeks as you noticed how handsome he looked in a simple dress shirt and slacks.

“Um, that’s right,” you mumbled. “Come in. The photo studio’s through there…”

Jinyoung nodded and stepped inside, walking past the front desk coolly. You paused to notice how perfectly built he was. Even the way he walked was masculine and yet, somehow, at the same time it was incredibly graceful. You ripped your eyes away from his perfect shoulders and hurried forward to show him the way to the photo studio.

“Thank you so much for coming,” you blurted out. “I didn’t think Bambam would bail on me last minute like this, I’ve just had everything planned for a while now and this photoshoot is really important to me…”

Jinyoung nodded. His eyes calmly scanned the studio, the lighting, and your equipment with mild interest.

“You clearly don’t know Bambam very well,” he muttered.  

You let out a nervous laugh. “I suppose not. Still. Thank you for coming.”

Jinyoung simply sighed. He looked a little annoyed. “You’ve said that thrice already,” he pointed out. He gestured towards the simple backdrop. “How about you explain to me how this works, instead? Do you want me to just pose in front of the screen? Do you have any particular outfits you want me to model?”

You were a little surprised by his rudeness but you bit your tongue. It’s okay. He probably just doesn’t want to give up his Saturday night to be here. Let’s stay calm. Deciding that it was up to you to keep a professional attitude since you needed him more than he needed you, you forced a polite smile. You had a rack of clothes that you’d managed to procure from one of your contacts at a clothing brand; one you’d taken pictures for in the past.

“Uh, I have the outfits all ready here. I was thinking maybe we could do around five or six of them?” you asked hopefully. You picked up the first one and began showing it to him but Jinyoung had already grabbed another one and was staring at it. His dark eyes were widened in horror.

“What is this?”

You cleared your throat. It was a black leather jacket and a pink ribbed tank top underneath. But what Park Jinyoung seemed more concerned with was the heavily jewel-studded pants. They sparkled in the bright studio lights. He showed you the colorful jewels sewn onto the cloth and and stared at you in disbelief.

“This looks like my niece made it at her kindergarten art class,” Jinyoung informed you.

You didn’t know what to say.

“Uhh….” you rubbed the back of your neck, cheeks flushing red as you tried not to get flustered. “I mean, I guess I picked out the clothing with Bambam in mind, so…”

Jinyoung closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose before nodding. He put the leather jacket-studded pants duo back on the shelf and reached for a more simple outfit;  a white t-shirt and sport coat.

“Let’s start with this one for now,” he decided. You swallowed and nodded, pointing him towards the changing room. Jinyoung slammed the door shut behind him and you sank down onto a chair while you waited for him to change.

This was going to be a long night.

------------------

You gave yourself a little mental pep talk while Jinyoung changed into the outfit. It’s okay. You can do this. Jinyoung is gorgeous and he looks like he’d be crazy photogenic. That’s a good thing. You’ll never have to see him again after tonight. Let’s just put up with his rudeness and get the best out of this. All Mr. Kim cares about are the photos anyway.

Jinyoung finally emerged from the changing room.

The clothes looked amazing on him and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as you guided him to a chair and helped him apply a layer of basic makeup. You were lucky that Jinyoung didn’t need much; with his naturally handsome face it was probably better to go for a simple and elegant look.

“Is that all the makeup you’re going to use?” Jinyoung asked, glancing lightly a your makeup kit as you carefully powdered his face. His soft and flawless skin made you want to reach out and touch it. The only reason you were able to refrain from brushing your thumb across Jinyoung’s gorgeous lips was because his dark eyes were still glaring at you murderously.

You cleared your throat. “I think this much is enough.”

Jinyoung shrugged. “Okay, whatever you want.”

You leaned back and scanned his face. You’d smoothed out the few blemishes you could find and the lighting would achieve the rest. Unable to maintain eye contact and stare directly at Jinyoung’s handsome face for long, you gave him a small thumbs up and gestured for him to stand in front of the camera.

“You can pose however you like, any way that feels comfortable,” you coached him gently as he stood in front of the screen and blinked at all the lighting that was focused on him. You peeked at him through the camera lens. Wow.  “Just make sure to keep your arms and legs relaxed and um, don’t open your eyes too wide. For men it’s better if you just keep them sort of half-lidded or you can even close them completely-”

Jinyoung cut you off before you could finish. “How’s this?”

He stood casually, rolling the sleeves of his sports coat up and leaning his weight on one leg. He kept his eyes lidded and looked slightly to the left of the camera. You blinked at him in surprise. He’s almost natural at this. You hurried to click the photo as Jinyoung casually shifted his weight to his other leg and assumed the same pose in the opposite direction.

“That’s- that’s great!” you encouraged him, hurrying to get as many shots as you could. “Wow, you’re really good at this. Have you modelled before?”

Jinyoung shrugged as he casually bent one arm to grab at the back of his neck and narrowed his dark eyes at the camera. You had to swallow at the intensity of his expression and you hurried to focus the camera on his sultry gaze.

“Not really. But I’ve seen idiots like Bambam do it, so how hard can it be?”

It’s definitely not as easy as you’re making it look, you thought to yourself silently.

“I’m gonna zoom in and take a few from the shoulders-up now,” you explained. You had originally planned to take full-body shots since Bambam’s main feature was his long and gorgeous legs, but you couldn’t resist the urge to want to get a perfect close-up of Jinyoung’s beautiful eyes and his soft eyelashes. “Can you tilt your head down and a little bit to the right-perfect. I’ll get a couple of these and then maybe you can change into another outfit and we’ll try a different pose? We can get you a stool to sit on or you can crouch.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Once you gave him a thumbs up, Jinyoung went into the changing room with a different outfit and you sat down in front of your laptop to load up the photos you’d already taken. They looked amazing on screen. They could have featured in a glamour magazine and nobody would know the difference. You smiled and leaned back, relieved.

Park Jinyoung was a little unpleasant to put up with, but at least he knew what he was doing.

You didn’t hear Jinyoung come back from the changing room. He’d put on the plain white sleeveless shirt that was on the rack and he came up behind you quietly, peeking into your laptop. You nearly jumped when his bare arm reached across you to tap at one of the keys on your laptop. The screen shifted back to the previous picture.

“I like this one,” Jinyoung told you calmly. His face was right next to yours and you felt your cheeks flush bright red as you realized that he was leaning over you. Jinyoung’s upper arms were toned and fit; the sleeveless shirt revealed his biceps wonderfully. “I like the focus on my eyes. Did the other ones come out like this too?”

You tried to concentrate, hyper-aware of the fact that you could smell Jinyoung’s soft, musky deodorant and that his lips were way too close to your ear.

“Y-yeah, they’re all pretty good,” you mumbled. You cleared your throat and scooted your chair back, forcing Jinyoung to move away from you. You couldn’t think when he was so close. You forced a smile. “Ready to go again, Jinyoung? Your arms look great in that. You must work out a lot.”

For the first time, the corner of Jinyoung’s lips twitched in a hint of a smirk.

“Let’s keep the focus on my eyes, yeah?”

You blushed and nodded. Jinyoung’s confidence seemed to increase with each picture you took and he didn’t hesitate to make his poses progressively more seductive. You nearly died when he brushed his thumb across his soft lips and parted them lightly. Every inch of Jinyoung’s face was perfection. His gaze gradually became bolder and more sultry; he began to direct his fuck-me eyes right at the camera lens and your heartbeat went wild. You had to hide behind the large camera to ensure Jinyoung couldn’t see your flushed cheeks.

By the time you’d come back to your senses, there was just one outfit left.

Jinyoung stared at the clothing rack and sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples. It was evident that he did not want to put on the sparkly pants and the pink tank top. You bit your lip and approached him.

“Just give it a try?” you asked hopefully. “I can delete them later if they look too bad, I swear-”

Jinyoung grabbed the outfit and glared at you. Then he took a deep breath.

“I’m an actor, I can do this. I just have to pretend I’m Bambam,” you heard him mumbling to himself as he snatched up the pants and then disappeared once more into the changing room. You bit back a smile and then settled down in front of your laptop to look at the latest set of photos. For all his glaring and huffing and puffing, Jinyoung had finally agreed to put on the pants after all.

You couldn’t help but wonder whether this gorgeous, seductive man was just a big child.

----------------

The pants weren’t working out.

They sparkled too much under the bright lights and you knew from the first few photographs that it wasn’t going to work. Jinyoung’s eyes had a natural and beautiful sparkle of their own, but the jewels and the pink tank top were overwhelming it tastelessly.

“This isn’t working,” Jinyoung pointed out with a sigh, as he posed with his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket. You frowned and nodded. It just looked too odd; those pants, the leather jacket, Jinyoung’s sultry eyes and this bright studio. You bit your lip and peeked at him over the camera.

“Can we… can we do something?”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow as he stopped posing. “What?”

“I feel like the lights are the problem. Can we go somewhere with more natural light? I was thinking… maybe we can go up on the rooftop? It’s night and the whole outfit might go better with like a night sky background,” you admitted.

Jinyoung blinked at you for a long moment and then rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. He looked tired and you felt bad for asking this of him, but he finally let out a reluctant nod.

“Fine. Let’s give it a try.”

You smiled gratefully and grabbed the camera and the tripod before leading the way to the rooftop. You had always loved the rooftop of the photo studio. It had a lovely view of the city. The night air was chilly, though, and you shivered as soon as you stepped outside. You pointed to the railing.

“Can you stand there? I’ll set up the camera here…”

Jinyoung nodded and stood where you wanted. He leaned his elbows against the railing as he waited for you to set up. Jinyoung’s head tilted upwards and the cold breeze gently floated through his hair. His eyes were closed and he looked relaxed as he enjoyed the feeling the wind on his cheeks.

