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kyberblade · 2 years ago

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Shatter - Gone Rogue (Din x Reader)

A/N: They’re back! These weirdos that I love poked my brain until I couldn’t ignore them. I really hope you love it. We have Fennec and Boba making a guest appearance, too! This is Part 3 in the Shatter-verse. The reader has a name in this fic, but that’s the only descriptor of her. Past that, nothing else, I don’t think. I still use “you” mostly, the name is only used a handful of times. This was meant to be a multi chapter fic, but it’s just not wanting to translate that way, so it’s going to be a series of one shots and a whiff of continuity. Please feel free to send me scenarios, prompts, requests for these crazy kids! Just remember to stick to the rules.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Snark, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Light swear words. Space swearing. Mando’a. Like a lot of it. (Translations at the end of each sentence as I go.) My Mandalorians do what they want. Banter. So much banter. And you’ll probably fall in love with them like I did. (I don’t make the rules.)

Word count: 11,934

Thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Also a shout out to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @fordo-kixed-rex for reading it over for me as I went and telling me I wasn’t crazy. (And @deceiver-of-gods for helping me with the Mando’a - You’re a life saver.) (Any mistakes are my own.)

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Xxx

You twisted the wrench as you tightened the bolt under the Crest, the ship’s shadow blocking you from the scalding heat of Tatooine’s twin suns.

“There. I think that’s it, Peli. Wanna test it out before I move?”

“Sure!” She called, jogging up the ramp and into the cockpit. Her voice came over the comm in your pocket a few seconds later, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you muttered, wiping sweat from your brow. “Wait!” The engines that had started to power up came to an abrupt halt.

“What?” Peli asked urgently.

“Do I need to have Mando hand me my helmet or something? As protection? In case, I don’t know, something pops off and flies straight for my-”

Her loud guffaw rang throughout the hangar from your comm as you glared at it, unimpressed. “You’ll be fine,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath as she muttered your words back under her breath in a fit of giggles. “Starting the engines now.”

The ship roared above you, vibrating just slightly to show its displeasure at being finely tuned. Oh well. It was better than the clunking.

“All looks fine up here,” came her voice over the comm as the engines powered down. “You can close her up and come out. Good job.”

Smiling, you mumbled a thanks, starting to scooch out of the tight space when her voice crackled through again, making you pause.

“Hey, wait. When did you finish this interior?”

You squinted as the suns moved just enough to be in your eyes. “Um, in the last few days, I think. You mean on the lower level?”

“Yeah….” Her voice sounded distant, amazed, moving away from the comm like she was turning around.

“Within the last few days. Mando finished it up while I did the wiring with you in the cockpit.” You dragged your gloved hand down your face, bringing it up to block out the suns. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Looks very good,” she agreed. “Almost makes me wish I could go somewhere in this ship. Almost.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Din said dryly, standing by your head.

Pulling your hand down quickly, you glared up at him, reaching out to whack his leg. “Kriff! You scared me! Don’t do that!”

Peli’s laughter barked over the comm once again, soon coming around the corner to join Din’s in real time as she stood beside you. “Need some help? I can get R5 to tow you out a few feet if you need-”

You glared at her, making her snicker. “No, I’m good, thanks. I can manage.” Wiggling back a few inches, you let out a huff before holding a hand out toward Din. “Help your bodyguard out?”

“If anyone attacked right now, I’d be-”

“Don’t say it,” you grumbled.

“I mean, you’re just laying down on the job,” he continued, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you the rest of the way out before offering you a hand to help you up.

“You’re-”

Once you were on your feet again, Din pulled you close, speaking in a low and teasing voice, “It’s a wonder no one’s snuck in here yet.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” a familiar female voice rang out behind him, making you both turn with blasters drawn. “Hello, Mando.”

“Fennec,” he said on a sigh, lowering his weapon.

“Again?!” Peli lamented. “There is a door, you know.”

“And a lovely door it is,” a familiar man’s voice drawled. A tall bald man in beskar walked up casually, one hand resting on his belt, the other cradling a matching Mandalorian helmet against his side. He tipped his head in respect towards Din. “Hello, old friend.”

You moved to stand in front of him, the man and the woman chuckling.

“You can tell your attack dog to stand down anytime now,” the woman said in a droll tone, making her way down from the rafter she sat on.

The man laughed softly. “Attack dog? No, no, this is his shadow!” He gestured to you with his free hand. “Everyone knows the shadow of a Mandalorian is the most dangerous part, because if you’ve lingered long enough to see it, odds are you’re probably within striking distance.”

You smirked. “I don’t mind you.” Turning your blaster on the woman, you gestured to her with the weapon. “You, I’m not so crazy about, but I have a feeling that’ll change.”

Din put his hand on your shoulder, sliding it down your arm to make you lower your blaster. “Ti, this is Fennec Shand and Boba Fett.”

Disengaging your blaster, you holstered it. “The ones who gave us the piece of shi- I mean ship.”

Boba laughed loudly while Fennec rolled her eyes with a small grin. “That would be me,” he chuckled. “She was in horrible shape when I found her, but look at her now!” He gestured to the ship behind you. “Got you here in one piece and she’s sparkling.”

“Because I flew her here,” you grumbled, smiling when Boba laughed again. You liked him. He brought a joy into a room. Walking up, you offered your hand, which he took and gave a firm shake. “Ti Jyrr. Head of strategy and tactics, and temporary head of security. Also currently a bodyguard to the Mand’alor and the child until we can get back home.”

Boba’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of, where is the foundling?”

“Asleep on the ship,” Din stepped up beside you. “He’s her shadow, follows her everywhere. Tired him out early today after she convinced him to chase Peli’s droids around the hangar for a few hours.”

Peli let out a surprised huff of laughter. “That was you? That was the cutest thing I have ever seen. Plus, getting R5 to finally wind down and connect to a charging dock for once - ah! Blissful silence - you’re a magician!”

“I think it was just trying to get away from Grogu,” you smirked, shrugging. “But hey, it all worked out.” Turning back to the newcomers, you jerked your head back toward the ship. “Would you like a tour? I need to wake the kid up, anyway, or he’ll wake up right when I go to sleep and start jumping on my bed or something.”

“That would be lovely,” Boba smiled before his features adopted something a little more serious. He set his helmet on a nearby table before he brought his hands together to rest in front of him. “Then, after that, if we could have a….” He looked at Fennec before turning back to you and Din. “Discussion of sorts? A business proposition is more like it.”

Sharing a look with Din, you nodded once to him. “I can watch the kid so the three of you-”

“Oh no, this would involve you, too.” Boba’s voice made you stop short.

“I can watch the womp rat,” Peli chimed in softly, her hand raised as if you didn’t know who was speaking. “I owe ya one after you got R5 on the dock earlier.”

You shared one more look with Din before he turned to Boba and Fennec. “Sounds like a plan. Now come on. I want to show you what we did with the hyperdrive.”

Xxx

Grogu squawked across the hangar in Peli’s arms as she fed him, the sound bouncing off every surface and echoing into the cool night air.

You and Din sat across from Boba and Fennec at a small table off to the side, parts for all sorts of craft shoved out of the way so you could see one another.

“I have a proposition for you,” Boba began on a sigh, leaning forward on the table to brace on his forearms. “Someone has stolen from me. Wormed his way into my inner circle and as soon as he had an opening, made off with a small fortune in credits.”

He leaned back in his chair, lounging almost. “Now, you know the credits aren’t a problem for me, I don’t care about that.” He leaned forward again, his eyes determined as his finger jammed into the table to emphasize his words. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“What do you want us to do about it?” Din adjusted in his seat to recline slightly, one hand resting on the table.

“We have enough people to keep the ports and ways out of town under surveillance,” Fennec took over. “He’s not going anywhere. But by keeping everything under watch, we don’t have the manpower to actually look for him.”

“And you think just the two of us is enough?” Both of them looked at you in amusement.

“Two Mandalorians is more than enough.” Boba chuckled. “He’s not a genius by any means.”

“He was smart enough to get past you.”

Din kicked your foot under the table with his own, making you roll your eyes.

Boba looked on in amusement. “That he was,” he agreed with a nod. “Probably because I don’t have someone like you keeping watch for me. Then again, we did sneak up on you today, did we not?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked across the hangar absently, not willing to dignify that with an answer.

“These things happen,” he continued, his voice softer. “I just want to make an example so it doesn’t happen again.”

“We wanted to give you first go at it before we put out a puck.” Your eyes finally landed on Fennec as she explained, a smirk growing on her face. “Figured you’d want some fun before you had to get off planet. And like Boba said, credits aren’t a problem, so your finders fee should help keep your life on the run well funded.”

“What are friends for,” Boba drawled teasingly, his focus across the table on Din.

“I’m assuming you want him alive,” he finally said after a long moment, sitting up straight in his chair.

“Preferably,” Boba nodded, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “But should something…. happen, I’m not going to deduct anything from the final total.”

“Can you send us copies of city maps we can add to our navs in our helmets?” All three heads turned to you. “It’ll be much easier if we’re not getting lost in the maze of back alleys and market stalls.”

Boba looked at Fennec before he turned back to you with an amused look and nodded.

“I’m also assuming you don’t want any damage done to the city? Or at least, as little as possible?” You turned to Din. “I have some blasters with decent stun features I picked up at the market the other day when I made a food run. Might be best to avoid the most civilian casualties and property damage, then if we get close enough to him and get a clear shot, should we need to, we can switch it over.”

“You went blaster shopping on a food run?” Din asked after a moment of silence.

You shrugged. “I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.”

“This is the way,” Boba teased.

Din groaned, making you smile. Leaning forward to offer Boba his hand across the table, they shook on it. “We have a deal. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

After getting the man’s details, talking over the prices, and getting the necessary maps, you all said goodbye.

“It was an honor to meet you,” you said as you stood beside Din near the doorway on their way out.

“The honor is all mine,” Boba said, his head inclined as he looked down at you. “I’m excited to see you work, Ti.”

“If it all goes to plan, you won’t notice a thing.”

He chuckled at that, looking to Din and bowing his head respectfully. “Mand’alor.” Then they disappeared into the night.

Turning to Din, he turned to face you before you both began walking back into the hangar. “Why don’t you go grab Grogu, let Peli get to sleep, and I’ll meet you on the ship. Show you what all I bought.”

He nodded, his steps speeding up as he headed toward the little alcove where R5’s bleeps and Grogu’s squeaks were heard echoing softly.

You went up the ramp of the Crest, going to the weapons cabinet where you had stored your recent purchases and pulled a few out.

Din padded up the ramp quietly a few minutes later, a sleeping Grogu in his arms, making you smile as he passed by. “He passed out almost as soon as she handed him off,” Din said on an amused huff.

Setting Grogu in his small hammock before he closed the door to the bunk area, he turned back to you and sighed, rubbing the top of his helmet absently.

“What’s wrong?” You set the blasters down and turned to fully face him.

“She can’t watch him tomorrow. Has some job she agreed to before we got here.” He leaned on the wall next to the bunk door. “I used to take him with me on bounties, but….”

“That was when you were on the run because of the bounty on him. Now we’re on the run basically because of a bounty on you.”

Din lifted his head, his visor meeting your understanding gaze, nodding gently before he looked away again.

“Hey, the bounty is basically on both of us.” You took a step closer, craning your neck back, tilting your head just slightly to try and catch his eyes. “You don’t get to take all the blame, Djarin. Whatever is going on, it’s a problem for all Mandalorians, and we aren’t the kind to just hide under a rock.” Looking over his shoulder, you studied the wall behind him. “Well, except for coverts, but we aren’t talking about that.”

He snorted out a laugh, making you return your eyes to his visor and grin up at him. “He doesn’t care. He loves spending the day with you. Just bring him with.” Your hand came to rest on his upper arm.

“I don’t want to put him in any more danger. If anything happened to him because of me, I-”

“Then I’ll take him with me.” He finally met your gaze again. “I’ll keep him safe. Do you trust me?”

After a moment Din nodded. “You know I do.”

“Then it’s settled.” You squeezed his arm before letting your hand fall back to your side. “I’ll take him in the cradle. I’ll keep him safe. Nothing will happen to him.”

Lifting his head all the way back up, Din looked behind you. Gesturing with a jut of his chin, he asked quietly, “What’s under the tarp?”

Turning to face the nearby crate draped in the dull fabric, you made your way over to it. “They didn’t know what they had. It’s all pieced out and needs a good clean, Peli might even have some parts you could replace these with if they’re too far gone, but…. I thought you might want it after all the stories you’ve told me while we’ve been working on the ship.”

“Stories?” Din looked down at the crate as you pulled the cloth away, showing old rusty pieces that put together would be an Amban rifle.

“You mentioned you lost it with the ship, and since you have the ship again….”

Din traced the parts with one gloved hand, his fingers barely touching the storied metal pieces.

“Since we’re fighting for our home, our values, our everything, it only seemed right that you do it with this. Thought it might help restore your faith a little bit.” You winked.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly, his hand coming to rest on your upper arm like yours had on his. “I…. This is…. Thank you.”

“Now, don’t stay up all night putting it together,” you warned. “You need sleep. And it’ll be here later.”

He looked at you with a tilt of his head that said, you’re crazy.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You smirked. “I’ll help.”

Xxx

As the suns began to peek over the lip of the hangar the next morning, Din stood just inside the Crest admiring the completed Amban rifle.

He held it in his hands, tilting it back and forth to see it from all angles, his head tilting fondly the longer he stared.

Letting out a massive yawn from where you sat on a nearby crate, you smirked at him. “Why don’t you just ask it to marry you already? That’d be faster than whatever this is.” You made a small circular gesture to him with your hand, arching your brow when he lifted his visor to look at you for the first time in hours.

Before he could say anything, the bunk door slid open to your right, Grogu already bright eyed and chittering happily after a good night's rest.

“Jate vaar'tur, ad’ika,” you said softly, yawning again as you reached for the tiny green creature ambling over to you as fast as his little legs would carry him. “Did you sleep well?” Reaching down, you scooped him into your lap, chuckling when he screeched joyfully. (“Good morning, little one.”)

The kid reached out and grabbed the mudhorn pendant you wore, his eyes going wide as it caught the light just right, before he promptly began gnawing on it.

“Kid,” Din groaned. “Hey. Stop that. Grogu.” He began to walk over, reaching out to tug the metal out of his son’s mouth. “That’s not what that’s for, kid.”

Making a sound of displeasure, Grogu looked between both of you before trying to take his new toy back from between Din’s fingers, letting out an annoyed huff and glaring up at his father when it was pulled further away from him.

“It’s too sharp, ad’ika. You could get hurt.” Grogu looked up at you with the biggest eyes you’d seen yet, blinking slowly as if to plead with you to give in. “I know. How about we get you some food instead?” A laugh painted the last few words as Grogu’s face changed instantly and he began trying to scale your front to get face to face with you, slipping down your chest plate with a screech.

It quickly melted into another yawn, Grogu following suit a few seconds later, and Din a few moments after that.

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “I’ll get him something to eat, and grab a cup or seven of caf. Want some?” Din nodded, turning back to admiring his rifle again, making you roll your eyes as you began down the ramp. “I’ll be right back. Give you two a moment alone.”

Din mumbled his thanks, not looking up from the weapon as you glanced over your shoulder, smirking.

Headed for the kitchen, you mumbled almost conspiratorially to Grogu, “Your dad is something else, kid.”

Xxx

As your little clan of three stepped through the door of the hangar, Peli’s voice sending you on your way ringing off of every hard surface behind you, both you and Din shared a look before turning to the kid where he sat in his floating cradle.

“You got that set to stun?” Motioning to Din’s new Amban rifle that sat on his back, attached to a leather strap slung across his chest, you tightened your gloves.

He nodded once in confirmation, his head slowly turning to survey the nearby area.

“What about everything else?”

His visor turned to lock with yours. “All but one. I’m not leaving myself defenseless.”

You let out a snort of laughter. “I think if anyone had to use a word to describe you, ‘defenseless’ wouldn’t be on the list, even if you didn’t have a single weapon.”

“Then remind me the purpose of your job, then, if I don’t need protecting?” You tilted your head at him in annoyance. “I like to be prepared,” he amended, pulling your hand toward his and fixing the clasp on your glove you had been fiddling with. “What did you do to this? It’s like it’s been through a trash compactor.”

You couldn’t help but snort once again. “Not far off. R5 rolled over it a grand total of three times before I could get him to stop moving- hey!” You cried in protest as he yanked the buckle from the fabric with a precise tug, tucking it into the pouch on his belt and tying a simple but effective knot in its place.

“I’ll fix it before we leave. But right now, you need to focus, and you can’t if you have a buckle- if it can even still be called that- flopping around while you're trying to aim.” Cinching the knot tight, he let your hand fall back to your side. “There. Ready to go, ner cabur?” (“My protector.”)

You shook your head at his antics. “Elek, olaror, ner verd'ika.” (“Yes, come, my little soldier.”)

Din scoffed at your teasing tone, following a few paces behind as you both ventured into the market, the kid following alongside you in his cradle. “Mir'sheb.” (“Smartass.”)

“The smartest,” you quipped playfully, looking at the kid with an affectionate tilt of your head as he grinned broadly back up at you.

“Sheb'urcyin,” Din grumbled, making you bark out a laugh. (“Butt-kisser.”)

Looking at him over your shoulder as you continued forward, you spoke over a laugh, your words bouncing with the effort. “Now what about me has ever made you think that?”

“You’re right. Your pure shereshoy blinded me for a minute and I had to look away. I only saw what the sarcasm allowed.” (“Lust for life and much more.”)

You turned to face him, walking backwards, your voice the most sarcastic he had heard it in days. “Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” (“Are you looking for a smack in the face, mate?”)

Din smiled under his helmet, glad to finally be back to the banter the two of you had slipped into since first going on the run days ago. The closer it got to leaving Tatooine, the more business minded and mission oriented you had been, focused on making everything run smoothly for all three of them, and it seemed to come at the cost of some of your lighter moods. Seeing the teasing tilt of your helmet now, the almost literal spring in your step, hearing the lilt in your voice…. The world was spinning the right way again. “Now, now, don’t be stupid, that would be a jare move.” (“Kamikaze - someone taking a fatal, foolish risk.”)

Barking out another laugh, you turned to walk forward again, Din shaking his head fondly once your back was turned. “I’ll show you a jare move,” you grumbled.

Grogu began to coo happily as he looked between the two of you, giggling softly as he looked up at you with a broad grin, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight.

Looking down at him, you huffed out a laugh. “You think that’s funny, ad’ika? You think I’m funny when I threaten your dad?” He giggled again. “That’s kinda copikla, kid.” (“Cute.”)

“Be careful who you jurkadir, burc'ya.” (“Threaten/Mess with.”) (“Friend.”)

You turned to face him, your hands held behind your back in feigned innocence as you leaned toward him to tease, “That works both ways, burc'ya.”

“Sha'kajir?” Din held up his hands in surrender. (“Truce?”)

You thought for a moment before bowing your head in agreement. “Sha'kajir. Oya!” (“Let’s hunt!”)

“Should we split up?” Din stepped up beside you, surveying the sea of market stalls sprawling in front of you.

“Not yet. Let’s move as a unit for now, let everyone see us together. Then, later I’ll take the market while you take the alleys, and if we happen upon him- or anyone else who wants to cause us trouble- they’ll assume the other is nearby and they’ll be distracted looking for someone who isn’t there.”

Nodding, Din followed behind you as you started into the crowd, people watching your little party with weary glances, but they didn’t keep their distance like people on other planets tended to do.

It only took a few minutes before you stopped and turned to Din, your voice low. “I see him. He’s in the cantina.”

Looking to his left, Din saw the man sitting at the bar, surrounded by a group of locals, all guffawing as he told some story. “Too many other people. We’ll tail him.” Reaching up to touch the side of his helmet, he overlaid the map of the alleys behind the building. “I’ll go around the back and wait, make sure he doesn’t get spooked and try to run.”

“What are they even laughing at?” You muttered, staring blatantly into the dingy watering hole. “He’s probably not even that funny.”

“Why do you say that?”

You looked up at him. “Have you seen his face?” Turning back to the bar, you shifted your weight to one side. “He just doesn’t have it.”

Din let out a snort. “They’re probably just doing whatever gets them another drink. Looks like he’s waving his new found wealth around without much worry.”

“Di'kut,” you grumbled, moving to lean your back against the front of the building with a soft groan. (“Idiot.”)

“Kaysh mirsh solus,” Din agreed with a chuckle, stepping into the shade next to you. (“He's an idiot.” (Lit. “His brain cell is lonely.”))

