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greyeyedmonster-18 · 2 years

Text

Civil Procedure

(a ship that not a single person asked for but here we are because i became obsessed after my own smutshot.

sirius x kingsley)

“You wanted to see me, Minister?” Sirius asked after knocking on the office door and stepping into the space that seemed to have more books than a library. Sirius had never been to Minister Shacklebolt's office, despite how many times he had exhibited unorthodox legal practices that definitely warranted more than a warning in hearings, and was surprised to see that it was decorated. Smart bookcases, a patterned rug that Sirius could tell was hand-made just from looking at it. A few photographs. The Minister had settled into the space, unlike Fudge, unlike Scrimgeour, exuding a confidence—an arrogance—that said I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

“Come in, close the door, Mr. Black,” Kingsley said, putting down the quill he was writing with and pushing all the work on his desk to the side, deep brown eyes fixated on Sirius. Sirius typically refused to wear his Wizengamot robes around the office, something Senior members of council had taken issue with, alongside the tattoo on his neck and the high heels he wore, but he was glad he put them on before meeting with the Minister. Wanting to look somewhat respectable as he wracked his brains for a most recent infraction.

Had he spoken out of turn at a board meeting?

Called bullshit one too many times during cross examination?

The filibuster for the Werewolf registry a step too far?

As much of a pain in the ass he knew he was, and as much as Sirius toed the line of disrespect regularly in a courtroom, he didn't actually want to lose his job. He didn't actually want to have to pack up his own office that he too had settled into quickly--pictures of his friends on his desk, a black leather desk chair he had picked out, his own stack of books and knickknacks on his desk for James to play with when he came to the Ministry on his off days. Sirius didn't plan on going anywhere either.

“Have a seat,” Kingsley gestured to the chair in front of him, smiling warmly, and Sirius had to yet again remind himself that this man, as handsome as he was—no matter how bright his smile was, no matter how toned his calves were in the muggle trousers he wore, no matter the golden earring in his ear—he was his boss. The Big Boss. The One Person Sirius Could Absolutely Not Pull into a Supply Closet and Fuck. Sirius took a seat hesitantly, sitting up straight as he did so.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Sirius pressed yet again, feeling warm under the collar of his stiff robes, temperature exacerbated by the Ministers eyes which seemed content to roam over every inch of Sirius.

“You didn’t have to get dressed up to see me, Mr. Black.”

“Sorry?”

“Your robes. Needn’t be so formal…I know you prefer not to wear them," he said. Sirius pretended his heart didn't turn inside of his chest at the idea The Minister might be noticing him in the ways he was used to. Sirius pretended that he hadn't ever left the house in a pair of black, tight dress trousers and heeled dragonskin boots just to see if someone would say something. Just to see if he could catch dark eyes wandering.

An animalistic sort of satisfaction when Sirius did, even if it meant he had to excuse himself to the loo subsequently.

“Seemed…appropriate, sir. For a meeting.”

“More of a quick question, but I thought it best asked in person.”

“A question?” Sirius’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Are you open to it?”

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be without context, sir.”

Kingsley leaned forward onto his arms, “Do you prefer Italian or Thai?”

“For a meeting?”

“For dinner.”

“We don’t need to talk…policy over dinner, sir.”

“Then it’s a good thing I hadn’t planned on doing so,” Kingsley smiled again, and Sirius felt his stomach flip, averting his eyes to look just past Kingsley’s shoulder, staring at the map on the back wall instead. “Most dates I go on do not involve politics, I prefer to keep my work and personal life separate, you see. Though, I understand where that might get challenging with you…but I have always liked a challenge.”

“Date?”

“Problem?”

Sirius was silent as his brain raged a war inside of his head. Like the Greek myths, Sirius had read with his uncle as a child, Achaeans and the Spartans screaming, yelling, racing toward each other with their spears, shields forgotten in favor of sheer force and aggression. Sirius had put on his own professional robes in hopes of protecting himself from intense brown eyes; in hopes of putting a veil over his own secret desires, but it was all in vain. Armor in the bushes, shields left somewhere in the department a floor down at his desk, or worse at the home he shared with James. Far, far, far, away, and Sirius stood no chance. Defenseless at the hands of the Minister of Fucking Magic.

“Mr. Black?”

“Hm?”

“Thai or Italian?”

“I…uh…” Sirius’s mouth was dry. His head was a barren wasteland. Once the top of this class, once the most brilliant in every room he walked into—except for this one. “I…can you walk me through this? I’m not sure…I get what’s going on here.”

"You're smart, I'm sure you can put it together."

Kingsley laughed softly and he put rested his chin on his thumb casually, fingers with gold jewelry covering his mouth, robe sleeve falling, and Sirius could see the top of the tattoo peaking out over the cuff of his shirt sleeve. Sirius had noticed it before. He first saw it shortly after he had been appointed Lead Council in the court and started spending more time with the Minister directly. In meetings. In passing corridors. Late at night, when he settled into bed, thinking about the hidden tattoo on the Ministers arm as his hand slid below the waistband of his briefs. He thought about it every time he received post signed K.S., straight to his desk, to his home. When he was asked to come in on weekends to—

“…Did you really need me to come in on Saturday?” Sirius asked, snapping his attention back to the other man, who grinned widely.

“Now, there’s always work to be done, isn’t there?”

“That’s an abuse of power, I think.” Get the upper hand back.

“Mm.”

“I could report you.” Losing your grip, Black.

“You could,” Kingsley shrugged, “Or you could tell me whether you prefer Thai or Italian, and I’ll pick you up at seven on Friday. You can wear something nice, or not, wear whatever you’d like I’m not going to contest either way, and I’ll be sure to open every single door for you and pay at the end. Call it compensation for those unnecessary weekends.”

“So, you’re admitting they were unnecessary.”

“Mr. Black, I admit you’re particularly skilled at the cross-examination, but I guarantee you, you don’t want to try it with me. This isn’t a court hearing…. this is dinner, and while I don’t have a problem dining alone, I’d much rather do it with you.”

“I…don’t know how to answer. “

“That’s surprising, you have an opinion on everything else.”

“My opinion on this is that you’re the Minister of Magic and I work for you.”

“Hm, I see. Then I suppose we have to try very hard to be on a best behavior, so this doesn’t go arse up.”

“I—”

“Thai or Italian?”

“French.”

“I don’t eat snails.”

“Neither do I.”

“Seven?”

Sirius nodded, trying to gather his bearings, “I would say I’d give you my address, but it seems you already know where to find me.”

“Indeed, I do."

“Is…that…all?”

“For now.”

Sirius squirmed a little under the gaze of the Minster, trying not to make it obvious as he tugged at the sleeves of his own robes, desperate for a little bit of fresh flowing air so he could remember how to breathe again, “Can…I... I just…am I free to go, sir?”

“No.”

“Something else?”

“Proper proposal draft for your ideas on Underage Magic Law reform on my desk Monday, and I mean proper. I appreciate the spirit, your spirit, but you should know by now nothing goes through without—”

“Maintaining correct channels and subscribing to ancient and archaic jargon. I know how to draft a proposal, Minister.”

“I look forward to reading it.”

“I’ll have it to you by Thursday.”

“I’m not discussing it over dinner with you.”

“Oh, but I might want to discuss it with you. You should know a date with Sirius Black often includes opinions.”

“I could’ve guessed as much,” Kingsley smirked a little before standing up from his desk, and Sirius followed suit. Sirius was certain he was taller than Kingsley, even without his heeled boots on, using his height as the last win he could take against this man who was sending his blood pressure skyrocketing no matter how big a game he talked. He followed Kingsley to the door, robes swishing around his ankles.

“And you don't pay for me. I believe I'll take care of that,” Sirius told him as he approached the door, boots clicking on hardwood, and he leveled Kingsley with a stare of his own. Face impassive. Inside, head spinning, heart thudding. A fucking muggle amusement park.

The Minister laughed again, “No you don’t, Mr. Black.”

“But I do.” Sirius responded, raising an eyebrow, and Kingsley stalled for the first time since Sirius had walked into his office. Sirius held his ground, kept his face schooled, even if he wanted to smirk in a triumphant victory and pop a bottle of expensive champagne. Spray it all over the Minister's nice rug in exchange for making him feel so foolish.

Because Sirius got asked to dinner.

Sirius got asked to dinner frequently, though that wasn't to say he had many second dinners, and even fewer third dinners, and probably one fourth dinner that usually ended up with a mirror call to James while in the loo and sneaking out the back.

This, wasn't anything new. But....but...it was.

Kingsley’s dark eyes twinkled, and his hand let go of the door handle. For a moment, Sirius considered that he had maybe gotten too brazen, forgotten that this still was his boss, no matter how many degrees away from professional their previous conversation had steered. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, Sirius getting ready to open his mouth and explain that he was teasing when the Minister's hand, the one with the tattoo and the jewelry that drove Sirius out of his fucking mind, connected with his shoulder. Innocuous enough, straightening robes out, picking off invisible lint, searching for a bicep that was underneath layers of fabric.

“I already told you I like a challenge.”

“I might like being one.”

“A challenge?”

“Bit of a chore, really. You seem plenty busy already, easier to just—”

“Let you get your way?’

“A bit.”

“Not a chance,” Kingsley stepped closer, “I asked you, it’s only polite that I pay now isn’t it? I know exactly who you are and there’s bound to be some etiquette rule regarding…initiation. Yes?”

“I…can’t be sure.”

“Look it up then, hm? If you’re correct, then I can make an exception and let you pay. If I’m correct, and I almost always am, then we’ve no choice but to follow proper protocol.”

“Alright.”

“And—”

“And?”

“If I’m right…you’ll wear something nice.”

“My robes?”

“No.”

“Sir?”

“Better.”

Sirius could feel the back of his neck flush, saying a silent thank you to his father’s genetics for giving him a skin tone that wasn’t translucent. “You might have to be more specific about nice.”

Kingsley removed his hand, which had gotten very close to stroking the side of his neck, with a wry smile, “I will. I’ll look for your answer about etiquette…and you can look for post from me regarding everything else.”

“The draft included?”

“Inter-office mail only.”

“Alright,” Sirius grinned, watching as Kingsley opened the door for him, “Have a nice night, Minister.”

“Happy reading, Mr. Black.”

#civil procedure #rare pair thursday #starking #sirius x kingsley #my new obsession #somewhere in a 99% perspiration universe

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faye--marie · 3 years

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faye's personal hcs

y/n is having an online lecture and how your boyfriend characters react to it

faye: helloooo everyone i just woke up and i have a hc in mind that I'd like to write and hopefully you guys would like it!!

reminder: your boyfriend is rated 18+ so if youre a minor please do not play it and respect the creator's wishes! i myself am a minor and as much as i want to play it i do not intend on breaking fuboo's heart ;;

tagsss: @invertedmindinc

🍬PETER insert your name for peter🍬

"you're up early- what are you doing?"

upset that you're busy for the rest of the morning and you can't have breakfast with him like usual

makes you great coffee

sits next to you and observes you

you tell him to go ahead and watch the television instead of distracting you

1 minute later, "Y/N DARLING,, IM BOREDDD"

hangs around and constantly stealing kisses from you, sniffing you eveywhere

you're forced to turn on your microphone to ask a question and hush peter down

because of your clumsiness, you forget to turn off your mic and everyone can hear you and hornee peter down the other end of the line

"miss l/n, please do your dirty talk another time"

you aggressively shake peter off your arm and quickly turn off your mic, feeling flustered with a light blush on your cheeks

"peter you are so done for-"

🐯lucy🐯

"AW BABES WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU HAD AN ONLINE LECTURE??? I CANCELLED ALL MY PLANS FOR NOTHING ;(("

invites her "study buddy" over

they were so loud that you couldn't focus on your online lecture

quickly slip yourself into the kitchen to get a quick snack

when you thought they were in lucy's room but never mind they're making out on the countertop

"seriously guys?! i have an online lecture and cant you be considerate enough to shut your asses up-"

they look at each other and start it all over again

you groan and escape from the kitchen, feeling grossed out

🐢TK🐢

"how's my little study hard buddy doin'?"

brings in food every single 30 minutes to make sure you're full of energy

doesn't bother to stay in your room to avoid distracting you

"hey y/n! i need to go out to get more groceries! will you be okay alone?"

they come back home with an ice cream bowl in hand for you: banana split with two scoops of chocolate and a scoop of vanilla with hot fudge on the vanilla and sprinkles on both scoops of chocolate

"a little something to cheer your busy day up ///"

for your 30 minute break both of you spend time playing video games and sharing your banana split

"im stealing the last scoop of this ice cream" they grin

👤don williams👤

"what do you think you're doing up early in the morning?"

grunts because you disturbed his morning sleep by breaking a plate

slowly struts back into his bedroom to continue his beauty sleep

your lecture ends earlier than expected and you consider making coffee for yourself and don

you find don sitting at the balcony

both of you are having short chats but mostly staring at the view ahead of you

don takes his laptop to finish up some errands and promises to spend movie night with you

you leave him to his work and curled yourself in bed for a nap

#your boyfriend peter #your boyfriend game #your boyfriend lucy #your boyfriend tk #your boyfriend don #your boyfriend don williams #faye's last night produced hcs #lol #tumblr #tumblr creator #creator #poet #poetry #hcs #headcanons

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years

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attempt #37

This was the 52nd formula that Lena had come up with, the 45th solution that she had to wait several hours to synthesize, but only the 37th time she was injecting her shoulder with the resulting concoction.

It was bright green this time, which only made it seem all the more promising.

There’s a rush and some mild nausea that Lena had come to expect with the experiments, but everything else felt the same. For now. Setting the syringe aside, Lena called out, “Hope, think of a number between one and a million.”

Then, for the 37th time, Lena tried. She cleared her own mind, practiced the meditative mantras, stared intently into Eve’s eyes, bright blue yet blank with Hope’s quiet disinterest, and... nothing. Not a single digit came to mind.

No matter how hard Lena tried, the only thoughts in her head were her own.

With an exasperated sigh, Lena rolled her sleeve back down and directed Hope to log their latest attempt as yet another failure before storming off to start her day.

Lena emerged from the laboratory with wrinkled clothes and dark circles sunken around her eyes, which was probably why the first thing she heard as she stepped out of the elevator was her personal assistant’s hushed commentary of, Oh sweet Jesus, she looks tired.

“Oh, I’m well aware, Hector,” Lena said, lofty and without much malice. “Nothing a little coffee can’t fix though.”

Hector stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry, Miss Luthor?”

“Never mind,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She took the outstretched coffee in question as she walked by the assistant’s desk. “Just hold all my calls until the afternoon, please.”

This time, when Hector grumbled under his breath about wow, she must be grumpy too, Lena ignored it. There were better things for the CEO to tackle, after all; as for example, some fitful sleep on her couch, perhaps?

Hours later, Lena was relatively well-rested, so she pored over her notes again, trying to pinpoint the exact variable she must have overlooked in her carelessness. Because by all accounts, the formula should have worked—Lena had been certain of it. But then again, she’d admittedly thought that of almost every attempt thus far.