You suddenly felt curious about Jinyoung. What was he thinking? Who was this mysterious, gorgeous man who you had so unexpectedly come across tonight? You felt a sudden, burning urge to know more about Park Jinyoung.

You silently pressed the button on the camera and got a candid snap of him with his eyes closed and head tilted back, before you called out to him.

“I’m ready!”

Jinyoung’s eyes snapped open and he turned to face you with a quick nod. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

You smiled at him. Under the night sky and with the cold breeze blowing through his hair, it didn’t matter that Park Jinyoung had never shown you a smile or that he didn’t want to be here. It didn’t matter that he hated the clothes he was wearing. It didn’t matter that he looked tired and that he had had a shitty day.

Something about Park Jinyoung was truly beautiful.

And you had a feeling that if you looked deep enough, you would discover that beauty not only in Jinyoung’s eyes, but also behind them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you were done taking pictures, you finally shut off the camera and folded up the stand. You hadn’t realized how numb your fingers had become from being in the cold. You jumped slightly when you felt a soft weight on your shoulders and turned around; Jinyoung had placed the black leather jacket loosely over you.

“You’re freezing,” he told you, sounding a little annoyed. “Shouldn’t you have worn a jacket before coming up here?”

You blushed. “Uh, I forgot-”

He rolled his eyes in a condescending manner and wrapped his arms around himself with a small huff. Then he turned and began walking back indoors. He paused in the doorway and then turned to you with a small frown. “Aren’t you coming back in? I’m not standing in that cold for another second. I have an audition tomorrow and I don’t need to be coughing my way through it.”

You flushed and wrapped the jacket more tightly around your shoulders. “Right… I’m coming. Sorry.”

You went back down to the studio where you began to load the photos onto your laptop once more. Jinyoung wasted no time in changing out of the sparkly pants and back into his own clothes. He emerged from the changing room and when you looked up at him, he was pocketing his cellphone. He gave you a dull stare.

“Well, if we’re done then I’m gonna get out of here.”

You stood up and nodded, surprised that he was leaving so quickly. Then again, he had made it rather evident that he didn’t want to be here from the beginning. You hurriedly fumbled around in your pockets. “Oh. Thanks so much for doing this, really, I’m so grateful. Let me give you my business card before you leave-”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “No thanks. What would I do with that?”

Your fingers clasped around your set of business cards and you held one out to him limply, only to find that he was already walking away from you. You followed Jinyoung down the hallway and out towards the front desk, before attempting to thank him again.

“I’ll text you for your bank details so I can pay you tomorrow. Thanks so much for-”

“-doing this, yeah, I know,” Jinyoung replied with a sigh. He began to leave and then paused, turning back to frown at you for a moment. His dark eyes narrowed at you. “Don’t upload any of the pictures with the sparkly pants online, got it?”

You bit back a smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I got it.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

For all the trouble that Park Jinyoung had given you, he’d certainly done the job well.

Mr. Kim was delighted with the photoshoot. He complimented you on your ability to capture all of Jinyoung’s strong features perfectly and seemed even more impressed when you informed him that the man in the pictures wasn’t even a professional model, but an actor.

A few of the best shots- including, to your amusement, one featuring the sparkly pants and the black leather jacket- were printed out and put up in the hallway of the photo studio along with other significant photoshoots. It was a matter of pride to have a photo you’d taken put up in the hallways for all the customers to see, and you reveled in the admiration it received.

Still, you cracked a smile whenever you passed by it. You wondered how Park Jinyoung would react if he knew that the picture he hated so much was put up in the hallway of the studio.

He’d probably glare at you with those dark eyes.

“Mr. Lee here to see you!” the receptionist informed you chirpily over the telephone. “You have an appointment with him, remember?”

You’d been sitting cooped up in your office all day, preparing yourself for the celebrity pre-wedding photoshoot that you were going to be handling in a couple of weeks. It was no small task and you’d printed out hundreds of samples to look for inspiration and ideas. But still, normal work would have to keep going on. Mr. Lee was an important broker who often helped connect you to important people who wanted your services.

“I’m coming out to meet him,” you promised.

You cleaned up your desk a little and hurried out to meet Mr. Lee. The older man greeted you with a friendly handshake as you began to lead him to your office.

“The photoshoot you asked for last time is full and ready,” you explained as you walked him down the hallway. Mr. Lee hummed. He walked extremely slowly and you had to remind yourself to slow down and keep pace with him. He was looking around at the walls as you spoke. “And I can send you the digital files, or we have a few printouts ready if you want to look at them and suggest any changes-”

“I see you’ve remodelled,” Mr. Lee mused.

You blinked at him and then looked at the hallway. “Ah; yes, we had the hallway expanded.”

“These photos are nice,” he replied. He paused at the one of Jinyoung and raised an eyebrow. It was Jinyoung in his sparkly pants and pink tank top, his eyes staring seductively at the camera while the wind tousled his hair. Mr. Lee chuckled. “I like how that boy is handsome enough to even look manly in those pants.”

You giggled. “I took that picture. He’s not even a model; he’s an aspiring actor.”

Mr. Lee raised an eyebrow. “Really, now? Is he any good at acting?”

You shrugged. “Probably.”

“He has excellent proportions. I know a company that’s having a hard time casting somebody for their commercials. Do you think this boy would be interested in coming in for an audition?”

You blinked. “Uh…. I can give you his contact number, but that’s all I know about him.”

Mr. Lee nodded and finally looked away from the picture. “Sure. Send it to me before I leave today. Now, I meant to ask you about the portfolios I was talking about having you doing. There’s a change of plans, see, we need to reschedule…”

----------------------

You never really imagined that you would see Park Jinyoung again but you did, barely two weeks later.

You were sitting in the break room during lunch time and scarfing down sandwiches with the receptionist while you both watched some mundane daytime soap on the little television. It had been a long week and your celebrity bridal photoshoot was getting closer and closer. The soap opera cut off at the dramatic revelation of a pregnancy and you both sighed.

“I knew she was pregnant,” the receptionist muttered as the commercials started.

You chuckled. “What tipped you off? All the puking? Or the fact that she is literally the only female character left in this stupid series that hasn’t gotten pregnant yet?”

The receptionist giggled and turned back to the television. There was an ad playing for men’s deodorant; you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as a leather jacketed-man rode by the streets on a motorbike and all the pretty woman swooned at his passing fragrance. You were about to take a huge bite of your sandwich when the man on screen stopped, removed his helmet and paused to introduce the product with a heart-stopping smile.

Oh my god.

“Hey; he looks really familiar!” the receptionist giggled. “Isn’t he the guy from your photo-shoot a couple weeks ago? The one with the sparkly pants? His photo’s in our hallway!”

You nearly choked. “Uh-uh, yeah.”

“Wow, he’s cute,” the receptionist pointed out. She giggled as Jinyoung on screen casually handed over a bottle of his deodorant to an open-mouthed guy who had just asked for his secret and gave him a friendly pat on the back. The receptionist glanced at you in surprise. “He has a gorgeous smile. Why didn’t you make him smile in your photoshoot?”

You gaped at Jinyoung’s charming smile and blinked. He had never once curved those lips upward during the entire photoshoot with you.

“I guess I didn’t dare,” you muttered. “Maybe it would have been worth it to have him kill me for asking?”

Wow.

--------------------------------------

Despite your better sense, you looked Jinyoung up online.

The commercial had been a huge success; well, about as successful as a commercial could be, really. There was a lot of talk about how the new guy they’d picked for the deodorant ad was unbelievably handsome and you saw a news article that mentioned he’d been casted for a supporting role in a primetime drama. There was no news about Jinyoung from before this, so you had to assume that this was the biggest thing he’d ever done.

Well. Somebody was having a nice time.

You, on the other hand, were struggling to figure out what to do about this celebrity bridal photoshoot. You had no ideas and it was driving you crazy. You sighed and rubbed your temples with your fingers when your desk phone rang.

“Hello?”

“You have a visitor!” the receptionist chirped.

You glanced at the clock. “I don’t have any appointments until after lunch And Mr. Kim is out.”

“Yeah, I know but it’s, uh…” she lowered her voice and hissed into the phone. “It’s him! The sparkly pants guy? Deodorant commercial? Him! Should i show him to your office?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Park Jinyoung was here? He was back? The man who hadn’t even cared enough to take your business card had suddenly come back to your studio and was asking to see you? You should have known better but your heart evidently did not. It thumped loudly, excited at the chance to see Park Jinyoung once more.

“Y-yeah. Let him in.”

You cleared your desk quickly and tried to make it look a little more presentable as you waited. It was almost a full minute before you heard a soft knock at the door and you called out, your voice squeaking a little bit.

“C-come in!”

Park Jinyoung stepped inside. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a simple blue t-shirt, but he still looked as handsome as ever. You were surprised when the first thing he did was smile at you. Those beautiful plush lips curved into a gentle and shy smile. Jinyoung rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Uh, hi,” he greeted you. “I’m sorry for barging in here like this unannounced…”

You stared at him for a moment. This didn’t seem like the same Jinyoung you knew. Unfortunately, his present soft and gentle gaze unsettled you just as much as his dark and sultry one had. You cleared your throat and jumped to your feet.

“No! That’s all right, I wasn’t too busy. You should, um...here, take a seat.”

“Thanks,” Jinyoung replied quietly. He sat down and took a deep breath. “You’re sure I’m not interrupting?”

“Not at all. How are you?”

Jinyoung let out a small chuckle and then leaned back with a sigh. He shrugged his shoulders. “This might sound a little weird, but, uh, I’m actually doing better than I ever was. And I found out just today that apparently I have you to thank for that. I’m not sure if you saw this commercial I was in recently-”

“The deodorant,” you blurted out. Your cheeks flushed red as Jinyoung looked at you in surprise. “Um, yes. Yes, I saw it.”