“Go ahead and wait by the back door. I’ll stay here with the kid.”

“And what’s going to keep you out of trouble? You’re not known for being the best at waiting.”

You turned your face to him slowly, ignoring his satisfied shift of weight, the teasing tilt of his helmet as he waited for your response. “Myself,” you grit out, leaning your head back to look down your nose at him.

Turning your attention back across the street, you saw a little nest of scurriers tucked under one of the booths. Tilting your hand until the suns caught the armor on the back of it just right, light reflecting off the raw beskar triangle and bouncing onto the sand near the nest. The creatures lifted their heads, cautiously investigating the light as it danced with every slight movement of your hand, running in circles as you made it go this way and that.

The kid watched with rapt attention, clapping and squealing with delight as the scurriers stumbled over one another in an effort to catch the light.

Turning your visor up to Din proudly, you paused when he tilted his head down to peer what felt like straight into your soul.

“What? Oh, come on! It’s harmless!”

“Ner ver'gebuir, anade.” Din gestured to you with a flourish, bowing at his waist in a mock introduction to no one as he spoke in a low tone. (“My bodyguard, everyone.”)

You pulled your hand back into the shadow of the building to shove him to the side, the scurriers following the light as it streaked across the market, making a cart pulled by a droid slam to a stop to avoid hitting the creatures. All was well until a landspeeder crashed into the back of that cart, then a speeder bike into the back of that.

Smoke curled into the marketplace, causing patrons to begin to vacate, the passengers of the vehicles involved all hopping out and beginning to yell at one another as the scurriers returned to their nest safe and forgotten.

People in all the nearby establishments began to pour into the streets to see what the commotion was, the lane filling with bodies faster than you could process what was happening.

“Kriff,” you mumbled, taking in the scene before adding a hissed, “Osik!” Turning you surveyed the bar, finding no sign of the quarry. (“Shit!”)

“Dank farrik!” Din grumbled, taking a few steps out onto the street and pressing the side of his helmet as he scanned the crowd.

“What are you looking for? Heat signatures will be useless right now. It’s Tatooine, so it’s hot, plus everyone and their bantha is on the street right now-”

“K'uur!” Din snapped, making you pull up abruptly from where you stood, standing at attention. (“Hush!”)

“Me'ven?” You deadpanned, staring right at him. (“Huh?”)

He sighed, still surveying the street. “I need to concentrate. Please. Just five seconds of silence.”

Pushing a button on your vambrace, you closed the cradle to protect the child, but a repetitive knocking from inside made you roll your eyes and pop it back open. Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at the kid, one hip jutting out to the side as you gave him the look.

“Really?” You signed to him in Tusken, shifting your weight to the other side when he giggled in response.

“I think he took the alleys,” Din finally said, turning to face you, and finding the kid giggling as you signed away to him. “Ti,” he grabbed your attention, ignoring the attitude he felt when you tilted your head at him questioningly. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you signed, standing up straight again.

“That’s not nothing, that’s-”

“Uur,” you whispered sarcastically in explanation, leaning toward him as you did. (“Silence.”)

Din huffed in annoyance. “I had his chain code programmed to an old puck Fennec brought me. I rerouted it and sent the signal to my display so I can track him without tipping off the mark, or anyone seeing the fob and getting in the way.”

You stared at him. It was all you could do. Arms still across your chest, you shifted your weight under his gaze. “Is there a way I can get my hands on that, too?” Your voice was small, and you hated it.

He reached out, tapping the side of your helmet twice, and your display filtered through settings before landing on a blinking red dot moving rapidly back behind the buildings to your right.

“I did it last night when you fell asleep while we were putting the rifle together. You left your helmet on a crate next to you. Only took a second, in and out, no problems.”

“I didn’t-”

“You drool.”

Again, all you could do was stare wordlessly, hoping your brain would catch up with something in time to snap back with. And it did. “You snore louder than a kriffing bantha fart.”

Din just held your gaze, neither one of you moving an inch as the child babbled mindlessly, watching the chaos ensue throughout the streets. “Sounds like we’re both a party, then.”

“Bal'ban,” you mused quietly in agreement, huffing out a small laugh. (“Indeed.”)

This was the most Mando’a the two of you had spoken since leaving Mandalore days ago. Slipping into it was effortless, and it helped logistically in the chaotic din left behind by the accident. It was easy to pick out the familiar words above the rest of the noise, allowing both of you to communicate painlessly.

Din chuckled, nodding as he turned to find the bounty again. “He’s moving toward the port. Fennec and Boba said they have the area well guarded, so he won’t get far, but I think it best we split up and head him off before he tries anything stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” you muttered. “Man’s a or'dinii. Stole from the richest man in the city, okay, kinda smart. But that man is also a crime boss who wears beskar, and is probably one of the most lethal people on the planet, present company excluded.” (“Moron.”)

“Comms channel two. Head to the port through the streets, I’ll go through the alleys like we planned.” Din turned to the kid, sighing heavily after a moment.

Narrowing your brows, you followed his gaze and found Grogu letting out soft happy squeals as the cradle spun in circles by some unseen force.

Moving as a unit, both you and Din reached out to grab the sides of the hovering orb, bringing it to a gentle stop, Grogu’s head still moving in a small rotation as the world continued to spin around him.

“At least he can entertain himself. And quietly,” you chuckled, turning your attention from the little green ward back up to Din’s visor.

“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed on a hum, moving his hand from the edge of the cradle to his son to stabilize his still woozy wobbling, tugging down the front of his robe about an inch to check he had the beskar shirt on.

“I put it on him myself, Mando.” Din’s visor turned to you as he let the robe go, smoothing the fabric back in place before withdrawing his hand altogether. “He’ll be safe. I promise. He’s my aliit now, too, remember.” Din nodded once. “You have my word, no harm will come to him.” (“Family/Clan.”)

You couldn’t help but smile. Here was this large, dangerous Mandalorian, and his level of care and concern for arguably the smallest little ward in the galaxy never failed to make you stop and stare. Their meeting went beyond just fate, beyond just chance bringing a protector to a child in need. Something greater was at work here, bringing two lonely, damaged souls together to help pick up one another’s pieces.

They were forged with fire, stronger than any beskar, hardened and tempered against the strongest of tests. And now not even the greatest blacksmith in the galaxy would be able to pry these two apart. But it loved to try. And you’d do everything in your power to keep them from breaking, keep them strong, no matter the cost. Ne shab'rud'mhi. (“Don't mess with us.”)

You smiled broader at the thought of staring fate down in the face, should it ever try to do your family harm. Ne shab'rud'ni. (“Don't mess with me.”)

“Now go.”

Din took a few steps backwards, keeping his eyes on you, then the kid, before turning and disappearing down an alley, the smoke from the accident curling around him.

“You saw everything!” A man walked up to you, covered in black streaks of soot and smoke, probably grease from whichever of the three vehicles involved was his. “I need you to tell the authorities.”

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder in what he probably took for kindness, but you were just tamping out some embers smoldering through his tunic. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have the time. I-”

“I wasn’t asking,” he ground out, grabbing your wrist where your hand still sat on his shoulder, squeezing it much too tightly. He gave it a good jerk toward the wreck, but you pulled back, making him stumble, before turning a glare on you.

Without fuss, you adjusted your grip on him and yanked him to you, stooping down slightly while swinging your arm before straightening back up as he flipped in the air, landing flat on his back at your feet with an oomph.

You looked down at him, unamused, as Grogu peered over the edge of the cradle, cooing gleefully.

“I said,” you leaned just slightly closer to him, tilting your head when he flinched away, “no.”

Lifting your visor back to the streets, you switched your display to the city map, overlaying it with the tracker with a press of a button on your vambrace. Another press opened comm channel two. “You there?”

“What took you so long?” Din sounded relieved as you began to venture through the mess of market stalls toward your target.

“Don’t worry about it. Locals,” you brushed off, turning abruptly to bypass a thick group of pedestrians.

He grunted. “Explain.”

“Someone wanted me to make a statement about the accident,” you sighed, navigating back to the main road. “Didn’t understand the word ‘no’.”

“How did you explain it to them?”

You grinned. “You know me. It was fast and only slightly painful.”

“Ti, you better not have-”

“I didn’t kill him,” you protested loudly, veering to the right. “Why did you jump to that?”

“Have you met you?”

“No. No, I haven’t. How am I? Am I great? I hear I’m amazing.” He let out a soft snort. “Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

Din’s soft chuckle filled your ears before a blaster shot replaced it, making you pull up short.

“Din?” He didn’t answer. “What’s going on?”

“Kriffing Jawas,” he grumbled. “Tried to jump me and take my jet pack.”

You snorted, shaking your head gently as you began moving again. “At least tell me-”

“It was set to stun,” he ground out as if the thought was physically painful to him, making you laugh a bit harder. “I know why you jumped to that.”

“Good, so you’ve met you.” Teasing, you pushed another button and a yellow dot popped up showing Din’s location.

“Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

“That’s what you think,” you mumbled under your breath, smiling again when he hummed in question. “Nothing.” Stopping, you watched the red dot start to head in a totally different direction. “He’s deviating.”

“I see. Looks like he’s doubling back. Headed your way.”

Nodding, you turned and headed back the way you came. “I’ll cut him off at the bar. The accident mess will add enough cover to not draw attention to us.”

“Good idea. Plus, then you can give your statement.”

“Nu draar.” Din chuckled at your response. “I would rather eat a mouthful of this sand.” (“Absolutely not.”)

“That’s commitment.”

“You sound like you speak from experience. You ever gotten a mouthful of Tatooine before?”

“Once or twice. I did kill a krayt dragon not long ago, remember.”

“How can I forget? You tell that story at least once a week if not more.”

Din grumbled.

“At the rate you’re moving, we’ll be at the bar at the same time.”

“How do you…. You’re tracking me?”

Dodging under a cart as it crossed the road in front of you, sliding on the sand in its shadow before hopping back up, you smiled at Grogu’s happy squeal of approval at your side. “You sound surprised. Of course I am. You and the child are my first priority.” Glancing over at the green smiling face at your side, wide eyes taking in the world around him, you moved a bit faster. “You aren’t the only one who did some display modification last night. I ran the upload while I was comforting Grogu after his nightmare.”

“How-”

“I have two hands. He fits in one, I can press buttons with the other-”

Din’s heavy sigh cut you off. “No, how are you tracking me? Chain code?”

“It’s a program I made a few days ago before we even left Mandalore, believe it or not. Chain codes would be too dangerous if anyone got their hands on it, especially for the kid. Too universal of a tracker. This is a regional proximity sensor, condensed to a certain mile radius I can set each time I open it. Right now it’s just three miles, the size of the city from the port to the hangar. It’s following your comm. Specifically the one in your helmet.”

He hesitated. “When did you-”

“I told you. You snore. Loudly.” He said nothing. “You didn’t wake up the entire time I plugged in, uploaded, modified…. You just kept snoring away under that dome, oblivious.” You grinned. “You’re lucky I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“I think that would have woken me up,” he huffed.

“Would it have, though?” The smile grew in the silence. “I’m good at my job, remember.”

“How can I forget? You remind me at least once a week if not more.”

It was your turn to grumble.

The bar was just up ahead, the red dot of the quarry now still behind a few buildings to the right. “He’s stopped. The area behind the accident. Maybe he’s not so stupid after all….”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to admire him.”

“Why? You jealous, Djarin?”

“No,” he answered after a moment. “Just…. Concerned. You called him a moron less than an hour ago.”

“Even morons have their moments,” you said absently, turning in a circle as you searched for a clear way to the target.

That’s when you saw him.

He was leaning up against a wall, arms crossed easily, ankles crossed leisurely as he watched them begin to pull the vehicles apart, a small grin on his face.

“He’s here.”

“What?” Din must have stopped, because his voice no longer shook from the impact of his footfalls. A quick glance showed his yellow dot was indeed stationary. “But the tracker-”

“Is wrong. I’m looking right at him.”

Just then he looked up and held the gaze of your visor for a long moment, realization dawning on his face before he pushed off the wall and turned down the alley, disappearing in the smoke just like Din had.

“Osi'kyr!” You took off running after him, pressing a button on your vambrace to make the cradle go faster, shaking your head when Grogu let out an approving cackle. (“Strong exclamation of surprise or dismay.”)

“Ti?” Din’s voice rang in your helmet, and he was once again in motion, grunting as he dodged around the many obstacles Tatooine always provided. “Which way?”

“South. Turn your display off and back on, it should reset. I don’t have time, I have eyes on him, I’m not losing that.” Jumping over a large crate, you had to vault over an even larger one on the other side, and your feet went out from under you when you landed, making you roll before quickly popping back up and resuming the chase. “The sand tastes like shit, by the way.”

A soft laugh filled your helmet, growing steadily with each second.

“Never give Tatooine an ultimatum. She’ll make sure you eat your words. Literally.”

Smacking your lips in distaste, trying to get rid of as much of the grit as you could without doing anything to your helmet and losing sight of the target, you made a sound of disgust.

“Was that for my joke or the sand?”

You chuckled, licking your lips as you ran faster still. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The cradle kicked up a notch, speeding along beside you, dodging crates and civilians with ease. Grogu screeched with excitement, holding on to the front rim of the orb as his ears flapped behind him in the wind.

“Display is back up. He’s right in front of you.”

“I can see that, thanks.”

He huffed. “You have a dead end coming up. Two turns to the left and one to the right. Corral him there.”

Nodding, you turned sideways to shimmy past two tight walls. “Got it.”

The quarry was desperate, throwing whatever he could get his hands on at you, clothes on lines between buildings, pottery in people’s windows, contents people were carrying.

You’d successfully dodged all of it, the kid too, his cradle swinging left and right as you ducked and rolled out of the way, making him let out little grunts from the impact of each abrupt direction change. Until a white shirt came flying toward the cradle, covering the kid from top to bottom, forming to him like carbonite from the force of the wind behind it. The impact cut his scream of glee short, silence ringing through the alley as your steps slowed just slightly, your attention turning to him, assessing him for injuries. Suddenly giggles started erupting from under the material, growing by the second, and finally the shirt flew off of him by an unseen force, drifting to the ground lazily as it was released. Grogu looked at you with pure joy, babbling something as he gestured toward the man with one clawed hand, the quarry’s steps slowing down as he looked down at the ground with wide eyes.

“Thanks, kid,” you chuckled, speeding back up, the cradle matching your speed as Grogu gripped the edges again, the bounty regaining control of his limbs and charging ahead. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

“Patu!” You grinned at his declaration, his own smile beaming up at you before he began to squeal again as you picked up speed.

The man kept glancing over his shoulder, stumbling when he did, but he’d gain the ground right back when he turned back the right way, making you grunt in frustration.

“You’re almost to the dead end.”

“Kriff! Son of a mudscuffer!” You hissed. “I forgot you were there, Din. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he sounded almost sheepish, before he began again abruptly. “Right! Right! Get him to go right!”

“Hey! Asshole!” The man’s steps stuttered before he leaned into it again. “Whatever you do, don’t you dare go right!”

He hesitated, slowing just slightly, and you matched him, wanting to give him the illusion of control. Finally he came to a stop, turning to face you, a skeptical eyebrow raised as he asked, “Why?”

You grinned under your helmet, trying to control the glee in your voice that he was falling for the trap. Stopping a few yards away from him, you slouched slightly, feigning catching your breath. “Because I can’t follow you there. My nav stops at this point and I’d be going in blind. Help a girl out, huh?” You held your hands out to the side, showing you didn’t have a weapon drawn. Grogu cooed questioningly as he tilted his head at the man.

“Well, in that case, I think that’s exactly where I’ll go.” He grinned.

“No,” you cried out, trying to sound convincing, and starting to head his way again, stumbling slightly for dramatic effect with a hand reached toward him as if it would do any good.

When he disappeared down the dark alley, you dropped all pretenses. “Or'dinii,” you muttered under your breath, watching after him. “Headed for the dead end, Din.” No answer. “Din?” Looking around, you saw his yellow dot stalled nearby, his comm crackling through. (“Fool.”)

A growled, “Jawas,” was all you heard, before some grunting, the comm crackling in and out, then the telltale “Utinni!” made you roll your eyes before you headed into the darkness after the mark.

“So long as I don’t hear the….” A distinct shot echoed in a nearby alley, making you lift your hand to cradle your face, shaking your head. “….Amban rifle.”

You walked up slowly, casually, enjoying the sight of the quarry staring up at the dead end, frantically trying to find a way up and over the massive wall. One hand resting on your hip as it juts to the side easily, you watched for a moment in amusement before clearing your throat.

The mark went stiff before turning to face you, glowering fiercely. “Couldn’t come this far, huh?”

“To be fair,” you began, gesturing needlessly with your free hand as you spoke, “I did tell you not to come over here.”

He huffed an unamused laugh as he looked off to the side, ignoring the sound of a shrieking Jawa somewhere a few buildings over.

Din’s yellow dot still blinked steadily despite the broken connection, and it seemed he was finally making his way over to you. You just had to stall.

“I’m assuming this is because I stole the credits?”

“That would be correct.”

“How much is my bounty?”

You tilted your head at him in amusement. “More than you took.”

“Okay, look lady,” he was starting to get desperate. “If you let me go, I’ll give you what I have left, plus interest!”

“Interest?”

“I didn’t just steal from Fett! I’ve been making my way across all the crime families of Tatooine. I’ve got a mountain of credits back at my place, stashed under the floorboards.”

“Gar cuyi or’dinii,” you whispered under your breath, but he heard you. He must have thought it was an exclamation of joy or disbelief at the information, though, because he simply smiled smugly, nodding as he offered a quiet, “It’s true.” (“You’re a moron.”)

And, well, you couldn’t really disagree.

“Where is this place?” You asked instead, jutting your chin toward him as he began to smirk.

“Right beside the bar across the street from where you first found me. There’s enough there for you to buy anything you want. New armor….” Din’s yellow dot was coming in fast. “A new ship….” He was almost here. “A friend for your, er,” he eyed Grogu, the child narrowing his eyes at him, unamused, “pet….” He finally decided on, earning a grunt from the kid.

“He’s not a pet,” you corrected calmly, taking a step closer to the man, and his smug demeanor all but crumbled instantly.

“I’m not scared of you!”

“I’m not the one you need to be worried about,” you replied simply with a shrug. Tilting your head back and to the right, you smiled under the beskar. “It’s his kid.”

The bounty barely had time to register your words, mumbling, “Kid? What is that thing?” before Din’s armor clad fist was slamming into his face with a clang.

As the engine of his jet pack powered down, Din took a few extra steps from the momentum before stopping, breathing heavily like he had just got out of a fight for his life. “We don’t know,” he said decidedly to the unconscious man. “But he’s my son.”

“Utreekov,” you muttered, nudging the man with the toe of your boot. (“Idiot.”)

Slapping binders on the quarry, Din slung the man over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Kriffing Jawas,” he seethed, shaking his head before taking off again with his jet pack.

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have one of those, why?!”

Din just laughed softly, the sound buzzing around the inside of your helmet.

Looking up as he disappeared over the buildings, his cape flapped dangerously close to the flames. “You’re just a fire hazard!”

Xxx

Boba and Fennec were there to meet you once you returned to the hangar.

Peli was blushing at something the older man was saying, waving him off with a quick laugh as she turned to see your clan of three come through the door.

“Oh, thank the Force, you’re all alive!”

“You thought we wouldn’t be?”

“With you I never know.” She leveled you with a look.

Din let the man flop to the floor unceremoniously, leaving him in the heap he landed in. “Here’s your thief.”

“That’s him alright,” Boba sighed, turning the bounty onto his back with a shove to his shoulder from his boot. “Thank you.” His eyes flicked between you and Din. “I heard about an accident by the cantina. That didn’t happen to be either of you, by chance?”

Din shook his head wordlessly while you copied him a few seconds later, adding, “No. Saw it happen, though. They swerved to avoid some wildlife.”

Boba nodded, looking between you both for a long moment. “Okay, then.” He began to turn away, but you stopped him.

“Wait.” He paused, looking at you with a curious tilt of his head. “The quarry spoke to me at the end, tried to bribe me. I think you might be interested in what he had to say.”

Boba gestured for you to continue with a bob of his head. “Go on.”

“He said he’s been making his way through the crime families of Tatooine. Offered to give me what was left of your credits plus interest.” You explained the rest about his house and stash, their faces a mix between frustration and surprise the further along you got. “He seemed to be telling the truth, but I wanted to know what you both thought before moving on it.”

