#GUESS WHO STARTED PENNY DREADFUL. THE TIME HAS COME

[1428elmstrt]

"Jesus Christ."

Ethan Chandler in Every Episode

↳ 1x1 | "Night Work"

[woogly-boogly]

1, 4 + 5 boooooook

1: What's something you read recently and enjoyed?

The Langoliers by Stephen King! it's about a group of passengers who wake up mid-flight to discover the rest of the passengers and crew have completely vanished, and upon landing at an airport they discover it wasn't just the plane - there's no one on the ground either. something has gone very wrong with the world around them... and there's a worrying rumbling noise coming from the east, and it sounds like it's getting closer.

it's not his most popular book, probably partly due to the fucking garbage tv mini-series that was made shortly after it published, but this book was excellent! it filled me with dread from start to finish, and i actually felt like i had to read it faster so that the characters wouldn't run out of time haha.

absolutely loved it, strongly recommend!

4: What are your top 3 comfort reads?

you probably could have guessed this but the Skulduggery Pleasant books, specifically 4 and 5 in conjunction. they really do transition 4 to 5 so seamlessly man, it's a perfect pairing and i fucking LOVE the plot of 5.

i think Catch-22 deserves a spot because it was a big part of my reading during Covid 2020. it took a long time for me to *get* it, but when the penny finally dropped and i understood it, i suddenly understood this was a new favourite for me and devoured the rest in record time. man, i really wanna read it again, i'll do that after i move lol

also Enid Blyton's Faraway Tree books, they were really comforting when as an early teenager i was at a friend's place and he showed me 1000 Ways to Die and a few Final Destination scenes on YouTube. i know it's not much (especially because i'm a big fan of violence in media now) but at the time it was really confronting because i hadn't seen anything like it and it made me realise how fragile life can be. laugh at me all you want for being disturbed by that at 14 but i knew they'd help because i remembered they were the least violent books i'd ever read. and it worked, they kept my mind off it and i came out feeling a lot better.

so i guess the top 3 list is:

• Skulduggery Pleasant: Dark Days & Mortal Coil

• Catch-22

• The Faraway Tree books

5: What is your favourite non-fiction book?

man i don't even remember the last non-fiction book i read... if essay books count as non-fiction then the last one i read was The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck in 2016 or 17, and it was just ok. i think trying to read the sequel, Everything is Fucked, taught me that i don't give a shit about books of essays.

other than that i remember one of my favourite books as a kid was Why? Why? Why? which was a book full of fun facts about various topics from history to science and other stuff like that. it had heaps of illustrations and on one of the pages was a step-by-step graphic on how stars die, and when i was like 9 i swapped stages 3 and 4 with a pen because i liked the way 3 looked better and wanted that to be how it ended haha.

idk i don't really read non-fiction, it's never really appealed to me. i think those shitty textbooks we had in high school kinda soured me on it... but i know it'll be important to read nf to be a better writer so i'll get to it eventually lol

anyway them's the answers, here's the questions!

[rphelperblog]

Hadestown Musical Rp Meme

"If you tell them no, your a heartless man."

“It’s an old song. It’s an old tale from way back when.”

“ There was a railroad line on the road to hell.”

“It’s a sad song. It’s a sad tale, a tragedy.”

“To know how it ends and still be able to sing it again as if it might turn out this time. I learned that from a friend of mine.”

“He could make you see how the world could be inspite of how it is.”

“ Everybody looked and everybody saw that spring had come again.”

“A tale of a love that never died.”

“Heavy and hard is the heart of a king.”

“The heart of a man is a simple one. Small and soft. flesh and blood.”

“Even the hardest of hearts unhardened when he saw her there.”

“Suddenly, he was only a man with the taste of nectar upon his lips.”

“ What of the heart of that man now that he has everything?”

“the more he has or holds, the more the weight of the world is on his shoulders.”

“But what he doesn’t know is that what he’s worried of losing is already gone.”

“A girl’s got to fight for her rightful share.”

“Help yourself to hell with the rest.”

“she called your name before she went, but I guess you weren’t listening.”

“What if I said she’s down below?”

“Course, there is another way, but I ain’t supposed to say.”

“Huh- with all your heart- that’s a start.”