“Right,” Jinyoung said. “Apparently whoever recommended me for it saw the picture of me that you put up in the hallway of your studio. Sparkly pants and all. It was honestly the first big break I’d ever had. And since the commercial blew up I’ve had a few offers from other places. I even accepted a supporting role in this primetime drama. It’s not a huge role, I only appear in about half of the episodes but I play the younger brother of the lead actress so it’s a big deal to me.”

You stared at Jinyoung. It was like you were seeing him in a brand new light. Away from the camera and the flashy clothes, he suddenly seemed so normal. He was still unbelievably handsome of course, but his shy smile and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled in a friendly way, and his earnest manner of speaking all had you stumped.

Who was this man?

“I’m really glad things are going well for you,” you told him kindly.

Jinyoung cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I was such an ass to you that day.”

You waved him off awkwardly. “No, that’s-”

“I was a huge ass,” Jinyoung replied. His smile had dropped but his eyes on you were still soft. “I know it’s not an excuse but day that was honestly one of the worst days of my life. I’d just failed a bunch of auditions and I was wondering if I’d have to give up my dreams and go back to my hometown. My manager was starting to give up on me. I really wanted to go back to my apartment and cry, so when I got the call from Bambam saying he was cashing in a favor from forever ago and I had to go help his friend…”

You winced. “That can’t have been pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” Jinyoung muttered.

“But things are looking up for you now, right?”

“They really are. And I have you to thank for that. You were really patient with me that day and you recommended me to Mr. Lee despite how badly I behaved,” Jinyoung replied gently. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t really know how to thank you, honestly…”

“You don’t need to, I didn’t do anything-”

“Can I take you out to lunch?”

You stared at him, unable to resist the blush from creeping up onto your cheeks. Park Jinyoung was looking at you earnestly and you found yourself feeling weak as you stared back into his gentle, hopeful eyes. You felt fuzzy inside. What is happening to me? “Uh… lunch?” you stammered out awkwardly. “I guess, yeah. We can go grab some lunch.”

Jinyoung gave you a charming smile.

“Great.”

----------------------------------------

You were shocked by how charming Jinyoung could be when he tried.

He took you to a small but quaint cafe that was a few blocks away from your studio. He’d been waiting tables there until a week ago, he admitted to you with a shy smile. Jinyoung had quit once he signed on to the primetime drama but he knew that the food and service there was amazing so he just had to take you there.

You found yourself fascinated as Jinyoung let you into small glimpses of his life. You saw how friendly he was with the other staff; one waiter named Jackson in particular kept calling Jinyoung deodorant boy but he took it all in stride and laughed it off. He ordered his favorite dish for you and told you about all the foods he liked. He even ordered an extra dessert when he saw how much you’d enjoyed yours.

You felt like you were being wooed by this handsome, charming man and the feeling was surreal. When he walked you back to your office after lunch, you felt giddy.

“Is it obvious that I’m trying too hard?” Jinyoung wondered, hands in his pockets as he walked you down the studio hallway back to your office. He blinked at you through his dark eyes. “I just really didn’t want you to think that the rude guy who modelled for you that day is who I really am.”   

You bit your lip and smiled. “I didn’t mind the rude guy from that night too much.”

“Oh?”

“He was kind of hot,” you admitted with a smile, and then you lowered your voice teasingly. You were approaching the now infamous picture with a smile. “And he looked great in sparkly pants.”

Jinyoung’s smile dropped. “You must think you’re very funny.”

You nudged him lightly and pointed to his frowning lips. “Oops. Looks like he’s slipping out once again. I’m sorry, Jinyoung. There’s nothing you can do. You’re just going to have to live with the fact that those sparkly pants are what gave you your big break. Maybe it’ll make for a funny story one day. Actually, it makes for a funny story now.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes as he glanced at the photo. “There’s no chance you could take that picture down from the hallway?”

“But what if a movie director comes by? You could land a role on the big screen!” you joked.

Jinyoung pressed his lips together and inhaled sharply. His eyes turned a little dark. “Don’t joke around with me. You should know that I’m a very dangerous man. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

You weren’t scared of Jinyoung anymore. “And what exactly are you capable of-”

Jinyoung stepped forward and gently grabbed both of your arms, steering you so that your back was against the wall. He placed one hand on the wall behind your head and trapped you in place with the other.

“I’m capable of a lot of things,” Jinyoung whispered as he leaned down closer to you. His warm breath tickled your face. “Do you want to know what I was thinking at the exact moment when that picture was taken? Do you want to know what was happening behind my eyes at that moment?”

Your breath hitched. “T-tell me.”

He glanced up at the photograph and smirked. “I was thinking about how this adorable little photographer was shivering in the cold in front of me, and all the different ways I’d have liked to warm her up.”

You couldn’t help it; your heartbeat was racing in excitement at the sight of Jinyoung’s lips mere inches away from yours. You reached up and wrapped your fingers around the neck of his t-shirt, begging him to come closer.

“How would you have warmed me up?” you whispered.

Jinyoung chuckled deeply. “It’s funny; the only ways I could think of were ways that involved taking clothes off instead of putting them on.”

You could feel his breath on your lips. “Jinyoung…”

You waited for his hot lips to come crashing down on yours, but they didn’t. Instead, Jinyoung changed track and leaned upwards instead. His lips pressed gently against your forehead and then he stepped back from you, chuckling at your flustered expression.

“Don’t you have to get back to work?” he asked you lightly.

You felt cold. “Ummm….”

Jinyoung gave you a warm smile and reached out to take your hand as he pulled you further down the hallway. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for my photographer. In fact, I’d like to take an appointment for another photoshoot.”

You were confused. “Another-”

“How about Friday night? We can have dinner first and then go back to my apartment?” Jinyoung’s eyes darkened as he looked down at you. “We won’t be needing the outfits.”

--------------------------------------------

Epilogue

“You look gorgeous, babe.”

You smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You had picked out a pretty blue dress for the occasion and you had to admit that it suited you rather well. You noticed Jinyoung approaching you from behind in the mirror, fully dressed in his suit.

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted him lightly. You turned to face Jinyoung and chuckled. “Your bow tie is a little crooked. Do you want help with that?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Well, it’s not going to straighten itself.”

“Pity,” you muttered as you straightened it carefully. Jinyoung’s dark eyes were fixed on you. “Crooked bow tie, crooked man. Maybe I should leave it as it is.”

“Nah, you’ll have to straighten it because I need to take a selfie before we leave,” Jinyoung told you with a small smile. He rolled his eyes as he stepped away from you and pulled out his phone. He lifted it in the air and angled it so that his best angle was captured and gave the shutter a sweet smile. “My manager’s been hounding me ass about updating my social media more often.”

“You should,” you told him as you watched him upload the photo. “You barely post anything.”

“It’s so mundane,” he mumbled. Jinyoung read out to you in a deadpan voice as he typed. “On my way to Eunhee-noona’s wedding. Pretty sure I’ll have a great time. Wishing happiness to the lovely couple!”

You smiled as he posted it. “See? You’re still alive.”

“Barely,” Jinyoung whined. “It’s so painful. Kiss me and make it better, please…”

You rolled your eyes and leaned up to kiss Jinyoung softly. You learned something new about him everyday. You learned how overdramatic he was when he wanted attention, you learned how passionate he was about the things he loved. You learned how the same eyes could look at you with soft, gentle love or dark, steaming lust.

Most importantly, you learned that he absolutely hated anything sparkly.

“You have the wedding gift ready?” you asked, once you’d torn your lips away from Jinyoung’s. You had successfully completed the pre-wedding photoshoot for the famous actress Eunhee last week and she had bestowed you with a wedding invitation along with her praises. She also happened to be the lead actress in Jinyoung’s drama, which was why you were both attending her wedding together.

“I put it on the table,” he told you.

You pushed him away. “Well, go get it. We have to leave.”

Jinyoung grumbled and stole one last kiss from you before going into his living room to get the wedding present. He returned with two gift-wrapped boxes, looking mildly confused.

“Baby, why are there two of these?”

You smiled. “One is the wedding present. The other is a gift I bought for you because today is our two-month anniversary. Remember?”

Jinyoung flushed. “I-I totally forgot. I’ve been too busy with filming schedules and auditions that I didn’t even think about stuff like that…”

You smiled and shrugged. “That’s okay. Open it.”

Jinyoung bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yup. And be quick about it. We’re going to be late. I’m going to go find my heels…”

You headed for the exit of the bedroom just as Jinyoung began to rip the wrapping paper apart. You slipped out of sight; but not before a certain pair of jewel-studded pants emerged from the wrapping paper and landed in Jinyoung’s lap.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded.

------------------------

[yborjen]

THE MANDALORIAN: CHAPTERS 9 - The Return

First, if you have not yet watched The Clone Wars animated series, or Star Wars Rebels, stop now, go to Disney+ and just knock it out it.

This story is a love letter to Dave Filoni’s years of dedicated work with Master George Lucas. Jon Fav is amazing, he’s an icon and a visionary (and I envision him as Paz in this story), but The Mandalorian would not exist but for the world that Dave executed from George’s vision.

Second, this is a completed story, that is being edited and posted a chapter at a time. Comments are appreciated but the plot is fairly set.

Third, this is pure FAN FICTION. I have no affiliation with anyone living or dead who has any role in the Star Wars universe. Or Disney. Or anything. I’m a fan only.

The story built up in my head over the first series of The Mandalorian and I could not wait for the second series, so I wrote it just for fun.

Enjoy.

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CHAPTER 9: THE RETURN

The Mandalorian set his course and the ship surged as the familiar hypnotic streaks of hyperspace flowed into view. He always felt relief each time they entered hyperspace even though he never really trusted anywhere was safe. Even since the threat on Nevarro was destroyed he still felt uneasy, partly because he was still not completely healed, in more ways than one.