They exchanged loaded glances before asking you to go look into it. “Take Fennec, she’ll get you out of any locals asking too many questions. We’re from Mos Espa, but they know us here, too. Mando, I’ll help you get this one,” Boba shoved the man’s shoulder with the tip of his boot, earning a groan from his still unconscious state, “to my cells.”

“I’ll watch the kid,” Peli offered softly, pulling the cradle to her as Grogu snored gently.

Nodding, you turned and followed Fennec out the front door of the hangar.

Xxx

Knocking on the door of the house, just as a precaution, you slammed your shoulder into it when nobody answered, busting it open. It was sparsely furnished, the only real defining thing a giant rug over the middle of the floor. Letting out a huff of laughter, you shook your head as you knelt down, flipping the corner back as you scanned the bare floor with your display, looking for a varying heat signature. Finding it near the middle of the rug after you pushed more of it to the side, you pried a board up, slipping the rest out easily and handing them to Fennec to set to the side. Pulling back once they were all removed, you let out a low whistle.

Sure enough, under the floorboards there was a pile of credits, almost tall enough for you to stick your arm in up to your shoulder, and wide enough it’d take two containers to get it out. The ground underneath had been dug out, leaving behind a hole filled nearly to the brim.

“He’s been a busy little thief, hasn’t he,” Fennec mused quietly as she stared at the glinting pile of credits with wide eyes.

“Too bad he wasn’t also a smart one.”

Turning your visor her way, you met Fennec’s gaze in silence, holding it for a moment before you both broke down in snorts of laughter, warm chuckles filling the night air.

She sat back on her haunches, grunting as she settled in. “You know, I’ll admit, I was a little leery at the beginning. I’ve worked with Mando before, I didn’t really know why we needed you, too.”

Turning your visor back to the pile of credits, she was quick to continue.

“But,” she said pointedly, “Boba was quick to help me see the error of my ways.” Smiling fondly, she waited until you turned your gaze back her way before saying anything more. “You two work well together.”

“He’s easy to work with,” you countered with a shrug.

“No he’s not,” she said with a snort, making you shake your head as you chuckled. “But he’s a good man. A good leader. And he loves that little foundling with a love that’s dangerous for anyone willing to get between them.”

“I would never do that,” you said quietly. “They belong together.”

“I’m not saying you would, but you’re quickly becoming someone he shares that same type of devotion for.” She reached out and took the mudhorn pendant around your neck between her thumb and index finger, a smile beginning up her face, her voice softening to something almost friendly. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

Taking the mudhorn between your own fingers as you looked at it, you grinned. “Just a few days ago he couldn’t stand me, believe it or not.”

“Not,” Fennec huffed on a laugh, turning to look at you after another moment of silence. “I’ve known Mando for a while now, and he’s just…. like that. It’s hard for him to show his emotions sometimes. Boba, too. The way they grew up…. Well, I don’t have to tell you. I’m assuming you probably had the same type of childhood.”

Hesitating, you finally nodded briefly, looking down to your hands in your lap where you sat on the floor beside her.

“They don’t trust easily, they love fiercely, and they don’t do anything halfway. It’s all they’ve known. If you’re lucky enough to be welcomed into their circle,” she tugged the pendant lightly, “into their family,” she sat back as she continued, “there’s something special they see in you, something worthwhile, and you just need to keep being yourself to live up to that everyday.”

When you lifted your visor back up to meet her eyes, she smiled kindly.

“So, like I said, not. He was probably just watching and waiting for the right time.”

“Grogu is my little shadow. I think he was just relieved someone bought him five minutes alone.”

She threw her head back and laughed, her hand lightly gripping your upper arm. When her gaze landed back on you, a mischievous smirk took over her features. “I could be wrong. Maybe he was just waiting to ask you to be a babysitter full time,” you snickered, “but I’m thinking that signet tells a different story.”

Fennec reached into her pocket for her comm, mumbling something about needing to call Boba, but you held up your hand to stop her. “I have a secure connection straight to the comm in Mando’s helmet. Guaranteed private, and he’s with Boba. Let me call him and relay the information.”

She nodded, tucking her comm back into her belt.

Pressing the side of your helmet, you waited until you heard it connect. “Mando?”

“Ti? Everything alright?”

Pressing a button on your vambrace to project the conversation through your modulator so Fennec could hear, too, you nodded. “Yeah, we’re fine. We found the credits. What should we do now?”

“Hold on, I’ll ask him.” Silence filled the room before he came back. “How much is there?”

“Enough to fund your life on the run for over a decade, comfortably,” Fennec said dryly, her eyes darting across the pile of credits as she did some quick math. “Very comfortably.”

Silence again filled the line as you assumed he was relaying the amount to Boba in a much more concise manner. Finally his voice crackled back over the line. “He said he’ll send the Mods to come pick it up. Wait for them then leave and go back to the hangar when they get there.”

“They don’t need protection?” You had no idea who they were, but this was a lot of money to just let someone move without any sort of backup.

Fennec grinned. “They can take care of themselves.”

Xxx

The Mods dropped it off at the hangar a few hours later and left, leaving the five of you standing around the two containers, staring in silence at the mass of credits just sitting there.

Peli let out a low whistle like you had when you’d found the stash.

“How does someone steal this much and not get noticed?” Din’s voice was thick with disbelief.

“Little by little,” you answered, looking up at him when you felt his visor turn to you.

Looking at him for the first time today without your own visor in the way, you scanned over his armor, noticing a few scorch marks, and some scuff marks near his jet pack.

You smiled. “Those Jawas really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Reaching out, you tried to rub one of the scuffs away with your glove, digging your thumb into his beskar.

Reaching up, he grabbed your wrist gently, turning it toward him with a soft grunt. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled, untying the knot he’d tied to keep your glove on earlier. He pulled something out of the pouch on his belt and began attaching it. “Fixed this for you.” When he let his hands fall to his sides after he finished, you saw it was the buckle he’d torn off this morning. “Don’t let R5 get this one,” he joked.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking up at him with a smile as he nodded at you before he turned back to the pile of credits. Your eyes darted across the containers in front of you to find Fennec already looking at you, a sly smirk already firmly on her face.

“Told ya,” she said lightly.

“What?” Boba asked, looking across his shoulder at her.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Nothing. I was just saying,” she gestured to the credits, her gaze falling back to them before lifting to yours. “I told ya it’s a lot.”

Boba nodded, turning back to the credits, not noticing the look Fennec gave you, eyebrows raised. “I’ve not heard anything about this money going missing from the other families. It could be they are just keeping it quiet, in which case, letting them know you know is just adding another enemy to your list.”

Din looked between the older man and Fennec. “So what do we do?”

Shrugging, Boba looked at him as if the answer were obvious. “Keep it.”

As he took a few steps back, Din shook his head, lifting his hands to begin gesturing as he spoke. “No. Absolutely not. We don’t need this much.”

Shrugging yet again, Boba sighed, arms crossing over his chest as he stared at the pile of credits like it was a problematic hyperdrive instead of the not so small fortune it was. “Fine.” He let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll take back what was stolen from me.”

Din took the few steps back toward the pile he’d pulled away. “That still is beyond too much.”

Turning to your friend who had been silent this whole exchange, you began speaking before either of the other Mandalorians could start in again. “Peli?” Her head snapped up to look at you, eyes wide. Separating a small stack of credits from the pile, you pushed them her way with the toe of your boot. “Would this cover your hangar fees for say, a year?”

Eyes wide, Peli gulped as she stared at the smaller pile, her gaze darting back up to yours as she nodded emphatically. “And then some.”

“Good.” Breaking off another pile just a bit larger, you added it to the first, Peli’s eyes going comically larger still. “Consider this payment for babysitting up till now, and keeping you on retainer for whenever we need to stop by, storing the N1, and watching Grogu.”

Peli stammered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she stared at the small mountain of credits at her feet. Her eyes lifted to meet yours before they shot to Din, then the child sleeping soundly in her arms before landing back on the credits, nodding rapidly again. “As far as I’m concerned, this makes us square.” She studied the pile for a moment, before adding softly, “For life.”

Din pulled his hand down the front of his helmet, letting out a sigh of exasperation “That still leaves quite a bit.”

You shrugged like Boba had, making the man chuckle. “Running isn’t cheap.”

With a heavy sigh, Din finally nodded, his hands resting on his hips, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the pile. “We still use it sparingly.”

You nodded. “Agreed.” He turned to look at you one more time. “We have to save some for the foundlings.”

“The foundlings are the future,” Din said quietly in agreement. “This is the way.”

All five of you turned away from the credits for the first time since they arrived, looking at Grogu where he slept in the cradle Peli had just set him in.

“This is the way.” The smile on your face that only came in the presence of the child wasn’t going anywhere. “The future is in amazing hands, then.”

“The best,” Din concurred.

Xxx

“Drop by anytime!” Peli called after Boba and Fennec, waving at them as they walked down the street after leaving the hangar. “Just remember to use the door next time. Maybe?” She flicked her wrist in front of her. “Bah. They heard me.”

Laughing softly, you gestured Grogu’s cradle up the ramp of the Crest, walking alongside it until you got to the bunk. Turning to lift him up, you set him in his hammock before gesturing the now empty cradle over to the corner.

Closing the door to the bunk, you turned to find Din just coming up the top of the ramp.

“He’s down.” You stretched, hands on your back as you let out a loud yawn. “And honestly I’m not that far behind him.” You smiled at the sound of Din’s chuckle. “Did the credits get stored?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re right there, below the bunks. It’s a false bottom.”

“Sounds good,” you yawned again. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed-”

“Wait,” he stopped you, making you turn back to face him from the small bit you’d already turned away. “I have something for you.”

He made his way over to another crate along the wall, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in the tarp you’d used to cover the pieces of the Amban rifle.

“While Boba was looking at the Crest yesterday, I asked him if he could help me get my hands on this for you. It needs a good cleaning, like everything else on this planet, but it’s in good shape, all the same.”

He pulled the material away from the object, and your breath caught in your chest.

A raw beskar jet pack, like his own.

“How-”

“They didn’t know what they had.” Repeating your words about the Amban rifle as he looked at the jet pack for a long moment, he tightened his grip on it, his leather gloves creaking in protest. Lifting his gaze to yours, he held it as he gently set the gift in your hands. “But I do.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you. He wasn’t talking about the jet pack anymore, at least not just about that. It was as close to a complement as he was going to get, and that made a smirk start to twist up the side of your face.

Reaching behind you to attach the jet pack, Din reached out and pulled your cape gently to the side out of your way, releasing it when it sealed with a whirr.

“How fortunate for me, then.” Your voice was soft, much softer than you intended, but it fit.

Everything about this moment seemed fragile, precarious. But at the same time, something about it also seemed forged of steel, tempered and holding steady in the strongest of tests.

“Indeed.” He was smiling, you could tell.

It had only been days of truly spending time with him, but something about Din just clicked. You could read one another under the beskar or from across the city over a comm. Never had you felt so in tune with another being, and it felt like something special.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

It was unexpected, but you found yourself wrapping him in a quick embrace, arms around his neck as you pulled him close. He went stiff at first, but soon melted into the touch, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you impossibly closer still. Tightening your grip around him, you mumbled another thank you into his neck, the fabric of his flight suit rough against your skin as you pressed even closer, sighing into the warmth that was him.

This was different. This was new. It was exciting. But also terrifying.

Your feelings seemed to have gone rogue, pulling you into him without your permission, and keeping you there. But then again, his seemed to be doing the same, if the way his hands were spreading across the expanse of your back below the jet pack was any indication. It was drawing you both in, and holding you tight, not giving an inch.

Growing up in a society that kept a barrier between you and everyone else, it was just inherent to keep your distance. And you didn’t realize until right now, faced with what you’d been blatantly denied, that you realized just how much you needed it. Like the jet pack, it finally made you feel complete, the missing pieces falling into place to paint a beautiful picture of what could be if you just…. Let it.

Pulling back to look up into his visor, you smiled, hands falling to rest on his arms. “No, really. Thank you.” You gave him a gentle squeeze. “For everything.”

“I’d say you’re welcome, but since it’s your job to keep me alive, let’s just call it even.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “I’m good at my job.”

He chuckled softly. “And that’s the second time today you’ve said that.”

“And counting.” You grinned up at him, rolling your eyes when he groaned. Taking a few steps back, you headed for the ramp of the Crest. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a jet pack to clean up.” You paused after a few steps, your eyes narrowing at him curiously. “Wait. You said you asked him for this before we even agreed to help them?”

Din nodded. “I know it’s something you’ve wanted. The Armorer mentioned as much right before everything happened, something about I needed to sign off on something…. I don’t know, to be honest, I hardly listened sometimes. It was all a bit….”

“Much?” You offered.

He sighed. “Yeah. Too much. One of the only things that helped make it easier was you, actually.”

You scoffed. “I thought for sure you hated me.”

He let out a huff. “Oh, I thought I did.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Believe me. I tried to convince myself I loathed you. But truthfully? We’re just too much alike, that I was frustrated that you were doing so well at your job and thinking of things before me.”

Grinning, you looked down at your feet before lifting your gaze back up to his visor. “What were the other things? You said that was ‘one of the only’….”

Din sighed, his hands resting on his belt as his weight shifted to one side. “Time with Grogu.”

“Of course,” you said, because obviously.

“And target practice.” You grimaced. “What?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, boss, but…. Right before everything happened, I may have beaten your high score at the range.”

He was silent, his hands moving from his belt to rest on his hips as he stood up straight, visor leveled on you. “You what?”

You began backing up slowly, holding up a finger and lightly waving it at him. “I’m good at what I do, remember?”

“That’s three.”

“No, that’s technically different.” Your feet hit the sand at the bottom of the ramp. Pointing over toward Peli’s shop, you began moving that way. “I’m gonna go get started.”

Din began down the ramp, his tone dry and amused. “Are you going to paint it? I can go get some tomorrow.”

Looking at him over your shoulder, you shook your head, scrunching your face up at the thought. “Nah. I think the raw beskar looks best. Plus it matches yours.”

Din shifted his weight to one side. “You want ours to look the same?”

You shrugged. “I like people knowing who I belong to.” Turning back to face the workshop, you went on. “Let’s make clan mudhorn…. What was the word Boba used for the ship? Ah! Sparkle.” You chuckled. “Shiny big ship, shiny tiny ship, shiny big Mando, shiny smaller Mando…. You see the theme?” Looking back over your shoulder, the smirk slid off your face when you didn’t see Din anywhere in the hangar. “Great. I’m talking to myself.”

With a sigh, you turned back toward the work area, only to run straight into a wall of beskar. “Dank farrik, Din!”

“If you belong to clan mudhorn, you’re not going to be sparkling.” Din unfastened your jet pack. “You’ll be dral.” He set it to the side. “Dralshy'a - ori'shya ka'ra.” (“Glowing.”) (“Brighter - more than stars.”)

You grinned. “Ni emuurir gar jate'shya.” (“I like yours better.”)

Xxx

Tags: @lam-ila, @oliviajdjarin, @peonyophelia, @what-the-heckin-heck, @Itsavicf, @just-shut-up-kid, @noodlesavailable, @mildlyhopeless, @multifandomsw, @professionalfangrrl, @tizylish, @whoodattt, @heyitsaloy, @djarinsimp, @athenasproverbs, @aliens-apricot, @snow30285, @jallen0126, @jxvipike, @kodzuvk, @untitledarea, @crazyworldofsiani, @adora-but-ginger, @momc95 What’s This?

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h50europe · 4 years ago

Text

Why the myth about Steve's PTSD doesn't add up and other inconsistencies

In the last few episodes of H50, PL tried to sell us a mentally broken Steve suffering from PTSD. Only the whole thing came a bit too late. The clip you see is from season 4 and ended up - no, not in the series - but somewhere on the floor of PL's editing room. And why? after Kurtzman and Orci departed, along with their writers, PL took the helm and started turning Steve into a super-soldier. He stylized him into something that wasn't meant to be. Instead of developing the characters, PL began to incorporate more and more hair-raising action sequences into the series and then let Steve fight on the front lines. There was no mention of Steve's mental state, and a lot was explained by PL with: it just happened "offscreen." Yeah, sure. PL can't create a decent character. He can only produce stereotypes and one-dimensional beings. Like Adam. What potential would that character have had had he been turned into Five-0's antagonist? But no. So his role remained diffuse and monotonous. Sometimes even tragicomical.

Back to Steve. When SEAL Team started on CBS, PL also lapsed into SEAL mania. If someone who writes fanfiction were to produce as much garbage as this man did, he would be chased away from every writers' platform in disgrace. PL's Super SEAL also had to rescue his team members from a blazing inferno. Not man by man, no, he flew a helicopter right into the danger zone and lifted a whole cabin out of the burning jungle. If lunacy had a name, it would be PL. While the action became more and more exaggerated and unrealistic, the same happened to the protagonists. After the departure of Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park, PL completely lost his mind. And please, don't blame the writers for the nonsense that was thrown at you. A series stands and falls with the showrunner. He dictates what he wants and passes it on to his staff.

And so, lovable Steve became a soulless robot who only showed feelings here and there. Danny diminished more and more into a sidekick. McDanno became a ship that drifted anchorless through a stormy sea and threatened to capsize again and again. From season 8, it became a reboot of the reboot. PL tried an ensemble show and failed more than miserably. Often the actors just stood around bored. At least that was the impression. The only highlight was episode 8.10. A feast for all McDanno fans. But even here, the outcome of "who shot Danny" was more than insubstantial.

Wait, there was something about SEALs... Oh, yes. Junior appeared on the scene and became Steve's lapdog. I really wondered when there was going to be an episode where he would fetch sticks for Steve. Luckily we had Eddie for that. And because he thought he was so clever, PL invented the episode speed dating. How many subplots can you squeeze into one episode at the same time? In some episodes, you couldn't even take a look at the bag of potato chips without losing the thread.

The case of the week became the yawn of the week. There were so many loose ends that PL then came up with something called retconning. That's what you do when you're no longer satisfied with what was once established in the series years ago, or it no longer fits. But PL went one step further and did the same with the characters. The more the series was dragged out, the more the characters deteriorated and became OOC. It means, often, they were not recognizable at all. And that's where we come to Steve. Because PL, in his desperation, didn't know what else he could do to Steve, and so he killed Joe White. He did it in such a cheesy way with a fake sunset that it made you sick.

Of course, one episode later, there had to be another gig of PL's favorite Barbie. He stuck a fake beard on poor Steve/Alex, so he couldn't even hug Danny/Scott properly. The episode also raised more questions than it answered any. And Steve? He still didn't suffer from PTSD, even though he had now lost Joe White and a fellow SEAL. Everyone is dropping like flies, except for Steve, who is standing like a rock. No matter what. He doesn't need in-depth talks with Danny, nor psychological care, nor any sleeping pills. No, he's doing great. He also opens a restaurant with Danny because apparently, the carguments are already getting on PL's nerves. Unfortunately, this plot device leads into nirvana. The idea was nice, but nobody thought it through to the end. And the merry-go-round continues. Until we get to season 10, where it gets even more absurd. Now PL is almost bombarding us with McDanno episodes, or at least it should seem that way. Oh well, he's already planning for season 11, so a new character has to come on board quickly. While in the beginning, Steve's mother, Doris, dies.

Alex was allowed to take on the subject. Of course, only under the strict eyes of PL. He then nullifies Alex's idea that Steve kills his mother. Because a good soldier and Super SEAL won't do that. Little does PL know. THAT could have been the opening of a PTSD scenario for Steve. However, apart from that, this episode would have had any potential for a multi-arc. Just imagine Steve chasing his mother across multiple episodes. Again, PL stepped in and butchered Alex's episode. You can really feel sorry for the guy. PL at his best or worse? He just can't help it. And then, on the very last meters of the series, he brings someone new, who is allowed to cruise around with Steve most of the time. Because Danny was kidnapped by Wo Fat's widow, PL also invented quite late to have some villain at his disposal. This wannabe mastermind must really have been living under a rock somewhere if she wasn't even mentioned by her husband or appeared earlier.

Because towards the end, PL obviously ran out not only of steam but also of ideas, everything culminated in a wildly illogical scenario. Steve has to live through a dramatic day with Eddie, who stands as a metaphor for Steve (as I said, PTSD was never a thing for Super SEAL), Danny bangs his brains out in a ladies' room with a complete stranger, who dies shortly after that in an accident with Danny's rental car. Apparently, there was no budget to turn the Camaro into scrap metal. Danny then also goes home alone, ignoring the incoming emergency vehicles. Everything remains open at the end of the episode. While Steve expresses his gratitude to Tani and Quinn and says, he would be just as lost as poor Eddie without the dog and all of them. The strange thing is that you never notice anything until that sentence. A few forced dialogues are supposed to make the drama visible, but they all happen way too late or are so poorly written that you miss them.