When Hector walked into her office at some point in the late afternoon with a handful of contracts to be signed, Lena felt no closer to the solution and a slight headache coming on.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Another coffee would be great,” Lena said, as she sifted through the documents.

“Oh my God, if she takes in any more caffeine, her heart’s going to literally explode...” Hector muttered to himself. “Well, maybe she won’t notice if I get her decaf instead...?”

Lena dropped the papers onto her desk with a scoff. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Hector appeared startled, which seemed rather appropriate until he slowly said, “So... was that a yes on the espresso?”

“What?”

Hector maintained his slow cadence, carefully enunciating every syllable as if he were repeating himself, “Did you want to stick with your usual order... or maybe go with an espresso... because it’s a little stronger?”

But in a normal cadence, also in Hector’s voice and somehow clear as a bell in Lena’s head came, “If this woman doesn’t get another nap in pronto, she is going to drop dead, and everyone’s going to think I poisoned her coffee, because she’s always in—”

Absolutely stunned, Lena continued to stare up at Hector in silence, eyes narrowing as the assistant’s slightly panicked voice droned on and on in her head. Until a louder remark broke through the reverie.

“Whoa, did she just fall asleep with her eyes open?”

Lena blinked quite obviously, and her mild shock was accompanied with a loud and clear, yet unspoken Oh, thank God! from Hector.

But the Hector standing before her hadn’t moved his lips once, only watching the bewilderment play out on Lena’s face with some polite concern.

“The usual’s fine,” Lena interjected before her assistant could press again. “Or the espresso, or whatever. I don’t care, as long as it’s still hot and caffeinated.”

“You got it,” Hector said.

“Definitely getting her decaf,” Hector thought as he turned to leave, but Lena hardly minded. She was too busy restructuring the rest of her day around this most exciting realization.

After some quick bit of arithmetic in her head, Lena set a timer on her watch for five hours, which was presumably the amount of time it would take for her body to break down the serum and render it useless. Then she logged on to her private interface and happily directed Hope to re-record attempt #37 as a success.

The ability to read minds was, quite simply, quite the advantage.

Though it wasn’t so much “mind-reading,” as mind-receiving. The serum seemed to have granted Lena access to the loud and active thought processes of everyone around her—their inner monologue, if you will, everything put into words but left unsaid.

Lena had been hoping for more, to be able to break into other people’s minds so as to hack secrets, determine why supposed close friends would ever betray her, and the like. Maybe that would come with time and practice.

But as it turned out, there was rather plenty to be gleaned from the forefront of someone’s mind, as people often thought about the things they weren’t supposed to say before choosing more palatable means of expression. Which made the rest of Lena’s workday somewhat informative, if not a little fun.

For one thing, Lena found out that a lot more of her employees enjoyed working for her than she had thought. All of them respected her, several feared her, and quite a fair few entertained invasive thoughts about her décolletage before swiftly directing their attention elsewhere.

She also found out there was one board member in particular who liked to fudge the numbers during meetings, and that his face took on a very unappealing shade of off-white when Lena could inexplicably confront him with the actual results of his findings.

But most importantly of all, what Lena found out was that... she actually enjoyed this heretofore inaccessible sense of control this ability afforded her. She had taken on the experiments for a very specific purpose, but now, it was difficult to even imagine going back to how things were, even after the fact.

Lena walked into the DEO, and for the first time, the outpouring of distrust attached to the Luthor name was all but imagined. The disparaging thoughts followed her, even as the people who had them smiled or averted their eyes as she passed.

Nothing she wasn’t used to though.

Alex’s voice slid into Lena’s head in a whisper—... the hell?—one whole minute before she actually greeted her, “Lena, hey... Well, can’t say that I was expecting you.”

“Yes, that’s what it sounds like,” Lena mused, and Alex gave her a slight frown.

“So, did you need something?”

“Where’s Kara? I want to talk to her.”

Alex’s carefully composed face betrayed no emotion, but her thoughts sighed heavily, “Of course...” before ebbing away into something entirely indistinct and indecipherable.

Lena blinked. She hadn’t encountered anyone whose thoughts weren’t immediately accessible to her before. But here Alex was, giving directions to Kara’s current whereabouts, all the while muttering some underlying commentary in tones so hushed that Lena couldn’t quite make out any of it.

“... Is there something on my face?” Alex swiped her sleeve across her forehead. “What are you looking at?”

“What? No, nothing,” Lena said brusquely. “Thank you for telling me where Kara is. Bye.” She turned on her heel, headed for the hallway that would eventually lead to the training room.

“Well, that was weird...” Alex’s voice drifted after her, a literal afterthought. “But I mean, I guess she has a nice ass, so—”

Lena shot a dirty look over her shoulder, but Alex was already back on her computer, mind rattling off coordinates and running through tactical drills like a well-oiled machine.

Kara was wearing short shorts and a sports bra, panting, and absolutely drenched in sweat when Lena stepped foot into the training room. She looked over at Lena, her skin glistening against the dimmed green of the kryptonite-lined walls, and smiled wide.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Kara asked, giving the punching bag one last jab before tugging her gloves off. "Did something happen or...? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” She flashed Lena another bright grin before pressing a towel to her face and neck and chest.

It was enough to stop Lena in her tracks, and almost enough to put a damper on her plans. Almost.

“I need to talk to you,” Lena said evenly, eyes glued firmly to Kara’s forehead.

“Yeah, sure! Jeez... I’d give you a hug, but I’m like sweating in places I didn’t even know existed. Alex says that this is the only way to learn proper form and all, but wow. I can’t believe there are humans who actually do this for fun—”

“Kara,” Lena cut in, lips pursing in exasperation. “I’m serious. We need to talk right now.”

Kara blinked, then slowly nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk... You wanna sit down?”

“I prefer to be standing.”

“Okay.” Kara remained standing as well, towel now crumpled in her hands. “So, what’s going on?”

Lena took a deep breath, quickly running through the meditative techniques meant to keep her mind clear and open, then asked, “Why did it take you so long to tell me that you’re Supergirl?”

Kara’s shoulders slumped. “Lena, I...”

“No, why did it take three years? Why didn’t you trust me?” Lena continued, her pace steady and firm just like she had practiced. “I trusted you. I trusted you with every part of me, which is extremely difficult for me to do, and you just... didn’t care, I guess.”

“Of course, I care. Lena... I never meant to hurt you,” Kara said insistently. Her voice was loud, emphatic, and at the moment, the only thing Lena could hear.

“Don’t!” Lena snapped when Kara started to approach her. “Don’t come any closer. And stop talking! Just listen.”

Kara exhaled sharply through her nose and raised her hands in tentative surrender in absolute, utter silence. Lena even paused for a beat or two, just to see if any of Kara’s thoughts would breach the surface, but none did.

“Why couldn’t you just trust me, Kara?” Lena asked, and regrettably her voice trembled on the last syllable. “Why did I have to hear it from Lex?”

Kara’s eyes widened. “Lex? Lex told you before I did?”

“Shut up. Do not talk,” Lena hissed out, waiting for Kara to snap her jaw shut before continuing with a bitter laugh, “Do you, do you even trust me now...?” Kara stared, gaze hardening. “And how do you expect me to trust anything you have to say for yourself now?”

Lena’s questions—all of the above and beyond—were met with silence, strained only by the sound of Kara’s heavy breath and Lena’s own thoughts.

Scoffing, Lena threw up her hands. “Do you even care that you hurt me?”

“... Can I talk now?” Kara demanded, seething like she had any right to it. But when Lena shook her head furiously, she held her tongue and apparently everything else as well, because Lena couldn’t hear a single damn thing.

When the alarm on her watch went off, Lena left, slamming the door on her way out. She contacted Hope through their private channel and had her re-log attempt #37 as just another failure.

Back to the fucking drawing board.

(next part here)

#who's ready for attempt 38 n' 39?#and did i honestly start another ficlet series when i already have so many ongoing?#WACK!#also wtf; why is this 2k words...?#my words.

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renjunbae · 3 years

Text

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

thanks for reading! send an ask or comment to be in taglist for upcoming chapters!

#renjunbae's works #resonancebeach #resonancebeachcollab #kim jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #nct #nct 127 #jungwoo #fem!reader #romance

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helaintoloki · 4 years

Text

Old Times

pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader

warnings: language, mentions of violence and some graphic imagery

request: Can I request a scene where Five kills the commission's board members but with the reader

The sleeves of your dress are beginning to itch and your inability to spot Five is beginning to agitate you. You didn’t come all this way just for him to start the festivities without you, and you certainly weren’t going to let this outfit go to waste no matter how irritating it was and how awkward you felt dressed up like some old lady’s little doll- an old lady had dressed you, of course, but no one needs to know that.

“Fuckin’ Fudge Nutter!” A familiar irascible voice seethes from down one of the hallways, and it’s then that you’re able to witness Five’s unhinged assault on the vending machine. Part of you wants to stop him before he can make a mess, but the other part of you knows that he’s had a rough couple of weeks. After all, you would think being able to get a stupid snack from a vending machine would be painfully easy compared to all the other shit he’s been tasked with these last few weeks, so you understand why such a feat would seat him off. Besides, by the time you do decide to speak up his foot has already smashed through the glass.

“Having fun?” You muse, startling the boy with your sudden presence. He opens his mouth to snark back but closes it once he notices your ensemble. The anger and irritation present in his features are soon replaced with a snide, smug grin.

“Well if it isn’t the milkmaid.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you retort sarcastically. “I went to go use the bathroom and the next thing I know I’m being shoved into this. But I guess this wont be the first time I’ve gotten blood on a perfectly good dress.”

“You ready?” Five asks as his eyes begin to scan the hallway for anything that may prove of use for your assignment. Your nose scrunches in disgust as his finger dips into the frosting of the cake sitting on the table, but the act allows you to spot the very elegant and very sharp cake knife sitting beside it. The handle is glass with a red bow neatly wrapped around its middle, and you appreciate the fact that it matches well with your outfit. By the time you’ve found your weapon of choice Five is standing at the ready with a fire axe in his hand.

“I never am,” you admit with a small sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

You follow behind Five as he emerges into the conference room, the board members of the commission all sat around their fish boss at the table discussing important matters related to the space time continuum. This is your first meeting of Carmichael, and you can’t say you’re disappointed; he certainly lives up to the expectations.

“You!” The fish exclaims, his once lackadaisical posture now fading into one of alarm at the sight of your partner. “Call security!”

A woman rolls her chair back to the telephone only to have her arm chopped clean off by Five, and so the bloodshed begins. There’s a pattern to the way in which you work, switching off between members as Five swings and you slash. Dismembered limbs line the room, blood coats the walls, bodies slump over one another and one hangs clean from the ceiling, but each kill is executed with swift precision and accuracy. It’s a twisted waltz between partners, one that holds a flow in your movements and a beauty despite the psychotic nature of it all, but you never miss a single step.

You decide to let Five finish Carmichael off just to let him have a small victory for once after the shit storm of failures he’s endured thanks to the unintentional incompetence of his siblings; the glass of water he’d taken a drink from earlier was calling your name, and it’s as your quietly sipping from the cup that the seemingly harmless attendant from the entrance tackles Five off of the table and onto the ground.

“You’re gonna pay for that vending machine, little mister!”

“Get off of me!” Five demands before elbowing the woman in the face. He’s quick to scramble to his feet just as you’re quick to rush over to the pair from the other end of the table. “I don’t want to hurt you, alright?”

You can’t help the surprised gasp that leaves you as she retaliates with a square punch to his jaw. If she wasn’t getting in the way of your assignment you might have stopped to admire just how bad ass this lady was.

“Hurt me? Oh, I ain’t afraid of you, you little puss ball.”

“He said hands off, lady,” you grunt in time with the impact of the axe handle landing on the back of her head. You didn’t want to kill her, but you really needed her out of the way if the two of you were going to pull this off. Five meets your gaze with bewilderment at your actions— he’s always been the one to take out the distractions — but you only give him a helpless shrug before dropping the weapon. “What? Okay, I’ll admit, not my proudest moment. But-“

“Carmichael,” he interrupts hastily before rising from the ground to fetch another makeshift weapon.

“I’ll get the water,” you say through another grunt as you rise from the ground to fetch the very same glass from earlier before refilling it with the pitcher left behind for the commission members. A small huff of air leaves your lips as you do so, the physical toll of the day’s activities finally beginning to settle into your muscles. A younger body did not make the work any easier, but you push through and rush back out into the hall to find your bloodied boyfriend standing over the flopping fish on the carpet.

You’re careful to avoid the shards of glass that have been strewn about as you lift Carmichael from the ground by the tail and plop him into the glass of water. Five watches your every move closely, his chest rising and falling with the panting breaths that leave him as a result of the short-lived chase.

“You know, he’s kind of cute like this,” you smile while admiring the colorful little fish in the cup. “Can we keep him?”

“We’re not done yet,” Five reminds you with a harsh sigh. “Now lets get out of here before some other crazy lady starts sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Curios eyes watch your retreating forms casually stroll out the front door as if you both weren’t coated in blood and carrying off an unruly fish in a small glass cup, but neither of you seem to notice nor care. You’ve completed a job well done, you’re one step closer to getting home, and now the world can finally be saved once and for all.

“You did good back there,” Five comments offhandedly. “Almost felt like old times.”

“Wait, I’m sorry. Did I hear that right? Did Five Hargreeves just give me a compliment?” You tease with a sly grin only for him to roll his eyes.

“You always have to ruin it, don’t you?” He scowls, but before he can take the compliment back you’re using the pad of your thumb to wipe some of the blood from his cheek so that you have a clean surface to press your lips upon.

“Always,” you chirp happily, giggling at the bemused expression on his face before skipping ahead of the boy to the rendezvous point. “Let’s go, Carmichael. We have places to be.”

“She’s an enigma, that one,” Five mutters softly, but the corner of his lip is upturned ever so slightly and there’s a lightness to his step as he follows close behind.

Yep, just like old times.

#wait this was so fun to write #i changed it up a bit too #five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagine #number five imagine #five #five x reader #five imagine #the umbrella academy #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine #request

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

PatB Oneshot: Crystal Clear

AN: Part of an art trade with @plutonis in honor of her upcoming wedding. She tasked me with writing an introspective piece for a Brinky wedding. The art piece I requested is for the next chapter of Nova, so you’ll see the finished product there.

Prompt given by Pluto: I was wondering if you could do a little fic in which Brain is walking down the aisle on his wedding day, and we hear the thoughts going on in his head. What is he thinking? How is he feeling?

AO3 Link

If Brain had his way, he would’ve taped himself to the table leg with extra strong industrial strength duct tape and remained there for the rest of his life.

But Romy wouldn’t let him attach himself to said table leg, and Wakko already ate the duct tape to prevent him from getting it. All other binding materials, including the shoe strings and gluesticks, had been placed on a shelf mockingly out of his reach.

And since he was already in his wedding dress, he couldn’t even climb the shelf to retrieve the necessary materials.