“You keep on walking and don’t look back to you get to the bottom land.”

“Don’t give your name. You have none.”

“If you got is your own two legs, you best be glad you got them.”

“Don’t ask where brother. Don’t ask when.”

“It was a world of gods and men.”

“Is it true what you said?”

"You're gonna have a matyr on you hands."

“Lover,while you sing your song, winter is coming on.”

“Brother, why do you care? You will find another muse somewhere.”

“I’ll tell you where the road lies. Between your ears, behind your eyes, that is the path to paradise and likewise to ruin.”

“Everybody knows the walls have ears.”

“You said you would stay with me whatever weather came our way.”

“We would walk side by side for any weather of our lives.”

“Can’t promise fair sky above, but I will walk with you my love any way the wind goes.”

“Don’t need a ring for my little finger, but a steady hand to hold.”

“All i’ve ever known is how to make it on my own.”

“I was alone so long that I didn’t even know that I was lonely.”

“Out in the cold so long that I didn’t realize I was freezing.”

“All I have ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you too.”

“I could give you a little bit of what you crave. A little taste of the old days.”

“Like he said, I’m an outdoor girl.”

“When the sun is high, brother, so am i.”

“When my man comes around, I know that he will bring me down.”

“Why would he trade the sunshine up here for pennies and dimes?”

“What we have- We have to share.”

“That’s how I am living it. Living it up on top.”

“

“Dog that you really have to dread is the one inside your head.”

“How about you and I? Are we gonna try again?”

“Wait for me, I’m coming.”

“Go and get your suitcase packed. Guess it’s time to go.”

“Nobody knows where that old train goes, but those who go they don’t come back.”

“hear that high lonesome sound of my husband coming to take me home.”

‘She went behind those doors and signed her life away.”

“We build the wall to keep us free.”

“The wall keeps out the enemy. The enemy is poverty.”

“When I was a young man, son I held a woman too.”

“He’d said he’d shelter us. He said we’d built it up and the walls would set us.”

“Sister, it’s a bitter wine. Spit it out while you have time.”

“Love was when he came to me when he was on bending on one knee to have mercy in his soul and let him lay me in the dirt.”

“Young man, I was once a young man too. I sang the young man’s blues.”

“Promises you make to me.”

“You said the world was generous and wouldn’t turn it’s back to us.”

“I flew away from promises you made.”

“ You better forget about your wishing well.”

“Takes a lot of medicine to get through the winter time.”

“the wage is nothing and the work is hard.”

“All the pretty songs you sing ain’t gonna shelter us from the wind.”

“Lover you were gone so long. Lover, I was lonesome.”

"Men are fools. Men are frail. Give them a rope and they will hang themselves."

"What you gonna do when the chips are down?"

"Hey, little songbird. Give me a song."

"I got walls to build, and I got riots to quell."

"Always a pity for one so pretty and young."

“Nobody sings on empty."

"strange is the call of this strange man."

"I want a nice soft place to land."

"You shine like a diamond down in the minds."

"The choice is yours if you're willing to choose."

"We build the wall to keep us free."

"Wouldn't you have done the same in her shoes or her skin?"

"You can have your principles when your belly's full."

"It's my gut that I can't ignore."

"Oh how my heart wishes to say, but my gut is groaning on."

“Doubt comes in and chills the air.”

“It’s as though you aren’t there.”

“If you want to keep your head, you got to keep your head low.”

“It at right and it ain’t natural.”

“Lover when you feel that fire think of it as my desire for you.”

“I’ll sing a song of a love gone wrong.”

“Every year, they have this fight.”

“They call it freedom.”

“Couldn’t quite see their faces right, but you can hear him singing.”

“Free to spend enterinty in the factor or the warehouse.”

“I don’t understand. You said this was the promiseland.”

“There it ain’t no rest for your weary soul.”

“Don’t you see, it’s different with me?”

“DIfferent then who? They thought they were different too.”

“Oh, it was a mistake alright.”

“A lot can happen behind closed doors.”

[maxwell-grant]

Excuse Me what is pulp and why is it importan?

Good question! And probably one I should have answered sooner. Time to put on the historian hat for this one.