PL had decided early on to make Steve a Teflon hero. That also means he didn't need to put much substance into the character. Which you can clearly see if you compare the first three seasons to the rest of the series. But towards the end, PL wanted to turn the tide and forcefully rewrote Steve's past. There is a huge difference if you compare Steve from seasons 1 to 3 with Steve from season 10. It is only a sparse remnant of what made this character so great. This change in Steve's personality also affects his relationship with Danny. The witty, affectionate banter degenerates into a snappy, humorless bitch-fest that takes all the joy out of it.

The final two episodes could have been written for any other crime show. As mentioned, we have Cole, who even gets a book'em Cole from Steve, which can only be described as out of line. And it begs the question, was that what Lenkov originally had in mind? Danny out of the show and Cole in? Was the last episode, which mainly featured McCole, something of a test run? Did all the McDanno moments happen only to tear the two apart eventually? Was the real final scene the one where Steve and Catherine take Danny's coffin back to Jersey? Was Danny not supposed to survive? Was that the real reason Steve wanted to get out of Hawaii because he wanted to pay his respects to Danny? And would he really have returned to Hawaii later? Or would he have turned his back on Hawaii? To me, this ending is more plausible than what PL served us. Then, Steve handed over his credentials to Cole instead of Danny, his second in command. Honestly, you can't make the end of a series any more sloppy and dumber than that. And I won't even lose a word about the last 1:30 minutes because I think everything has already been said.

No PL, mission absolutely not accomplished. You created Teflon-Steve. You never wanted him to show any weakness. You turned him into a superhuman who can survive anything. Only to pull the rug out from under him on the last few meters to the finish line and spit on his legacy. How can you dismantle such a great series and its characters like you did? How much do you have to hate something to do that? In the final interviews, the showrunner didn't exactly cover himself in glory either. Everyone who grew up with the series from day one knows that its end was wrong on all the possible levels and that the showrunner is solely to blame for that. It takes a fair amount of egoism and carelessness to drive 10 years at full throttle against the wall. Not many people can do that. Whether you can be proud of that, however, I doubt.

My respect if you have made it this far. Each of you gets 10 extra brownie points for it.

#McDanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #scott caan #alex o'loughlin #H50 the final chapter #H50 series finale #Lenkov #Eddie #Junior #seal team

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clairenatural · 4 years ago

Note

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

#destiel #deancas #punk!cas #nerd!dean #i didnt know how to end this lmao sorry!!!!#(also ik this isn't quite as punk as the typical punk!cas im sorry sadhakdsh)#but wow i love these two now #this took me back its been a WHILE since i read/wrote some good punk/nerd #thank u anon #they live in my brain now #my words #follower fics #alcohol mention

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eveningstar1516 · 4 years ago

Text

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 7

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

As he walked through the halls towards his next class, he made a vow to himself to try and feel that unfamiliar emotion until he could name it, then keep feeling it, because, for Satan, it felt like Y/N was right next to them, with their signature smile on their face, proud of him for focusing on a feeling opposite of his wrath. Should he start to feel his wrath taking over, he would picture Y/N, holding his hand, encouraging him to feel that unfamiliar emotion. One he soon learned was called ‘Philia Love’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 7 - Virtue of Loyalty (4265 words)

Our trip to the palace was a quiet one. Michael didn’t seem to want anything to do with me since he flew quite fast and left me behind multiple times as I'd never flown before and flying was extremely difficult. No one offered any assistance so I tucked my wings away, which I managed to figure out how to do after I accidentally did so mid flight, and ran under him. Looking straight ahead after confirming that I was keeping pace with Michael, I spotted the Celestial Palace. My jaw dropped in awe as I ran. The thing was massive! At least 2.5 times the size of Diavolo’s castle and even more decorative. The white walls were adorned with varying shades of golden accents making the palace seem larger than it really was. As I got closer, I learned that it was sitting in the middle of a massive garden that was overflowing with different kinds of celestial plants and trees. Although both the palace and garden seemed to be overflowing with decorations, everything still fit perfectly and was quite pleasing to the eyes.

Approaching the marble steps of the palace as Michael landed in front of me, greeting some gardeners as they stopped and bowed their heads to him. Signalling for them to resume their work, he continued up the steps motioning for me to follow. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I followed him looking as unfazed as possible. Upon entering I found that the outside of the palace does no justice to the massive interior. Abandoning plan to remain as neutral and unfazed as possible, I gazed in absolute awe at the decor, my mouth opening slightly. There were no lighting fixtures as massive windows lined the wall letting in more than enough sunlight through. A massive chandelier was located in the center of the room with golden and silver chains decorating it. The marbled floor also had silver and gold accents as a beautiful floral pattern was outlined. Hearing a chuckle behind me, I turned to see Michael looking at me with a smug smile on his face.

“Well how can you not expect me to be amazed by all this?!” I countered while spinning and gesturing around the room.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your smug smile said it all Mike” I flashed him a wicked smirk of my own as I called him by the nickname. His face darkened significantly as his tone dropped to what would have been a dangerous level had I not have spent my life with demons. It just didn’t have the same undertones as Devilish.

“Watch yourself child”

Giving him an exaggerated mock bow I responded.

“My humble apologies Sir Michael. I will be sure not to repeat the same error in the future.”

“Very funny.” He scoffed and walked off. I got up and followed him through the palace until we stopped between two massive golden doors to what I assumed to be the throne room. Michael addressed himself and stated that he brought me with him. 2 angels donning Celestial armour opened the doors. Michael walked in with his head slightly bowed and his gaze lowered. I walked looking straight ahead as I subtly took the room in. It wasn’t as big as I expected it to be. A golden carpet leading from the door to the throne was the most extravagant thing in the room. In contrast to the rest of the palace, the throne room was quite modest. Even the throne wasn’t extravagant, built for comfort instead of elegance. God himself looked to be a 6’8 man in his late fifties with chestnut coloured hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a simple white robe with gold accents. His eyes, a light blue colour, were emitting a slight white glow as we approached. Michael stopped a short distance from the throne and kneeled.

“Father, I have brought Y/N on your orders.”

“Thank you my son.” He turned to look at me.

“Y/N, you have caused quite the commotion in the 3 realms.”

I kept my tone playful as a polite smile made itself home on my face as I spoke with God.

“What can I say Father, trouble likes to follow me, wherever I may be.”

“That may be my child, although I am quite confused as to how you ended up here especially as a seraph. In case you didn’t know, that position must be earned here in heaven, so please explain to me, why I shouldn’t forsake you and have you fall to the Devildom?” He raised his right eyebrow and relaxed into his throne as he asked his question.

“Oh make no mistake, I didn’t want to come here in the first place, had I actually had a choice, I would have gone to the Devildom where I belong. Unfortunately, circumstances never seem to be on my side.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you came to be here, in that attire nonetheless.”

“Does it upset you that I come donning Lucifer's clothing and wings? I assure you, I didn’t have a say in my appearance. I am only staying here as long as necessary after all. I still wish to fall and return to my family.”

“Tell me child, how is it that a human finds comfort in the likes of demons rather than angels?”

“Whoever said I didn’t find comfort in angels? I find Simeon and Luke to be quite comforting whenever I get stressed with this whole 3 realms stuff. I just find the darkness of the Devildom more appealing as you and I both know what lurks underneath this “bright” soul of mine.”

“And yet you came here to me, why?”

“I presume you know the details regarding my untimely end?”

“Yes I am, although you weren’t due to perish yet, I do not dictate the souls within the Devildom realm. What of it?”

“I sacrificed myself for the brothers whom I have grown to call family so that they may continue to live despite being ruled by a tyrant whom you rivel for the title of “Devil””

“Watch what you say child! You are still addressing Father and not some random person off the street!” Ignoring Michael, I continued.

“I do not wish to return to the Devildom while it is ruled by King Abandon.”

“Child, I am aware of your relationship to the brothers as well as your loyalty to those you call family. I am also aware of the feelings you have for my eldest son. I ask you, has anyone told you about his duties while he was serving me?”

“Yes, Simeon and his brothers would speak about his time here as the leader of the council. Lucifer himself preferred not to talk about it but he answered my questions whenever I asked. I have also learned his work habits and often aided him whenever an overflow of work had come in due on a short notice.” God seemed to contemplate something. With a thoughtful look on his face, he addressed me.

“I have a proposition for you. You wish to fall and reunite with your family in the Devildom. I do not wish to have you up here, although you do not want to serve King Abandon.”

“That is correct.”

“I will grant your wish on one condition. I will allow you to return to the Devildom after Abandon’s reign is over, on the condition that you take Samael’s position on the council. You are to take over his responsibilities without attempting to sabotage the realm or abuse your power. Should you not be able to meet my expectations, or should you abuse your position, I will cast you out regardless of who is currently ruling the Devildom.”

Michael, who had stayed silent while his Father was speaking, was shocked by God's proposition.

“Father, are you sure this is the right way to go? Y/N doesn’t even belong here. Are you sure trusting them with Samael’s old position is a good idea?”

“Do you disagree with my judgment Michael? Do you believe me incapable of determining Y/N’s fate in my realm?”

Michaels face visibly paled as he realized the implications of his words. Bowing his head in mortification he answered his Father.

“‘O-of course not Father! I just don’t think that Y/N is qualified or ready to lead the council. They are unaware of how the Celestial realm operates and doesn’t have the experience that Samael possessed.”

Scratching his chin, God thought about Michael's words.

“You’re right Michael, you and the rest of the council as well as Simeon and Luke shall serve as their guide during their time here. You are to teach them how we operate and train them as to how to properly fulfill Samael’s role. You are to step down as the leader of the council once they have learned how to fill in the role themselves.”

Not being able to object to his Father's words, Michael agreed, although he tried to hide it, you could see how he clenched his teeth, obviously disapproving the entire idea and his new role as your babysitter.

“How about it Y/N, will you accept my proposal?”

“I have a few conditions of my own I’d like to add. I will accept on the condition that I return as soon as Diavolo is crowned king, no later and that other than the obvious changes that come with falling, no other changes will be made to me. I will follow your rules while I am up here and will serve you as long as it doesn’t result in any harm coming to the Devildom or Earth and their inhabitants. I will fulfill my role as Lucifer’s replacement during my time here, no more, no less.”

“Of course, that goes without saying. I will also add that you are to have no contact with any being outside my realm during your time here. We wouldn’t want anyone coming up here to retrieve you before our deal has ended now would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t. I accept your proposal to be Lucifer’s replacement until the time comes for Diavolo's crowning. Until then, I shall serve you and the council to the best of my abilities.” I stepped closer and kneeled before him as he sealed the deal.

“Alright then, as you are no doubt aware, each angel on my council represents a virtue. You shall as well. While Humility does not suit you quite right, I shall grant you a new virtue. One that could be considered a sin should it be applied incorrectly. I think you’d like that. Rise Y/N, Virtue of Loyalty.”

I rose to my feet as an invisible force caused my wings and halo to appear. They glowed a light blue as whatever magic God was using to tie me to the Celestial realm ran its course. Once the glowing dimmed down, I tucked my wings back in and bowed my head once more towards the being I now served for the time being and exited the throne room, making my way back to the House of Honors with Michael close behind. As we reached the front door, Michael turned me around. A hard and unforgiving expression on his face. A look of outright hatred in his eyes.

“Listen Y/N, just because Father has accepted you into the Celestial realm, doesn’t mean the rest of us have. You are still an outsider and I frankly do not trust anyone who has spent so much time around demons. I will follow Father’s orders in training you, but know this, Y/N, if I so much as suspect you of doing anything to upset the balance in the Celestial realm, if you hurt any of the angels here, I will take matters into my own hands. I will not allow a being as tainted as you to wreak havoc among the angels. Am I understood?”

Meeting his gaze, a smile made its way to my face as I responded.

“I will hold you to that.”

He took one last hard look at me and walked through the door. Left alone on the steps, I thought to myself, ‘Soon my demons, I’ll be back, soon’. I walked to the gardens and spent the next few hours tending to it until dinner.

In the Devildom. After they lost Y/N

As soon as they got home, Mammon went straight to Y/N’s room. How could he let this happen? He was their first damn it! He should have protected them, he should have stopped Lucifer, he should have done something! He entered Y/N’s room and immediately sat on their bed, made messily in their excitement to meet the king. He held their pillow, hugging to his chest as he started crying. Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear Asmo following him. Upon entering the room and seeing the state his older brother was in, Asmo put aside his own grievances and sat next to Mammon and embraced him, letting him cry on his shoulder. This reminded Asmo of a time in the Celestial realm. They were playing with Levi in the gardens when Levi tried to show off his tree climbing skills. As he was nearing the top, Mammon noticed the branch Levi was climbing looked ready to snap. He tried to warn Levi but was too late as the branch snapped and Levi fell. Mammon wasn’t fast enough to catch him. Levi ended up dislocating a wing and spraining his right shoulder. Asmo remembered walking by Mammon's room that night and heard quiet sobs, he knocked and opened the door revealing Mammon sitting on his bed, hugging his pillow crying. He sat next to his older brother and hugged him, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault and that Levi would be just fine. Coming out of the memory, Asmo did the same now, hugging Mammon and reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have stopped Y/N from giving that order and that everything will be ok.

“Will it be though? It just won’t be the same without them.”

“I know. It will be hard, Y/N was our family, but we’ll be there for each other.”

They slept together, holding each other in Y/N’s bed comforting each other until they fell asleep.

Present

It was an ordinary day for Mammon. He had just gotten back from a modelling gig at Majolish and was thinking up ways to spend the money he just earned. He was thinking of treating himself to a night out as he’d also gotten a math test back that day and passed with a 90%! Just as he was thinking about where to go, he felt the pull of a summoning. Mammon opened his eyes to find himself in an old cold basement. He scanned the room noting that the only lighting provided was a small bulb with a pull down string in the middle of the room and 3 small candles near the summoning circle. He found that the room was practically empty save for a thin mattress in a corner and some stairs leading to a door. He then spotted the one who summoned him, a little girl. She looked to be no older than 5. She was wearing stained and ripped overalls, one of the straps was missing. A light pink t-shirt underneath. Her brown hair was relatively short, only reaching her shoulders and was a tangled mess. Upon looking closer, Mammon noticed that she was covered head to toe in bruises and there were deep scratch marks on her arms and legs. He looked at the hastily drawn circle under him and found out that she drew it with some chalked rocks. She held an old summoning book close to her chest. Her big brown eyes looked so scared, yet if he looked closer, he could see what looked to be hope sparkling in the background. He could tell by looking at her that she held vast magical potential. Whoever put her here obviously knew the same.

“A-are you Mammon?” By Diavolo, she sounded so broken, like if he spoke too loud, she would shatter. Kneeling down to her level, Mammon put a soft smile on his face.

“Yes I am. What’s your name?”

“Cynthia”

“Ok Cynthia, what can I help you with.” Mammon doesn’t know what it was about the little girl, but he found himself genuinely wanting to help her. Maybe it was the way they looked at him with hope. Maybe it was because they were just a kid, or maybe, it was because her eyes reminded him of Y/N’s.

“I want to leave. My parents locked me in here. They don’t care about me. They only use me for their spells. Please Mammon, help me. I’ll give you my soul if you want, just please!” Tears came to her eyes as she pleaded with him to help her. Mammon upon hearing what these sorcerers were doing with their daughter, became enraged. He held his hand out to Cynthia with a smile on his face. He took the book from her hands and put it on the ground next to him.

“No, no, no. I won’t take your soul. It’s alright Cynthia, I’ll help ya. Why did you think I’d need your soul to help you?” “That’s what my parents said. They’ve been using me to try and summon you. I heard them arguing about who’s soul they would give to form a pact. Then they decided that they would give you mine.” Mammon didn’t think he could get madder, but by now, he was seeing red. Not only did her parents lock her up, they used her to try and summon him thinking he’d just accept a child’s soul to form a pact with them! Mammon was beyond angry.

“Don’t worry Cynthia, the Great Mammon will take care of your parents! You’ll be out of here in no time.” Sensing his rage Cynthia grabbed onto his legs before he made it to the stairs.

“No, don’t hurt them!” Mammon looked down at the girl in shock.

“Please don’t hurt them. They may have done all these awful things to me but they’re still my mom and dad! I don’t want you to hurt them, just get me out of here!” Mammon looked at the girl like she’d gone crazy. Her parents, who have locked her up in a basement, used her for spells, hell even tried summoning him in exchange for her own soul, she wanted them alive?! He saw how genuine she was being and he couldn’t find the heart to say no to her. Instead, Mammon knelt down to her level and took her hand. Cynthia looked at him with tears threatening to overflow. Mammon brought his other hand to cup her face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“Ok Cynthia, I won’t hurt them. I am mad at your parents for doing this to you, but if you don’t want me to hurt them, I won’t.” Mammon then brought Cynthia’s right hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it gently. A yellow seal formed on the back of her right hand and a matching pink one on the palm of Mammon's right.

“Now we have a pact Cynthia. I didn’t take your soul, I took your sadness. Did you know that demons could also take emotions to form a pact?”

“N-no. Does this mean you’ll take me far away from here?”

“Yes, and it also means that you won’t ever feel sad again. I know a nice witch who can take care of you. She will teach you how to use and call me with the pact. This way, whenever you’re in trouble, you will be able to summon me without drawing the circle again and I can come protect ya.”

“O-ok.” Mammon then picked Cynthia up and walked up the stairs, kicking the basement door down he walked through the house towards the front door. Before he reached it though, he heard a scream behind him. He noticed that Cynthia tensed considerably in his arms as he set her down, hiding her behind his legs. He turned around coming face to face with a middle aged couple who he preserved to be Cynthia’s parents. Her mom then yelled at Cynthia.

“Cynthia Maxwell Daemon! You come here right this instant!”

“Shut your mouth lady. She doesn't belong to you anymore.”

“Nonsense! She’s my daughter. She is mine to do with what I want!” Mammon's patience was running out. A scowl appeared on his face as he growled out.

“Listen here lady, I’ve got some choice words for you two that I wouldn’t care to say in front of the girl, but the fact that you thought you could summon me and exchange her soul for a pact with you? You're crazy to think I’d ever accept that kind of pact. Now Cynthia and I are leaving and you ain’t ever using her again!”

Cynthia’s parents then realized who they were talking to and their attitudes immediately changed.

“Please forgive us, Lord Mammon. We hadn’t planned for the girl to summon you. We apologize for the inconvenience the child caused you. If you would stay, we could reimburse you for your troubles.” Cynthia’s father bowed his head as he addressed Mammon. Mammon on the other hand outright laughed at that statement. Turning into his demon form he barked out

“You think her summoning me was an inconvenience?! You two are crazier than I thought! Now listen here and listen closely, neither of you are to come near or look for her. None of you are going to use her again. We are leaving and don’t ever bother trying to summon me again. Ya know, you should thank Cynthia. If she didn’t plead with me not to hurt either of you, you’d both be dead. Make no mistake, if either of you try to summon me or if I find you anywhere near her again, I will rip your hearts out and feed you to Cerberus. Kapeesh?” The dark undertones of Mammon’s voice got through to Cynthia’s parents as their faces paled in fear and they quickly agreed. They begged for his forgiveness and promised not to harm Cynthia again if he could just stay awhile. Not bothering with them anymore, Mammon picked Cynthia up and walked out, flying towards the one witch he’d ever trusted. When he landed, he realized that Cynthia was crying.

“Sorry Cyn, I didn’t scare ya, did I?”

“A-a little, but these aren’t scared tears. I’m happy. Thank you for getting me away from them and for letting them live.”

“Of course. The Great Mammon keeps his promises.” Mammon walked up to the door of the small cottage. He knocked and a young witch with long blond hair, green eyes, and freckles answered the door.

“Mammon what a surprise! What brings you here?” She opened the door gesturing for him to come in.

“Sorry, not today Kelly. I’m actually here for her.” Mammon stepped aside, revealing a scared Cynthia behind him.

“Oh my Diavolo! What happened to you, you poor girl?!” Kelly rushed forward cupping Cynthia’s chin as she inspected her body, taking in all the bruises and cuts.