His body ached, in every direction. He prided himself on quick recoveries, and near indestructibility. But his brush with death a week ago had broken down many of his ideas of who he thought he was. He had faced for the first time in his life that his mortality was catching up to him, sooner rather than later. And that meant something now that he had a Child who needed him. He remembered his father figure going through the same process. And as the older man slowed down, he had watched with pride as Din found himself coming up as the most impressive fighter in the Death Watch corps. Well, him and Paz, of course.

His training fights with Paz were legendary in their Clan. Clan Vizsla prided themselves in keeping the strongest Foundlings. And Din, while physically smaller, was faster and smarter to match Paz’ brute force. They built a friendship and respect over the years, and when their mother was executed and their father died in the conflict they were hunted and forced to flee by their Clan in order to preserve the future, and Paz left Mandalore with Din until they found the Tribe.

His heart ached. The Tribe was now gone, and so was Paz. They had fought over Din’s bounty hunter activities, Paz never approved of the questionable moral code of killing people who did not deserve death. Din asserted that anyone who runs is guilty. In hindsight, Paz could not have been more right. They had reconciled with Din reclaiming his honor in Paz’ eyes the night he rescued the Child. His guilt at the following destruction of the Tribe, however, weighed heavier than even his new mission.

His heart also had new holes where friends were now gone. They had given their lives so that his aching body could continue to safeguard the Child. Every time he felt he might lose his temper, he heard Kuiil in his mind reminding him to reinforce with patience. And every time he took off his helm and looked at the mirror, he thought about what IG-11 had seen with his synthetic eyes. Had he seen what Din now saw? These days he barely recognized the man he was before he met the Child.

His head ached and his brow furrowed as he continued to second guess the course he had laid in the navigation. The Armorer had said she knew of old tales of battles between the Mandalorians and the Child’s kind — the Jedi. His only lead then was to find those tales. He had to return to Mandalore. He had not returned since the Purge, and for the past ten years had been so focused on survival that he never even considered looking back. Now, with mind, body  and heart still recovering from the battle on Nevarro, he was about to reopen old wounds.

A soft beep on the comm caught his eye and made his heart jump with more of the same uneasy feeling that had been nagging him. He turned back to the ops station and found the Child asleep in the seat with the Mythosaur skull still in his mouth, covered in drool. Then he turned back to the console and pressed the blinking button.

A ghostly holoprojection of Cara Dune appeared and Din found he was holding his breath as he stared at her face.

“Hey Mando — checking in on you as planned. This week Greef and I have confirmed the few remaining Imps are on the run, but I will feel better once the new militia has cleared every building in the city. Once that’s done we will check in with the Jawas and start cleaning up this place. Greef is setting up the Cantina as his base of operation, so contact us there at this signal. You should see him. You’d think he was already Mayor, General, and Senator of Nevarro.” She could not contain a chuckle. “Listen, do me a favor and give yourself a quick medscan. It will put me at ease to know you’re physically capable to take care of the Kid, OK? As agreed, I expect a response within two days, even just an acknowledgement with your code if that’s all you can do. If you fail to respond we are coming after you. Stay safe, buddy.”

Cara had a small smile on her lips then dropped her eyes as she reached down to close the comm channel message, and Mando felt a slight clench in his stomach when her image fizzled out. He pushed down that feeling and turned back to the Child who was now soundly snoring and the Mythosaur skull was hanging out of his mouth.

Din gritted his teeth and took in a sharp breath to avoid making any sounds as the pain caused a tear to form in the corner of his eye. He knew if he stood up his message would be more convincing. His last medscan was less than encouraging, he was healing, but not nearly as quickly as he had hoped. From the blast and fall he had multiple fractures of his ribs, vertebrae and torn sacral ligaments, and fluid on his bruised lungs. IG-11 had healed his skull fracture and subarachnoid bleed from the fall but the concussion was still affecting him daily. And he also had a healing torn rotator cuff from his stunt on the TIE fighter.

His first stop after they left Nevarro was to acquire some bacta so he could start infusions. It took every ounce of his infusions to keep healing fast enough to convince the Child he did not need to intervene. IG was right about his wounds healing in a matter of hours, but there were just so many wounds that the hours kept adding up… and there wasn’t a chance he would ever tell Dune any of that.

He caught his breath again as he straightened up and then composed himself and pressed the comm button.

“Dune, good to hear from you, and that Greef is already setting himself up as the new emperor. Medscan is improving. We have a new heading. I will send encoded coordinates so you can monitor our progress. Please confirm the Armorer is safe and if any others of the Tribe —have returned.” His voice wavered as a shock of pain jolted through his ribs. “The Kid is asleep, so I’ll keep this short. Djarin, out.” He reached for the comm button and closed the channel quickly before catching himself on the console and taking long, slow breaths.

He looked at the hyperspace navigation timer, he had just enough time for a quick infusion. He had to get it started before the kid woke up. He moved carefully down the ladder leaving the cockpit door open so he could hear any movement. The quiet snores were reassuring. He had to stop a couple of times to catch his breath, but his focus was unwavering. His kit came with an infusion port which made his hookup simple, so he just had to remove his armor and expose his shin where the port was drilled into his bone. 

Once the line was set in place he decided to lay back on his sleep cot just for a few minutes.

******************************************************

He woke with a start, but there was a warm spot at his side were the Child had clearly moved to sleep with him and he was snoring again. He looked up at the bacta bag and found it was empty and he was actually feeling less pain around his head, shoulder and ribs. He flexed his abdominal muscles and self-corrected as he groaned to sit up — there was less pain.

The Child immediately stirred and yawned loudly. He looked up at Din and sleepily blinked then chirped with a questioning tone.

“I’m feeling better, kid. Thanks for keeping me company.” He picked up the bag and showed it to the Child. “See? This will help fix me up.”

The Child cocked his head slightly, as if unconvinced.

“Tough audience. Come on, let’s check on our course.” He gingerly moved himself off the sleep bench and then tucked the Child into his arm with the bad shoulder and with the other pulled himself up just high enough up the ladder to deposit the Child up on the command deck, then climbed up the rest of the way with both arms.

Every time, the kid made a beeline to the controls and Din had enough practice to stay just far enough ahead of him to scoop him up and deposit him back into his seat before he could drop them out of hyperspace into a black hole. The Child whined with a squeaky pout but admitted defeat again.

Din checked the timer and found they had just under ten minutes left in hyperspace. Then he noticed he had another message. He frowned. And his finger actually shook just a little as he reached for the blinking button.

The ghostly image of Cara Dune appeared again, “This message is for the Kid. Hey Kid, please do me a favor and tell your father to try putting on a brave face for someone who isn’t an idiot. Miss you Kid. Take care of him for me. I’ll report back on the Armorer when I have made contact.”

She disappeared, and this time her image was not smiling. Din’s head bowed slightly. He should have waited to reply after the infusion.

Then he looked up at the Child who was returning his gaze. “We’ve got each other’s backs, Kid. We are going to be OK.”

The Child giggled and reached a small three claw hand toward him. Din reached out with his finger and the Child grabbed it and squeezed.

The hyperdrive now started beeping, they were approaching their destination. Din set the Child back in his seat and then turned to the controls. With years of experience he eased the Razor Crest out of hyperspace just early enough to avoid alerting of the old Outer Defense perimeter. He had heard that it was back in force and he did not want to start off this encounter with a fight.

He flipped his universal local transmission switch, “Outer Defense, Outer Defense, this is Razor Crest requesting permission to approach.”

No response.

“Outer Defense, Outer Defense, do you copy?”

Another long beat, Din’s heart began to quicken.

“This is the Outer Defense, please repeat your sign,” the deep voice on the other end sounded suspicious.

Din sighed relief, but also pursed his lips. His ship should be known to the Outer Defense database. They were no doubt scanning him to confirm — it was the ship Paz and he had taken off Mandalore.

“This is the Razor Crest. Repeat, the Razor Crest.”

There was another short pause. “Clan Vizsla celebrates your return Paz.”

Din swallowed hard, “Negative, Outer Defense control, this is Din Djarin. My brother Paz — his location is unknown.”

There was another heavy silence. “Din Djarin, Clan Vizsla celebrates your return. The foundlings are the future. Proceed to the Vizsla Landing and report to your Clan for the Rebuilding. Welcome home.”

Mixed emotions filled Din hearing these words, but all he said was, “Acknowledged.”

Coordinates were sent for his heading, and he did not recognize it. The Vizsla compound was no doubt destroyed in the Purge. Din put the Razor Crest on autopilot and then reached back to pick up the Child so he could see everything on their approach to his new home.

“See this Kid? This is your new adopted home. Mandalore.”

The Child looked all around with wide eyes as they passed the Outer Defense in the meteor belt and made their way towards the brown planet with swirling white clouds. As they moved closer, patches of green were visible surrounding interconnected small lakes of blue below. It looked like a small part of the eco-system was reasserting itself. He desperately wished that Paz was there with him to see the planet slowly coming back to life.

The ship moved into orbit and then began the gentle descent to the ruins of the Capital city, Sundari. He recognized many destroyed landmarks, many historic locations lost to future generations. They passed the old palace of the Prime Minister and the Representatives which looked like it was being rebuilt. The square of statues, however, which previously held colossi of Mandalorian history was now full of rubble.

The other thing he noticed as they moved closer to the large squares was he could see hundreds of people, some with helmets, but mostly without. He knew that the Way was not widely observed, and mostly within the military, but it still felt jarring to him to see so many Mandalorians without helms. Living normal lives. His entire life since the Clone Wars had been about survival and protecting the safety of others. His life was the Way, but life went on outside the Way. And that was as it should be; it was what he should be fighting for.

Then he realized that the ship was aimed toward the old headquarters of the Chancellor of Defense. He smiled to himself. Clan Vizsla had come home. The Death Watch was the highest level Defense Squadron of Mandalore before they split from the pacifist government. He was happy they had been restored to their honorable mission.