"Pulp" is a term used mainly to describe forms of storytelling that sprang out or were dominant in 20th century cheap all-fiction American magazines from the 1900s to the 1950s. The pulp magazine began in 1896, when Frank Munsey's Argosy magazine, in order to cut costs, dropped the non-fiction articles and photographs and switched from glossy paper to the much less expensive wood pulp paper, hence the name. The pulp magazines would mainly take off as a distinct market and format in 1904, when Street & Smith learned that Popular Magazine, despite being marketed towards boys, was being consumed by men of all ages, so they increased page count and started putting popular authors on the issues.

It was specifically the 1905 reprint of H.Rider Haggard's Ayesha that not only put Street & Smith on the map as rivals to Argosy, but also inspired other companies to start publishing in the pulp format. Pulps encompassed literally everything that the authors felt like publishing. Westerns, romance, horror, sci-fi, railroad stories, war stories, war aviation stories. Zeppelins had a short-lived subgenre. Celebrities got their own magazines, it was really any genre or format they could pull off, anything they could get away with.

Nowadays, although they came quite late in it's history, the American pulps are most famous for it's "hero pulps", characters like The Shadow and Doc Savage that are viewed as a formative influence on comic book superheroes. The pulp magazines in America lasted until the 1950s, when cumulative factors such as paper shortages, diminishing audience returns and the closing of it's biggest publishers led to it dying off, although in the decades since there's always been publishers calling their magazines pulp. That's the American pulp history.

But pulps are a phenomenon that spans the entire world and has a much bigger history to it, because pulps have become synonymous with cheap fiction magazines and those have a much bigger history. In America, before the pulps, you had the dime novels, the direct predecessors of the pulps, as well as the novelettes. England had it's penny dreadfuls and story papers, and continued publishing pulp-format magazines past the American 1950s, and that's how we got Elric of Melniboné. France and Russia arguably got to it first with it's 1800s coulporters, chapbooks and particularly the feuilletons which lasted all the way to the 20th century and created characters such as Arsene Lupin, Fantomas and The Phantom of the Opera. The Germans published pulp under the name hefteromane. Japan also published pulp magazines both original as well as imported, and the current "light-novel" phenomenon started off as an equivalent of pulp magazines (it's even on the Wikipedia page). China has wuxia, Brazil has cordel, Italy has gialli. There were Indian, Persian, Ethiopian, Canadian, Australian pulps and much more. Look anywhere in the world and you'll find examples of "pulp" happening again and again, under different circumstances and time periods.

Even if we stick to American fiction, it's impossible to state that all pulp heroes must come from the 1900s-1950s pulp magazines, because that forces us to exclude some of the most popular pulp heroes like Indiana Jones, Green Hornet, Rocketeer and The Phantom. Pulp may have once been a term meant to refer to pulp magazines exclusively, but it's morphed and lost structure and it's become the closest thing we have to a general umbrella term that allows us to try and consolidate these under a shared history. It's a lot, as you can see, and it's why several pulp historians that broaden their scope outside of 1930s American fiction have adopted Roland Barthes's definition of pulp as "A Metaphor With No Brakes In It", which is still the closest thing to a true working definition we have.

Why is it important? You tell me. I don't like to stake claims about stuff being "important", everyone's got their own priorities in life. Surely a lot of people would scoff at the idea of old populist fiction published in what was functionally equivalent to toilet paper having any sort of "importance". On the other hand, some people definitely want to talk big about the pulps as a cultural bedrock of fiction, something that's baked into the lifeblood of all fiction as we currently know it. Which it is, mind you, but I don't like to talk about pulp fiction's value being derived mainly from merely the things it inspired.

There is definitely a historical importance to be had in cataloguing them. According to the US's foremost pulp researcher Jess Nevins, 38% of all American pulps no longer exist, and 14% of all American pulps survive in less than five copies. Many libraries have very scant, if any, records on them, many collectors are hard to locate and are uncooperative when it comes to sharing information and letting outsiders view their collections. A lot of them are bound up in legal complications that prevents them from taking off in the public domain, and a lot of them ARE public domain but are completely inacessible as research material. And that's the American pulps, foreign pulps have fared far worse in posterity, with records inaccessible to people unfamiliar with the language or locations, many existing merely in mentions on decades-old records, and hundreds if not thousands of them being completely gone beyond recovery or recall.