“Dad, you’re killing the glarb,” Romy complained as he pried Brain from the table leg.

“Unhand me at once or so help me, Roman Numeral One!” Brain shouted, trying to break free from Romy’s grip, but it seemed their son had inherited Pinky’s unusual strength.

Wakko wasn’t any help either. He just watched the spectacle from his perch on the dresser, chomping on a platter of garlic prawns swiped from the catering company. Thankfully, Brain had the foresight to order plenty of garlic prawns for their celebratory dinner.

As soon as Romy’s grip loosened, Brain broke free and reattached himself to the table leg.

Funny, how he wanted this for so long. Yearned for it. And when the time came, even after all the progress he’d made, he was still afraid for reasons he didn’t understand.

It was illogical, he knew. He trusted Pinky more than anyone else, even himself.

But even that wasn’t enough to get him moving again.

“Guess someone’s gotta tell Ma you’re not coming,” Romy sighed.

Brain’s fingers dug into the wooden grooves.

“He’s definitely gonna cry. Probably gonna curl up on the couch and watch daytime soap operas with buckets of triple fudge ice cream or something,” Romy continued.

Sweet, innocent Pinky being heartbroken at his own wedding. Running off and doing who-knows-what, because he could be very unpredictable when he was truly distraught. His simple mind eroding away because of the unhealthy combination of trashy soap operas and ice cream diet.

Brain’s heart clenched uncomfortably at that mental image. With great reluctance, Brain let go of the table leg and marched over to the mirror to smooth out the wrinkles in his wedding dress to keep his hands occupied as he quelled that troublesome idea.

“You’re gonna tell him that Brain’s in here, right?” Wakko asked.

“Sure,” Romy replied.

Wait...everyone knew of his intentions to see this wedding through to the end. And he'd never let the hard work and efforts of their wedding plans go to waste.

It was just a ploy.

Brain took a deep breath. To lose his temper before the ceremony would surely spell catastrophe. He wanted to keep this an emotionally satisfying occasion, for Pinky’s sake.

“Romy, I won’t deny that your tactic was effective. But you will refrain from using my fondness for Pinky against me in the future,” Brain said.

Perhaps Roman Numeral One took after him more than he thought. It was impressive and aggravating at the same time.

"Sorry, Dad." Romy's head dropped as he handed the bouquet to Brain.

Like with Pinky, Brain just didn't have it in him to remain angry once an apology was issued. He transferred the bouquet to one hand and lifted Romy's chin from its downcast position.

"Look alive, Romy. This is a celebration," Brain ordered as he turned back to the mirror. "And Wakko, you're not touching our wedding rings with prawn-stained hands."

Wakko pulled out a kitchen sink from his hammerspace and started washing his hands without removing his gloves. With the soft hum of Happy Birthday in the background, Brain turned back to the mirror and examined himself one more time. They didn’t have long before the ceremony began.

His dress towed the line between simple and extravagant. Ruffles in the right places, but not so many that it would hinder movement. A small hole had been cut to fit his tail, carefully sized so that it was easy to thread the stiff appendage through. His sleeves cut off at the elbow, white fabric giving way to a delicate flower pattern, lending an elegant and dignified quality to the outfit.

It hadn’t been easy obtaining this dress. He’d lost track of how many toy aisles Pinky had dragged him down, and he didn’t want his outfit to come from the toy section of Walmart. Pinky had eventually called Dot for help, and with her connections, she arranged for a fashion designer who specialized in making clothes for dolls to help them out.

And while they eventually put the issue of clothes behind them, they had a fair number of arguments when Brain found a reason to reject all the dresses Pinky suggested. Especially with that gaudy puffed sleeve dress Pinky loved but Brain hated.

“I realize we must’ve been insufferable for the past few months,” Brain said. Planning for a wedding wasn’t anything like planning for world domination, as he learned the hard way. But it was Pinky’s wedding as much as it was his, and after one vehement disagreement, Brain had realized he was pushing out Pinky’s contributions to impose his own.

It wasn’t easy, but he did try to turn over some aspects to Pinky, just to see how he did with them. And Brain didn’t regret that choice, because the results were absolutely wonderful.

“Yeah, you and Ma were ruining my vibes,” Romy gave a lazy smile as Brain nudged him in retaliation.

Romy had said something similar when he’d first run away from home, but mischief had long replaced the anger. Though Brain still didn’t think ventriloquism was a lucrative career, he’d made his peace with Romy’s lifestyle while repairing their relationship. And Romy wasn’t the only one who derived happiness from working with dummies.

“Regardless, we’re grateful that you came,” Brain said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Romy shrugged. “Better save your sap for the ceremony though.”

“I’m not being sappy,” Brain muttered out of principle rather than true irritation.

It was 2:55 pm. Five minutes until the ceremony began. He was running out of time.

He quickly fixed his leaf crown and attached veil so that it was less crooked. In years past, he never would’ve been satisfied until a golden crown with embedded jewels rested atop his head. But now he found the leaf crown was worth so much more than gold.

Then he made sure the transparent veil covered his face. The thin fabric didn’t hinder his vision, but he felt like he was looking through a lens.

Everyone would be watching him. He wanted that thin wall of privacy between himself and the onlookers. Seeing outside, but concealing his feelings within.

He didn’t have to. He knew he didn’t. But old habits die hard, it seemed.

The clock chimed three. It was time.

What could go wrong?

“Don’t worry!” Wakko exclaimed as he picked up the purple velvet cushion with their wedding rings. “I didn’t mistake these for tiny Ring Pops this time!”

Brain was a fool. A sentimental, lovestruck, starcrossed, and twitterpated fool.

Wakko brought up the lead as they marched through the twisting hallways of the enormous property they’d rented for their Hawaiian wedding. Surprisingly, coming up with a location for their wedding hadn’t been difficult. After a stressful day of making other arrangements, they’d chosen a scenic, relaxing travel documentary to unwind.

As soon as the documentary showed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at sunset, they both agreed on making Hawaii the destination of choice for both wedding and honeymoon. Brain gripped the flower bouquet tightly, careful not to crush the petals between his fingers. Romy’s hand was on his elbow, light enough to not be intrusive but quick to react so Brain didn’t run into a wall.

He’d assigned Pinky to the task of flower selection, and Pinky had researched the meaning of flowers extensively with an unusual amount of focus. If Pinky had his way, he would’ve gathered one specimen of every flower in the world and brought them to the wedding, though Brain eventually convinced him to narrow his list down to a single digit range.

Brain was only familiar with the rose as a symbol of love, and he recalled the meaning of only two other flowers within their wedding. The rest were completely lost on him. The first was the magnolia, which represented perseverance. As such, a white magnolia stood proudly in his bouquet, nestled among the red roses of passionate love. Pinky had chosen the magnolia for Brain, and insisted Brain choose at least one flower too.

Though Brain didn’t place much stock in what the websites claimed, he just went along with it to humor Pinky. But he’d settled on the colorful freesia, just to thank Pinky for his friendship, faith, and trust for all the years they’d known each other.

Their miniature procession stopped at a glass sliding door that separated them from the rest of the proceedings.

Brain gulped and clutched the bouquet to his chest.

Beyond those doors, the wedding guests mingled with each other on the grass. A gorgeous, azure beach formed the perfect backdrop to the ceremony. White, fluffy clouds dotted the sunny skies, and the beauty was rather foreign to him. He’d spent far too much of his life hiding away in the darkness of a sterile lab.

It seemed the entirety of their Animaniacs coworkers had shown up for the wedding. He was surprised by the turnout, but it seemed that everyone had been clamoring for him and Pinky to tie the knot for years.

And while the usual toon antics were prevalent among the guests, Brain’s attention was drawn to the very front, where Pinky was arranging flowers on Pharfignewton, who’d jumped at the offer of being Pinky’s best mare.

Back then, the sight would’ve incited a feeling he’d come to realize was jealousy. Now he was just grateful that Pinky received some physical affection from someone when Brain couldn’t give it to him.

Wakko opened the screen door, causing a stir among the guests in the back, which caused a ripple effect that spread to the front and prompted everyone to take their seats. Pinky slid off Pharfignewton’s back, bouncing on his toes and craning his neck to see Brain.

Even from this far away, Brain saw Pinky’s bright, goofy smile. It made him regret keeping the veil over his face, cloaking his happiness even from his partner.

“Testing, testing!” Yakko said into the microphone. When he’d been ordained to officiate a wedding, nobody knew for sure. He shuffled through the cards for his opening speech. “Alright, everyone. We’ve all been very impatient for this moment, so no more delays, capiche? Dot, start the music!”

A hush fell across the audience, and even the most rambunctious members of the Animaniacs crew fell silent as a soft piano arrangement of A Whole New World began to play.

Wakko proudly held the cushion with the wedding rings over his head and marched to the front. From the aisle, Mindy reached into her basket and threw pink flower petals into the air, and Buttons held onto her so she didn’t fall out of her seat.

Romy released Brain and followed Wakko. Pinky greeted their son with an enthusiastic hug, and Bunny flashed them a thumbs-up from her seat.

All the attention was on Brain now.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

He wanted to flee inside the house. Tell everyone to go home and they’ll get refunded the costs at a later date. Take Pinky to city hall and sign a document to make their marriage official instead.

The audience whispered.

He saw the worry in Pinky’s eyes, a stunning shade of blue that popped out from the beautiful Hawaiian beach. They were too far from each other to speak normally, but Pinky laid his hand on top of the colorful freesia pinned to his white dress shirt, just over his heart.

Trust me, he was saying.

And Pinky had proven himself worthy of his trust long ago.

Slowly, Brain laid his hand on the magnolia, the centerpiece of his bouquet.

I won’t give up.

Pinky smiled that soft, knowing smile of his. Emboldened by his encouragement, Brain stepped out of the house and onto the white, silky path that had been laid out for him.

He took slow, methodical steps to steel his nerves. This was his reward, and he was allowed to have it.

No more electricity, no more fear of rejection.

The happiness of having someone by his side. The sorrow when they were separated either by force or by choice. The surprise of receiving gifts from Pinky when he’d done nothing to deserve them. The guilt that came from upsetting Pinky with morally questionable schemes.

Emotions he’d once derided as frivolous were now precious and dear to him.

All the good, all the bad, and everything in between. And this occasion marked a brand new beginning, a new chapter of their lives that would bring new happiness and surprises. Though they’d be sad, angry, or terrified sometimes, they’d always be together.

That’s what counted most.

The melody of A Whole New World floated gently through the air. An airy tune filled with wonder at a world previously unknown to them.

He and Pinky dueted this song so many times that the lyrics and background instrumentals were permanently etched into his mind.

Only now did he understand what the song was truly about. Leaving behind their defined roles, into a freedom-filled sky. Just the two of them, exploring a huge world together. The burdens of the past and worries of the future left on the ground, and all that mattered was the present.

Being themselves, and experiencing things they’ve never experienced before.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He could hardly wait.

Pinky waited for him, taking Brain’s hand in his own. He was absolutely breathtaking up close.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered, and Brain would never tire of that endearingly stupid word. “You did it, Brain.”

“All thanks to you, Pinky,” Brain replied, and Pinky’s tail wagged at the praise.

Together, they walked to that beautiful wedding arch with intertwining pink and blue flowers, stopping in front of Yakko’s podium. Brain gave his bouquet to Romy so he could properly hold Pinky’s hands. Romy gave them a lazy grin, and Pharfignewton lowered her head so Romy could have a good perch. Wakko proudly balanced the cushion on his head, and Dot stood beside her brother, giving him a friendly shove without knocking the wedding rings off.

And Brain realized he was still seeing the world through veiled eyes. Though his vision was unimpeded, he’d barely noticed there was a filter among all his doubts and fears.

He’d kept the veil for a transparent amount of privacy when he walked down the aisle, but now that he was with Pinky…

Well, it just wasn’t necessary anymore.

He brought Pinky’s hands to the veil. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

Then Pinky threw back the veil, and the filter he’d been looking through was completely gone. And Brain saw the...no, he saw his world through fresh eyes.

A bright, happy, silly mouse stood before him, a colorful burst of freesia on his chest, and beautiful sky-blue eyes filled with endless love, promising hope and warmth and companionship forever more.

“You’re so pretty, Brain,” Pinky giggled.

It was the most wonderful sound for his compass, his heart, and his world.

No more tolerating. He fully accepted the undeniable fact of how much he loved Pinky, and Pinky loving him back from this point forward.

Never before had he felt so much happiness, and he was ready for everyone to see it.

Unable to contain himself, Brain leapt into Pinky’s arms and kissed him. Though he heard their audience reacting with shock, it was all just background noise to him. And he’d never been a patient mouse.

Pinky was surprised at first, but his strong arms wrapped around Brain to support him, and he kissed back wonderfully.

Fireworks exploded in Brain’s mind, or maybe the Warners set some off, he didn’t know. But he had to come up for air, and he released the kiss, though it seemed Pinky could keep going for quite some time.

“Technically, you’re supposed to wait until I say ‘you may now kiss the Brain’, but who am I to stop true love?” Yakko grinned.

“Sorry,” the mice chorused, though neither of them regretted the little break in protocol.

The audience burst into cheers, and Yakko led them in a standing ovation for a good five minutes before they all settled down enough for him to start his opening speech.

“Love you, Brain,” Pinky whispered as he put Brain down and took his hands again.

“Love you too, Pinky,” Brain replied, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Everything was laid out before them, clear as crystal and bright as day.

End AN: This is cheesy but I don’t care I love it and they’re married now.

The Hawaiian setting is not a reference to the PatB fic Trouble in Paradise, it’s just that the last wedding I went to was in Hawaii and it was so romantic.

3rd time I’ve referenced A Whole New World in these fics. This song is just too perfect for them.

#pinky and the brain #brinky #patb fanfiction #cheesy in a good fluffy way

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spookyhalloweennights · 4 years

Text

Childhood Friend (Iavu: SFW)

If you like my work and want to check out more, be sure to check my Masterlist for more of my works!

Laughter rang throughout your backyard as your childhood best friend grabbed you and twirled you around. The pair of you had ended up going different ways years ago, but ended up in the same neighborhood again at the same time. You were visiting your parents for a two week trip while dealing with the fallouts of a bad relationship while he had just moved back into his childhood home. Once he had caught sight of you outback, he had jumped over the fence and wrapped you up in the tightest hug he could manage.

He was different from what you had remembered, his ears were a bit more pointed and two huge butterfly wings that looked like a tiger swallowtails wings rose out of his back. But he was still Iavu, just a bit different. His green gaze still held the same warmth for you that it did months ago.

“What the fudge! I haven’t heard from you in weeks! I had half expected to come back and hear from your parents you had dropped off the face of the world.” He teased you with a grin.

“Well… We have a lot of catching up to do, there’s so much I want to tell you.” You responded sheepishly while rubbing the back of your neck. He seemed to have caught on and offered you a warm smile.

“Hey don’t worry about it, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t understand life gets in the way sometimes?” He chuckled. “Say, you wanna swing by my place later? We can catch up without your parents making those kinds of faces at us.” He motioned to the window on your house that led into the kitchen. You glanced over your shoulder to see your mom and dad practically swooning over the two of you.