The Razor Crest set down on the first landing pad and Din started shutting down all systems. The Child, however, could not contain his excitement and immediately jumped down from his seat on Din’s lap and started toward the ladder.

“Wait! KID!” Din shouted as he quickly flipped switches  in order. Then he rushed after the Child and found him in the sleeping bunk retrieving his blue blanket and his silver ball. Din had to laugh and sighed with relief.

“I’m ready to settle in for a while too, but let’s take this one step at a time ok?” He put the ball and blanket down again on the bed, picked up the Child set him down on the ground, and then squatted down to his level.

“We have a mission. We need to find your people. And we need to find out if we have a place here if our mission to find your people fails. These people are our kin, but they respect strength.” He smiled to himself. “Who am I kidding, We know you have plenty of that.”

The Child looked at him thoughtfully, and then lifted up his arms. Din picked him up again and they touched foreheads and then looked at each other. 

“Be brave, be careful, and stick with me, ok?” 

The look the Child gave almost looked like a small smirk, and he got the distinct impression he was thinking, I’m always brave. He couldn’t help but suspect the Child was starting to understand him.

“Let’s go.” He put the Child down again, and then lowered the ship’s outer door.

******************************************************

By the time the door lowered down completely there was a greeting party already arriving on a speeder. They all wore Clan Vizsla armor, and several ancient Clan helmets, but no individuals that he specifically recognized. That did not surprise him because the Clan previously numbered in the thousands and stretched across multiple settlements. Din started to walk down the ramp and he could hear the Child walking next to him.

The female at the head of the party stepped down from the speeder and waited for them to approach her. Din walked slowly to accommodate for smaller legs and feet.

Din stopped just in front of the female and then eased down on one knee and bowed over his knee.

“Din Djarin, Foundling of Clan Vizsla. I’m reporting home because I have — a new Clan Vizsla Foundling. I also must report that Paz Vizsla is currently — missing. He was lost on Nevarro when former Imperials attacked, but the Tribe reports that he may have escaped off-world.”

The female stepped forward and reached down to Din’s pauldron and ran her fingers over his sigil. Then placed a hand on top of Din’s helmet.

“Din Djarin, House Vizsla rejoices in your return. Clan Vizsla’s losses were among the heaviest. Clan Wren was nearly decimated. And Clan Saxon has failed to make restitution. The Foundlings are the future. Rise, Din Djarin.”

Din looked up and stood before her, and gestured to the Child standing by his leg.

“This is my Foundling. He did not have any identification when I found him.  He does not yet understand the Way. We come before you seeking his acceptance in the Clan, and for him to be named.”

The female nods, “Of course. What significance is the sigil?”

Din nodded back. “The Child and I fought the Mudhorn together. He used his mind to hold the Mudhorn back long enough for me to kill it. He saved my life, and then I saved him from the Empire.”

The entire party on the speeder now turned their helmets towards the Child. He looked back at them with large black eyes and squeaked, but then he puffed up his chest a little proudly. Din was happy his smile was hidden by his helm.

The female looked back at Din and nodded again. “We will find an appropriate name for this impressive show of strength from one so small.” She cocked her head. “Do you intend to train him?”

Din shook his head, “The Foundling is in my care but he would not survive the training. I must find his own kind, or find someone who can train him to use his powers — as a Jedi.”

Every person on the pad froze at the mention of that Order. Din could barely comprehend how he had never heard of them before if so many Mandalorians knew of them. The female had frozen as well but now recovered her composure.

“Come, let us discuss this mission in more detail — inside.”

She turned and stepped back onto the speeder. Din motioned for the Child to follow, then Din was the last to board. The whole ride inside the structure he could feel the eyes of the entire party on him and he could feel the Child next to him inching closer to him nervously. But Din was proud he stood his ground and did not cower or hide under his cape.

The speeder stopped inside the compound at a grand door with high arches that once held stained glass. Four of the Mandalorians stepped out and took posts next to this door. Then the female stepped off and led the way through the door and down a stately hallway for Din and the Child to follow. She did not walk slowly, so Din picked up the Child and he rode on his shoulder. Din walked a little slower as he looked around and hid his stiff joints from the others. The female stopped outside a large office and waited for them to walk inside.

Once inside two others of the entourage stopped to stand guard and she closed the doors and turned to face them. Her helmet had accents of gold and white, and the eyes came out to a wider point compared to the Armorer. She was taller, as tall as Paz, and carried all of the authority expected in his Clan.

“Din Djarin, I am Zaral Vizsla. I am Paz Vizsla’s cousin — and yours. Your father, my mother’s younger brother, as you know, died during the Purge. Your father saved many Foundlings, you are among only four to complete the training, and you are the only one to return after the Purge.”

Din felt his legs going slightly weak as the weight of this information set in.

“Then... you do not know of Paz’s whereabouts?”

Zaral shook her head. “He has not yet returned. You were the last to see him alive.”

“I was not. The leader of the Tribe on Nevarro, the Armorer, she saw him when the Imperials attacked. He was last seen during the assault. He was among many that disappeared and were assumed escaped — or captured.” He finished quietly. To be captured would mean death.

Zaral nodded. “We must make contact with the Armorer then. We must continue to bring our sisters and brothers home.”

Din nodded, “The Tribe as you know has no communication equipment, to prevent detection. But I have people on Nevarro that may contact her directly.”

Zaral nodded, and she then turned toward the volumes of data on the shelves behind her desk and walked around behind it.

“Today, however, I’m afraid we must face an unpleasant task before we can celebrate the naming of your Foundling. We must address the issue of his apparent power in the Force.”

“The Force?” Din said.

“It is the name of the power this Foundling has a connection to. It is how he lifted a Mudhorn that was ten thousand times his weight,” Zaral replied.

“He also stopped a fire trooper’s weapon. And he healed a Mynock venom wound.”

Zaral now looked up from the data console and stood. “This Child has done all of these things?”

Din nodded, and the Child chirped in response.

Zaral stood astounded. “I have only heard legends of Jedi with such powers. Even the few left that have met our Clan cannot do all of these things, with years of training.”

Din was now also stunned. “But — what does that mean for him?”

Zaral shook her head. “I do not know.” She beckoned for him to move closer to the desk.

A symbol appeared on the holodisplay, one that he did not recognize. “This is the symbol of the Jedi. They were an Order of sorcerers that began untold eons ago, the Order trained those with a strong connection to the Force to use their power to protect freedom in the Galaxy from those who would dominate others.

“They grew in number and then began the discord. As with all organizations splinters began and some maintained a peaceful demeanor while others tended toward a warrior way of life. The warriors, however, became too enamored with their growing power and soon left the Order completely to grow as a new Order called the Sith. They cultivated their power in Darkness and waged war on the Jedi, nearly wiping them out. The Jedi power came from the Light and soon their numbers of recruits far surpassed the growth of the Darkness and they were victorious, destroying the Sith Temple at Moraband.

“Five thousand years ago, the Jedi Order established a Temple on Coruscant, and became advisors to a rising power that eventually became the Old Republic. But after three thousand years the Mandalore found a decline in that Republic was due to the philosophy of the Jedi, avoiding battle at all costs, and protecting weak leaders, and they came into conflict. Our weaponry was developed over millennia in order to manage battle with Jedi whose powers required no machines. We were victorious on many battle fields. Over a thousand years ago, Tarre Vizsla, a Mandalorian with an unrivaled connection to the Force, was allowed to train with the Jedi because his mother felt that the conflict must end. He became one of the fiercest warriors of the Jedi, and he created a weapon called the Dark Saber. But ultimately, due to politics on both sides, he was forced to choose. He refused to fight against his own people, and he left the Order, leading the Mandalorians against the Jedi to his death. His Dark Saber was brought back to the Jedi temple until it was stolen back by House Vizsla and used as a symbol to rule Mandalore.”

Zaral turned back to Din and the Child who still sat on his shoulder with his mouth open in awe. “This story is for you both to understand what you are facing on this quest. You see before you nearly ten thousand years of history, and three thousand years of conflict with Mandalore. However, I want you both to understand that does not mean there is no hope for your Clan to bring Mandalore into a stronger future. For a member of a Clan who has such powers to heal should have a name worthy of a Jedi.”

Din reached up to his shoulder and picked up the Child to set him on Zaral’s desk. She reached out and placed her hand on his head.

“I name you, Tarre-Haal, the second of House Vizsla to be a Jedi warrior — and the first Jedi healer.”

Din also put his hand on Tarre-Haal, who cooed, but did not move.

Din whispered, “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa’ad,” I know your name as my child.

Zaral replied, “Gai bal manda,” Name and soul.

When Zaral and Din removed their hands Tarre looked up at them, and Din saw in his eyes a look that said, I’ll make you proud.

Din looked back up at Zaral, “You agree then, I should take him back to the Jedi? How am I to find them? Are they still on Coruscant?”

Zaral shook her head, “The Order was destroyed by the Emperor at the end of the Clone Wars. The fugitive Jedi were hunted during the Age of the Empire, and very few remain. However, I heard that it was two Jedi who returned the Dark Saber to House Wren before the Purge, and it was Bo-Katan of House Kryze who used it to unite Mandalore to resist the Empire, but ultimately failed.”

Din had not heard of the final events on Mandalore. “So House Kryze was destroyed.”

Zaral nodded, “And Bo-Katan murdered. Her nephew, Kor-Kayan, was captured and presumed dead. When the Empire fell the Governor and the Imperial Security Bureau were finally driven from the planet. And we began to rebuild.”

Din leaned forward. “Who murdered Bo-Katan?”

Zaral looked back at Din, “Moff Gideon.”

Din suddenly felt his breath leave him, and had to brace his hands on the desk. Tarre-Haal walked over to his father and put one hand on his arm, slowly closing his eyes.