Gone, dead, wasted, destroyed. They can't be found in barbershops or warehouse or bookstores, not even in antique stores. Hundreds, thousands of characters, stories and creators, gone. Time and posterity have crushed them to dust, forgotten and ignored by their successors. Unfettered by pretenses of respectability that repressed their glossier counterparts, in packages meant to be destroyed after reading, proudly announcing itself as trash. Things that should have never even lasted as long as they did have died many times now. It's heroes peripherical shapeshifters, nearly all of whom seem dead, quite dead, as dead as fictional characters can possibly be.

But they do not die forever. Many of them have, maybe most of them have, but many of them linger on.

"The strange red flickering of 1930’s fiction seems distant now.  You hold in your hand the product of a time too remote to recall, and feel a slow stir of wonder.  The smell of pulp pages, an illustration, an advertisement, these fragile things mark the slow hammering of time and display what it has done.  About you are today’s machines, today’s shadows.

Outside the window, leaves hang against the sky, as did leaves during the 1930’s.  The sound of voices are no different then than now.  You hold the magazine and feel something quite delicate slipping past. These solid forms surrounding you are all insubstantial. Time’s hammer will also pass across them, leaving little enough behind." - Spider, by Robert Sampson

Many of the things people call dead are just things that have been sleeping for a while or haven't had the chance to be born. Pulp fiction is dead on the page, inert, unless your imagination breathes live to it, and every now and then, one way or another, these characters dig themselves out of dustbins. Maybe it's a brief revival, maybe it's a successful reboot. Maybe they find publishers, or maybe the public domain allows them to find new life. Maybe new creators do interesting things with them, and maybe, just maybe, they live again because some won't shut up about them online. Some curious impulse led you to me, did it not? 

We all have our Frankensteins to obsess over, and these are some of mine. As someone who's lived a life perpetually restless over pursuit of knowledge, pulp has lured me like a moth to flame, because I literally never run out of things to discover within it, I never run out of possibilities. As the years pass and the public domain starts being more and more open to the public, more and more narrative real state is brought forth for writers and artists and creators to play around.

Pulp is the dark matter of fiction, the uncatalogued depths of the ocean, the darkest recesses of space. It's the box of your grandfather's belongings, the treasure you find in an attic, a body part sticking out from an old playground. It's the things that don't work, don't succeed, the things that don't fit, that are out of place. That shouldn't live and succeed, and did so anyway. The things that slither in the cracks, the shadows behind the curtain.

Aren't you interested in peering on what's behind the curtain?

The exquisite workmanship of the head, of a pre-pyramidal age, and the hieroglyphics, symbols of a language that was forgotten when Rome was young–these, Kane sensed, were additions as modern to the antiquity of the staff itself as would be English words carved on the stone monoliths of Stonehenge.

As for the cat-head–looking at it sometimes Kane had a peculiar feeling of alteration; a faint sensing that once the pommel of the staff was carved with a different design. The dust-ancient Egyptian who had carved the head of Bast had merely altered the original figure, and what that figure had been, Kane had never tried to guess.

A close scrutiny of the staff always aroused a disquieting and almost dizzy suggestion of abysses of eons, unprovocative to further speculation. - The Footfalls Within, by Robert E Howard, quoted by Stuart Hopen’s The Mythic American Culture

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 1 |  Living Well is the Best Revenge or Just Trip Her on the Red Carpet

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom is in Vegas to present at a music awards ceremony and what do you know his high profile ex girlfriend is nominated for two awards.  And the press are having a field day.  Molly Bishop is grateful for the awards show because it means extra tips and getting her closer to paying off her student debt.  An offhand comment by Luke coupled with an encounter with his old girlfriend has Tom’s mental wheels turning.  Perhaps he and Molly can solve each other’s problem.  All they have to do is get married.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

--

Tom dreaded turning his phone back on when the plane landed at McCarran airport. He knew what waited for him on the other side. Tom wondered if his publicist would buy the story he left his phone back at the bar in Heathrow. Probably not, he had tried that earlier in the year and Luke went ballistic until he came clean. He did not want a repeat of the earful he got back then. With a sigh, Tom switched on his mobile and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans, vibrating as messages and emails came in.