“Kelly, this is Cynthia. She summoned me to save her from her parents. I was wondering if ya could take care of her. I know ya've always wanted a kid, so…”

“Of course! I could never turn someone in need away, especially a girl as cute as her.” She said while pinching Cynthia’s cheeks. Cynthia giggled in response.

“Ok then, Cynthia, Kelly here’s gonna take care of you. I promise that she won’t act like your mom and she will help you learn how to use both your magic and your pact.” Reaching into his pocket, Mammon pulled out the Grimm he’d earned that day. He then put them into Cynthia’s palm.

“Here ya go kid. Now if you ever visit me, you’ll have some money to spend.” Mammon turned to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Cynthia pulling him down to the ground. He crouched down. Cynthia then kissed his cheek, giving him one of the Grimm he’d given her.

“Thank you Mammon.” She then ran behind Kelly’s legs and waved goodbye with a massive smile on her face.

It’s been a couple years since Mammon saved Cynthia. She’d grown to be a strong and skilful sorcerer. He’d visit her often over the years with something in tow for her. Mammon never spent the Grimm that Cynthia gave back to him on that day. Whenever Mammon had a tough time with the numerous witches he’d find himself in debt with, he’d always find his way to her, and she comforted him, never asking for more than his company, something he was more than happy to give. His brothers would always know whenever he went to see her as he’d always come back with a content smile on his face. Deep down, he wished that Y/N could’ve met Cynthia. They would have made great friends as they were the only 2 people who could make him smile like this. Mammon may not have been able to save Y/N, but he swore that he would protect Cynthia, no matter the cost.

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gingermintpepper · 4 years ago

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After thinking it over for a bit, I've decided that I might as well do a proper underrated 3DS game rec list. I'm a bit of an ATLUS junkie and that's gonna be pretty disgustingly apparent in this list, but it's not my fault that they released hit after hit and all of them were duly ignored.

Due to tumblr's 10 image limit (and my struggle to keep motivated to do one thing for more than three hours) I'm definitely gonna have to break this up into parts and I'm fairly certain one of these lists is just gonna be MegaTen games lmao but I'd like to let people know about these excellent titles and see if I can't at least get people interested in them so they can get more traction.

So, without further ado:

Some 3DS Games that were criminally slept on (part 1)

Monster Hunter Stories

God, where do I begin with this game. Well, the basics: It's a JRPG spinoff title of the now widely successful and popular Monster Hunter series featuring a different take on interacting with the varied and intricate monsters populating the world: Riders.

Yep, instead of hunting the beasties, you play as a young rider who's completed their intiation ritual and can now bond with 'Monsties' as they've cutely labelled the usually ferocious monsters of the wilds. The great thing is that you still fight Monsters--tons of them in fact but this isn't a paid review and in my humble opinion, the most impressive thing about this game is the visual style. The landscapes, the armour, the way they redesigned and 3DS-ified the classically hyper realistic and monstrous beasts to not only be absolutely adorable but still capable of being intimidating when the time calls for it, the stellar animation of special moves and combination attacks--it's delicious, nutritious, stupendous, I can and will consume it like it's part of my recommended caloric intake.

It's very akin to Pokemon in the way its basic gameplay premise is set up, however, instead of catching--or even indeed befriending--the Monsties in the game, you rummage through their nests and steal their eggs, later hatching them and getting yourself a brand new lightly kidnapped monster pal!

Other general things about the game:

Pros:

The armour and weapon sets for both male and female characters slap along with the general character customisation options. They're incredibly diverse (though limited in body type) and you can switch around traits and features whenever you want from your house.

The POGS--these porkers are everywhere and they serve as tiny little achievements for exploring every odd and end of the world. Also they have little outfits. They're so cute. 🥺🥺

You can actually ride the Monsties. All of em. Or, at least the ones that you have available to be your buddies. They all have exploration skills and traits that not only make exploring much more interesting but encourage you to swap out your active Monstie and play around with your options a bit.

Y'all breeding Monsties is complicated and I live for just how intense and ridiculous you can get with optimal builds for these things.

The story is really competently put together! The characters, character designs and even the internal conflict with your starting trio of characters is really compelling along with the mystery of the blight that's infecting Monsters across the world. It's not anything worth awards but it's compelling and it makes you care about the characters if that's what you're in the market for.

Amazing sound design, expansive world, everything about the presentation of this game oozes that Monster Hunter charm even if the art is cutesier than usual. You'll never get bored of its stellar visual presentation!

Available for around twenty quid on the Google Play store, so if you want, you could actually get the full game on your smartphone or tablet. Note though that it would be a battery nuker.

Cons:

If you're on a regular 3DS, frame rate drops are a given. This game kinda pushes the visual capabilities of the 3DS to its absolute limit--a lot like Okamiden did back on the DS.

One save file :( It's pretty much for the same reason as above but still.

If you're playing as the girl, you can't get male armour and vice versa. Since there's only one save file, you'll never be able to have all of the armour sets in a single playthrough and that's criminal because both of the sets for the genders are absolutely breath-taking, thank you.

I 👏can't 👏make👏my👏 own 👏Palico👏

Multi-player for this game is pretty dead seeing as it's almost five years old by now and never got much press or traction. Usually this wouldn't be an issue - this game is 99% singleplayer and you don't really need to fuss about with multi-player to have fun, but if you want to collect all the Monsties, you'll need it since the only way to get Glavenus is through pvp achievements. :/

Final thoughts: Play it if you find yourself getting tired or disappointed with 3DS Pokemon games but still want something that feels as fantastical as Pokemon. It outshines the 3DS Pokemon games at every turn and I will never be over just how thoughtfully put together and fully realised these games are. Of course, if you've ever played Monster Hunter, then you know just how intensive these games are with the lore, biology, cultures and world of their Monsters but seeing that translated into JRPG format was just very sobering and it's a game that, to this day, continues to awe me with just how much love and attention went into it.

Last note: If you're still unsure about it, there's a demo available on the e-shop of the 3DS that allows you to play through the entire initial area of the game. Your data does carry through to the full release and to give you an idea of how much I've been able to squeeze out of it - my playtime for that demo is currently sitting at 22 hours. Make sure to get a hold of that Cyan-Kut-Ku!

7th Dragon III Code: VFD

The title may sound intimidating but the premise is not! A mysterious disease called Dragon Sickness spread by the Dragonsbane flowers that have cropped up all around the world. You and your team are recruited by the Nodens game company after you display extraordinary prowess in their hit virtual reality game 7th Encount. As you go through the adventure, you are tasked with finding out the truth behind the Dragon Sickness and asked to stop both it and the Dragons that are destroying the world.

This game is fun. It's another turn-based JRPG however, in this game you create all of your characters yourself from the myriad of classes available to you from the jump. Different classes of course have very different specialisations - Samurai focus on high powered cutting damage with their swords, Duelists are summoners who can influence the element of the battlefield as well as summon monsters from each element, Agents can hack into your enemies and inflict a barrage of nasty ailments, just to name a few - and you are given three teams of three characters each to experiment with different team comps and find the balance that works for you. There's also a wide variety of Dragons to hunt and kill in the game, which directly affects how infected your world is with the Dragon Sickness causing Dragonsbane. Along the way you will also come into contact with many interesting characters, concepts and confrontations that will make the task of saving the world all the more imperative.

Pros

1. The character creator and differing classes give way for tons of experimenting and playing around with your own unique approach to combat and carrying out your missions. Granted, 'character creation' is generous, it's little more than palatte swaps but the classes are really where VFD shines. Eight main classes may not sound like a lot, but the expaniveness of the character skills, their synergy with their fellow classes and the uniqueness of some of the classes in and of itself allows for so much flexibility and creativity in approaches to even tougher bosses. It also encourages the switching about of your party members to really finagle with the options available to you.

2. God this game is pretty. The locations, the character art, the creature design - all of it is gorgeous and this game capitalises on every bit of the 3DS's presentation limitations as it can.

3. You can romance anything and everyone - yes, you can even be gay/lesbian/poly in this game. In fact, one of the main characters - Julietta - is gnc and he's a constant source of joy as well one of my personal favourite characters, right behind Yuma.

4. Exploration is very very forgiving as the game has healing spots and teleport nodes all over the world to allow for quick, seamless travel between quest points without feeling like anything is too much of a hassle. There are also special enemies that allow for quick grinding as well as quick farming of money. In general, the game does a really good job of making sure that the grind is never unbearable or inconsiderate of your time.

Cons:

1. This is the fourth game in a series the West has never seen any other title for, and from the looks of it, will probably never see any other titles for. Because of that, there are some elements that may seem confusing or revelations in the plot that may seem to come out of nowhere.

2. While the visuals are great, the OST of this one is pretty short making for a lot of reused soundtracks that can get really annoying if you're like me and need your audio to be interesting or consistent so it doesn't distract you too much.

3. This one isn't really a con but it is divisive: This game gets pretty difficult at times. A few of the main dragon enemies including and especially the final boss can give you a serious run for your money in the annoy-o-meter in terms of the kind of absolute JRPG fuckery they can pull out of their magic bag of bullshit movesets and while I generally enjoy that kind of thing, I know it's not for everyone. Most regular combat shouldn't be too tricky once you have a team comp that works well together but you also need to pay attention since the same team that carries you to victory one time might be worth beans against another dragon.

Final thoughts: This is... a really good game. Interesting story, really interesting characters, pretty world and a battle system that really makes you sit down and think. There's also a demo for this available in the e-shop and while your data doesn't carry over - you do receive multiple perks for carrying over your demo data including some exclusive items that, while not game breaking, do help a ton in the early stages of the game.

This isn't a final list by any stretch of the word; I only have the energy to do these two right now, but the next games up for coverage are Ever Oasis and Stella Glow! If you're interested in my full plan of games I want to cover here then my current lineup includes: Theatrhythm: Curtain Call, Project Mirai: Deluxe, Culdecept Revolt, Alliance Alive, Radiant Historia: Perfect Chronology, Etrian Odyssey V, Devil Survivor 2: Record Breaker and Shin Megami Tensei IV: Apocalypse.

Finally, if anyone has played any of the games I mention, cover or plan to cover PLEASE REACH OUT TO ME, I AM SO LONELY IN MY FORTRESS OF SAND. On a serious note, I'd love to hear what other people who've played these games think!

Thanks for reading,

-Ginger

PS: @feralpeacock Because a million years ago, on my first underrated games post, you asked that I remember you. :D

#ginger rambles #ginger talks about video games #monster hunter stories #monster hunter #code dragon iii vfd #video games #3ds #underrated games #These take so much energy to make holy shit #There are so many more amazing 3ds games I could talk about #But I legit just don't have the braincells for #Also I know Apocalypse probably has the biggest audience that played it out of all the games listed #But it's criminally underrated because it was different #So it's probably going to get it's own little review thing #Yeehaw

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heartbrokenct · 4 years ago

Text

without you - jjh

pairing idol!jung jaehyun x reader

genre fluff + the slightest bit of angst

word count 5.7k (i know)

warnings get ur tish ready b, this is-...

summary Jaehyun is sent to the US for a music study, but what he doesn’t expect is to leave with a lot more than just music theory.

a/n i was going to make this a multi-part thing just so i could keep it short but i figured why not make it one huge fic. anyway, pls lmk if you enjoy this!

“Oh, come on, loser. It’ll be great! Besides, what is one small blind date going to do? Nothing, exactly! So get dressed and do whatever, and be ready to go at 7.” Your friend rambled on the other side of the phone, and you rolled your eyes.

“How in the hell do you always manage to convince me to make the dumbest decisions?” You say, slightly annoyed. Apparently one of your cousin's friends was “on the market” and of course your cousin decided to make plans for you and this friend of theirs without even asking you beforehand. Hell, you didn’t even know what this "friend" looked like. After a few more minutes of your cousin desperately getting you to agree, you laughed and hung up, realising the time was just past 4pm, and the date was in only 3 hours.

Quickly jumping into the shower, you heard your phone ringing again, and assuming it was your cousin, back to bother, you ignored it and got busy getting clean and fresh. After the shower came the skincare routine, as usual, and after that the terrifying choice of “what to wear on a first date with a stranger” loomed over you as you stared at the numerous possible outfits in your closet. Sighing, you start to yank things off hangers and try them on, twirling in the mirror and doing a few greeting motions, trying to gauge what you’d look like. You caught sight of yourself as you were taking off a top, and noticed just how great you looked, instantly getting a boost of confidence.

You checked your phone quickly and noticed a missed call and a few texts from an unknown number, so you unlocked it and took a closer look.

#### : Hey, this is Jaehyun. I got your number from your cousin, they mentioned that we should probably decide on where to go but if you don’t mind, I made some reservations at this restaurant.

#### : Address.

#### : Does 7pm sound okay?

You checked the time stamp on the message, and gasp. He’d messaged you almost an hour and a half ago, so you quickly typed a few messages in response, and hoped that he wouldn’t be too upset. And you hadn’t even gotten the chance to set your phone down when it dinged again, and another message popped up on the screen.

Blind-date guy : Oh wow, I was beginning to think you were standing me up before the date even began.

Blind-date guy : I’m just joking! Please don’t stand me up again, I truly can’t go through the night again with 5 waiters giving me sympathy pats on the back.

At that, you let out a small laugh, and wonder suddenly if he was some creep who just emanated those vibes. Honestly, leave it up to your family to prank you like that. They mentioned he was some sort of celebrity in Korea, but was here in the states studying music.

Blind-date guy : Was that too much info? That was definitely too much info… Hopefully I’ll see you tonight!

A smile graced your features, and you gave him an affirmative response before frantically turning towards the closet with a rather worried look. The address he had sent you was of a pretty upscale restaurant, and you weren’t sure if you had anything nice enough to wear. Plus, it was almost 40 minutes away from your place, which meant almost an hour and a half with the traffic in your city. You sighed, and double checked the time. Almost 6pm. Screaming, you decided on something elegant but also pretty casual, and grabbed your favorite pair of shoes to match. After one last look over in the mirror, you snapped a pic and sent it to your cousin, who called you while you were rushing to your car to tell you just how great you looked.

“Jaehyun’s going to be drooling all over you. He loves that fashion style, and the fact that you just look so exquisite… yeah hopefully you wore something nice underneath too!” They quipped, and you gasped, laughing and telling them off, before thanking them quickly and hanging up.

Almost 75 minutes later, you got to the address Jaehyun had sent you and you marveled at the exterior of the building. It looked so wonderful, and the smell of the food emanating from inside only reminded you of how hungry you were. Rushing inside, you went up to the hostess, and said you were here under a reservation for Jaehyun. She smiled, giving you a knowing look before leading you to a table near the back where it was more quiet.

You knew who he was even before the hostess motioned you to the right table. He just looked kingly, and his presence seemed to draw everyone’s attention all at once. His face looked a bit nervous, but as soon as he looked at you, it seemed to drain from his face and was quickly replaced with awe. His eyes looked up and down your body and suddenly you felt the need to hide from his piercing gaze. He stood, and nodded a thank you to the hostess, then came around the table and took out your chair, allowing you to sit before tucking it in slightly.

“Hi-ello...Hello.” He said, his voice coming out a bit softer than he expected, and you stifled a laugh.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. It’s really lovely to meet you Jaehyun.” You said, and sent him a warm smile. His face seemed to go a bit red and he cleared his throat, trying a greeting again.

“Hello Y/n. You look amazing; it’s likewise very lovely to meet you.” A short pause, and he continued, “My friend told me a lot about you, but they didn’t mention just how attractive you are. Well, not attractive- I mean yes attractive but- Like- Y'know-” He stammered, and lifted a hand to run through his hair, and somehow managed to poke his eye slightly. He let his hand drop to the table and he laughed. You let out the laugh you’d been holding and joined his, reaching over the table to grab his nervous hands softly.

“Thank you, please don’t hurt yourself trying to compliment me.” You joked, and paused to check out the menu as the waiter came to take your drink order. After getting over the original awkwardness and choosing a meal, the both of you fell into a comfortable conversation ranging from your careers to deep philosophical questions. You picked up on the fact that he seemed to be really proud about his career as an idol in Korea, and how he had always wanted to become a singer. His eyes lit up as he described a bit of what it was like, before he asked you about your job, and passions.

You barely noticed when the food was placed in front of you, or when the other patrons all looked at you both talking with knowing looks in their eyes, or even when the water came by with the bill. You could only focus on this wonderfully interesting man in front of you, who was surprisingly deeper than his very apparent good looks. The waiter came by to see if the bill was ready, and the both of you stopped your conversation, and then half argued about who would foot the bill. He refused to even let you see the total cost, so in the end, you had let him win. He went to reach for his wallet before asking you another question which again distracted you from the bill and as the waiter made his second appearance, Jaehyun quickly (and rather proudly) tucked his card into the leather folder all while giving the waiter an apologetic smile. You watched him, your head tilted to one side and a soft smile played on your lips as his dimples made their comeback on his face. He turned to you and then grabbed a hold of his drink, making eye contact with you over the rim.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, and you cleared your throat, shaking your head.

“Oh… Just admiring from afar.” You said, and he seemed to get a tad flustered. You let out a laugh through your nose, and the waiter came by with Jaehyun’s card.

“How much was the dinner? It wasn’t too much was it?” You ask again, and he shakes his head.

“I’m the one who made the reservation so I gladly paid for it. Don’t worry about it at all, okay?” He said, in a soft tone, and stood coming around to your side of the table and holding out his hand.

“Shall we?” He said, and you raised your eyebrows while putting your hand into his. He gripped it as he led you out of the restaurant and then stopped outside, looking up at the sky. You checked your phone, and saw the time read 11:17pm.

“Already?” You mumbled out loud subconsciously, but Jaehyun caught it.

“Already what?” He said, and looked at you, peering down at the screen of your phone. He noted the time, and sighed.

“Ah, did I keep you too long? If you’re taking public transit or a cab home, let me drive you. Since it’s late.” He said, and raised his eyebrows waiting for a response. You smirked, and rummaged around your belongings before producing your keys, and you jangled them in front of his face.

“I’ve got a ride, but thank you. It’s been a wonderful evening. Everything and more.” You said, a smile plastered on your face. He gave you one of his own, dimples and all, and you melted.

“Well good. If you’d like… maybe we could do this again? I’ll be in the states for another few months, for my music study.” He said, and you nodded, suddenly hit with the fact that he was some celebrity, but you hadn't seen a single crazed fan anywhere tonight. Nonetheless, you said your goodbyes, and gave him a hug before walking to your car. You missed the way he stared at you as you walked away and smiled to himself. He missed your creased brow as you wondered if it was even worth pursuing him.

A few dates and three months later, you were sprawled out on Jaehyun’s couch after a long day at your job. He was currently in the shower, leaving your eyes to roam around. The last time you’d been here you hadn’t really stopped to look around, and as those thoughts flooded to the front of your mind, you felt your face heating up. Suddenly the shower turned off, and you straightened up, trying to push the memories out of your mind, as a half clothed Jaehyun walked around into the living area.

“Hey, stranger, long time no see.” He said, walking over and leaving a soft but chaste kiss on your lips. You smiled at him and stood, using one finger to push him away by his chest.

“Hey yourself, stranger, I suggest you get dressed before we get really well acquainted with one another.” You said, and your eyes flicked down to the edge of the towel that was currently the only thing wrapped around him. He smirked and tried to pull you closer to him, and just as your lips were about to connect, his phone rang. He sighs and lets his head drop, and apologises before quickly picking up the phone.

“Yes, Hello?” He said into the phone, and suddenly his back tensed. You frowned, looking at his suddenly stiff muscles, and wanted to reach out to comfort him but something in your gut told you to hold off. He huffed angrily into the phone and let his head fall back, looking up at the ceiling. He finished his call, and turned to you with an upset look on his face. You pouted and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“An emergency came up. I have to fly back to Korea early.” He said, dejectedly.

“How much earlier?” You ask, afraid to ask. Truthfully, you knew this time was coming. The time when this weird three month long fling would come to an end, but you had decided to pursue it anyway. You knew that you’d end up hurt and he’d move on to whoever in Korea while you’d be left back here picking up the pieces of your heart. But his face twisted into one of empathy and he swallowed down his tears.

“A few weeks early. My manager said my flight is… next Thursday.” He said, and you gasped. He came up to you, and enveloped you into a huge hug, just holding you tightly against him. The smell of your shampoo invaded his senses and the only thing he wanted was to hold you like that forever. He suddenly remembered everything that he left back in Korea. His career, the rest of the members, his family. Everything was there, but you were here. You had changed his life in these past few weeks more than all his 23 years of experience had. More than his music study could ever teach him. And now, with just a few days left to be here with you, he found himself dreading going back.