Suddenly, Din felt a warmth spreading from his arm to his injured shoulder and up further to his head and down to his lungs. When he realized what was happening, he reached over to Tarre and placed a hand over the tiny one on his arm.

“Stop, please, Tarre. You have done enough, you need your strength.” He gently pulled the tiny hand off his arm and Tarre looked up at him with his large black eyes. “Save your strength.”

Din looked back to Zaral. “I am injured because I fought and killed Moff Gideon on Nevarro. His forces are in retreat as we speak.”

Zaral nodded. “Your entire Clan will be told of this victory.”

Din stood up again and looked her in the eye. “I will also return to that fight, but first, I must find the two Jedi. I must speak with House Wren.”

[weneverlearn]

"Our kids were conceived to that one.”

Chewing the fat with Marshall Crenshaw about his 1983 classic, just reissued on Intervention Records

It’s not often you get one of your all time favorite albums from your dentist.

So I’m in 9th grade, and making back and forths in the parents’ station wagon to the dental school at Case Western Reserve University because my four top front teeth were all agog. (My mom figured it was because I’d fallen down the basement stairs when I was one and landed on my face.) Numerous visits that included poking, prodding, and endless numbing shots into the inside of the top jaw was no way to enter the high school years. But having a hep craw doc helped. 

Dr. Sasthma (”It’s like asthma, but with an S” -- funny guy) was his name, and between spit suction and implorations to floss more, we fit in fun music discussions. On the last visit right before the big pulling and twisting procedure, Sasthma sits me down and says, “This one today ain’t gonna be easy, but I’ve got a little prize for you afterwards.” And for the next hour and a half, I sat there with my mouth open (some would say that would not be out of the ordinary), while the doc poked around and made chin-scratching/brow-furrowing decisions, all while my jaw muscles started to atrophy.

Finally, when it was done, he reaches behind the giant dentist chair claw machine thing and pulls out Marshall Crenshaw’s debut album (Warner Bros., 1982). After I had regaled him with how much I liked “Someday, Someway” at the previous visit, he said he tracked down the album for me, though the shrink wrap had been peeled. “Well, I had to give it a listen, and yeah, it’s great!”

L-R: Robert Crenshaw, Marshall Crenshaw, Chris Donato - Photographer unknown

Not only did that little act make me much more tolerant of dentist visits going forward, it gave me one of my favorite albums. Crenshaw’s revived Buddy Holly-meets-nervous with opening pickup lines pop classicism was like a fresh, new toothbrush over all the dreary, dusty, classic rock of my Cleveland radio dial depression, until I took a sharp left into college radio that summer where I first heard Crenshaw, and a lot more. (Thanks WCSB, WRUW, and WUJC!) 

It’s hard to imagine today, hearing Crenshaw’s should-couldabeen power pop nuggets, but his clean looks and simple two-minute tunes made him a little too throwback odd for mainstream radio back then. Who knows or cares, as he still piled up an impressive major label canon before furthering into a long-running career of solid albums and consistent touring. The days of figuring out the whys and hows of mainstream radio play now seems about as useful as wondering how to get better reception on your TV.

Crenshaw’s sophomore album, Field Day (Warner Bros., 1983)? Maybe even better, filled with a slightly wider songwriting palette and production to match it. The term “sophomore album” never fit better for me, as it landed right around my sophomore year, and was a perfect companion on my journey into hook-heavy rock’n’roll obsession and mythical, sun-setting summer romance mythology/reality. 

So imagine my excitement when I got a press release about an impending reissue of Field Day. Despite it’s initial hefty, if brief, publicity push, Top 40-sniffing hit single (”Whenever You’re on My Mind”), and big time producer (Steve Lillywhite), the record didn’t (say it with me) “sell as much as hoped for.” And though Crenshaw did not fall into the usual “got dropped” holes (three more major label albums followed), Field Day did lag just a bit behind the CD explosion, having fallen out of print, and was never given a proper CD version for a few years. 

I only point this out because, goddamn it, it’s a perfect guitar pop record and is one of the best of that fleeting, early-80s moment where bright-eyed corners of the record industry hoped the world might once again embrace melancholy-flecked, otherwise blue-sky singalong songs. ‘Twas that “skinny tie” moment where loads of slacks-sporting Midwesterners parlayed punk’s energy into their pre-teen guitar lessons filled with Beatles covers. And in even that, Crenshaw did not exactly fit -- kind of the front tooth along my otherwise straight top row.

Upstart vinyl reissue label, Intervention Records -- who seem to have a knack for snaring ol’ major label titles from oblivion --  recently released a fine, vinyl-only edition of Field Day, including an extra 12″ EP of remix and live stuff, and different artwork.

I caught up with Crenshaw internet-wise to get his take on the new update of his old classic. 

If memory serves, I saw you play "High School" by the MC5 at an outdoor BBQ fest thing in downtown Cleveland in, like, 1985/6. Any memories of that, and did you cover that tune often? 

I remember that event in Cleveland, like a fried-chicken festival, right? I remember that we used "The Greasy Chicken,” by Andre Williams as walk-on music that day (and on other days). The MC5 song would've been "Tonight.” I never played "High School,” except with DKT-MC5 in 2004. I played "Tonight" a lot over the years. I grew up in the Detroit area, was a big MC5 fan. "Tonight" was sort of a local hit single, got played on CKLW. A band that I was in played it at an audition for a dance at our high school, and I can still picture a girl sitting in front of me watching me play and sing that song, really enthralled by what we were doing. That girl was Ione. She and I are still together.

You grew up in Detroit, right? When did you move, and what were some early influences from living in Detroit, music and otherwise?

I lived in the Detroit area from birth (1953) until 1977, grew up with Rock and Roll music all around me, fell in love with the music during childhood. Detroit was a big test market for records. There were lots of regional hits, on national and local labels. Two that immediately come to mind are, "When You Walk In the Room" by Jackie DeShannon, and "Mind Over Matter" by Nolan Strong and The Diablos -- both massive Detroit hits, both part of my musical DNA. As far as influences besides music go, I don't know where to start. That could turn into a book.

Though the only book Crenshaw has done so far was this excellent compendium of rock’n’roll movies; also, his musical knowledge goes deep. If you can do so, track down this amazing hillbilly compilation he put together in 1989.

Field Day, in title and cover art, was a reference to high school, I assume. But I remember some reviews saying that that record was a kind of more mature version of you -- bigger production, some more serious themes, etc. So what was your inspiration for the high school nod?

I had nothing whatsoever to do with creating the packaging for that record. When we finished recording, I went on vacation with Ione and Robert to visit Robert's girlfriend at the time. She was working on location outside Prague on the movie Amadeus (which I've still never seen. I should see it, I saw it being made). And when I got back, the album cover had been put together by my then-manager. His father co-owned a big company that published magazines. My manager had worked for that company for a minute, and thought that the presentation of images was something that he knew something about. I hated the album’s front cover, got talked into approving it. OOPS! I don't think Warners was pleased that instead of using their art department, he'd hired an expensive design firm to create such a dodgy end-product. He came up with the title; I do like the title, didn't think of high school when he suggested it. "Having a field day" is just a figure of speech, doesn't refer to high school, necessarily. It just means "having a great time,” and indeed we really had a great time making the album.

It said the art for this reissue is how you originally intended. 

I wanted to change the front cover for the reissue, was extremely happy that Intervention Records was into the idea. The only thing that made sense was to use some pre-existing artwork from the time period, namely the front of the picture sleeve for the "Whenever You're On My Mind” 7″.

I just loved Field Day when it came out. I am sure you are more than aware of the "debates" over the production -- which to me made total sense for those songs and that point of your career. What is your take on what you asked of Steve Lillywhite, and how you felt it turned out, back then?

I'm really glad that you like it. I know that the album was "controversial" in the day. I think that all the criticism it got back then was completely lame. When I listened to the first playback of the finished mixes, I had my feet up on the edge of the console; I thought, “This is an album that can kick the world's ass.” We all loved working with Steve. He was the only producer that I talked to going in, my first choice. He said yes right away, and that was that.

I'll assume you were involved in this reissue. What were your thoughts on revisiting it?

I heard about the reissue project after it was already underway, and was just delighted about it. I'd even say that I felt a sense of gratitude that somebody wanted to honor the album, which is what Intervention has done. As a career experience, "Field Day" was an instance where the party-train just ran right into the ditch. I loved the album, didn't get why some people were perplexed by it. I got the test pressing from Intervention and was knocked out. It's just a unique and beautiful Rock and Roll record, if you ask me. And the people at Intervention love it as much as I do.

Your’s truly probably bugging Crenshaw about the MC5 again, post-back alley gig, August, 2012, NYC

Any good stories during the recording of Field Day? In-studio disputes, after-session shenanigans, anything like that?

I don't remember any disputes until after the record was done -- then the shit-storm began. We had nothing but fun while doing it, and there was a festive atmosphere at the sessions. They were all at night, and afterwards we'd go out. I remember going one night to the Roxy Roller Rink disco on the West Side with Steve and a couple of the other guys. This was when hip-hop was first starting to come downtown. When we finally got out of there it was broad daylight. "Monday Morning Rock" was partly inspired by that night...

"Whenever You're on My Mind" was a demo for awhile before it appeared on Field Day, right? How come it didn't make it onto the debut?

I wrote that one before I wrote most of the songs on my first album. When I did the first album I wanted to do all the newer ones first. I'm always most excited about whatever the new thing is. But then, going into "Field Day," I was really glad to have "Whenever" in reserve. And I'm glad that it got recorded when it did, under those circumstances.

The instrumental of "Blues is King" from that era is one of my favorite instrumentals, and just has one of those, maybe accidental, gorgeous, simple demo production vibes. Was that originally an instrumental and you decided to add lyrics later, or what?