“Speaking of changes!” You poked his chest playfully. “When did you get wings?” You questioned him after pointedly ignoring your parents.

“I’ve always had them… I just didn’t want to scare you off when I was younger.” He admitted, you had remembered the phase that you had gone through of hating every single bug that came into your line of sight. Which had happened to be right around the time that Iavu and his family had moved in next door to you.

“Ah right, you moved in right when I was going through my ‘I hate bugs’ phase right? Can’t blame you for hiding them from me.” You responded, glancing back over your shoulder. “I better get back inside, I’ll come by at about six tonight if that’s alright?”

“Of course it is! I’ll see you then.” He chimed, you could only smile at the enthusiasm he held as you turned and headed back inside your house.

Your parents teased you all night about your upcoming ‘date’ with Iavu as they referred to it as. You could only roll your eyes at them, though you had to admit, it made butterflies flutter around your stomach at the idea of it being something more. That had been one of the tipping points for your previous relationship, your ex had wanted you to cut off all contact with Iavu and for a while they had won that battle. But as time wore on, they had demanded more from you and you had given into those demands until realizing that it wasn’t how it was supposed to work. Luckily, the breakup had been relatively simple at first, until you had to go back for your stuff at which point they had tried to beg you to take them back. Which you had refused, and that's how you ended up back at your parents house.

Your phone buzzing had pulled you out of the memories, and upon checking it you could only laugh at the picture you had received. Iavu had sent you a picture of the snacks he was currently preparing for you, including different kinds of sweets that were your favorites.

‘I can’t wait for tonight!’ Is what the caption had read underneath, the simple action making feelings rise and you found yourself excited as well. You couldn’t pinpoint what else you were feeling but you tucked it away for now as you dealt with another round of your parents teasing. You knew they had meant it all in good jest but it wasn’t helping your current situation given how you felt.

By the time six had rolled around, you were grateful for Iavu’s invitation. You weren’t sure how much longer you could deal with your parents teasing you. Sighing, you walked to the front door knowing that you’d never make it over the fence like he had done earlier. You knocked on his door, waiting for him to open.

In a blur of movement, you had been pressed against him in a hug before being released. He didn’t say anything to you as he tugged you inside, at least not until the door was shut fully. His messy blonde curls falling in his face as he moved about, brushing them back as he shut the door and then drew the blinds shut so that the pair of you would have a little more privacy just in case prying eyes came around to see what exactly the two of you were doing.

“I got some wine if you want some, there’s glasses on the counter.” He offered and you nodded in response. Following him out to the kitchen, you took a seat on one of the barstools as Iavu stood on the opposite. He poured two wine glasses full and slid one to you, he then slid a plate in front of you that held various treats on it.

“So, tell me everything, from start to finish.” He chuckled, taking a sip of the wine from his glass.

And you did, you had told him everything from the job search disaster to your recent failures in your love life. He had listened intently to you and seemed to cling onto each word you said, his smile had turned into a slight frown as if he was thinking and the only time he moved was to pour the both of you more wine. When you had finished, he stared into the glass, swirling the red liquid around for a moment or two.

“Your ex didn’t deserve you.” He grumbled almost bitterly. “If they had felt you were so untrustworthy like that… They didn’t deserve you in the first place. You deserve someone who will treat you like you deserve everything in the world and more…”

“Careful Iavu, you keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you actually had a crush on me.” You laughed, smiling at him. However when he froze at your words, you decided to prod a little more. “Iavu? Did you really have a crush on me?”

“I… Still do actually, I was hoping when I heard you came back to confess but… Knowing about your recent relationship ending, I don’t want to force you into anything.” Iavu confessed, downing the rest of his wine as a distraction.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” You huffed quietly, the feelings you felt before returning in full force as he stared across the counter at you.

“I was afraid.” He admitted, and you pushed just a little more. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t want me if you knew what I was. I can’t hide my wings anymore, and for awhile I was glad you had left.” He explained further.

“Why would I be afraid? I’m not even sure what you are, all I know is that you’re Iavu, the same friend who’s always been there for me through thick and thin. The only one to ever make me feel appreciated.” You said simply, turning the glass in your hands this way and that with your thumb and forefinger.

“I’m… a Fae. I didn’t tell you because of the rumors that surround it, you know like the whole ‘if you give them your name…’ type deal. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” You merely nodded in response before setting your glass off to the side. Walking around the counter, you wrapped him up in a hug before tugging him down into a kiss.

His face had flushed with color and he had pulled away from you in surprise, touching his fingers to his lips as he stared down at you. His wings fluttered in nervousness. “Are you… Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes, let’s see where things go, but I can assure you they are off to a very good start.” You murmured as you pulled him back in for another kiss, this time he melted right into it.

#exophilia #monster #monster lover #monster x reader #fae #fae boyfriend #fae x reader #male fae #Spooky'sWriting #sfw #spookyhalloweennights

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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years

Text

Inspired by the wonderful @cockasinthebird, for being my muse and talking filth in my ear.

Whipped

Steve was riled up. Inventory day usually made him edgy, but this week was bad. Bad to the point the regional manager just happened to 'pop by' to help discover why Scoops was down a case of whipped cream and a whole kilo box of rainbow sprinkles. Steve was sure it wasn't him or Robin giving out too much, mostly because him and Robin just didn't give a shit about customer satisfaction and just wanted to get through the day as easily as possible. Yeah if it was a kid's birthday or something they would both put a bit extra on, pile the whipped cream a touch higher, be a little heavy handed with sprinkles, a couple extra cherries even. But not a whole case or a kilo's worth.

It just, bothered him.

It bothered him all the way driving home, tapping his thumbs on the wheel, his brain coming up with ridiculous thoughts like maybe there was a very specific thief that only took cream and sprinkles and not the cash register full of money, or the safe that lived in the back office also full of money from the week's takings ready to go to the bank. Maybe the delivery guys were running a racket, siphoning off little pieces of product and reselling it to make some money on the side. Maybe it was just the fact that Steve couldn't count when taking the delivery, which he knew for a fact couldn't be the case because he didn't do deliveries any more for that exact reason, because of The Butterscotch Incident, which he was pretty sure they were still trying to use up three months later.

The bothering feeling dissipated as soon as Steve saw rainbow sprinkles on his doormat. They did have the tendency to follow him home like glitter, but never carefully arranged into an arrow pointing inside under the closed front door. Steve rolled his eyes like he had an audience but still couldn't help the grin growing to his cheeks.

Only one person had a spare key and the gaul to decorate the welcome mat in such a way.

Unlocking the door revealed a trail of multicoloured arrows over the carpet, clearly placed with loving precision, pointing towards the kitchen where the only light was on, illuminating the scene in the hallway.

Steve kicked his shoes off at the door as always, and followed them like breadcrumbs. He wasn't sure what to expect, but what greeted him wasn't it. Even if the image before him did make his brain melt out his ears, just a little.

Laying on Steve's kitchen island, on top of his mother's best dish towel printed with little corn flowers and chickens, was Billy, naked as the day he was born. He smirked hot at Steve's presence, shifted to lean up on his elbow, and sprayed a whipped cream arrow down his chest, pointing to his rock hard cock.

Steve's dick kicked to life rapidly in his uniform Scoops issued shorts. At least this answered some of his questions. He stepped into the room and could feel Billy's smirk burning his attention. There were little dots of cream all across his chest, in seemingly random spots. Some of them were just simple sprays and others looked a little like cheesy love hearts. The two over his nipples definitely were.

"How long have you been here?" Steve stopped when he came flush with the edge of the island between Billy's tree trunk legs that dangled down at the knees. His thighs were warm under Steve's hands, sunkissed from sitting in the lifeguard chair all day, a small tan line starting to circle the muscle that Steve's fingers found with ease. He resisted touching what clearly needed the most attention, throbbing and standing proud between them.

"Long enough," Billy purred, reaching down to rub over the back of Steve's left hand, trying to force it higher. Steve dug his fingers into the firm flesh and resisted, just for now, demanding something of an explanation with the look he gave. Not that Billy was about to give him one. Instead he sat up properly, shook what was left in the can, and sprayed a picture perfect whip on the head of his cock. The designs he'd given himself over his body melted down a touch, leaving his skin greasy and shiny. Like he’d oiled himself up. It made his muscles pop. "You want me to put a cherry on top too?"

Steve felt his throat tighten as his mouth threatened to run over. He knew what Billy could do with cherries. The guy had been teasing him all summer with knotted stems left on the glass display counter, much to Robin's annoyance when she would find one. Steve knew first hand how talented that teasing tongue could be. He was lucky enough to feel it most nights.

"Oh, you wouldn't wanna be too sweet now, would ya?" Steve leaned his head down to flick the tip of his tongue through the little cream pile before it started to melt, nowhere near where Billy clearly intended the first lick to be if his unfortunately desperate whine was anything to go by. But Steve wasn't one for a drawn out tease like Billy was, and soon licked again, dragging his tongue slowly through all the sweet to find salt starting to weep through. Billy groaned and moved again, leaning back on both elbows, still elevated enough to watch.

Billy liked to watch. He also liked Steve to wear the stupid sailor hat, which he had thankfully left in his car. He doubted Billy would want to wait for him to go and retrieve it.

Muscular fingers found their way into Steve's hair, twisting and grabbing loose and he started running his tongue over more of Billy's thick, aching length, rolling down low, tracing the edge of a vein that disappeared into a well groomed tuft of musty curls. Just breathing hot over velvety skin was enough to make Billy's thighs tense. He must have been here for a while, just hard and waiting for the grand reveal.

Fuck, if that wasn't a thought to ponder on later.

Just as evenly paced, Steve worked his way back up and slipped his lips around the head in a perfect o, pressing his tongue up firm against the sensitive underside and swirling in a slow circle around all those responsive nerve endings, like he was licking up a dripping cone. The hand on the back of his head started pressing down, getting desperate. Steve flicked his eyes up and was met by dark pools of blue like the middle of the ocean in a storm, straight teeth capturing a plump pink bottom lip to keep the noise back even though there was no need. There were only the two of them here if the purpose of the dish towel was anything to go by.

Steve’s mother would have a fit otherwise.

Only when the sweet taste of the cream was completely cleaned up did Steve start sinking lower, sucking down more until his lips stretched painfully but not unbearable, and Billy hit the back of his throat, twitching on his tongue. Steve groaned softly around what was in his mouth and pressed a hand down the front of his shorts to help alleviate some of the building pressure. Billy’s hand moved to the back of Steve’s neck as he swallowed as best he could, ripping free a strangled cry from the other boy.

“Fuuck! Baby… you’re so good, my double fudge.”

Steve pulled back his mouth immediately at that and pinched at the soft skin of Billy’s inner thigh, which caused him to yelp but not for a moment did it stop the grin under his moustache.

“Call me that again and I’m stopping. I mean it.” Steve tried to sound threatening, even a little, but even by the end of his sentence he wanted to laugh. They both knew he didn’t mean a single word. Not when Billy had literally caused Scoops regional manager to blow a mental fuse trying to work out where all the missing cream stock had gone just to get a blow job.

Steve didn’t want to look in his fridge, but he knew the rest of it would be in there. Depending on how much Billy had eaten during the apparent midnight raid of course. The picture of Billy behind the wheel of his camaro, squirting a whole can down his throat while driving was far too real. He didn’t even want to think how Billy had made it out of the mall with all those cans, but they were in the back room alone a lot, most of the time Steve didn’t have any real recollection of what was happening…

“You don’t like my nicknames, my sweet vanilla bean?”

Steve pinched again. Billy laughed around another small yelp, but Steve’s slender fingers soothed the skin this time, rubbing up higher towards Billy’s sac which looked heavy and full. Not touching but getting teasingly close. It was kind of a reward even though Steve hated the barrage of nicknames he got daily, all based around ice cream flavours. Well, he didn’t hate them really. Just pretended to hate them because he couldn’t really call Billy anything lifeguard related. Steve had called him a pool noodle once, which was quickly turned around as a nickname for his own dick. The timing of it had been quite impressive really so he couldn’t be too mad.

Billy’s hand on his cheek brought Steve back to the moment, to the urgency in front of him. With one last stern look that they both knew meant nothing at all, he sunk back down until his lips were firmly clasped around the wide base of Billy’s cock and sucked. Hard. With all intention to shut his boyfriend up. At least for now. Sweeping his tongue over weak spots seemed to do the trick as Steve started to bob his head, Billy’s hand just resting in his hair again. Not pushing for more or pulling for less, letting Steve take control of the situation at last. He knew every one of Billy’s soft points, had them memorised like landmarks on a city map. Knew the exact amount of pressure to put where and when, whether his tongue should be pointed or flat, when to suck deeper or let up for a second, using more and more spit because Billy liked it messy to the point where all the fluid was spilling down Steve's chin.

He may not have done all that well in school, but he would have aced a cock sucking class hands down.

It was no time at all before he could taste more salt, hear Billy’s moans getting desperate and ragged as he leaked more and more over Steve’s tongue whenever he would make his way to the tip to sweep across the over sensative slit. Every now and then retracting his lips totally so Billy could watch and observe just how much Steve loved his taste. A little ego boost.

The more he tasted, the more the pressure in Steve’s shorts got intolerable. But he refused to just drop and shoot in his kitchen. Not without getting Billy’s hands on him in some way first. And Billy could always go two rounds. Always.

Steve placed his hand on a tanned thigh, felt how tense it was under his fingertips, how much Billy was trying to hold back. That wouldn’t do at all. But Steve still had one card left to play, his guaranteed full house. He glanced up at Billy under hooded eyes, all innocent and coy in the way that made the other boy groan deep and protective, made him pull Steve just that little bit closer and push his head down just a little, desperate to be enveloped again. Steve obliged of course, but ever so faintly, dragged his teeth over the aching cockhead on the way back down.

Billy was gone. He cried out and came heavy and thick over Steve’s tongue, painting the inside of his mouth in three strong surges. Only when the grip on his head relaxed did Steve move, slipping off with an obscenely wet pop and shifted onto the balls of his feet to kiss over Billy’s sculpted torso, licking off what was left of the cream over his stomach hungrily and letting the flavours mix in his mouth.

It wasn’t wholly unpleasant.

Billy sat up before he got any further and cupped Steve’s cheeks to kiss him deeply, tongue licking against his, manic and bold. They panted hard when they broke apart, foreheads resting together as Steve cupped the hands over the ones on his face, thumbing across strong fingers that disappeared into his slightly sweaty hair. The grin Billy wore was adorable and stupid, blissed out but also still socially aware. Aware enough to notice the tent in Steve’s shorts and the unavoidable growing wet patch through two layers of fabric. The grin turned hot again.

“Need some help with that, my sweet honey almond?”

Steve was far too desperate and turned on to correct him a third time. He could do that later, once they were both satisfied.

#harringrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #steve harrington #billy hargrove #smut ahoy #cross posted to ao3 #my writings

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snow-whiteandred-rose · 4 years

Text

How You Met- Jungkook

A/N: Hey Eve here. Hope you all had a great start into the week. I really miss going to the amusement park. Currently everything is closed. But let’s hope for the best. Stay healthy everyone!

word count: 1,2K Genre: Fluff Paring: Jungkook x Reader

"Where do we wanna go next? I heard the Slingshot-Thing is fun." "No! Absolutely not! No way I'm going on that, Y/N!" your best friend waved drastically with their hands. "Oh come on. I can't do it alone." you pouted. "N.O.P.E." "Fine. Let's just had in that direction anyway." Slowly the two of you strolled alongside the wide cobble-paved way, taking in the beautiful scenery. The path guided you alongside small two-storey timbered houses. The colourful fronts varied from subtle yellow to bright green and red. In each windowsill there were matching flower pots decorating the outside. To your right side there was a picturesque pond with a few kiosks around it. "Let's have waffles!" your friend excitedly said. "They even have one with salted fudge on top." she wiggled her eyebrows, knowing that this was your favourite. "You only want to eat right now, so that you don’t have to go on the ride Y/F/N. I know you." "That's how you think of me", she slowly made her way to the kiosk, "really Y/N?", now she was already standing in line, "I'm just thinking of our health. We need to get our energy level up. For these super duper murderous killing rides. Two waffles please." she smiled to the sales assistant. Eye rolling you smiled at her and searched for a place to sit. Who could say no to food anyway? Definitely not you. Happily you enjoyed your dessert and had a look around. But with the every minute passing and sitting in the bench you got more and more restless. "Come on. Let's get going. I don't want to be last in line." you said to your friend as you put together your cutlery and plates. "I highly doubt that you have to wait in line at the slingshot. No one wants to ride that!" You grabbed her by the hand and slightly pulled her all the way to your aimed target.

"See, I told you. You are the only crazy person around here." She said and looked around. There was really not a single person in line. The Slingshot was quite new, and maybe a lot of visitors were a little scared. "THREE. TWO. ONE. LET'S GO" a record voice counted down. The couple who was riding right now screamed their lungs out. With big eyes the two of you watched as they were catapulted to the sky and sank back to the ground in what seemed not to be more than a second. You noticed another group of people standing a few meters away from you. They were also fascinated by the scene. Six of them shared the same perplexed and disgusted expression as your best friend. But one young guy seemed as excited as you were. "Great. Wonderful. Can we leave now?" your friend asked. "What? No! We are going to do that!" "I don’t know who you mean with 》We《 but I'm definitely not a part of that, Y/N." You already knew that you weren't allowed to ride the Slingshot alone. You had to have a partner. But the only other people around were these guys. So you took no second thought marched to them. "Hi." you smiled "my name is Y/N. It seems that you are also interested to go on there. My friend doesn’t want to. So maybe one of you could be my partner?" you asked them kindly and looked at them hopefully. Seven pairs of eyes looked back at you in disbelief until one of the guys spoke up. "Our Jungkookie will be pleased in being your partner.", he let out a windshield laugh and pushed his friend in your direction. "Hyung no! Please." he whispered and gritted his teeth. He wore all black so his hair colour fitted the style perfectly. You must admit, he was not bad looking. Not at all. His doe like eyes and cute round nose made a huge contrast to his outfit. "Go JK. Keep Y/N company. So that we can have our peace." another friend of him said. All the way up to entrance Jungkook didn't say a word. He must be a bit shy, you thought. The two of you watched the couple being pulled down to the ground. The staff was helping them out of their harness and handing them back their belongings. The more passed the more nervous you got. You started to fumble with the hem of your shirt and tried to find the same feeling in JKs face. But he seemed to be fine. "Aren't you nervous?" you asked him quietly. "Huh?", he cleared his throat, "Oh ehmm. No." he looked ahead. "I'm nervous." you chuckled. "I always seem to be bigmouthed. I like going on rides. But sometimes they scare me." you admitted. Now Jungkook looked at you for the first time. "You don’t need to be nervous. I can relate with you. Nervousness is nothing bad. It helps you doing your best and afterwards you will feel as the greatest person on earth. Trust me." Suddenly the staff member called. "Alright you two. Let's go." They helped you putting on your safety harnesses and you sat down in the passenger’s car which was connected with two elastic ropes. The ropes were fixed on two gantry towers one to your left and one to your right. As everything was set the staff left the platform. Now your blood pressure rose even more. Your hands desperately clinged into the seat and your eyes were closed. "You can hold my hand if you like." JK softly spoke. "But they are sweaty." you answered. He just took your left hand and pressed it firmly. You immediately felt the reassurance his hands radiated. "It’s going to be alright. We will be the coolest persons out there Y/N." You smiled at him and he did the same. The recorded voice appeared again for the countdown. And before you knew it your body was up high in the air. You had no time to scream because your seat was catapulted vertically up to 70 meters. Your chest seems to be crushed by the g-force. The seat was free to rotate between the two ropes. So Jungkook and you bounced up and down while your bodies followed along the movements of the seat. You could hear JKs joyfully screams and laughter. And he really was right. This was great. All the nervousness and fear suddenly disappeared and left a feeling of total freedom and fun. After a few minutes you slowed down and the staff pulled you down to the ground. Jungkook and you were still giggling. Your hair was standing in all directions and your face was red. But it didn't matter. You stepped out of the harness and made your way to the exit. "I hope your hand is okay. I held onto it very strongly." you asked him. "It’s totally fine." he flashed a bunny smile. "Why didn't you scream?! I almost died of a heart attack." your friend ran to you. "Yeah, she sounded like she was being hurled into the sky." "Oh you better be quiet Jin!" Jungkook and you laughed and their admonished faces. "I had great company. There was no reason to scream." you said and looked at him. "Let's get something to eat. I'm starving. What do you like Y/N?" Jungkook asked. And after this day, he never left your side.

#bts #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #btsfluff #jungkook #jungkook x reader

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kalypsichor · 5 years

Text

oh darling [ beatles x reader ]

summary: backstage on the England leg of your tour, you meet the four Liverpool boys of your dreams

prompt: can i request a reader who’s a musician/singer and a big beatles fan so they sing their favorite songs at a concert (my peronal faves are “honey pie”, “oh, darling!” or “for no one”, but you can choose!) and the boys were secretly there!! the boys meet them after the show and the reader just loses it?? maybe some romance?? warnings: too much backstory, badly researched 60s slang

i’m fudging the timeline around so that in this fic oh! darling was released in the early 60s instead of in abbey road and reader is meeting them in the mid 60s. reader is american and I incorporated some romance but left it open-ended. more notes at the end!

masterlist

This is what you love most about touring. A thousand faces shining with the glow of the stage in dark concert halls; the satisfying dig of guitar strings into your fingertips; each inhale of breath that rushes into your lungs and is converted to notes ringing with clarity, clashing with dissonance; and the raw electricity of it all.

As the last chord of the song fades into the air, you allow yourself a giddy, adrenaline-fueled smile. The crowd roars and stomps their feet and you can feel the ground vibrating underneath your feet. It takes a while to get them to quiet down, and when they finally do, you lean in towards the mic.

“I’d like to thank y’all again for coming to tonight’s show!” Cue more screaming. “We’re going to close out with a song by a band you probably haven’t heard of— very underground, very obscure, you know. One of your lot. This is Oh! Darling.”

The crowd erupts into more cheers and you allow yourself to reminisce about the first time you’d heard this song on the radio. A few years younger and without a nickel to your name, your band had been just a hobby during the off-seasons of school. In the sweltering New Orleans summer, crammed into a friend’s garage, you wrote and played songs inspired by the local rhythm and blues so popular at the time. It was all just for your own enjoyment, of course— you didn’t think that anyone outside of Louisiana would like your kind of music. But you loved the slow grinding tempos and the strong backbeats that were so fun to dance to, even if you and your bandmates were the only ones who’d ever sing or dance to them.

Until, of course, you changed a radio station one day and suddenly heard that very same rhythm and blues from some internationally known band called The Beatles. “Well,” you said, turning to your bandmates, “if some pasty English boys can play it on the radio, why can’t we?” So the band began booking gigs at local bars, then theaters, then across the world as its popularity grew. All the while, you fell in love with the English band, buying every new record and learning your favorites on guitar.

And here you were on tour in Britain years later, living a dream you could barely believe. A giddy smile spreads across your face as you realize the enormity of being here at all, thousands of miles away from home and singing the song that started it all. Your fingers pluck the familiar strings and you feel yourself settle into a nostalgic beat.

Oh! Darling, please believe me I’ll never do you no harm…

When it’s over and you take your last bow, sweat beads your face and neck and you want nothing more than a cold shower and a bottle of champagne. The din of cheers and claps follows you into the wings of the stage where your manager waits with an odd smile on her face.

“Some people here to see you,” she says. You grab a cup of water from one of the assistants and down it like, well, water.

“I thought we weren’t letting fans backstage today.”

“Yes, but these aren’t the usual fans. They’re… you have to see for yourself.”

You set down the glass, already wishing you were in bed. “Look, Grace, I’m sorry but it’s just not a good time. I don’t care if it’s the Kennedy’s or Jesus Christ himself, tell them to come back later.”

“It’s been said that we’re bigger than Jesus, y’know.”

If you turned your head any faster you would’ve gotten whiplash. That familiar Scouse accent that you’ve only heard in records and interviews… but there was no way it was—

“John Lennon?” It’s your drummer, Thomas, who speaks. “You’re John Lennon. God, that’s unreal. I’m talking to John fucking Lennon.”

“Oh, don’t mind us, we’re just backdrop,” grumbles one of the other three. He’s got dark, intense eyes under heavy brows and a mop of hair. This is George Harrison in the flesh and blood, and he would seem very serious if it weren’t for his toothy, almost canine grin. You feel a thrill race down your spine from the almost predatory look that he gives you.

Kate, the bassist, peers over your shoulder. “Y’all are a lot shorter in person,” she comments. Then, quietly to you, “Close your mouth, honey. You’re catching flies out here.”

You really hope you’re not drooling. It’s no big deal, right? Except that your idols are standing right in front of your eyes, mop-tops and all. You suddenly become hyper-aware of how your hair is plastered to your face and yet somehow also sticking up in eighty different directions. Why didn’t you use more product? More importantly, why haven’t you said a single word yet? They must think you’re some kind of idiot. Okay, do something before it becomes awkward. A handshake! A handshake is good.

You stick out a trembling hand. “Hi,” you say, voice breathy and high like some kind of schoolgirl with a crush.

Too late, you realize that there’s no way all four of them can shake your hand, idiot, and you’ve already come up with four different ways to fake your own death and never speak to anyone again when Paul McCartney (Paul! Freaking! McCartney!) takes your palm with a gentle but steady grasp. He brings it to his lips in a mock bow, eyes peering up under fluttering eyelashes.

“M’lady.��

(Is this what cardiac arrest feels like?)

“Down, boy!” John pats the back of the bassist’s head, smirking, and before you can mourn the loss of his touch they’ve begun bickering like an old married couple.

A different hand takes yours. Thick, calloused fingers. Cold metal rings press into your skin. “Don’t mind them, they’re children. I’m Ringo.” And here was Ringo Starr with the signature grin. Something about his sweet, wide smile makes you relax instinctively. He’s just human, like you. They all are. Underneath the fame and fortune, you’re all just messy humans with a love for music. And with that realization, you let yourself settle back into your usual self.

“They’re not so bad,” you say. “I’ve seen worse. At least they’re potty trained, right?”

This gets an adorable laugh from him as well as George, the latter of which had been talking to Kate about guitars until now.

“Great job up there, by the way.” You blush at the compliment and George goes on, “Those are some wicked brilliant riffs! You’ve got to show them to me sometime.”

“What, and let you steal our band’s secrets? You’ll have to try a little harder than that, mister.”

The three of you fall into an easy banter, mostly gushing about each others’ musicianship. Eventually, John and Paul break their fight, realizing that they’re no longer the center of attention.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John says a little breathlessly, still laughing from something Paul said. You try not to notice how pink his cheeks are or the way his hair falls perfectly into his eyes from the toustling. “Say, why don’t we take this somewhere with a booth and at least three pints of alcohol?”

“There’s a pub two blocks down,” Paul chimes in, “and they always let us take the back door. The fans can get crazy, y’know.”

Pru, the other lead vocalist, swings an arm around your shoulder and answers before you can. “Sounds boss. I’m ready to split if you are, mop-tops.”

They look confusedly at one another and you huff, elbowing her in the ribs. “What she means is that we’d be delighted to go. Right, Pru?”

She scoffs something along the lines of stuffy Brits but nods. With that, the two bands begin making their way to the exits, melding into one raucous group of overlapping conversations. Before you can make it there, however, your manager grabs you by the arm and looks you in the eye with a steely glare.

“I better not being seeing your face in the papers tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Mom.”

“And be back at the hotel before three! You’ve all got interviews in the morning and I do not want another situation like Toronto on my hands. You hear me?”

“That reporter was a sexist pig and I meant what I said. Also, I wasn’t that hungover!”

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” George pipes up, “We’ll get her back in one piece. Maybe two, if we’re unlucky.”

You pat Grace’s hand and her glare softens. “Alright, get outta my sight.” She waves a hand and walks off, already rattling off instructions a mile a minute at some poor intern.

“Is yours like that too?” you ask, looking after Grace fondly as she picks up a costume rack without slowing down. If the terrified look on the intern’s face is any indication, she’s still berating him to high hell.

“Honestly,” George replies, “I think all managers are. Mum away from home, y’know. Eppy’s always right and it’s annoying as hell.”

You share a knowing smile before surging on to catch up with the group already at the door. John’s at the lead. Elbowing your way through, you make your way to his side.

“It’s a side entrance so it shouldn’t be too bad,” he says, pushing on the handle.

Immediately, a barrage of sound smacks you in the face hard enough to do a double-take. Apparently, you and every other person in London knew about the side entrance because you’re met with a sea of clamoring fans. Heads turn toward the opened door in a mesmerizing, horrifying ripple of motion. Someone mutters a heartfelt fuck under their breath. It’s probably you.

“There she is!” a girl screams.

“I love you! I LOVE YOU!”

“Is that the Beatles?”

“MARRY ME PAUL! I WANT YOUR BABIES!”

Amidst the chaos, someone intertwines their fingers in yours. It’s John. He looks down at you with a boyish grin and, not for the first time, you lose a bit of yourself in his gaze. The other three boys share the same wild glint in their eyes. He leans close until his lips brush your ear and for a moment you let yourself believe that you’re alone with him and nobody else.

“This is the part where we run, darling.”

And so you do.

notes: because i’m horny for music history, i spent way too much time researching oh! darling’s musical composition. the song is heavily influenced by new orleans rhythm and blues as well as louisiana swamp blues, music styles originating from african-americans/creoles/cajuns in the 50s (read more about it here!). so in my mind, reader is of the same ethnic background as the music she creates, but you’re free to interpret it however you want!