“Jae?” You mumbled into his bare chest.

“Hm?” He answered, still holding on to you.

“Can you go put on some clothes and let’s just chill at home?” You responded and shifted your gaze so that you were looking at him. He peered at you and smiled, before leaving a kiss on your forehead and going to quickly change into some loungewear.

About 5 minutes later, he strode back into the living are where you’d made yourself comfortable on one of the couches. He smiled and threw himself next to you with a grunt, and grabbed you close to him as you cuddled up together.

Jaehyun had asked you to accompany him to the airport and see him off, but as you woke up on the day, you dreaded having to see him off. He texted you, and you responded that you’d be there. After all, you were in love with the guy.

You rolled out of bed and took a super fast shower, then got ready and jumped in the car. His flight was in just a few hours, but you wanted to make sure that he was there on time. As you pulled up to his apartment and went up to his door, you tried to hold back your emotions. He seemed intent on going back the past few days, and even mentioned that he was excited to leave and see his family and work again. Little did you know he was just trying to convince himself that it was the right choice.

You couldn’t help but think that some of the moments you shared weren’t as special for him than they were for you as you took the elevator up to his apartment. Before you even had the chance to knock on the door, he swung it open and you were greeted with a red eyed, puffy faced Jaehyun. You instantly could tell he had been crying, and you stepped in, pulling him into the biggest hug, which he returned with such ferocity it almost knocked you over. He let out a muffled sob and your heart broke into a million pieces. You gently pried him off of you, and calmed him long enough for him to tell you what was wrong but in between his breathy crying and staggered breathing, you could barely understand, so you just held him as he let it out.

The one part of his ramblings that you did catch however made your heart skip a beat.

“A-and you...these months-” A few sniffles, “So good, -nd I don't wanna go-” A soft ragged breath, “b-cause you are my everything…” He said, and then stopped. You felt his heartbeat quicken at what he just confessed, and you tried to steel your emotions

“Jae, I know. We grew close and these past few months have been fun, but that’s it. You have a career and your whole life in Korea, and you deserve to go and live it out and follow your dreams, like you told me you always wanted to do.” You said, tears pricking your own eyes. He suddenly shifted off of you and gave you an incredulous look.

“Just fun? Just fun?” He said, his voice rising a little. “So all this time, this was just a fling for you. You made me fall in love with you and now you’re telling me it was just fun? You’re saying that if I asked you to come with me you’d say no and tell me this is what? One sided? That you don't feel like this is the worst mistake?” He said, and you folded your arms over your chest. There was no way that you’d stand in the way of his career, no matter how much of a bad guy it would make you. He would get over it soon, and continue and be a world famous singer… Right?

You thought that is what he wanted, but as his words wash over you and you understand the depth of the relationship between the two of you. Something clicks in your mind but you don’t speak. You just stand there and look down at the floor.

His breath catches in his throat and he mutters a quiet but forceful, “get out.” And you follow suit. Sighing and holding back tears of your own, you step out of his apartment and head out to the car, knowing that at some point he’d have to come down since you were his ride to the airport. As awkward as that one hour car ride was going to be, you didn’t have much of a choice, as before everything went down, he made sure that you were the only one to see him off.

A couple of minutes later, a puffy faced angry Jaehyun appeared at your passenger side door, and he knocked aggressively on the window, jutting his thumb to the back of the car.

“Open the trunk.” He mouthed, and the already thick tension only grew as you nervously opened the trunk and waited for him to climb in the car. He opened the door, and then slammed it with such force you thought the door was going to snap off. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes as you drove, and when you pulled into the freeway, you decided to speak.

“Listen-” You started, and he interrupted you with a raised hand. You heard him take a loud breath, and then he began to speak.

“I know you’re driving and your attention has to be on the road but please, hear me out.” He pleaded with you, and the desperate tone in his voice sent the waterworks your way again.

“It's true. Without you, I can’t live. I can’t eat or sleep, or breathe without thinking about you. Everything that you did to me was so ethereal. You changed my life so much in these three months. I can’t begin to describe how hard it is for me to go. Honestly, when my company suggested that I come to the states for the music study I was skeptical because I already know music theory and production. But it was the best decision of my life. And now you’re sitting here telling me that this isn't-” He said and the tears began to spill on his face again. You gripped the steering wheel tighter and tried to keep your eyes focused on the road ahead, but the emotion in Jaehyun’s voice was getting to you as well, and a few rogue tears slid down your cheeks.

“I know you can’t just leave your life behind here, but I really really want you to. I want you to come to Korea and live with me, and we can be happy. I can introduce you to my family and the other members, and it’ll be so good. I can ask the company to find you an apartment and we can-” he continued, but you stopped him.

“Jaehyun. You and I both know that as soon as you get back, you’ll be so busy that we won’t have time to see each other. You’re about to have a major comeback and I don’t even know Korean so it’ll be hard for me to even assimilate there. I really really want to put my whole life on hold but… How can I?” You say, and the hurt is clearly evident on your face as the both of you have tears streaked faces. The rest of the ride is relatively quiet, but at some point, Jaehyun reaches over and rests his hand on your thigh as a signal for a truce.

He sniffles and leans his head back on the headrest, eyes squeezed shut as you pull into the airport parking lot. After finding a space, and getting his luggage out of the trunk, he takes your hand and you both go inside. He checks in, and you start to head over to the security checkpoint, which you were not allowed to pass.

“Please, promise me that you’ll stay in touch and we won’t be like those couples who promise and then never do and they grow apart. I seriously cannot live without you.” he said, while pulling you to face him. A couple of people were starting to gather, and by the looks of it they recognized Jaehyun, so you sent him a sad smile and gave him a huge hug, never wanting to let go. The both of you pulled away, and he grudgingly went to the passport check. Just before he disappeared behind the security checkpoint, he turned and locked eyes with you, and even from this far you knew he was sending you a soft, sad smile. Not a “goodbye”, but rather a “see you soon.”

Four Months Later

You rushed to shove on your shoes and grab all of your luggage as you heard your cousin impatiently honking outside of your apartment building. You had been planning to surprise Jaehyun for a few weeks, and asked them to come and take you to the airport. You left your apartment and quickly went over to a neighbor's where you asked them to take care of some plants and to pick up your mail each day. The middle aged woman agreed, and happily took your keys, wishing you a safe flight and travels.

You thanked her as you flew down the hallway, and heard her chuckling just before you rounded the corner and smashed the call button for the elevator. You knew it wouldn’t come any faster if you kept pressing the button, but you did it anyway. The nerves kicked in as you descended in the metal box, and ran out to your cousin’s car. They flung the door open for you, and you threw your bag into the backseat before hopping in. The drive was filled with some laughs and the memories from your last trip to the airport came suddenly flooding back. It had been only a few months ago that you had driven Jaehyun to the airport and had your first teary-eyed farewell.

Since then, you both called at least once a week, but texted every day. You slowly became more interested in NCT, his group, and even started talking to a few of his other English-speaking members, who all welcomed you with excited messages. You had been learning Korean with Mark and Johnny, to surprise Jaehyun, and not to toot your own horn, but you’d been getting pretty good! You could now communicate at it’s most basic sense of the word, and at least order food and ask for traveling directions. You smiled as you pulled up your conversation with Jaehyun, and read some of the new messages..

Jaehyun : Babe! Have you had the chance to watch our m/v yet? It came out like a few hours ago!

Jaehyun : You really should watch it and let me know what you think. I wrote the lyrics with Johnny-hyung this time. I think you’d be proud.

Jaehyun : Yo babyyyy….?

Jaehyun : Babe? Ah you’re probably busy. Ok call me when you watch it so i can see your reaction!

You smiled at all the messages, and sent him a quick “I’m at work, call you later, love you.” and then thought about how you’d explain away being inactive for your 13+ hour flight. You sighed, and locked your phone, then leaned your head back.

Your cousin pulled into the drop-off lane at the airport. You looked at them with a grateful smile, and gave them an awkward hug over the center console which they returned. As soon as you grabbed all of your belongings and double checked for your wallet and passport, you waved them goodbye, and they sped off. You turned and walked into the airport, and after a tiring 45 minute ordeal through check-ins and security, you finally made it to your gate. You took out your phone while you waited for the flight to board, and saw a few messages from Mark who was also in on the surprise. He said that him and Johnny managed to get you a company car to pick you up from the airport, but that you’d have to find your own housing.

“Shouldn’t be too hard…” You mumbled, and replied to him before searching for hotels in the Seoul area. There were a few upscale locations, but you decided to also check Airbnb for any long-term residence options. You came upon a sweet little apartment near Itaewon , which was about a 45 minute drive from the SM campus. You searched for anything cheaper or closer, but after not finding anything, you quickly booked the location for a 2 week period. You smiled happily, having one less thing to worry about on your flight, and then heard the “All-Passengers Now Boarding” message, so you grabbed all of your things again, and huddled in the line. You had been lucky to find a good deal on a seat in the economy class, so you took your seat near the front of the plane, having a rather great view out the window. You smiled and relaxed as a kind looking lady sat down next to you, and you fell into a comfortable conversation as the rest of the passengers were seated and the plane took off. She told you a few stories about how her family was all in Korea but she visited the US to see her daughter who just had a baby. You smiled at her story, and she patted your hand.

“You go to Korea? What do you have in Korea?” She asked tentatively, and you told her your love story. You left out the part about him being a singer, thinking she might not believe you, and she smiled warmly, and recounted a few stories from her youth about her and her now late husband. You smiled, and upon checking your phone, saw that you’d managed to pass a few hours of your time swapping stories. A steward announced that passengers could now use their in-flight wifi, and you quickly took out your phone to see a few missed calls from your cousin (who probably just wanted an update) and a few tests from none other than Jaehyun himself.

Jaehyun : Baby, I have the night off… are you still at work? We should call.

Jaehyun : Please? I really want to see your pretty face, I miss you.

Jaehyun : Ahhh, come on, I know you’re not busy because we usually call at this time…

You stifled a laugh, and rolled your eyes softly at his antics. He was always begging to see you, and now you didn’t know how to remedy the situation and not expose your location. You got an idea and ran to the lavatory, which was thankfully unlocked. After fishing your headphones from your pocket, you plugged them in and asked if he was free at the moment, and before you were even able to respond he was already video calling you. You laughed and hit the accept button, and smiled at the camera.

“Hi! Oh- I missed your face so much, you beautiful work of art…” His voice rang into your headphones, and you saw his eyebrows furrow as he drew the phone close to his face to see the screen.

“Where are you?” He said, brows still furrowed, and you smiled, trying to look as genuine as you could,

“I’m in the restroom at this little place, I wanted to take some time out and just treat myself, you know?” You said, and technically you were vague enough to not lie, and somehow he didn't press for any more information.

“Oh, baby that's good that you get to do something nice for yourself… Have you watched the m/v yet?” He asked, impatiently and you already knew he just wanted you to stroke his already inflated ego. You laughed, and he smiled widely, and shook your head.

“ I haven't but I swear I will as soon as I get home tonight? I know it’ll be late but you have to promise to wait for me!” You say, and he tiredly laughs.

“I promise to wait for your call tonight babe, I don’t think I’ll even sleep peacefully until I hear your opinion on the m/v.” He said, and you laughed. After a few more minutes of talking, you told him that there were others waiting to use the restroom, and after an insurmountable nu be of "I love you"s and "Yes, I'll call you later"s, you hung up just before you exited the lavatory. You spent the rest of the time napping and sometimes chatting with the lady seated next to you, who had a multitude of interesting things to tell you. You’d lost track of time, and only noticed when the stewards and stewardesses came by with lunch trays.

After that, you fell into a deep sleep, and only woke when the “Please Fasten your seatbelts for landing” messages were being played on the intercom. You hastily buckled it, and the nervousness started to kick in once again. The lady next to you must have sensed it because she reached over and gave your hand a sympathetic squeeze, and reassured you that “He will be excited to see you. I promise”.

After the landing and a rough battle through customs, you finally made it to the gates where onlookers waited for their friends and family to walk out. You spotted a man holding a paper with your name on it, and went over, greeting him formally and returning his polite smile. He took your things and led you to a nondescript car, where he put your things in the trunk and held the back door open for you to get in. Once settled, he asked if you would give him an address, or if he should take you to the SM building.

“SM building, please.” You say, hoping that you were using the correct verbage and honorifics. The driver’s eyebrows raised, and he made eye contact with you in the mirror. In a soft broken English he complimented your Korean, and said he was surprised that you knew pronunciation so well. You smiled and thanked him, and explained that some friends had helped you study it before coming. He nods, and the rest of the ride is spent in a comfortable silence.

An hour and a half-ish later, the car pulled into the parking lot of the SM building, and you almost burst out of the car in excitement. You’d been texting with Mark and Johnny in a private group chat, and they said Jaehyun had fallen asleep waiting for you to call him somewhere in a waiting room. You were shown into a side entrance, so as to avoid any prying eyes, and you quickly met up with the aforementioned boys, who greeted you with wide smiles and big hugs. They led you around the building and showed you a few of the locations that you’d seen before in videos and on call with Jaehyun.

You smiled fondly as you followed them around and they led you into a small room with couches lining the sides, and a few tables thrown in the middle. And you saw him. Him.

He was slouched against one of the couches, chin to shoulder and out cold. An innocent look was on his face as he slept and as you admired him, Johnny and Mark said they'd wait for you guys downstairs and left.

You gently set down your small bag on a table and silently made your way over to your sleeping boy. Smiling, you sat on his lap, legs straddling his thighs and he stirred from his sleep with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes fluttered open and he made eye contact with you, staring into your eyes with a confused glare. You put your hands on his shoulders, and then moved them up to his face, cupping his cheeks as you sent him a smile.

"Y/n…? I-Is this… Am I still dreaming?" He whispered and you laughed, answering,

"No, you're not dreaming. I'm here… kiss me." You said, and he immediately obliged, closing the distance between your lips. His hands finally made their way around your waist, and he pulled you closer to his chest, and smiled into the kiss.

"What? How? How did you even find me?" He said, breathlessly and you explained to him the whole story from beginning to end. He listened with a marveling look on his face, and let his head drop as he smiled shyly.

"Well I am so glad you're here. I missed you so much, you've got no idea. Korea isn't half as fun without you." He said, and you sat and caught up for a few minutes, before you remembered the other two who were waiting.

"Johnny and Mark are waiting for us! They said we should go out to get some late-night food." You quickly said and climbed off of Jaehyun's lap as he stood and stretched. He gathered his things and you yours and just before you two set out the door, he took your hand in his and placed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you, Y/n?"

"Everyday."

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jungjaehyun #jaehyun x reader #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct #nct127 #drabble #nct imagine #nct imagines #johnny suh #mark lee #jeong jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun nct

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract.

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer.

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest.

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park.

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams.

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand.

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy.

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen.

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside.

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband.

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session.

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me.

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime.

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine.

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said.

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband.

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company. “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth.

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments.

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car.

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand.

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection.

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona.

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities.

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids requests #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz oneshot #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids minho #stray kids minho fanfic

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chofitia · 3 years ago

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Fic Review

Tagged by the incomparable @jukeboxhound

(This got very long. See you all under the cut.)

How many works do you have on ao3? 29

What’s your total ao3 word count? 54,129

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Compilation of FFVII / FFVII Remake

G.I. Joe (cartoon) (the outlier that was because of a request)

Final Fantasy XV

Juuni Kokki / Twelve Kingdoms

Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika / Puella Magi Madoka Magica (does this count if it’s just a crossover?)

Taishou Yakyuu Musume

人渣反派自救系统 / The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System

Are there any new fandoms you want to write for? I have something that I kind of want to do for MDZS? There’s also some work I’d like to do with TGCF, but it’s a visual thing. Honestly, I’d just like to be freer to write for myself and to write more regularly. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

To Say Nothing of the Cat

What We Do Behind the Scenes

Upgrade(s)

Fleet-Footed Lion

Acquisition

I’m honestly surprised that the Explicit-rated fic (”What We Do...”) wasn’t first. Mainly because I remember more kudos alerts for it than “To Say Nothing...” Then again, I wrote in FFXV while it was the New Hotness and “What We Do...” was written several years into the Remake drought. Which of your fics do you want more attention for? All of them because I’m dependent on the validation of other people.

But seriously, “Honor Among..” because I want people to get into Mercverse.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes. Most of my comments come in ones or twos, and I tend to have a set format for them:

Thank you for reading! [Anecdote(s) on the writing/creation of item(s) mentioned in the comment.] Thanks again for reading!

What sorts of things do you normally write? Slow burn? Humor? Angst with a happy ending? Some adventure? Emotionally loaded conversations? AUs and slice of life in which the main conflicts of the canon are ignored in favor of more mundane problems.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? “Source“, I guess? (Being Meguka is suffering. Being Cloud is also suffering.) I did write some cynical edgelord shit back at the turn of the century that was basically “things suck and I know that they suck because I am better than everyone else and I’m not going to do anything about it because I can’t change anything.”

What’s a fic that pushed you out of your comfort zone?

Pretty much any fic that I’ve written for an exchange, for various reasons. My top two are:

“What We Do Behind the Scenes” - It’s explicit. I don’t have a lot of experience writing explicit fic.

“Honor Among...” - I want to write something with a plot! And it has to be a scholarly critique of social stratification and well-intentioned people with privilege. And a mystery with foreshadowing and red herrings and reread bonuses. And it has to be the best thing I’ve ever written in my life. I should get a beta. Oh, so you think I should make some adjustments, beta? My rejection hyper sensitivity says that means that I should never write anything again.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

The only crossover I have is “Source”. I’ve thrown some ideas around for some fusions, but nothing I’ve completed.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I’m not holding my breath, to be honest.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of? They’ve all failed at different points of the planning:

1. I RP with someone and I promise to write a story based on the RP. I never write it.

2. I RP with someone and I promise to write a story based on the RP. I write it, but keep it under friends-lock because I felt uncomfortable centering my OCs in anything set for public consumption.

3. Someone includes a cameo of one of my OCs in their fic. I write fic of the fic from the OC’s POV. (This incident happened before situations 1 and 2.) The author previews my work for continuity and general cheerleading. I never finish the (multi-chaper) fic.

4. Someone asks me to work on a fic together with them. I accept. We brainstorm. I show my complete ass and get called out on it. The person decides that it wouldn’t be a good idea to work together. I never bring it up again because I don’t want to remind them of how ignorant I am.

5. Someone asks me to work on a fic together with them. I accept. We get to work. However, what happens is that I write one scene and they write another. The work was basically taking a Shakespeare play and find-replacing bits of it. We never finish it.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Probably “Special Delivery”. I gave up on it because everything felt too contrived and I knew I couldn’t stick the landing. I feel like it would be best for me to tear it all down and rewrite it from scratch.

What are you currently working on?

A Luo Binghe- and Meng Mo-centered fic about the time during the Abyss. Basically an excuse for me to process my need for external validation and my expectations of the love/approval of others. That said, since it is a fic about processing my need for external validation and my expectations of the love/approval of others, I don’t think it would make sense for me to actually publish it.

The Heir and the Spare. A series of connected one-shots in which a recently resurrected Sephiroth and a permanently fifteen Chadley figure out how to human and bond through the respective traumas of their experiences with Hojo. This is still a bunch of scenes in my head, and I feel like I need to learn how to human and process my parent-derived traumas before even attempting it.

What are your writing strengths?

Remembering that idiolects are a thing, and using that in narration.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plots are non-existent. If I manage to have a plot, they’re trite and simplistic. I don’t write conflict. My pacing is terrible. I can’t write battles. I can’t provide tension. Everyone sounds the same in dialogue. I can’t write long-fic. I don’t write consistently. I don’t write for myself anymore. I’m afraid of writing things that excite or interest me because I believe that no one will like it and external validation is what matters. I don’t write for improvement. I don’t use a beta regularly and when I do use a beta I take their critique too personally. I don’t explore challenging themes. I don’t have themes in my work. I don’t use my work to explore or problematize themes and topics from the canon. I don’t understand the canon. I don’t critique the canon in a scholarly and nuanced way. I don’t reflect on my writing for improvement or for personal enlightenment. I don’t refine my work. I don’t have “galaxy brain” takes or ideas. I procrastinate on my assignments. I put too much pressure on myself. I expect certain amounts of interaction/validation and when it doesn’t materialize, I take it as proof that my work is terrible. I don’t push. I don’t fight. I give up too easily. I can’t find positives in my work easily.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Most recent?