I did that instrumental version after I'd written the music; the lyrics didn't happen until a few months later. I do like it as just a piece of instrumental music. And those are Mosrite guitars, which I love the sound of.

Field Day standout, "Our Town" -- when you made Field Day, I believe you'd been living in NYC for awhile. Did you pine to get on a train back to Detroit sometimes? What were the bad and good things about trying to get your music career going in NYC in the very early 1980s?

I never pined to get back to Detroit (although I like visiting there now). That song was written about New York. I'd been on the road for most of a year when I wrote it. I did take a train to Detroit once, from NYC. It was during the last days when Michigan Central Station was still being used by Amtrak. I'd never seen the station during it's heyday, but when I got there it looked not that different than what it looks like now, like an absolute wreck. I still remember the look on my mother's face standing there waiting for me. She looked like she felt ashamed, and like, "You had to take the train and make me go through this, right?" Getting my music career going in NYC in the early '80s was a blast. The scene embraced us right away. It was like dying and going to heaven. 

Did you find yourself attracted to the CBGB scene at the time? 

Yes, we played CBGB many times. I think we even held an attendance record there for a minute, or maybe I dreamt that. But our last couple shows there were mob scenes. I really had my ears and mind open in all different directions during those years in New York, and I can't overstate how much I loved the NY scene then, with all it's diversity, innovation, etc. I'm still proud to have been part of it. And I'm including NY radio in this declaration. I had lots of great go-to stations like WBLS and WKTU ("urban"), WLIB (Caribbean music), WFMU (free-form), WKCR (Jazz), WNYU, with "The Afternoon Show,” and the "Wavebreaker" countdown on Fridays, WNEW ('cause they played us). On and on...

There were a ton of "skinny tie" power pop bands around in the very early '80s too, many from the Midwest. Did you play with the Shoes, Knack, Romantics, Plimsouls, etc.? Were there ones that stuck out for you? I feel like you weren't roped into that signing frenzy trend though.

I played with The Plimsouls in NY once. I loved them, became friends with Peter [Case] back then. But one of my fears in those days was that anybody might lump us in with that Anglophile “skinny tie” thing. I hated most of it, not all of it. I didn't like The Knack, didn't identify with what they were doing, didn't want anybody to identify us with what they were doing. I feel bad saying so, but I'm answering your question. Again, we came out of the NY club scene which was really diverse and eclectic. I wanted our stuff to reflect that as best I could. Another one of my fears, since we took off so fast in NY, was that somebody might tag us as the "Next Big Thing,” and unfortunately that did happen. I had a real sense of doom when I read all that stuff about my first album in Rolling Stone.

Oh, also, we were never part of any signing frenzy. We got our record deal by packing out every NY club we played at, getting our stuff on "mainstream" FM rock radio when they never played local bands on indie labels. We earned it the way you did back then.

"What Time Is It?" -- how did you decide on that cover? I assume you were a big doo wop fan. Once you got to NYC, did you get to play with or meet any old doo wop favorites?

I don't think that happened, but now I wish that it had. It would've been great to meet Randy and The Rainbows, for instance. "Denise" is one of those records that gets me every time. Or Eugene Pitt of The Jive Five. It's too bad I never met him, even after I covered their tune (actually a Feldman-Goldstein-Gottehrer tune, but anyway).

Can you tell me about the making of the "Whenever You're on My Mind" video? Were you one of those who was suspicious of videos back then?

Hahahahaha! By the time we did that one I was really enthusiastic about videos, wanted us to get on that bandwagon. It seemed like most of my favorite ones were British, so we went over there and found a British director. I'm laughing thinking about it now. We tried.

Finally, where would you rank Field Day in your catalog? 

I was really on my game just then. It was some kind of a pinnacle, as far as that moment in my life goes. And it seems to be my most beloved album. People tell me all kinds of things about it, like, "Our kids were conceived to that one.”

[aj-diamond]

Promptis Week:   Day 3: Late Night Talk/ On a Date

Rated: T (For Language)

Word Count: 1,982

Notes: I’m a day later, but... hey! Better late than never. Once again, this was written and edited to the best of my ability. Enjoy!

Also can be read on: Ao3

@promptisfanweek

Confession of a King - (Late Night Talks)

The statement was sudden and blunt, but it wasn’t unusual for Noctis’ behavior though. He had always been that way, ever since he was a kid. When something was on his mind he spoke up. If he felt a certain way about someone or something, he showed that emotion.

“I think Prompto might have feelings for me...”

Gladio just stared at him, giving him an, ‘are you serious, right now?’ look. Noctis cleared his throat and shifted in his barstool uncomfortably, maybe he was too blunt. Or maybe his statement was a little too far-fetched. He tried again, “I said, I think Prompto…”

Gladiolus raised his hand, “No, no, no, I heard what you said,” He folded arms and sighed. “And how’d you figure that, Noctis the oblivious?”

“What do you mean oblivious?” he questioned.

“You’re kiddin’ me right?”

“No, I’m pretty damn serious. You know I’ve been serious about Prom since the first time he ever saw him.”

No, the coffee shop hadn’t been the first encounter that Noctis had with Prompto. Prompto had no idea about them, though that was only because they weren’t times they interacted. They were times where he admired him from afar.

The first time was when he was lost on campus. While trying to find his way to the other side of the campus he saw the blonde on his knees. At first he thought he was hurt or something, but in the end, he was taking pictures. Of what, he didn’t know, he didn’t think he cared at the time. He was just so stricken by him.  He almost ran into a tree because of him.

The second time was when he was heading home for the day.  The art class from the other side of campus was having class outside. A row of seventeen students, including Prompto, were painting diligently on their canvas’. Prompto seemed the most focused of them all, he had such a serious and determined look on his face. Paint covered his face, hands, and pants. He remembered how his heart skipped a beat. He’d never seen someone work on something so… passionately.

He guessed for him… it was love at first sight. Prompto’s beauty and his passion was a rare and wonderful combination.

“Prompto has been into you since you finally got the guts to stop gawking at him and actually talk to him.”  Gladiolus went around the counter and up to the front door. “He spoke to you once and that’s all it took.”

“Gladio, shouldn’t it be Prompto telling him that? We did say that we would keep this quiet.” Ignis chimed in.

Gladiolus unlocked the door and flipped the ‘closed’ sign to ‘opened’,  “He asked though!”  

“True, but we mustn’t butt in in others affairs. Especially their love affairs.” Ignis turned to Noctis. “But, since you know now... honestly Noctis, you haven’t noticed Prompto’s gestures towards you? They aren’t so very subtle.”

Noctis heart was thumping in his chest, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was he that oblivious? Could he really not take a hint? “Ah, can you name me off some?”

“Well, there’s the times he’s paid for your coffee beforehand, the times when he’s gotten you small gifts. Such as the ‘friendship’ bracelet you’re wearing on your wrist.” Ignis began. “The times he’s given you half his lunch when you forget to bring yours. The fact he constantly taking photos of you or photos of you and him. The time he took care of you when you were sick.”

“He goes to your place all the time. You two meet here for coffee every day on the weekdays like it’s a damn date! Who’s idea was that? Prompto’s!” Gladiolus leaped over the counter. “We can go on forever with the examples, or is that not enough?”

“And then there’s the fact that we… slept together a couple weeks ago.” Noctis mumbled.

“You did what?!” Ignis and Gladiolus shouted in unison.

“NOT how you’re thinking.”  Noctis retorted, looking away. “Prom spent the night at my place, and… in the end we were… we were holding each other.”

He flushed thinking about it. Prompto was holding him close, and he was clinging to Prompto as though he were some kid clinging to his teddy bear. Yes, Prompto had freaked out, but not as badly as he thought he was going to.

“If that’s the case, it should be obvious how Prompto feels about you,” Ignis commented.  “He clearly wants to be more than just your best pal.”   

“You know what would be a novel idea, Noct? Confess. Your. Feelings. If you don’t you’re gonna lose him to someone else.”

Noctis looked at Gladiolus, “There’s no way I’m gonna lose him, I will fight for him. I will fight anyone who tries to take him from me, I swear.”

“Calm down, lover boy,” Ignis said with a chuckle. “I think if you are going to confess your feelings, then you should do it in person. You’ll want to convey your feelings are clearly as possible.”

“Ah, is that really necessary? I mean I could just text him and…”

“What’s the matter? Scared?” Gladio taunted. “Here I was thinking you were braver than that, Noct!”

“I am not scared! I’ll go to his place and talk to him and tell him everything!”  

“Do tell us what happens, Noct.” Ignis said. “The suspense on how this love story is going to end is killing us.”

It took him hours to figure out how to confess to Prompto. And by hours that meant. .. the entire day. It was almost midnight by the time he worked up the nerve to finally go over to his apartment and spill his heart out. Luckily, he was still awake, he knew because he saw the lights on in his apartment from the outside. That and the fact that he’s a night owl.

Noctis shifted from foot to foot as he stood in front of Prompto’s door. He was nervous, yet excited. By the end of the conversation, if all went well, Prompto could potentially be his boyfriend… or he could lose his best friend. He took a deep breath, either way, (he prayed it would turn out alright) he had to go through this.  He took a hold of the knocker and knocked on his door.

“Prompto!” he called. “You got a minute?”

“Who is it? How do you know my name? I don’t in let in strangers!” Prompto called back.

Noctis rolled his eyes and kicked his door gently, “Just open the door, chocobutt.”

“I wasn’t expecting you, Noct. You must need something important if you just show up at my door unannounced.” Prompto opened the door. “You could’ve even shot me a text! So, what’s up?”

Noctis gave him a soft smile; looks like the artist was hard at work again. The smell of paint greeted him when Prompto had opened the door. His shirt and hands were covered in various shades and colors of dried paints, “Look at you, you’re a mess.”