Tom never imagined the relationship would end like this. He thought he was in love. He thought she was in love. But it had all been what were the words she used “escape hatch”. Tom had been a means to an end. And the punishment for his naivete was a news cycle that would not die. And that photo.

He waited until he was in the car on his way to the Bellagio before checking his messages. There were a series of several text messages from Luke.

Call me when you get to your hotel room.

Don’t read the papers.

Don’t talk to any reporters.

Don’t do anything until you talk to me.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his sunglasses.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath.

This meant only one thing. Another story. Maybe more pictures. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she was attending the same awards show. It ventured to guess the papers would play that up. Tom slumped against the car seat for the rest of the ride.

Check in went fine at the VIP check in. One perk of not only being a celebrity, but a presenter at the awards show. The bellhop delivered Tom’s luggage and garment bag. He pulled the outfit for tomorrow and hung it up, just like Illaria told him to. It was only when he flopped onto the sectional couch, Tom called Luke.

“I’ve been waiting for your phone call.” Luke deadpanned. “I started to worry you would pull that ‘I left my phone at the airport bar’ story.”

“I did cross my mind.” Tom let his head hit the back of the sofa. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really.” Luke winced. “They used the photo again.”

“Of course they fucking did!” Tom punched a nearby pillow. “I look like a twat. Luke, I need this to stop.”

Luke sighed. “Until something comes along that is better than this, expect it to hang around for a while. Unless you are planning on getting married in the next two days.”

Tom chuckled darkly. “Not bloody likely.” He sighed again. “Thanks for everything Luke.��

“It’s my job, mate. But you’re welcome.”

After Tom hung up, he stared first at the phone in his hand and then at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he got here, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to get out. Tom decided instead to wallow in self-pity and eat a ridiculously expensive room service steak.

-

Weekends were always busy when there were special events over at the MGM arena. This weekend was no exception. And while it may not be good for Molly’s back, her bank account greeted every penny with a smile. Vegas may be a cheap place to live, but it still costs money. And her college did not accept IOUs for student loans. She shoved more tips into the jar behind the bar and helped the next person.

“What’ll be?”

“Whatever you have that is strong and on tap.” Tom’s smooth voice cut over the din of slot machines and video poker machines.

“Coming right up.” Molly poured him a beer, and he signed the receipt with his room number before sliding to the end of the bar.

Three hours later, Tom still sat at the end of the bar, nursing the same beer. Most of the crowd dissipated at this point. Celebrities needed their beauty sleep. Or at least most of them.

“Would you like to switch that one out for a cold one?” She leaned over, smiling. “On the house.”

“Sorry.” Tom blinked and glanced around, looking for a clock Molly imagined.

“No clocks.” she commented. “Or windows.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“The whole point of casinos is to keep people inside. Clocks and windows help people realize how much time has passed.” Molly replaced his beer. “The whole place is set up like a maze.”

Tom took a long draw of the fresh beer. “You seem to know an awful lot about casinos for a bartender.”

“You seem awfully forward for a movie star.” she snapped back. Tom’s eyes met yours. She shrugged her shoulders. “I have a friend who works at Regal Cinema, they let me in for free.”

“I’m having a bad day.” Tom muttered back. “You still didn’t answer the question.” He took another long draw, leaving the glass half empty.

“Oh, so we are adding pushy to your resume. I thought Brits were supposed to be charming. If you must know, I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s in Tourism from Arizona State.”

Tom opened his mouth to comment, but Molly cut him off.

“Funny thing about the tourism industry. You need experience to get a job, but you can’t get experience without having a job. Classic catch-22. Which does not pay my bills. So I bartend until I get hired somewhere.”

Tom felt like a prize idiot moping about his problems. He cleared his throat. “Apologies for my earlier behavior. I have been in a poor mood for the last several weeks and it has made me a terrible companion and customer.”

Molly smiled at him. The first truly friendly face in a while. “It’s fine. And you are entitled to a bad day.” She filled up his glass. “Once or twice. Share your troubles with me. Unless it is about which supermodel you should date next, then I don’t want to hear it.” she joked. Tom’s face fell. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

Tom held up a hand. “Please don’t apologize. I take it you don’t read the magazines.”