Same answer for both, actually: Final Fantasy VII.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

If we’re talking about how I felt while writing it, then the Mary Sue fic that I first started working on back in 1998. I wrote that for myself, mostly. (I did ask for critique and I did take the critique personally, but once I reworked what I had, I honestly had fun with it.) It’s Old Shame now.

If we’re talking about me reading everything I’ve ever written in the present, I hate “Honor Among...” the least. There are parts from each chapter that I really like, but because the work as it is doesn’t match the first grand idea/expectation I had in my head, it feels like I compromised/cut corners/didn’t work as hard as I should have in order to get it done.

What fic are you most proud of?

“The Traveling Companions” and “Honor Among” because they had plots and they’re complete.

#long post #long post is long

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

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a lot more ppl sent me very lovely messages and i don’t want to spam dashes OR ignore them so i’m replying to them in a batch below the read more!:

jellyluchi said: idk what those anons are on but I'm really glad you're writing for a different media I don't see a lot of jjk content so seeing it on my dash is great! plus it's your blog so you should be able to able to write whatever you want! you're not betraying anyone for writing stuff you like

tysm sid!!! i love jojo and i will probably not be abandoning it but people forget i’ve been here for FOUR YEARS (!) and i’m one of very few blogs still around. like. people don’t even remember the blogs that were popular when i was still writing :(. i’m just excited to have a new interest!!! <3

Anonymous said: Nat: la squadra posts 24/7 Anon: you're basically abandoning the jojo fandom relinquish your card No but seriously, people are allowed to focus on other types of media, especially if the current fandom is waning. Not saying more people are leaving the JoJo fandom than staying, but that it's had to make do with the available content. I'd say more people (inside and outside the fandom) are more familiar with the anime, and Golden Wind ended 1-2 years ago. I'm sure once Stone Ocean comes out, the fandom will go wild again. Either way, I don't mind what you post, I just like seeing you talk so passionately

gosh it’s been so long since VA, huh? i’m still here, still working on stuff - my inspiration for jojo has just waned a little! i still love talking to you all about my husbands and your husbands. a lot of my friends are into jjk now too which means that i have people to bounce ideas off in a way i don’t as much for jojo! i’m sure when SO starts i’ll come crawling back but for now let me have a little fun! <3 also i really do still not shut up about la squadra dfbvnkjdfgn. i’ve been saying to myself i’ll publish one jojo thing and one jjk thing a day and it’s been going really well so far!

mix-senpai said: I like to assume that the anons who say that stupid shit to you is always the same little gremlin who apparently has nothing better to do. I know you don't want people to openly riot over these anons, but honestly? You're one of the sweetest, and most friendly and accepting person I personally have ever met, so color me baffled to find that clowns like that anon would have the nerve to give you such a nasty attitude and be so rude for no reason. Like, hello? They're not the boss around here- it's not their blog it's yours to post whatever you please, they have zero say on the matter and they just have to deal with it. Keep doing you. Keep being your lovely self. And just keep doing whatever makes you happy, okay?

i block them as much as i can but i dont think it works very well fgnkjbng. as a whole i delete a lot of mean messages but honestly i’ve been expecting this one for a while which is why i bothered replying to it! tysm friend! <3

Anonymous said: 1. you still enjoy and write for jojo, you didn’t “abandon” anyone. and even if you did lose interest in jojo, that isn’t really your fault. people lose interest in things. 2. it’s YOUR blog. youre allowed to post, write, and simp over whoever you please from whatever fandom. i like jojo and jujutsu kaisen, but i also stay because i just generally like reading what you say and post because i like you, not just because i like what you can provide for me. you deserve to have followers that feel the same way, aka not that anon

the use of words like ABANDON and BETRAYAL is so funny to me honestly, this is just a thirstposting blog it’s not that deep fgbnkjgfn. thank you so much friend!! i’m glad so many people at least seem to like both, it makes me feel less bad! <3

Anonymous said: are you seriously getting shit on just because you have interests other than jjba??? lmao how the fuck does that anon survive on tumblr 😂😂😂 one of the blogs i followed for, like, gravity falls content or something several years ago, who has since shifted their focus to posting content from numerous other fandoms, ended up putting monsterfucker content on my dash the other day because that’s just what they’re interested in right now apparently! and you know what i said about it? abso-fucking-lutely nothing because it is not my business to dictate the content they post on their blog, and if they ever start posting stuff that’s a dealbreaker for me, then i’ll just leave quietly and leave them to their business. a content creator that you followed for a certain type of content deciding to change what fandom they produce content for is not a “betrayal” or whatever, it’s just them being a human fucking person on the other side of the screen! anyway, i just wanna tell you that your writing slaps, i hope people continue to recognize that your writing slaps no matter WHAT fandom you write for, and i hope you have a fantastic time writing your funky lil heart out for jjk 💓

honestly some anons in my inboxes have WILD takes. i follow so many ppl who arent into jojo anymore but i consider them MY FRIENDS AND I LOVE THEM. i just want them to be happy! and if ppl arent happy with my content there is an unfollow button RIGHT THERE!!

Anonymous said: That anon saying they feel betrayed either copy and pasted their message or something because a few other blogs that used to be JJBA only, then branched out to multi fandom stuff, got the same if not similar messages.

yes! like i said earlier, i’ve been expecting this message for a while bc i’ve seen a lot of my mutual writer friends get it. as a whole, i delete a lot of mean messages instead of replying, but i felt like this one might come up again so i wanted to nip in the bud so to speak! <3

Anonymous said: honestly, nat after over a year of being stuck inside and not being able to see my friends or do very much, it honestly just feels NICE to be excited about something with other people! i will ALWAYS love jojo but thank you so much for turning me on to jjk!! my partner and i were also in kind of an anime rut and hadn't watched a new series together in months but we are both enjoying it immensely 💖

AHH i hope you are the same anon who messaged me about it before because i am so happy that you are enjoying it!!! i convinced haz to watch jjk too and now we’re both having a very good time (she just got up to date with the manga!). it’s so nice sharing things you care about with people!

#nat.txt #drama for ts

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ashestoashesjc · 5 years ago

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A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend On A Couple's Retreat

Short Story 1/2/(3)/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

"RrRRrrrr... grrr? <Hey, uh, babe... seen my arm anywhere?>" rang Sett's voice throughout their cigar box of a house as he rummaged through closets, opened cabinets, overturned couch cushions.

Shutting and latching the front door behind him, Ulrick began flipping through the stack of envelopes clutched in his right hand. "Huh? Oh…”

“Okay, so… don’t get mad,” Ulrick began, as meekly and guilt-tinged as one can make a shout. “But... there was this huge, I mean HUGE silverfish…”

“GRrrr! Rrrrr. <Dude! Not cool,>” could be heard as Sett stomped his way to the foyer.

“I know! I’m sorry! I’m weak!” moaned Ulrick.

Sett sighed as he entered the cove and laid his single remaining hand on Ulrick’s left shoulder, the other sleeve draped flaccidly at his side. “Grrrr. <Well, yeah.>” he said. Ulrick snickered.

“You know, having your boyfriend kill a bug for you is exceedingly normal,” Ulrick said, separating the bills from the letters that weren’t bills. There were very few that weren’t bills. “Almost conventional.”

“Rrr. <True,>” Sett replied. “Rggrrrr. <Probably while the arm’s still attached, though.>”

“A mere quibble.”

“Rrrrgrrr? <So, where is it now?>” Sett asked.

“Ugh. Still getting cozy with the silverfish, I’d imagine,” Ulrick admitted, guilt creeping back into his voice. He covered his eyes with his free hand and shuddered. “In… the shower.”

Sett sucked air through his teeth in a compassion-filled cringe.

“Yeah,” Ulrick sighed, resigned to his trauma.

“Grrrr. <Don’t worry,>” said Sett. “Rraarr. <I got it.>”

Ulrick slid his hand down his face with a grateful groan. “God, I love you.” Sett pulled him forward by his collar and pecked his forehead.

Continuing to sort through the mail, Ulrick came to a red envelope and, seeing it addressed to Sett, handed it over. “Looks important.”

Confusion clouded Sett’s eyes for the first few, slow moments spent undoing the envelope’s seal flap, until suddenly, a surge of realization like lightning drove him to violently tear the crimson paper away.

As he scanned the contents of the letter contained within, words failing to do his emotional state justice, Sett began to fist pump wildly, God help anyone in the flight path of his singular elbow. Ulrick looked on in entranced bewilderment.

“Was there itching powder in that envelope?” asked Ulrick.

Sett shoved the creased letter in Ulrick’s face, his manic energy not yet dissipated. Ulrick took it and held it out at arm’s length until his eyes brought the words into focus.

“A couple’s retreat?” he wondered aloud, lowering the paper enough to peer over the top at Sett.

“Grrgrrrr. <An all-expenses paid couple’s retreat.> Rrrrrr. <At a swanky resort.> GrrrrRr. <Complete with water skis.>”

“This is from a contest?” he asked, rotating and inspecting the sheet. “When did we enter a contest?”

“Rrggrrrr? <You know those entry slips we’re getting in the post all the time?>”

“The ones I’m always throwing away? I’m familiar.”

“RrrRrrrrr ggrrrr. <Well, your aim could use some work, because some of them wind up in the mailbox,>” said Sett, with a shrug.

The sound that next filled the room, colored with exasperated mirth, was one Sett was used to Ulrick making, though one that never stopped bringing a flush of heat to the place where his heart used to be.

He grabbed Ulrick by the hips and the two began to sway back and forth. “Rrrrrr. <Just imagine it,>” he purred dreamily. “GrrrRRrrrr rrrrRrrr grrr...arrrr? <Massages, rock-climbing, a luau. And… did I mention waterskiing?>”

Swaying still, Ulrick looked up with his head cocked. "I've... never heard you mention waterskiing before."

"GrrRrrrrrr. <I enjoy a lot of things I don't talk about.> Rgrrrrgrrr. <Like country music, or bad chick lit,>" Sett said before twirling and dipping Ulrick in a blur. "Rraarrrr. <I'm a multi-layered zombie.>"

Breaking clumsily away from the songless dance and squeezing the bridge of his nose, Ulrick set down the remainder of the mail on the side table by the entrance and looked his boyfriend over. “It’s totally free?”

“Grrarrr. <It’s totally free,>” confirmed Sett.

Ulrick raised an eyebrow. “No catch?”

“Rrr… <Well…>”

“And streeetch! That’s right! Streeetch!”

At the front of Meadow Grove Resort’s famed yoga studio balanced - one foot planted on the ground, the other hooked deftly behind her neck - Chrysanthemum Smith, a remarkably limber 60-year-old instructor, urging her out-of-shape contest winning students to achieve the same feats of flexibility.

All around Ulrick and Sett, a pretzel factory’s soon-to-be-discarded collection of heinous, gnarly undesirables had been given life in the form of sweaty middle Americans.

That pretzels went through a less agonizing process being baked at 500 degrees was a fact Ulrick was both confident in and envious of. His legs were angled in a way he was sure he’d feel for weeks to come.

Sett, on the other hand, had apparently been a contortionist in a past life, the way he bent himself into poses, well, a pretzel would gawk at, holding each position stoically before moving gracefully on to the next. It also helped that he couldn’t feel what would leave most tendons shredded rags.

Ulrick gave up the pursuit of dislocating his pelvis and instead went to poke Sett in the cheek. Through his mask, Sett made a chomping motion at the finger, though remained otherwise totally still. "Okay, but this kind of bites, right?" Ulrick signed.

"A little. And not in the fun way," Sett signed back.

On a pair of blue, rubber mats to their left were two women - one in a biker's jacket and tattered, patched jeans, short red hair tied into a haphazard ponytail; the other a dark woman donning a shaved head, flower-patterned maxi dress, and combat boots - the former of whom suddenly grabbed Ulrick's attention with a nod.

"You're telling me," she signed.

And in an instant, they were no longer alone in the hazy, secluded sphere that made their reality.

So taken aback was he that he blurted aloud, "You sign?"

The yoga instructor shushed him from her place at the head of the wide room, leading him to duck down sheepishly. With the forced inclusion of an overly casual air, he said more than asked, "You sign."

"Oh, yeah," the woman chuckled gruffly. "Mom's Deaf."

Taking a sudden interest in the conversation, Sett's head swiveled to the leather jacket-clad woman. "Shit yeah!" he signed with fervor, eliciting a harsh snort from the woman. The instructor's head whipped around to glare her way, but went ignored.

Sett's hands jumbled for a moment before he continued. "I mean, I'm sure that must have been very difficult for your family and--"

She gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. She's capital 'D' Deaf. A congenital thing. Whole family's been signing forever."

Her wife - Jen, they later learned - chimed in with, "Di does it at home, too. She's taught me half the lyrics to Boys for Pele."

"Wow!" Ulrick said with teeth-clenching enthusiasm. "That's so great! Isn't that so great, Sett?"

The mask did nothing to conceal Sett's raised, beaming features. "That's so great!" he signed.

"I'm sorry!" bellowed the lithe yogi, shattering all delusions of serenity. "Am I boring you?"

Several overlapping voices came to the general consensus of "Christ, yes."

One of the husbands, portly and somewhat resembling the famously affable capybara, asked, somewhat less affably, why they were being stretched into taffy when they should be outside taking one-on-one lessons with the beach volleyball instructor. He was joined by a few surly “yeah!”s.

They were met with an unimpressed crossing of the arms. Though it should be noted Smith’s foot was still being held comfortably behind her head.

"I would suggest, in the future, that you more closely scrutinize contest entries," Yogi Smith advised in as calm a manner as it seemed she could now manage, though with an unmistakable edge to her voice. "In order to partake in our facility’s more... physically involved activities, you’ll first need to align and cleanse your mental, emotional, and spiritual energies.”

This provoked a studio-wide groan, with the exclusion of Jen, who seemed just eager enough to cancel out the cloud of grim impatience encircling her.

“Unless, of course,” Smith said, shifting poses to something favoring the letter ‘G’, “you’d prefer to construct your own schedules. In which case, a full price admission to Meadow Grove Resort remains available.”

She sleekly extended her right leg, pointing its foot pin-straight toward the sliding studio doors. “Don’t, as the masters of yore were wont to say, let the door hit ya.”

When no one moved and the room went quiet enough to hear an acupuncture needle drop, Smith resumed a standing position and bowed three times to each division of the studio. “Namaste. Namaste. Namaste.”

Chrysanthemum Smith had in no way undersold how ‘aligned and cleansed’ couple’s therapy and its airings of dirty laundry and subsequent ferocious dissolutions of decades of marriage; couple’s pottery, the same thing but with clay vases; and couple’s finger-painting, a bonding exercise in shared humiliation, would make their minds, emotions, and souls through sheer gut-rending hilarity.

Ulrick almost didn’t want to stop watching people who, hours ago, seemed all confidence and bravado, now being brought to tears by an instructor’s criticism of their macaroni art lacking ‘depth.’

But their confinement was over and they were free to roam the grounds as they saw fit and Sett, without even feigning to look for a map of the resort, made a beeline for the largest body of water (and the largest gathering of humans) he could sniff. Ulrick was still surprised at times by how agile Sett could be on his feet when on the hunt for blood - or recreational watersports - and struggled to keep up.

Their long-awaited waterskiing adventure began almost as soon as they arrived at the lakeside, the instructor needing a volunteer at that instant to man the skis while he lectured another guest on the controls of the boat. At nearly a head taller than anyone else present, Sett didn’t need much more than a raised hand to stand out.

Things were going great; Sett mounted on skis as long as he was tall, the boat revving greedily for take off. At Sett’s thumbs up, the runabout hammered off in a thunderous roar. And then, all at once, things were going wrong.

The envisioned majesty of skimming the motionless calm of the crystal river was halted abruptly with a leaden Sett stumbling mid-lake in his skis, trying and failing to correct himself, going feet-over-head, and sinking like an anchor to the agitated silt of the riverbed below.

Ulrick, though he jumped with concern at the first hint of a misstep, expected a brief swim back, perhaps slowed a bit - but not much - by Sett's stoney limbs. He’d been the star diver of his local swimming hole as a teen and still maintained some of the underwater dexterity, though nowadays tended to lurk the floors of bodies of water like a carnivorous bottom-feeder; eating habits included.

But then a few minutes passed, and nothing. A lifeguard and two of the more experienced swimmers among the guests plunged into the river and searched for fifteen minutes, cracking the surface now and again for a gulp of air, all to no avail. The water was too cloudy with sediment to see past a certain depth, and the orange-purples of dusk were beginning to settle in. They'd need to return in the morning with a diving team.

It'd now been forty-five minutes, and three of the resort’s other guests were consoling Ulrick, one herself on the verge of waterworks. They'd just witnessed a man - someone's significant other - torn tragically from life's teat, and in front of the man he loved, no less.

Ulrick, for his part, was positively miffed.

"When I get my hands on him..." Ulrick started, before one of the grievers tossed him a teary-eyed questioning look. "Er, that is... would that I could only put my hands on him... again..." he corrected.

Just as Ulrick had begun mentally reviewing the basics of the Arts of Throttling, a movement, barely noticeable, shook the surface of the lake. Then bubbles, then the full break of the water as a head rose into view. Then the screams of onlookers as, in the fading light, a ghastly lake monster began its murderous approach. Then screams of a different kind as people began to make the connection proper. Then there was weeping, fainting, more than one declaration of faith renewed. It was a miracle!

Later, after insistences for medical attention were politely but firmly refused and the religious stragglers begging for just a smell of Sett’s waterlogged clothes were shooed away, Ulrick asked why he waited so long to resurface, to which Sett said, "GrrrrRRrr. <Well, at first I was just sort of embarrassed.> RrrrrrrGrrrRrrr? <Then I thought, "How often do these people see miracles?>"

"Oh, sure," groaned Ulrick. "A man comes out of a lake after half an hour and it's a miracle. A man comes out of a grave after a few months and it's "Grab the torches and pitchforks, everyone!""

"Rrrr. <Babe.>"

Ulrick gave a pouty grumble. "I'm just saying. One's a little more miraculous, is all."

Sett pulled Ulrick's head into his chest and stroked his hair. "GrrrRrrrRrrr. <Shh, I know, dude, I know.>" His heavy, soaked clothes and lack of body heat didn't chill Ulrick as much as they should have, and though a fine coating of sand covering him from head to toe gritted against Ulrick's cheek, it only made Ulrick rub his face in rebelliously.

"Okay," Ulrick said, resting his fists on Sett's chest and gazing up into his eyes. "What's the next activity? I think we’re... due-au for a luau?" The moment the words left his lips, his face collapsed into disgusted regret.

“Rgrrr... <Actually…>” Sett said, wrenching off his mask and shaking the excess water from his hair, teasing a blush out of Ulrick. “GgrrrRrrrr? <Doesn’t watching the stars by the lake sound pretty relaxing?>”

Ulrick grinned and took a seat on the shoreline, running his hands through the tufts of ryegrass stretching out in waves around him. He tapped a spot to his right and Sett, half-cocked smile in tow, came lumbering over to take it.

Hours flurried past, changing nothing about the image of the intimately silent pair but the number of stark white pinpricks in the sky they beheld.

They threatened to sit silently basking in each other forever.

And then Sett said, “GRrrrrgrrr, rrgrrr, graargrr. <So, Diane and Jen gave me their number, and they want to plan an outing.>”

Unease shot through Ulrick’s veins, but he held his tongue in search of the correct words. “O-oh?”

“Grrr? Rrgrrrrr. <Isn’t that cool? People want to spend time with us,>” said Sett, ensorcelled with the twinkle of every new star. “Rrrrr. <With me.>”

“That might be…” began Ulrick, before noticing the glimmer in Sett’s eyes and faint lift at the corners of his mouth as he stared up towards a great unknown. He sighed. “It’s going to be great.”

Sett rested his hand on Ulrick’s, their fingers interlocking. He smiled, and the two gazed into an ever-darkening firmament, speckled with a thousand stars and a thousand futures.

#A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend #short stories #supernatural #mlm #wlw #queer #series #A Necromance #original #fiction

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adenei · 5 years ago

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Next Steps - Chapter 3

Woo hoo! Finally had a chance to return and continue this story. Full thing is on ao3

It started as a one-shot for a Platonic Rarry moment where Harry goes with Ron to pick out a ring, and they book a trip to Italy. Chapter two was of Ron asking the Granger’s permission for their daughter’s hand in marriage, and then him telling his own parents of his plan. And now, Harry and Ron reveal the news that they’re taking a holiday to Italy to Hermione and Ginny!