“You know me, paint and coffee, it runs through my veins.” Prompto chuckled. “So, what brings you to my humble home?”

“I just needed to talk to you…” Noctis said, his throat already getting dry. “It won’t take long.”

“Oh, okay.” Prompto stepped to the side. “Come on in.”

Noctis walked inside, “Thanks.” He took in a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck.  “So, um, how are your classes going?”

The blonde shut the door behind him. “Good, good. Been putting a lot of effort lately. After all, it’s getting really close to the end of the semester. I wanna finish strong.”

“That’s great. The results of my exams should be posted soon.”

“Bet you did amazing as usual. You are the top of your class,” Prompto sat on the edge of his wooden stool, “Unless if you’ve been making shit up to impress me.”

“I wouldn’t do that, no need to fake things.” Noctis cleared his throat. “Um, have you seen the new King's Knight event?”

Prompto cocked a brow, “Noctis, what’s really up? It’s not like you to beat around the bush like this. I know you’re not here to talk about school and King’s Knight. We could do that over the phone easily.”

He knew he couldn’t get around Prompto, he knew him too well.  Noctis looked down and nodded, “You’re right.”  

He knew what he wanted to say, it was on the tip of his tongue and his emotions bubbled just beneath his skin. Maybe something like this wasn’t as simple as stating an opinion on someone or speaking out against a situation he didn’t. Or maybe… he just was a coward.

Noctis pressed a hand to his stomach. He was literally getting sick to his stomach over this. He wanted to tell him, he wanted to pour his emotions out and have them out in the open, “I just… I just wanted to say,” he took yet another shaky breath. “I’m…”

Prompto sensed there was something and immediately came to his aid, “Noct, here,” Prompto wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him over to the couch. “You know you can tell me anything, buddy.”

He and Prompto sat down on the couch. The blonde removed his arm from around his shoulders, “Just take your time. No need to rush it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What I need to say right now, has been avoided long enough,” Noctis told him, clasping his hands together. “I don’t understand why I’m being like this. This is something so simple...”

“Is it something bad?” Prompto asked gently. “I can take it, Noct.”

Noctis looked towards his friend, “No, it’s not bad.”

“Then it must be something good or, good but a tad bad or, so so, or…”

“Prompto, please.”

Prompto chuckled a bit, “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.”

“I know. You’re such a dork, you know that?”

“The dorkiest. And you sir, try to come off cool and everything, but are one of the biggest damned nerds in the universe.”

“Damn straight. I’m the fucking king of the nerds.”

“Are you gonna find yourself a queen?” Prompto asked jokingly.  “Just imagine your palace.”

His stormy eyes met eyes of bright blue, he let out a gentle breath, “What about… another king?”

He heard Prompto’s breath slightly hitch, “T-two kings, huh? What would be the qualifications to be the other king?”

Any nervousness Noctis had left had just jumped out the window and was falling three stories down. There was definitely no going back now.

He turned towards the blonde, “He has to appreciate all the little things in life. Be crazy about art and photography.  Love chocobos. Be a hell of a partner in King’s Knight. Be able to make me laugh.” He placed his hand Prompto’s cheek, he felt him shiver a bit underneath his touch.  “He has to be passionate and sweet… and the most important thing… he has to have hair of gold that’s styled to look like a chocobo’s butt.”

Prompto closed his eyes, he placed his hand on top of Noctis’, “I think I meet all those qualifications, your majesty.”

“So you do,” Noctis pressed his forehead against his. “Will you be my king, Prom?”

Prompto gave his hand a squeeze, “Ever at your side.” he answered gently, opening his eyes half way.

“I love you, Prompto Argentum.” Noctis tipped his head capturing Prompto’s lips softly with his own. Prompto, without hesitation, kissed him back.

The kiss wasn’t earth shattering, ground shaking,  time stopping, or passionate, like you would see in the romantic films. It was soft and warm and oh so full of love. There soft sighs and their noses bumped every now and then.  It was like heaven and Noctis never wanted this moment to end.

[ulyssessklein]

The power of planning: how an indie music video that got 30+ million views in its first week took 1.5 years to make

An interview with Jensen Reed about his music video “Back to the 90s.”

Planning. It might not be necessary to make great music, but it certainly comes in handy when you’re trying to produce an entertaining music video.

And the video for Ben Giroux & Jensen Reed’s “Back to the 90s” is entertaining from start to finish, with crazy attention to detail, lots of extras, lookalikes, props, and locations to keep you looking and listening and laughing the whole time. The video took a loooooooooong time to plan and execute, but it was worth the wait. In its first week, “Back to the 90s” has been viewed more than 30 million times across YouTube and Facebook.

I’m really interested in the video production process — whether it’s no-budget, shot by a pro in an afternoon, or something more elaborate — so I asked Jensen Reed about what went into the video for “Back to the 90s.”

CR: Can you tell me about the timeline for the production? How long did each phase take?

JR: It took almost a year and a half from concept to finished video. Ben Giroux came to me with the idea of doing a music video that’s a celebration of all things 90s. We both were 90s kids and sensed a movement for 90s nostalgia, so we knew we were on to a solid idea.

A big part of the challenge was incorporating multiple genres into one song effectively. My production partner Christian Hand had the genius idea and I knew we had to figure out a way to execute it. I enlisted my buddy Jared Lee who is an amazing songwriter and artist to help us with the chorus and my man Dirty Hollywood who is pure rock n roll to work out the grunge bridge with us.

Our Cinematographer Zach Salsman absolutely crushed this shoot. Zach and I have worked together on a bunch of my music videos and his eye and talent behind the camera is unmatched.

We shot the video in two long production days. (Show in the video below):

The key to knocking it out so efficiently was the pre-production process that lasted for months…locations, crew, cast, times, logistics etc. It was truly a massive production with over 100 people on set.

One thing that allowed for the shoot to go smoothly was the lyrics. Because we had so many specific 90s references, we knew exactly what shots we needed. Unlike most of my other music videos where we roll the entire song and do a bunch of performance takes, we only shot the snippets of the song in each setup we needed. This also made the original skeleton for the edit come together quickly because we knew which shot went where in the timeline.

Did you call in a lot of favors to get this video done?

There was an immense amount of talent involved in the project that donated their time and expertise or worked for us at a major discount. This was a team effort in every way imaginable.

I found the attention to detail super impressive. Can you talk about scouting locations, gathering props and costumes, finding lookalikes, and so forth?

Locking down an airplane hangar to re-create the vibe of the iconic Backstreet Boys video “I Want It That Way” was the biggest challenge. We found Whiteman airport outside of Los Angeles and the owner was open to cutting us a deal because he was a former film school student and understood the idea of a passion project. All of the locations and minutia involved in a shoot this big were handled masterfully by our Producers Jon Rosenbloom, Scott Thomas Reynolds, and Marc Barnes. They are masters of getting sh*t done!

We secured Bullock and Snow Casting to cast all of the roles and they knocked it out of the park! Every person they cast was incredible. They also got us the amazingly talent Alexander Arzu (who plays the kid we educated about how great the 90s were).

Our Art Department Melissa Lyon and Marissa Bergman took the production to another level with the ridiculous attention to detail in creating spaces covered with 90s paraphernalia. There are so many ‘Easter Eggs’ littered throughout the video for viewers to discover, which has led to many people watching the video over and over. And our Wardrobe Designer Chelsea Kutun found all of the iconic and memorable looks for everyone involved in the shoot.

What happened between the final edit and the launch? How did you prepare to promote the video?

Ben and I edited the video and got it to an almost final point before we enlisted Animators Doug Bresler, Ilana Schwartz, Tony Celano, and Zoran Gvojic to add their magic touch including NBA Jam, Ren & Stimpy, Doug, Celebrity Deathmatch etc. VFX by Jake Akuna was the final piece of post production that added more detail and interesting effects, upping the ante yet again.

We had a live release party in Los Angeles the day before we released the video. It turned out to be one of the most fun parties that any of our 300 guests had been to in a while. We encouraged everyone to dress in their best 90s gear. Jared and I performed a couple of our original songs and we then screened the video and performed “Back to the 90s” live.

We encouraged everyone in attendance to share the video at 10am on Monday, May 1st when it was released to get the ball rolling. It helped tremendously that many people in attendance have a lot of social influence because of their own creative pursuits. We didn’t hire a publicist. We just put it out to the world with the hopes of it being so good that people would instantly want to share and that’s what happened.

What are you most proud of about this video?

I’m most proud of the incredible team that Ben and I assembled to make this project a reality. It’s very rewarding to have so many working parts feel attached to your creative vision and hustle on your behalf. It’s a testament to working hard, respecting others and ultimately fostering a positive environment where everyone can thrive.

What would you do differently next time?

I have to say there isn’t anything we could’ve done better on this one. It’s as near perfect as it gets and 36 Million views speaks to that.

Any advice for an independent musician that’s just starting to think about shooting a music video on a limited budget?

My advice is to collaborate with others and when you find good creative relationships, go back to them again and again. Ben and I have a philosophy of less-is-more, meaning we aim to create a smaller number of projects with high production value versus a bunch of smaller ideas. This is the typical 15 year overnight success story. I have 16 other music videos and Ben has been a working actor for well over a decade, so there is a lot of hustle-equity built up behind the success of “Back to the 90s.”

One technical skill that I believe every musician should have is Video Editing. I’ve edited almost all of my videos. It’s a skill that came very easy to me because I know the story I want to tell and it’s similar to editing audio in Pro Tools. Cinematographers will be much more likely to work with you as an artist when you can handle the 50 hours of post production work it takes to pull select footage and assemble an edit. It also gives the artist creative control over the video and saves a bunch of money.

Check out more of Jensen Reed’s music videos at http://www.jensenreed.com/videos. More from Ben Giroux can be found at http://www.bengiroux.com.

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