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cerradofolc · 4 years

Text

This is the story where word 'cyberpunk' appears first time ever.

First published in AMAZING Science Fiction Stories, Volume 57, Number 4, November 1983

* * *

The snoozer went off at seven and I was out of my sleepsack, powered up, and on-line in nanos. That's as far as I got. Soon I booted and got -

CRACKERS/BUDDYBOO/8ER

on the tube I shut down fast. Damn! Rayno had been on line before me, like always, and that message meant somebody else had gotten into our Net - and that meant trouble by the busload! I couldn't do anything mor on term, so I zipped into my jumper, combed my hair, and went downstairs.

Mom and Dad were at breakfast when I slid into the kitchen. "Good Morning, Mikey!" said Mom with a smile. "You were up so late last night I thought I wouldn't see you before you caught your bus."

"Had a tough program to crack," I said.

"Well," she said, "now you can sit down and have a decent breakfast." She turned around to pull some Sara Lees out of the microwave and plunk them down on the table.

"If you'd do your schoolwork when you're supposed to you wouldn't have to stay up all night," growled Dad from behind his caffix and faxsheet. I sloshed some juice in a glass and poured it down, stuffed a Sara Lee into my mouth, and stood to go.

"What?" asked Mom. "That's all the breakfast you're going to have?"

"Haven't got time," I said. "I gotta get to school early to see if the program checks." Dad growled something more and Mom spoke to quiet him, but I didn't hear much 'cause I was out the door.

I caught the transys for school, just in case they were watching. Two blocks down the line I got off and transferred going back the other way, and a coupla transfers later I wound up whipping into Buddy's All-Night Burgers. Rayno was in our booth, glaring into his caffix. It was 7:55 and I'd beat Georgie and Lisa there.

"What's on line?" I asked as I dropped into my seat, across from Rayno. He just looked up at me through his eyebrows and I knew better than to ask again.

At eight Lisa came in. Lisa is Rayno's girl, or at least she hopes she is. I can see why: Rayno's seventeen - two years older than the rest of us - he wears flash plastic and his hair in The Wedge (Dad blew a chip when I said I wanted my hair cut like that) and he's so cool he won't even touch her, even when she's begging for it. She plunked down in her seat next to Rayno and he didn't blink.

Georgie still wasn't there at 8:05. Rayno checked his watch again, then finally looked up from his caffix. "The compiler's been cracked," he said. Lisa and I both swore. We'd worked up our own little code to keep our Net private. I mean, our Olders would just blow boards if they ever found out what we were really up to. And now somebody'd broken our code.

"Georgie's old man?" I asked.

"Looks that way." I swore again. Georgie and I started the Net by linking our smartterms with some stuff we stored in his old man's home business system. Now my Dad woudln't know an opsys if he crashed on one, but Georgie's old man - he's a greentooth. A tech-type. He'd found one of ours once before and tried to take it apart to see what it did. We'd just skinned out that time.

"Any idea how far in he got?" Lisa asked. Rayno looked through her, at the front door. Georgie'd just come in.

"We're gonna find out," Rayno said.

Georgie was coming in smiling, but when he saw that look in Rayno's eyes he sat down next to me like the seat was booby-trapped.

"Good Morning Georgie," said Rayno, smiling like a shark.

"I didn't glitch!" Georgie whined. "I didn't tell him a thing!"

"Then how the Hell did he do it?"

"You know how he is, he's weird! He likes puzzles!" Georgie looked to me for backup. "That's how come I was late. He was trying to weasel me, but I didn't tell him a thing! I think he only got it partway open. He didn't ask about the Net!"

Rayno actually sat back, pointed at us all, and smiled. "You kids just don't know how lucky you are. I was in the Net last night and flagged somebody who didn't know the secures was poking Georgie's compiler. I made some changes. By the time your old man figures them out, well..."

I sighed relief. See what I mean about being cool? Rayno had us outlooped all the time!

Rayno slammed his fist down on the table. "But Dammit Georgie, you gotta keep a closer watch on him!"

Then Rayno smiled and bought us all drinks and pie all the way around. Lisa had a cherry Coke, and Georgie and I had caffix just like Rayno. God, that stuff tastes awful! The cups were cleared away, and Rayno unzipped his jumper and reached inside.

"Now kids," he said quietly, "it's time for some serious fun." He whipped out his microterm. "School's off!"

I still drop a bit when I see that microterm - Geez, it's a beauty! It's a Zeilemann Nova 300, but we've spent so much time reworking it, it's practically custom from the motherboard up. Hi-baud, rammed, rammed, ported, with the wafer display folds down to about the size of a vid casette; I'd give an ear to have one like it. We'd used Georgie's old man's chipburner to tuck some special tricks in ROM and there wasn't a system in CityNet it couldn't talk to.

Rayno ordered up a smartcab and we piled out of Buddy's. No more riding the transys for us, we were going in style! We charged the smartcab off to some law company and cruised all over Eastside.

Riding the boulevards got stale after awhile, so we rerouted to the library. We do a lot of our fun at the library, 'cause nobody ever bothers us there. Nobody ever goes there. We sent the smartcab, still on the law company account, off to Westside. Getting past the guards and the librarians was just a matter of flashing some ID and then we zipped off into the stacks.

Now, you've got to ID away your life to get on the libsys terms - which isn't worth half a scare when your ID is all fudged like ours is - and they watch real careful. But they move their terms around a lot, so they've got ports on line all over the building. We found an unused port, and me and Georgie kept watch while Rayno plugged in his microterm and got on line.

"Get me into the Net," he said, handing me the term. We don't have a stored opsys yet for Netting, so Rayno gives me the fast and tricky jobs.

Through the dataphones I got us out of the libsys and into CityNet. Now, Olders will never understand. They still think a computer has got to be a brain in a single box. I can get the same results with opsys stored in a hundred places, once I tie them together. Nearly every computer has got a dataphone port, CityNet is a great linking system, and Rayno's microterm has the smarts to do the job clean and fast so nobody flags on us. I pulled the compiler out of Georgie's old man's computer and got into our Net. Then I handed the term back to Rayno.

"Well, let's do some fun. Any requests?" Georgie wanted something to get even with his old man, and I had a new routine cooking, but Lisa's eyes lit up 'cause Rayno handed the term to her, first.

"I wanna burn Lewis," she said.

"Oh fritz!" Georgie complained. "You did that last week!"

"Well, he gave me another F on a theme."

"I never get F's. If yu'd read books once in a -"

"Georgie," Rayno said softly, "Lisa's on line." That settled that. Lisa's eyes were absolutely glowing.

Lisa got back into CityNet and charged a couple hundred overdue books to Lewis's libsys account. Then she ordered a complete fax sheet of Encyclopedia Britannica printed out at his office. I got next turn.

Georgie and Lisa kept watch while I accessed. Rayno was looking over my shoulder. "Something new this week?"

"Airline reservations. I was with my Dad two weeks ago when he set up a business trip, and I flagged on maybe getting some fun. I scanned the ticket clerk real careful and picked up the access code."

"Okay, show me what you can do."

Accessing was so easy that I just wiped a couple of reservations first, to see if there were any bells and whistles.

None. No checks, no lockwords, no confirm codes. I erased a couple dozen people without crashing down or locking up. "Geez," I said, "There's no deep secures at all!"

"I been telling you. Olders are even dumber than they look. Georgie? Lisa? C'mon over here and see what we're running!" Georgie was real curious and asked a lot of questions, but Lisa just looked bored and snapped her gum and tried to stand closer to Rayno. Then Rayno said, "Time to get off Sesame Street. Purge a flight."

I did. It was simple as a save. I punched a few keys, entered, and an entire plane disappeared from all the reservation files. Boy, they'd be surprised when they showed up at the airport. I started purging down the line, but Rayno interrupted.

"Maybe there's no bells and whistles, but wipe out a whole block of flights and it'll stand out. Watch this." He took the term from me and cooked up a routine in RAM to do a global and wipe out every flight that departed at an :07 for the next year. "Now that's how you do these things without waving a flag."

"That's sharp," Georgie chipped in, to me. "Mike, you're a genius! Where do you get these ideas?" Rayno got a real funny look in his eyes.

"My turn," Rayno said, exiting the airline system.

"What's next in the stack?" Lisa asked him.

"Yeah, I mean, after garbaging the airlines . . ." Georgie didn't realize he was supposed to shut up.

"Georgie! Mike!" Rayno hissed. "Keep watch!" Soft, he added, "It's time for The Big One."

"You sure?" I asked. "Rayno, I don't think we're ready."

"We're ready."

Georgie got whiney. "We're gonna get in big trouble-"

"Wimp," spat Rayno. Georgie shut up.

We'd been working on The Big One for over two months, but I still didn't feel real solid about it. It almost made a clean if/then/else; if The Big One worked/then we'd be rich/else . . . it was the else I didn't have down.

Georgie and me scanned while Rayno got down to business. He got back into CityNet, called the cracker opsys out of OurNet, and poked it into Merchant's Bank & Trust. I'd gotten into them the hard way, but never messed with their accounts; just did it to see if I could do it. My data'd been sitting in their system for about three weeks now and nobody'd noticed. Rayno thought it would be really funny to use one bank computer to crack the secures on other bank computers.

While he was peeking and poking I heard walking nearby and took a closer look. It was just some old waster looking for a quiet place to sleep. Rayno was finished linking by the time I got back. "Okay kids," he said, "this is it." He looked around to make sure we were all watching him, then held up the term and stabbed the RETURN key. That was it. I stared hard at the display, waiting to see what else was gonna be. Rayno figured it'd take about ninety seconds.

The Big One, y'see, was Rayno's idea. He'd heard about some kids in Sherman Oaks who almost got away with a five million dollar electronic fund transfer; they hadn't hit a hangup moving the five mil around until they tried to dump it into a personal savings account with a $40 balance. That's when all the flags went up.

Rayno's cool; Rayno's smart. We weren't going to be greedy, we were just going to EFT fifty K. And it wasn't going to look real strang, 'cause it got strained through some legitimate accounts before we used it to open twenty dummies.

If it worked.

The display blanked, flickered, and showed:

TRANSACTION COMPLETED. HAVE A NICE DAY.

I started to shout, but remembered I was in a library. Georgie looked less terrified. Lisa looked like she was going to attack Rayno. Rayno just cracked his little half smile, and started exiting. "Funtime's over, kids."

"I didn't get a turn," Georgie mumbled.

Rayno was out of all the nets and powering down. He turned, slow, and looked at Georgie through those eyebrows of his. "You are still on The List."

Georgie swallowed it 'cause there was nothing else he could do. Rayno folded up the microterm and tucked it back inside his jumper.

We got a smartcab outside the library and went off to someplace Lisa picked for lunch. Georgie got this idea about garbaging up the smartcab's brain so that the next customer would have a real state fair ride, but Rayno wouldn't let him do it. Rayno didn't talk to him during lunch, either.

After lunch I talked them into heading up to Martin's Micros. That's one of my favorite places to hang out. Martin's the only Older I know who can really work a computer without blowing out his headchips, and he never talks down to me, and he never tells me to keep my hands off anything. In fact, Martin's been real happy to see all of us, ever since Rayno bought that $3000 vidgraphics art animation package for Lisas birthday.

Martin was sitting at his term when we came in. "Oh, hi Mike! Rayno! Lisa! Georgie!" We all nodded. "Nice to see you again. What can I do for you today?"

"Just looking," Rayno said.

"Well, that's free." Martin turned back to his term and punched a few more IN keys. "Damn!" he said to the term.

"What's the problem?" Lisa asked.

"The problem is me," Martin said. "I got this software package I'm supposed to be writing, but it keeps bombing out and I don't know what's wrong."

Rayno asked, "What's it supposed to do?"

"Oh, it's a real estate system. Y'know, the whoe future-values-in-current-dollars bit. Depreciation, inflation, amortization, tax credits -"

"Put that in our tang," said. "What numbers crunch?"

Martin started to explain, and Rayno said to me, "This looks like your kind of work." Martin hauled his three hundred pounds of fat out of the chair, and looked relieved as I dropped down in front of the term. I scanned the parameters, looked over Martin's program, and processed a bit. Martin'd only made a few mistakes. Anybody could have. I dumped Martin's program and started loading the right one in off the top of my head.

"Will you look at that?" Martin said.

I didn't answer 'cause I was thinking in assembly. In ten minutes I had it in, compiled, and running test sets. It worked perfect, of course.

"I just can't believe you kids," Martin said. "You can program easier than I can talk."

"Nothing to it" I said.

"Maybe not for you. I knew a kid grew up speaking Arabic, used to say the same thing." He shook his head, tugged his beard, looked me in the face, and smiled. "Anyhow, thanks loads, Mike. I don't know how to . . ." He snapped his fingers. "Say, I just got something in the other day, I bet you'd be really interested in." He took me over to the display case, pulled it out, and set it on the counter. "The latest word in microterms. The Zeilemann Starfire 600."

I dropped a bit! Then I ballsed up enough to touch it. I flipped up the wafer display, ran my fingers over the touch pads, and I just wanted it so bad! "It's smart," Martin said. "Rammed, rammed, and ported."

Rayno was looking at the specs with that cold look in his eye. "My 300 is still faster," he said.

"It should be," Martin said. "You customized it half to death. But the 600 is nearly as fast, and it's stock, and it lists for $1400. I figure you must have spent nearly 3K upgrading yours."

"Can I try it out?" I asked. Martin plugged me into his system, and I booted and got on line. It worked great! Quiet, accurate; so maybe it wasn't as fast as Rayno's - I couldn't tell the difference. "Rayno, this thing is the max!" I looked at Martin. "Can we work out some kind of...?" Martin looked back to his terminal, where the real estate program was still running tests without a glitch.

"I been thinking about that, Mike. You're a minor, so I can't legally employ you." He tugged on his beard and rolled his tongue around his mouth. "But I'm hitting that real estate client for some pretty heavy bread on consulting fees, and it doesn't seem real fair to me that you... Tell you what. Maybe I can't hire you, but I sure can buy software you write. You be my consultant on, oh . . . seven more projects like this, and we'll call it a deal? Sound okay to you?"

Before I could shout yes, Rayno pushed in between me and Martin. "I'll buy it. List." He pulled out a charge card from his jumper pocket. Martin's jaw dropped. "Well, what're you waiting for? My plastic's good."

"List? But I owe Mike one," Martin protested.

"List. You don't owe us nothing."

Martin swallowed. "Okay Rayno." He took the card and ran a credcheck on it. "It's clean," Martin said, surprised. He punched up the sale and started laughing. "I don't know where you kids get this kind of money!"

"We rob banks," Rayno said. Martin laughed, and Rayno laughed, and we all laughed. Rayno picked up the term and walked out of the store. As soon as we got outside he handed it to me.

"Thanks Rayno, but . . . but I coulda made the deal myself."

"Happy Birthday, Mike."

"Rayno, my birthday is in August."

"Let's get one thing straight. You work for me."

It was near school endtime, so we routed back to Buddy's. On the way, in the smartcab, Georgie took my Starfire, gently opened the case, and scanned the boards. "We could double the baud speed real easy."