This is probably as some of you would call a filler chapter, but sometimes they’re necessary. Oh, and since I turned this into a multi-chap, I had to find a problem and include some angst somehow. Enjoy :)

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Surprises & Suspicions

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny flooed back to Grimmauld place after dinner at the Burrow. Harry and Ron were finally going to surprise the girls with the trip. They were all sitting in the living room, when Harry and Ron gave each other a silent nod.

“So,” Ron cleared his throat. “We have a surprise for you.”

Hermione and Ginny both looked up at Ron in confusion. “Oh?” Hermione asked. “What kind of surprise?”

“Well, we’ve never exactly been on a proper holiday together and thought it might be fun to go somewhere,” Harry told them.

“Ginny’ll be in off season soon, and we’ve all got vacation time that needs to be used up before the end of the year, so we booked a trip to Italy!” Ron said, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

“Really?” Hermione said excitedly. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to go!”

“That’s so cool!” Ginny agreed. “When is it for? My last match is Thursday!”

“Our portkey is scheduled to leave Saturday at 2:00.” Ron told them.

Ginny squealed with excitement, starting to chatter about packing, but Hermione excitement turned into a furrowed brow and she now had a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“It’s just that, how will I know if I can get the time off? I just started at the Ministry this summer. What if it looks bad that I’m already taking vacation time? I’ve got so many projects going on right now, too.. I don’t know if this is a good idea-”

“Hermione, I went to talk to the head of your department already. I knew that you’d probably feel this way so I cleared it to make sure you’d be set. There’s nothing to worry about,” Ron attempted to reassure her.

“You talked to my department head?” Hermione looked at him scathingly. Apparently that was the wrong thing for him to do.

“Er, Ginny, maybe we should go..” Harry said awkwardly, and they made a quick escape out of the room.

“I was just trying to be helpful, Hermione. I knew you’d be resistant, but you’ll never get the time back after the first of the year, and I knew you wouldn’t willingly take it on your own!”

“But I only just started! I’m still trying to make a name for myself within the department,” she argued.

“Would you be saying the same thing this time next year? Or would you find some other excuse not to go. C’mon Hermione, we haven’t had proper time to be able to relax. Harry and I are mid-way through training, Ginny’s got a break, surely you can take a week off of your job to take a holiday!”

“I’ve got so much work to do though!” she complained.

“You’ve got all week to get ahead! Plus, don’t you have a partner that you work with?” Ron countered.

“Yes, but Steven likes to work on things together! He won’t be happy knowing I’m taking off a whole week.”

A surge of jealousy shot through Ron. “Really? If the tables were turned and he was the one taking off, how would you feel? The same?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Exactly! He’ll get over it. Hermione, I don’t know what you want me to say. I wanted to surprise you, thought you’d be excited. Especially because I thought ahead and tried to make things easier for you. Bring the work for all I care! Unless-”

“Unless what, Ron?” Hermione asked.

“Unless you don’t want to go at all… I should have known,” Ron turned to leave the room. He should have known she wouldn’t want to. He tried to quash the feelings that it was always him or her work, but it was getting harder to ignore.

“Ron! No, wait! I-” Hermione collapsed back onto the couch realizing how much of a mess she’d just made things.

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

Hermione stayed in the sitting room for a while, trying to digest all of the thoughts that were flowing through her mind. She wanted to go to Italy, there was no doubt about that. She also couldn’t deny how thoughtful Ron had been to even schedule the trip. But why not wait a month or so? It was only October.

She knew the answer to that, of course. Ginny had two weeks off before she went back to train. They all knew her holiday schedule would be hard to work around, and then once January came, there wouldn’t be a break in her schedule until at least April. Even still, he should have talked to her about it first. Her work was important. She’d only been working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since July, and she had been paired with another new colleague, Steven, who was a transfer from a different department. Right now, they had three open cases they were consulting for with the Department of Magical Creatures, and she wasn’t sure if she could step away for a whole week and trust that the work would be done properly.

Steven was nice, and split the workload evenly with Hermione, which was a vast change from always trying to do everything herself, but he always insisted that they work together on everything. They often took working lunches, and he managed to convince her to stay late at the office a couple of times a week. Hermione appreciated the shared drive and commitment they had to the workload, and felt sorry for him since he must not have anyone to go home to at night, since he willingly spent so much time at the office.

He always seemed so disappointed when Hermione would go to lunch with Harry and Ron on certain days, or when she did leave the office on time at the end of each day. She’d tried to invite him to join them for lunch, but he always declined for some reason. She knew how upset he’d be when she said she’d be taking a full week off. I’ll just make sure all of my work is done ahead of time, Hermione resolved.

She had to take this holiday with Ron. No, not had to, she wanted to. Of course she wanted to! Their careers made it lucky if they were to spend regular evenings together, and it was a rare occasion when they had a full weekend together. Hermione had jumped right into her Ministry job only a week after graduating Hogwarts, and Ron was already established with the Aurors, so they didn’t get a relaxing summer.

Hermione got up then and made her way to their bedroom, where she found Ron laying there, despondent. She walked over and sat next to him. “I’m sorry I reacted the way that I did,” she started. “Of course I want to go. You were right, I’ve got all week to get ahead on my cases, and I’ll talk to my department head to make sure I don’t get any new cases assigned before we leave on Saturday.”

“Does that mean you’re going to go, then?” Ron asked her, his voice lacking any emotion.

“Of course it means I’m going to go! You honestly didn’t think I’d choose work over getting to spend a whole week with you?” Hermione asked him.

“Hermione, did you just hear yourself?” Ron gave her a look.

“I’m not the same as I used to be in Hogwarts. I know there are more important things in life than school and work,” she tried to defend. “Most of the time..”

“Exactly. Most of the time,” Ron said. He lifted his arm up, inviting her to lean into him, which she did with much relief. “I knew you’d put up some sort of resistance, you know.”

“I know. It’s hard to imagine just walking away from work for a full week, and not having to worry about anything. I know Steven will be upset, too..” Hermione trailed off.

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd?” Ron asked. He didn’t like to bring up her colleague because he didn’t want to seem jealous. But that didn’t stop the concern he felt whenever she’d send a note to say she was taking a working lunch at Steven’s request, or when she’d tell him that ‘Steven wants to work a little later tonight to finish this report.’

“What’s a little odd?” Hermione looked at him in question.

“That he’d be upset because you’re taking a vacation.”

“Well, we are the youngest in our department. He’s probably just looking out for me,” Hermione reasoned.

“I don’t think it’s that, Hermione,” Ron said seriously. “Are you ever the one to suggest a working lunch or staying late? I know you don’t mind them, I’m not saying that. I’m just curious.”

Hermione scrunched up her face in consideration. “Well, now that you mention it..”

Ron was silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Just be careful, okay? There’s something about him that doesn’t feel right,” he said as he looked at her in concern.

The Hermione from a few years ago would have immediately argued with him that he was being ridiculous, but the Aurors had strengthened his knack to read people, and his senses were incredibly strong in that respect. “I’m always careful,” Hermione said as she snuggled into him. “I love you,” she said to him as she began thinking of what else he might have planned for their trip.

“I love you, too,” Ron said as he kissed her.

#romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

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benkouji726 · 5 years ago

Text

Five times Alex surprised Forrest and one time he didn’t

Final two Chapters!

Not gonna lie. I literally cried when I finished this. And I vowed to myself that I’d NEVER write a multi chapter ever again.

But anyway, I FINISHED IT. I feel so proud of myself. Also, I now realize that I’m not a writer, like at all. To quote Mr Alec Lightwood-Bane, “I dabble”.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Forrest’s lease was up in two weeks, and he hadn’t even tried to look for a new apartment yet.

Thing was, he and Alex were practically living together, they just spent their nights alternatively in his apartment or Alex’s house, depending on their work schedule or the mood.

Besides, Buffy OWNED that couch in Alex’s house at this point. No lie, anyone who wanted to sit on that couch needed to ask for her permission, Alex included.

But Alex hadn’t asked him yet. And he knew about the lease thing, Forrest made sure of it.

So here he was, blew off Alex’s dinner request and sat in wild pony, alone and miserable, just because he didn’t know if his boyfriend, who he had dated almost seven months now, wanted to take the next step with him or not. It was a little pathetic to be honest.

“Maybe I should just ask him”, he murmured to himself, needing the outspoken words to give himself courage.

“Ask him about what?” Isobel suddenly appeared to his left.

“Jesus”, he was startled, and a little bit embarrassed. He and Isobel were sort of friends now, but talking about boy problems with each other? They were so not there yet. So he deflected. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Greg were going out tonight.”

Isobel considered him for a moment, eyes insightful. Forrest sometimes felt like she could see right through him, it was unsettling to say the least. But she played along, dropping the topic.

“Gee, what are you and Alex? Teenage besties? You tell each other every little thing in your life now? Including who one’s brother goes out with on any given day?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Forrest replied, deadpan, “What else would we talk about when we go to the bathroom together, hand in hand?”

Isobel snorted. “Well, Greg had to bail on me because his brother was feeling alone and insecure tonight because he said, and I quote, ‘it’s our six months anniversary and I planned the whole thing but he chose today of all days to blow off our date. Is he gonna dump me oh my dear brother?’”

Forrest frowned. “What are you talking about? Our six months anniversary was almost three weeks ago. We had a nice dinner, we exchanged gifts. Well, I gave him a gift, he gave some toy to Buffy, but you know, PRESENTS were involved.”

“Don’t look at me. All I know is that I’m here and Greg is there. When we could’ve been having a MUCH enjoyable time right now if not for your issues, no matter what they are.”

Forrest couldn’t help himself at that point.

“If he cared so much about me, why didn’t he want me to move in with him?”

Isobel froze at that. But she recovered quickly. “Are you sure you want to talk to me about this, Long? I’m sure our friendship is so not there yet.”

He KNEW this. He just didn’t care anymore. “Why not? It’s not everyday I can talk about my boyfriend issues to said boyfriend’s ex’s sister, is it?”

Isobel sighed. “When you put it that way, it’s almost like we’re family. So go ahead. But I gotta say, I don’t know why you’re so upset, it’s only been six months. It’s within reason that he didn’t ask you to move in, no?”

Forrest shook his head. “Normally I’d agree. But for the last month or so, we haven’t spent a single night apart. We’re either in my apartment or in his house. And the lease of my apartment is up in 2 weeks. He knew this, because I TOLD him last week, but instead of asking what my plans are, he changed the subject, rather smoothly I might add, but it was still a very abrupt move.”

He went quieter. “I haven’t gathered the courage to bring up the topic ever since. And it’s not only been six months, it’s six months and three weeks.”

“Well”, Isobel also went quieter. “I don’t know much about your relationship status. But I want to quote the thing you just said, you should ask him. And maybe sort out the whole different dates on the anniversary mess?”

Forrest stared. “You are absolutely no help.”

She drank his drink, patted him on the back, and left.

Really. No help at all.

——————————————

When he parked in Alex’s driveway, Greg was already gone. Perhaps went to the ENJOYABLE TIME with Isobel. Which, eww.

He went in, using the key Alex gave him. (He had a key for god’s sake, didn’t that say something?) Buffy was lying on HER couch, not even spared a glance his way. So she took Alex’s side. Great.

Then he was met with candles and roses and wine and cold homemade meal, and a visibly upset and a little sad Alex.

OK if he was Buffy he would probably take Alex’s side too.

He felt guilty but also angry because he had done nothing he should feel guilty about, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“It’s not our six months anniversary.”

Alex looked confused. “What? It’s definitely six months since I kissed you and we went on our first date that night.”

Forrest was cold all of a sudden.

“Wait. I thought our first date was the paint ball date?”

Now Alex was the one looked guilty. “I don’t consider it the beginning of our relationship, because at that time, I hadn’t moved on from Guerin yet. But the night when I sang that song...”

“You mean that song you wrote for him, sang it in front of him, hoping he would take you back, but got rejected, that song? So what, you think our relationship only began after you knew he was no longer a possibility?”

Forrest never hated himself more in his whole life. He was being petty, he knew. And he was hurting the love of his life for being petty. But whatever’s said, couldn’t be unsaid.

Alex’s knuckles turned white from gripping the kitchen table. He said in a controlled voice. “I think our relationship began after I was sure I wanna move on. Yes, the reason I wanted to move on was because I thought there was no chance between me and Guerin anymore. And yes, if he had not walked out of that song, you and I might not have entered our relationship. But he did walk out, and I decided to try it with you. I’m glad I made that decision.”

He took a calming breath. But his voice shook a little at the end of his words. “You know all this. I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I told you my history with Guerin, you said you wanted to fight for us. What changed?”

His greedy heart was what changed, Forrest could at least admit this to himself. He had this constant fear, always looming somewhere deep in his heart, that if Guerin ever wanted to fight for Alex back, he would WIN.

He didn’t want to acknowledge that fear to Alex though, so he asked instead: “Why haven’t you asked me to move in with you? You knew my lease status.”

Something flicked through Alex’s eyes then, something like panic and afraid. But he was never one to avoid confrontation so he braced himself and said, “Because it’s a big step and I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Well if Forrest had ever thought he’d experienced the worst pain, he’d be wrong.

His voice was broken alongside his heart. “We’ve been living together for a month now, Alex, just in two places. I don’t understand, what more do we need to take the step? Where is this THERE?”

“I don’t know!” Alex seemed heartbroken too. Damn him. “Moving in together means we’re going steady. But I’m not steady and I can not offer steady at the moment!”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Forrest was angry now, because what Alex said was just total bullshit. “You are the steadiest person I know! And I don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve been going steady for at least four months now!”

“Not that kind of steady!” Alex continued to not making any sense, “the kind of steady that I can share everything with you, that I know where I’d end up, that we’re having the safe and happy future we both want!”

“Wait, back up, what?” He was utterly lost. “What do you mean, end up? You told me you are very unlikely to get relocated. And after this term of your enlistment, you’ll get out and find a job here. And more importantly, what the fuck do you mean, safe? Why shouldn’t we be safe?” He didn’t want to touch the “share everything” part, not just yet.

Alex shut his eyes. “I can’t tell you that.”

So literally “can’t share everything” huh, well it hurt like a bitch.

To add salt to the wound, because he was apparently asking for pain at this point, he asked, “Is it about Guerin?”

Alex didn’t answer that. He just stood there, eyes teary and pleading.

“So let me get this straight. You can’t move in with me because you can’t promise that we’d have a future together because you may end up dead or something, and the reason you might be in trouble even danger some day is because you are doing something for Guerin, which you can’t tell me about.”

Alex still said nothing.

Forrest should just leave, take Buffy and never turn back. But he had been a pathetic loser for Alex since day one, so he asked a last question, he practically begged: “Is there a time frame of this thing you do for him? Because I can be patient.” He even tried a lighthearted smile, he failed spectacularly.

Alex seemed SHATTERED by that. But he still shook his head.

After that, there was nothing left to say.

————————————

Turned out, it was really easy to find a new apartment in Roswell, New Mexico.

————————————

He was writing a poem in Crashdown when Guerin showed up. He was writing a lot of poems these days since Alex and he had the argument the other day. (He hadn’t seen, talked to or heard from Alex for three weeks now, but he still refused to call it a breakup.)

So he was writing his poem and had every reason to ignore Guerin, even if he sat in the opposite seat of the booth, directly in front of him.

Guerin seemed he didn’t really want to be there either, because he cut to the chase rather quickly.

“Alex re-enlisted because he wanted to protect me and my family from the government agency that is hunting us.” He said in a rush, voice so quiet Forrest thought he must’ve misheard him.

“What?” No, that was not quite enough, “What the fuck?”

Guerin cursed under his breath. “You are not stupid and you are not slow. You understand perfectly what I said. So ask a question that has some meaning instead of just being dense.”

Fuck him. “Why are you hunted?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Great. Time to leave.

“Wait!” Guerin half shouted, frustration evident in his voice, “Do you care more about this or do you want to know what type of trouble this could bring to Alex?”

He stilled. And sat back down.

Guerin pulled his hair, hard. “Honestly, I don’t know that either. But I know I would do everything in my power to prevent any type of danger heading his way.”

Forrest laughed, humorlessly. “No offense, but that does not assure me, like at all.”

“What do you want me to say?” Guerin was angry now, “The GOVERNMENT is hunting us. Alex was already involved, we couldn’t get him out now even if we tried. And honestly, he wouldn’t want to get out, he is stubborn like that, even if he’s now suffering from it.”

“Because he wants to protect you.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do!”

They glared at each other, both angry and hurt.

Guerin backed down first. “He wants to protect me, and my family, yes, that is a factor why he is doing this. But not the only factor. He also wants to create his own legacy, and really, it IS the right thing to do.”

Somehow, Forrest believed him. He didn’t like him, but he believed him.

“Why are you telling me this?” He needed to know.

Guerin looked like he’d rather die than say the next bit, but he still said it. “Like I said, he’s suffering, because he thought he lost you over this.”

He then stared right into Forrest eyes, as if daring him to look away. “And I could swallow a lot of things if it means he’d be happy, you of all people should understand this, shouldn’t you?”

———————————

He left Buffy with his cousin because he wanted to have an uninterrupted conversation with Alex. She wasn’t happy about it.

But when he stood in front of Alex’s door, he suddenly lost all words. He even lost the courage to KNOCK.

The last three weeks had been the most miserable days of his life. He was only keeping himself together (barely) by insisting to himself that it was only an argument, not a definite ending. He didn’t know what he’d do if Alex decided it was in fact done and over.

He didn’t know what he’d do if those three weeks would turn into the rest of his life.

Panic struck him all at once, and he was ready to turn around and flee, when the door opened and Alex stepped out.

And he looked terrible.

He was losing weight, eyes bloodshot, hair a mess. He looked exactly like Forrest when he looked in the mirror these days.

He had so many things to say, to apologize, to blame, to yell, to beg. But no words came out. He stepped forward, as if being pulled by some invisible force, and next thing he knew, he was clutching at Alex, totally engulfed by his embrace.

He vaguely thought about loosing his grip a bit because it was really too desperate, but he was also having a little trouble breathing from Alex’s tight hug, so he let it go.

————————————

He didn’t know how long they stood there and hugged the fuck out of each other, but by the time they sat down on Buffy’s couch, he felt like a new man already.

They were sitting side by side, not exactly touching, but Alex’s hand rested beside his, he only had to move a fraction so that their pinkies would touch.

He moved that fraction.

Alex looked down, to their now touching pinkies. He smiled, moved his hand even further to Forrest so all of their fingers entwined.

Then he said, ever so soft, “I missed you. I missed you so damn much.”

Forrest wanted to cry. He wanted to say it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to know anything beyond the fact that he loved Alex and Alex loved him. He would be happy as long as he could have Alex by his side. He didn’t care about moving in or being steady. He just wanted Alex back.

But Alex surprised him by pulling him up and to the bedroom. There, in the corner, was a small bed.

A dog bed.

Forrest was speechless. Fear and hope clogging his throat.

“I purchased it the day you left after our fight”, so he thought of it as a fight, not a breakup either. They were both idiots. “I knew then I wanted you and Buffy to move in, but I thought I couldn’t have that. Like Guerin told you, we’re up against the government, I don’t even know if I can get an honorable discharge, I can’t promise you a bright future.”

He took a deep breath. “But now I want nothing more than to ask you to move in with me.”

He should be happy, he shouldn’t ask any questions anymore. But he just needed to.

“Why? What changed?”

Alex didn’t hesitate. “The last three weeks happened, and they changed how I see things.”

“How?”

“I realized I couldn’t live without you. I also don’t want to.”

Forrest thought he could burst from all the love and happiness he felt at that moment.

Alex tightened his grip on Forrest’s hand, he was sweating a little, which meant he was nervous as fuck, and said in a tentative voice.

“I still can’t tell you what is it about Guerin and his family, not without his permission, or how long this hunting will continue, and I still can’t promise you I’ll be safe and sound for our future together. But I’m willing to fight teeth and nail so I’d come back to you, to our home.” His voice broke, “So will you move in with me?”

He had no choice but to say yes.

+1.

He proposed on a Saturday morning, when they were in bed, tangled up, changing smiles and kisses, after Alex told him the danger was no longer there and Guerin and his siblings were in the clear. He simply took out the ring he had bought three months ago, and asked.

“Marry me?”

And when Alex said yes, he wasn’t surprised at all.

#forlex #forlex fic #my fic #5+1 things #i finished it #i don’t even know how it turned out #but i finished it #i feel like patting myself on the shoulder #and telling myself NEVER AGAIN

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