"Leave it stock," Rayno said.

We split up at Buddy's, and I took the transys home. I was lucky, 'cause Mom and Dad weren't home and I could zip right upstairs and hide the Starfire in my closet. I wish I had cool parents like Rayno does. They never ask him any dumb questions.

Mom came home at her usual time, and asked how school was. I didn't have to say much, 'cause just then the stove said dinner was ready and she started setting the table. Dad came in five minutes later and we started eating.

We got the phone call halfway through dinner. I was the one who jumped up and answered it. It was Georgie's old man, and he wanted to talk to my Dad. I gave him the phone and tried to overhear, but he took it in the next room and talked real quiet. I got unhungry. I never liked tofu, anyway.

Dad didn't stay quiet for long. "He what?! Well thank you for telling me! I'm going to get to the bottom of this right now!" He hung up.

"Who was that, David?" Mom asked.

"That was Mr. Hansen. Georgie's father. Mike and Georgie were hanging around with that punk Rayno again!" He snapped around to look at me. I'd almost made it out the kitchen door. "Michael! Were you in school today?"

I tried to talk cool. I think the tofu had my throat all clogged up. "Yeah...yeah, I was."

"Then how come Mr. Hansen saw you coming out of the downtown library?"

I was stuck. "I - I was down there doing some special research."

"For what class? C'mon Michael, what were you studying?"

It was too many inputs. I was locking up.

"David," Mom said, "Aren't you being a bit hasty? I'm sure there's a good explanation."

"Martha, Mr. Hansen found something in his computer that Georgie and Michael put there. He thinks they've been messing with banks."

"Our Mikey? It must be some kind of bad joke."

"You don't know how serious this is! Michael Arthur Harris! What have you been doing sitting up all night with that terminal? What was that system in Hansen's computer? Answer me! What have you been doing?!" My eyes felt hot. "None of your business! Keep your nose out of things you'll never understand, you obsolete old relic!"

"That does it! I don't know what's wrong with you damn kids, but I know that thing isn't helping!" He stormed up to my room. I tried to get ahead of him all the way up the steps and just got my hands stepped on. Mom came fluttering up behind as he yanked all the plugs on my terminal.

"Now David," Mom said. "Don't you think you're being a bit harsh? He needs that for his homework, don't you, Mikey?"

"You can't make excuses for him this time, Martha! I mean it! This goes in the basement, and tomorrow I'm calling the cable company and getting his line ripped out! If he has anything to do on computer he can damn well use the terminal in the den, where I can watch him!" He stomped out, carrying my smartterm. I slammed the door and locked it. "Go ahead and sulk! It won't do you any good!"

I threw some pillows around 'til I didn't feel like breaking anything anymore, then I hauled the Starfire out of the closet. I'd watched over Dad's shoulders enough to know his account numbers and access codes, so I got on line and got down to business. I was finished in half an hour.

I tied into Dad's terminal. He was using it, like I figured he would be, scanning school records. Fine. He wouldn't find out anything; we'd figured out how to fix school records months ago. I crashed in and gave him a new message on his vid display.

"Dad," it said, "there's going to be some changes around here."

It took a few seconds to sink in. I got up and made sure the door was locked real solid. I still got half a scare when he came pounding up the stairs, though. I didn't know he could be so loud.

"MICHAEL!!" He slammed into the door. "Open this! Now!"

"No."

"If you don't open this door before I count to ten, I'm going to bust it down! One!"

"Before you do that-"

"Two!"

"Better call your bank!"

"Three!"

"B320-5127-OlR." That was his checking account access code. He silenced a couple seconds.

"Young man, I don't know what you think you're trying to pull-"

"I'm not trying anything. I did it already."

Mom came up the stairs and said, "What's going on, David?" "Shut up, Martha!" He was talking real quiet, now. "What did you do, Michael?"

"Outlooped you. Disappeared you. Buried you."

"You mean, you got into the bank computer and erased my checking account?"

"Savings and mortgage on the condo, too."

"Oh my God . . ."

Mom said, "He's just angry, David. Give him time to cool off. Mikey, you wouldn't really do that, would you?"

"Then I accessed DynaRand," I said.

"Wiped your job. Your pension. I got to your plastic, too."

"He couldn't have, David. Could he?"

"Michael!" He hit the door. "I'm going to wring your scrawny neck!"

"Wait!" I shouted back. "I copied all your files before I purged! There's a way to recover!"

He let up hammering on the door, and struggled to talk calm. "Give me the copies right now and I'll just forget that this happened."

"I can't. I mean, I did backups in other computers. And I secured the files and hid them where only I know how to access."

There was quiet. No, in a nano I realised it wasn't quiet, it was Mom and Dad talking real soft. I eared up to the door but all I caught was Mom saying "why not?" and Dad saying "but what if he is telling the truth?"

"Okay Michael, Dad said at last. "What do you want?"

I locked up. It was an embarasser; what did I want? I hadn't thought that far ahead. Me, caught without a program! I dropped half a laugh, then tried to think. I mean, there was nothing they could get me I couldn't get myself, or with Rayno's help. Rayno! I wanted to get in touch with him, is what I wanted. I'd pulled this whole thing off without Rayno!

I decided then it'd probably be better if my Olders dind't know about the Starfire, so I told Dad first thing I wanted was my smartterm back. It took a long time for him to clump down to the basement and get it. He stopped at his term in the den, first, to scan if I'd really purged him. He was real subdued when he brought my smartterm back up.

I kept processing, but by the time he got back I still hadn't come up with anything more than I wanted them to leave me alone and stop telling me what to do. I got the smartterm into my room without being pulped, locked the door, got on line, and gave Dad his job back. Then I tried to flag Rayno and Georgie, but couldn't, so I left messages for when they booted. I stayed up half the night playing a war, just to make sure Dad didn't try anything.

I booted and scanned first thing the next morning, but Rayno and Georgie still hadn't come on. So I went down and had an utter silent breakfast and sent Mom and Dad off to work. I offed school and spent the whole day finishing the war and working on some tricks and treats programs. We had another utter silent meal when Mom and Dad came home, and after supper I flagged Rayno had been in the Net and left a remark on when to find him.

I finally got him on line around eight, and he said Georgie was getting trashed and probably heading for permanent downtime.

Then I told Rayno all about how I outlooped my old man, but he didn't seem real buzzed about it. He said he had something cooking and couldn't meet me at Buddy's that night to talk about it, either. So we got off line, and I started another war and then went to sleep.

The snoozer said 5:25 when I woke up, and I coudln't logic how come I was awake 'til I started making sense out of my ears. Dad was taking apart the hinges on my door!

"Dad! You cut that out or I'll purge you clean! There won't be backups this time!"

"Try it," he growled.

I jumped out of my sleepsack, powered up, booted and - no boot. I tried again. I could get on line in my smartterm, but I couldn't port out. "I cut your cable down in the basement," he said.

I grabbed the Starfire out of my closet and zipped it inside my jumper, but before I could do the window, the door and Dad both fell in. Mom came in right behind, popped open my dresser, and started stuffing socks and underwear in a suitcase.

"Now you're fritzed!" I told Dad. "I'll never give you back your files!" He grabbed my arm.

"Michael, there's something I think you should see." He dragged me down to his den and pulled some bundles of old paper trash out of his desk. "These are receipts. This is what obsolete old relics like me use because we don't trust computer bookkeeping. I checked with work and the bank; everything that goes on in the computer has to be verified with paper. You can't change anything for more than 24 hours."

"Twenty-four hours?" I laughed. "Then you're still fritzed! I can still wipe you out any day, from any term in CityNet?"

"I know."

Mom came into the den, carrying the suitcase and kleenexing her eyes. "Mikey, you've got to understand that we love you, and this is for your own good." They dragged me down to the airport and stuffed me in a private lear with a bunch of old gestapos.

I've had a few weeks now to get used to the Von Schlager Military Academy. They tell me I'm a bright kid and with good behavior, there's really no reason at all why I shouldn't graduate in five years. I am getting tired, though, of all the older cadets telling me how soft I've got it now that they've installed indoor plumbing.

Of course, I'm free to walk out any time I want. It's only three hundred miles to Fort McKenzie, where the road ends.

Sometimes at night, after lights out, I'll pull out my Starfire and run my fingers over the touchpads. That's all I can do, since they turn off power in the barracks at night. I'll lie there in the dark, thinking about Lisa, and Georgie, and Buddy's All-Night Burgers, and all the fun we used to pull off. But mostly I'll think about Rayno, and what great plans he cooks up.

I can't wait to see how he gets me out of this one.

Brought to you by The Cyberpunk Project

Page last modified on Monday, October 2, 2000.

#cyberpunk.ru #cyberpunk #Bruce Bethke #dystopia

3 notes · View notes

notalwaysthevillian · 5 years

Text

Parent Trapped

Warnings: Anxiety before a show, crying, feeling like you’re not good enough, food mention

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~2.6k

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Masterlist

Chapter 6: The Play

“Virgil! Patton!”

The twins looked up from their lunches, seeing Roman heading toward them at full speed. Logan had opted to walk instead, lingering behind his brother.

“What’s up?” They asked in unison.

“I hate that you guys can do that.” Roman said, before waving around a packet of paper. “Remember that play I was talking about a few weeks ago? I tried out and got the lead!!”

“That’s amazing!” Patton threw himself into Roman’s arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Virgil gave him a fist bump. “Good job, man. You’ve been working really hard on that monologue they gave you.”

Logan gave them an exhausted look. “At least now that he’s in the play, he’ll have someone other than me to practice with.”

“Aw, c’mon Lo. You were a good partner.”

“Just because I remembered the lines doesn’t mean I performed them well.” Logan took his seat at their lunch table, the others following suit. “I’d appreciate if you used someone else in the future.”

Patton glanced up from peeling his orange. “I’d be happy to help!”

“I can’t wait for you guys to see it!” Roman handed out his Gushers, trading them for Virgil’s Nutty Bar. “And hopefully in the spring I get a part in the musical and you guys can come see that too!”

“We’d be happy to!”

Over the next few months, Roman spent most of his time after school at play practice. Logan saw him every night when he got home, but the twins only saw him if they were at the Sanders’s for dinner. Which was more often than not, but they still missed their friend.

It only got worse during tech week. Roman was at rehearsal past dinnertime, often dragging himself through the door around eight. He’d quickly do whatever homework he had before going to bed, completely exhausted.

When the big day finally came, Roman was finally able to come home right after school.

“What is this stranger doing in my house?” Remy asked as Roman and Logan walked in the door. “I haven’t seen this boy in weeks.”

“Oh, shut up.” Roman slid his backpack off. He twisted, cracking his spine. “I have to be back by five but I figured I’d actually eat something here before I head out. Gas station food is good on occasion, but not every single day for two months.”

“You picked Leftover Night to eat at home?” Logan let out a laugh. “I think we have some bacon in the fridge, lasagna, and some pizza rolls.”

“Honestly, anything is better than eating a burger or a wrapped sandwich at this point.”

Despite it being so early, Remy pulled out the leftovers from the fridge. “So, Roman, are you excited? Nervous?”

“A bit of both.” Looking over his choices, Roman grabbed the pizza rolls and dumped them onto a plate. “We’ve been working really hard and I’m excited for everyone to see it. But I’m worried that I’m going to forget my lines or a cue or something.”

“I’ve known you most of my life and I highly doubt that you’re going to make a mistake.” Logan said. “If anything, one of your fellow actors will be the one to mess up.”

“...and now I’m worried about that.”

Remy threw an arm around his son’s shoulders. “The only thing you can do is your best.”

The microwave beeped and Roman pulled his food out. Logan steered the conversation away from the play, hoping to distract Roman from his worries. It seemed to work, as Roman went on a rant about how Mr. Lockwood claimed he was doing his math wrong.

Soon enough it was 4:30. A horn honked outside and Roman darted to his feet, grabbing everything he needed.

“I’ll see you guys there!” He called out as he left the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

Logan headed up to his room to work on some homework until it was time to go. He’d set about 10 alarms on his dad’s phone to make sure that he wouldn’t fall asleep or forget.

Despite the alarms, he came downstairs to find his dad asleep on the couch.

With a sigh, he headed over and shook Remy’s arm. “Dad.”

“Mmm.”

“Dad, come on, get up.”

Remy rolled over into the couch, pressing his face against the cushions. “Mmm.”

“We’re going to miss Roman’s play if you don’t get up.”

Shooting up, Remy grabbed his sunglasses before they could get launched off his face. “SHIT!”

A horn honked outside. Logan headed to the window, moving the curtain to find the Picanis parked in the driveway. Patton had leaned over the center console to wave through the windshield.

Logan held up one finger before dropping the curtain. “That’s our ride.”

“What do you -”

“I asked Patton if his dad could drive us because I knew you’d forget.” Logan opened the closet, grabbing his shoes. “Now hurry up or we won’t get decent seats.”

“Called out by my own kid, I can’t believe it.” Remy grumbled as he quickly threw his shoes on, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way.

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. “I’ll be in the car.”

“I’m not that slow.” Remy caught the door before it could close, following his son outside.

Patton slid into the middle of the backseat, allowing Logan to climb in and get buckled up. Remy jumped in the passenger seat.

“Let’s ride.”

Emile raised an eyebrow. “Seatbelt.”

“Oh, right.”

Once everyone was buckled in, Emile pulled out of their driveway and headed to the school.

The parking lot was only about a quarter of the way full when they pulled in. The boys jumped out of the backseat to get in line and get tickets while Emile parked.

“You could’ve gone with them.” Emile told Remy as he found a decent spot.

Remy waved a hand. “They don’t want to be babysat by an adult. Besides, it’s not like they’re going to get kidnapped at a high school play.”

“Wouldn’t this be an ample opportunity to kidnap a child? There’s plenty here.” Emile pulled his keys out of the ignition and slid out of the car. He reached into the backseat, pulling out two bouquets of flowers.

Remy walked around behind, nearly being hit by a car looking for a spot. He held up a choice finger. “Asshole!”

“Maybe you should get out of the road?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Remy moved to the sidewalk, spotting the flowers in Emile’s hands. “F-fudge! I forgot to -”

Emile handed over one of the bouquets. “I thought you might forget.”

“Em, you are a lifesaver.”

The two of them headed inside, spotting their kids toward the front of the line. Virgil pulled out his phone. A moment later Emile’s phone buzzed.

Virgil: We’ll grab seats.

Emile: Thank yo!

Emile: *you

Virgil gave him a thumbs up before the boys headed into the theater.

“How do you think Roman’s feeling?” Emile asked as they slowly moved through the line.

Remy shrugged. “He said he’s both excited and nervous. It’s probably just pre-show jitters. The kid has some raw talent for acting.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Don’t go all therapist on me now.” The teasing tone was clear in Remy’s voice. “But yeah, I’ve let him know. That’s the one thing I’m pretty consistent at. I didn’t get much praise growing up, so I figured that they deserved to hear it.”

Trying to hide his smile, Emile said, “Sounds like you’re opening up to a therapist.”

Before Remy could respond, they were at the front of the line. A person wearing an orange beanie looked up at them. “How many tickets?”

“Two please.”

Emile reached for his wallet, but Remy was already handing over a few bills. “Keep the rest. Consider it a donation.”

“Thanks, dude.” They took the money, handing over two tickets. “You can sit anywhere in the auditorium as long as there isn’t someone else in that seat.”

“You didn’t have to pay.” Emile said as they walked in.

Remy gave him a look. “You got an extra bouquet. It’s the least I could do.”

Glancing around, they spotted Patton waving and headed over to their kids.

“If you don’t want to sit with your parents -”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Patton cut Remy off, before flushing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Remy shook his head. “All good.”

“I guess that makes us the cool dads.” Emile said as they sat down.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

The five of them chatted idly until the lights overhead were dimmed and brightened again. People that were still standing quickly moved to their seats. A few minutes passed before the person in the orange beanie headed up onstage with a microphone.

“I’m pleased to announce that we are sold out tonight!” They said. The audience let out a loud cheer. “I’d like to thank you all. With the money we raise, we’re able to put on our spectacular productions, as well as take our students on some field trips. With the extra that we received from selling out, we’ll be able to get a new stage for next year.”

The audience began to applaud. After a moment, the person held up their hand and everyone quieted down. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Joan Stokes. I teach English here as well as run the drama department with our principal, Thomas Sanders. He’s somewhere backstage making sure no one is dying.”

A ripple of laughter made its way through the audience.

“Which means it’s my pleasure to introduce our play! Thank for your coming and we hope you enjoy Clue.”

As soon as they were off the stage, the curtain opened.

The five of them were silent as the show went on, watching as Roman nailed his lines. There was a brief issue with one of the backdrops, but the show continued without a hitch.

When it ended, the entire audience leapt to their feet, clapping and whistling. The applause only increased when Roman and the leading lady came out for their bows.

Once the curtain closed, everyone started making their way back to the front lobby. By the time the Picanis and Sanders managed to get out, the lobby was full of people, making it hard to find Roman in the crowd.

Instead, he found them.

“What did you think?” He asked as he darted through people effortlessly. His eyes lit up as they landed on the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Yes!” Remy and Emile handed the flowers over. Remy shot Emile a grateful look over the kid’s heads.

“You did fantastic!” Patton started gushing over Roman’s performance, Virgil adding in a comment here and there.

Logan gave his brother a smile when they were finished. “You did great.”

“Thanks, nerd.” Roman teased, throwing an arm over Logan’s shoulders.

Remy huddled the group together, keeping his voice down. “Now, I think we should get out of here so we can grab some ice cream before the crowd.”

Roman nodded, bouncing on his toes. “I just have to put my costume back in the dressing room and then we can go.”

“What about the makeup?”

“I can take it off in the car!” Roman shouted as he sprinted back down the hall.

Twenty minutes later, all of them were sitting in a booth at Leon’s Parlor. They’d managed to beat the crowd and had grabbed the best spot to sit. As they talked, the parlor began to fill up.

After a while, Virgil asked, “What made you want to do the play anyway?”

Roman shrugged. “I thought it would be fun. And I wanted to get involved with an extracurricular. Logan says that they look good on college applications.”

Logan nodded.

“And I wanted to do something that I liked, you know? I did an acting class for summer school and I thought it was super fun, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

Virgil stared at him. “How can you just...do things?”

“It helps that I don’t have anxiety.” Roman pointed out, digging his spoon into the last of his ice cream. “Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith.”

“I can’t do that though.”

Roman nodded, looking sorry for Virgil. “Sometimes it helps to have a friend. Are there any clubs you wanted to join? One of us could go to the first meeting with you.”

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you guys know?”

“Of course!”

As everyone finished up their ice cream, they left a tip on the table and headed out. As soon as they stepped foot on the asphalt, Patton heard a sniffle.

He turned just in time to see Logan break down, sobbing. Darting over, he held open his arms. Logan dove into them, burying his face into Patton’s cardigan.

Roman started to head over, but Virgil grabbed his arm and shook his head. “We shouldn’t crowd him.”

The two of them stood nearby, listening. If anyone tried to see what was going on, their glares sent them on their way.

“Logan, what’s wrong?” Remy asked as he came over, kneeling next to Patton. Emile knelt on Patton’s other side, eyes wide with concern.

Letting go of Patton, Logan moved to his dad’s lap. “I just...Roman did so good in the play and he’s so talented. I - I’m not good at anything except for school. That’s not - I’m not going to be able to get a job because of that! I need to be good at something else...anything else…”

Remy wrapped his arms around Logan, glancing at Emile over his head. He had no clue what to say, and he really didn’t want to make the situation worse.

Patton caught their look, getting up to go stand with Virgil instead.

Emile slid over, reaching out and rubbing circles onto Logan’s back. “Logan, how much time do you spend on homework?”

“Approximately half an hour per class that assigns homework.”

“So when you have homework in all of your classes, that’s about two and a half hours?”

Logan nodded, the tears finally slowing enough that he pulled his face from Remy’s shirt. “Mhmm.”

“How much time do you spend doing something you like to do?”

There was a moment of hesitation. “I - I’m unsure.”

“It’s not good to overwork yourself.” Emile said, continuing to rub Logan’s back. “You have to make time to do things that you enjoy.”

“I don’t know what I like.” Logan admitted. His face, which was already red from crying, grew even redder.

Emile and Remy exchanged another look. “I could help you figure it out.”

“You can?”

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow? We can look at a list of clubs the school offers and figure out if any of them speak to you.”

Scrubbing his face with his sweater sleeve, Logan nodded. “Okay.”

“Ro, can you start the car?” Remy asked, tossing his keys.

Roman caught them, gathering up his brother and heading toward the car. Virgil and Patton hesitated until Emile nodded.

Once the kids were gone, Remy got to his feet, pulling Emile up as well. “Thank you. I have a feeling I would’ve made it worse.”

“We need to learn from each other, remember?” Emile teased, flashing him a smile. “Now let’s get out of here before you get run over for real.”

#platonic logince #platonic moxiety #platonic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts sleep #remy sanders #emile picani

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itsyourchoice-hp · 4 years

Text

Year 2: A Visit With the Minister

Author’s Note: I would just like to say thank you to everyone who has been following along! We are almost at the end of 2020, and what a horrific year it’s been. I know for myself that fanfiction has been a really good thing for me this year. Sometimes you just need to escape into another world, right? Thanks for escaping into my story :) Hope you all are well. If you need a friend or want to rant about your shit year, my dm’s are always open!

Once again, I do not align with or support JKR’s disgusting transphobic views!

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Lucius Malfoy threw the newspaper angrily down at his desk. The famous picture of Sirius Black laughing maniacally as he was being shackled, stared up at him with the massive bold headline reading: SIRIUS BLACK SPOTTED IN HOGMEADE VILLAGE! NO ONE IS SAFE!

He was headed for Hogwarts, of that Lucius was sure. And when — if — he got there, everything would come unravelled. They would find out who had betrayed the Potters that night, and surely he would tell Cath… well, Lucius’s job was protect Cath from the truth until the right time. He couldn’t let Black ruin that. Would he really risk breaking out of Azkaban just so that he could tell the truth? Easy for Lucius to say. He had been weaving so many lies that sometimes it was hard to keep track of who’s side he was really on. All Lucius cared about was keeping him and his family alive. Swearing allegiance, playing the bad guy, spying… it was all in hopes that one day his family would be safe. Lucius stood up from his desk. Right now he had one thing on his mind, and that was making sure that Sirius Black was caught and put in Azkaban where he belonged. He could tell that the Minister was in the building, because every witch and wizard who was stationed at an entrance or sitting in an office held a very uptight and false cheery air about them. Cornelius Fudge, the minister, liked to pretend that he had everything under control. The news of Black’s escape had put the whole Ministry on edge, but Fudge was determined not to fail in the search for him. It was Lucius himself that had persuaded Fudge to give him a job as an advisor, but truthfully, Lucius just disliked the way he ran a lot of things. The Minister was easily bribed by power and money, and Lucius was an excellent manipulator. So far, it worked. He passed a few witches and wizards in the corridor on the way to the Minister’s office, all of whom avoided his eye contact and moved to the side for him. When you worked in such close quarters, it was easy to intimidate people. The waiting room was large and so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Lucius’s footsteps echoed on the marble floor. He walked past the witch who sat at the check in desk and she barely caught him making his way towards Fudge’s office. “Mr. Malfoy! Do you have a meeting with—” Lucius had already opened Cornelius’s office door and closed it behind him. Fudge was sitting at his desk, his face hidden behind the same copy of the Prophet that Lucius had just been reading. Cornelius lowered the paper, one eyebrow raised in a scowl. When he saw it was Lucius he immediately put in a jovial smile. “Lucius! Er, I wasn’t expecting you,” he said. “I see you’ve read the article about Black?” Lucius said, ignoring the comment. Cornelius chewed his lip uncomfortably. “Terrible, isn’t it?” Lucius took a step towards his desk, infuriated. “Well, have you alerted the Aurors already, then? They’re clearly chasing a cold trail in Croatia.” He gave a short laugh, still forcing a smile. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were telling me how to do my job, Lucius.” “I’m only ensuring that all the necessary measures are being taken in capturing Sirius Black. After all, is it not my job to work alongside you?” Lucius retorted. “Your job, if I may remind you, is to be an advisor, not to tell me what to do.” Fudge said, his smile fading back into a scowl. “I assure you that I am doing everything in my power to—” “Then how come Sirius Black was seen in Hogsmeade last night? Do I need to remind you that he murdered twelve people with a single curse? One more day that he’s out there is another day that my children are in danger.” Lucius was starting to raise his voice now. Cornelius stood up in his chair, throwing the Prophet on to his desk with a smack. “If I wanted your opinion on the matter, Lucius, I would have asked for it. Everything is completely under control! You know perfectly well that our Aurors are working tirelessly to capture Black. I don’t know what else to tell you.” “I’ll believe it when I see it, Minister,” Lucius snarled. Fudge was silent, glaring at Lucius. “Good day.” Lucius was immediately put into a bad mood, and decided to go home early. Having inherited the family fortune at a young age, Lucius really had no need to work. However, having such high influence in the Ministry proved to be quite an advantage; it was easy to cover things up, and given his intimidating impression, it was rare that he was ever questioned. He waited in line to take the Floo Network home, and soon after landed in the pristine fireplace at the Malfoy Manor. He stepped out, quickly wiping his shoes on the mat in front of the hearth and retreated to his study. An impressive mahogany desk sat in front of a large window overlooking their property, secluded by tall hedges (and protective spells) from the rest of Wiltshire. The walls were lined with bookshelves — Lucius prided himself in his book collection. He had books on nearly every topic; history, a few classics, architecture of the Wizarding World, even a parenting book that Narcissa had bought in a panic when Draco had turned thirteen called, Rough Waters: The Do’s and Don’ts of Rising Your Teens! He had refused to touch it… “Lucius?” he heard Narcissa’s voice echo through the empty corridor. She appeared at the doorway. “You’re home already?” “I decided to come home early,” Lucius replied, setting his leather briefcase onto his desk. “What’s the matter?” she asked him, frowning in concern. “What makes you think something is the matter?” he replied, turning to face her. “Well,” she said with the hint of a smile. “Usually you find me and say hello before retreating to your office when you arrive home.” Lucius gave into a rare smile and kissed her forehead. “I had a… conversation with the Minister today.” “About…?” Narcissa prompted him. Lucius paused for a moment. The topic of Sirius Black was one that Narcissa very much hated to talk about. However, she could tell in an instant if he was telling her the truth and would only probe him to find out. “About today’s paper,” he said. She rose an eyebrow. “I just wanted to ensure that all the necessary measures are being taken in making sure he’s found.” “And are they?” she asked. “He insists that he has everything under control, but if I were Minister of Magic, Black would already be back in Azkaban. He wouldn’t even have escaped in the first place! Narcissa, the newspaper came out this morning, and when I spoke to him an hour ago he was just reading the article. Fudge gets furious with anyone who questions his authority, yet he shows no dedication to the issue. He even had the nerve to tell me that if he wanted my opinion on the matter, he’d ask,” Lucius shook his head angrily. “They’ll catch him,” was Narcissa’s reply. “If Fudge would just listen to me… I could destroy his career in an instant, if he only knew…” “This isn’t about you,” Narcissa snapped. Lucius curled his fingers around the back of his armchair, not offering a reply. “Your job — our job, is to protect Cathryn from Sirius Black.” “If he doesn’t get caught… if he finds her and Potter—” Lucius broke off, his lip curling at the thought. He wouldn’t think twice about killing Sirius Black if he went near Cathryn. “Don’t say such things,” said Narcissa quietly. There was a moment of silence before she continued. “I’m going to write a letter to the children. I’m not sure I want Draco to visit Hogsmeade until the… situation is resolved.” “Not with Black roaming the streets,” Lucius agreed. “Perhaps I should have a word with Albus, too.” “Don’t you think that would seem a bit… odd?” Narcissa asked hesitantly, her hand still on the doorway. She always had one foot out the door when they had arguments. Lucius had to clench his jaw for a moment to keep from snapping at her. Did nobody see how serious this situation was? If nobody actually decided to do something about it, Black would be in the Hogwarts grounds in no time. “Narcissa, I’m on the board of governors, I don’t think a visit to Hogwarts would be so uncalled for,” he said, trying to control his temper. “Well, I suppose I couldn’t stop you anyways,” Narcissa said, her eyes trailing out to the window, checking out from the conversation. Lucius sighed. “I’ll just be glad when this burden is finally gone from our shoulders…” “Burden?” she frowned, meeting his eyes again. “This burden… this secret,” Lucius said. He wasn’t giving much thought to what he was saying, which of course was rare. Finally voicing the tension that always seemed to be present around this topic felt like he was unclenching his hands. “Worrying everyday about if Cathryn will find out, or if we’ll be found out.” To his surprise, Narcissa was glaring at him. “What’s the burden to you, Cathryn or the secret?” she asked him. “Don’t pretend you’ve ever wondered what it would be like if—” “If we hadn’t taken her in?” Narcissa interrupted him, her voice raising. “Then why, may I ask, did you even agree to it?” “I have never once wished that she wasn’t a part of our family,” Lucius said firmly, facing her head on, looming over her. “But forgive me if it’s so wrong that I wish I didn’t have to live two lives, and constantly be questioning the loyalties of those around me.” “This isn’t about you!” Narcissa cried. “Must I keep reminding you that the universe doesn’t orbit around you? Think of the burden that Cathryn will bear when she knows. The truth will hurt her far more than it could ever hurt us.” “I am well aware that this isn’t about me,” Lucius snapped in reply. “You of all people should know that I would do whatever it takes to keep our family safe.” “This is the life we chose, Lucius,” she said quietly but coldly, before turning swiftly and leaving, the hem of her long cloak sweeping behind her.

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