“As a matter of course, no I don’t.” Suddenly a lightbulb went off. “Oh…”

Tom twisted his face into an exaggerated expression. “‘Oh’ is right. Usually followed by the words ‘shit’ or ‘fuck’.”

“And is she…”

Tom drained the glass. “Yep. Nominated for two awards.”

“Yikes! Well, if there is anything I can do, I am here all weekend.”

Tom stood up and left several twenty-dollar bills. “I might take you up on that. Thank you again for the conversation… I didn’t catch your name.”

“Molly Bishop”. she said, clearing his glass.

Tom offered his hand, and she shook it. “Tom.”

“I know.” she leaned in, her dark brown hair falling to the sides of her face. “Remember, you’re a movie star.”

Tom laughed. A real belly laugh. So loud that it jolted the old man at the other end of the bar awake. “I needed that. Thank you again. Have a good evening, day, morning.”

“It’s evening. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.”

Tom headed back towards the bank of elevators. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Molly wipe down where he had been sitting, shove the twenties into a tip jar, while tucking her hair behind her ears and help an obviously drunk couple. Tom made a mental note to find her again before he flew back and leave an even bigger tip.

-

Tom woke up the next morning and headed down to the gym to run on the treadmill. He would have preferred running outside but wanted to avoid people. After running five miles, he switched the machine off, wiped it and him down and headed upstairs to shower and change for the day. Tom wandered back downstairs in search of Molly, but the bartender on duty, a guy named Seth, mentioned she wouldn’t be back until the evening. Tom thanked him and headed back upstairs.

He was restless until it was time to get ready. After dressing, he took a selfie in the mirror and sent it to Illaria who confirmed he did it right. Now came the waiting game. Tom wanted to time it to avoid having to see her at all. Finally deciding he had wanted long enough, Tom called for the car and headed downstairs. What Tom forgot to account for was his incredible bad luck.

He arrived right after her and was forced to walk the red carpet, watching her out of the corner of his eye, with her arm linked around whatever man, boy, prey she ensnared for the evening. Tom plastered a killer smile on his face and continued to repeat the mantra in his head “Living well is the best revenge” when all he wanted to do is either trip her or return to his hotel room and eat an inordinate amount of chocolate cake.

The rest of the awards show blurred together into moments of white hot rage masked by a cool exterior and numbness. Thank god for the teleprompter or else Tom wondered if he would have made it through his presentation. But he did and thought he made it through the entire event without running into her and then…

“Tom!” her voice called out.

Tom froze and stiffened. What a difference a few weeks can make.

“Darling!” He spun on his heel to face her, smile firmly in place. He leaned forward and kissed her cheeks. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” he lied through his teeth.

“You too. I thought I might miss you. I just wanted to say—”

Tom waved her off. “Water under the bridge.” Another lie. Perhaps he missed his calling as a barrister or even a publicist. “Your date seems nice.”

She smiled. That smile that once melted his heart. “Thanks. He is. Where’s your—”

“Back at the hotel.” He checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head back. Big plans for the night.”

She blinked, and stutter stepped back. “Oh. Right.” She composed herself. “Well, it was nice to see you again. I hope we can be friends.” She held her arms open.

Fucking friends! Tom howled inside his mind. What was she playing at? More fodder for her songs? Tom seethed on the inside. He stepped forward to awkwardly hug her, praying there was no one around to snap a photo. Knowing her, though, she probably had someone in the balcony with a zoom lens.

“Of course, love.” He squeezed her a little too tight until she let loose a small yelp of pain. Tom allowed a genuine smile to come across his face. “I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy the after party.” He walked away before she could continue on the conversation.

He waited until he was well out of earshot. “Bitch.”

-

The crowd started waning around 9:30 as the awards show let out. Molly figured most of the attendees would hit the after parties and things would pick up around 1 or 2 a.m. Until then, it would just be the regulars. She turned around to arrange the glasses she just cleaned when a now familiar voice rang out.

“Marry me.” Tom asked, his tie loosened.

“I don’t know you.” Molly teased back. “Now what will you have?”

“You as my wife.” Tom repeated, his palm flattened against the bar.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you drunk?”

Tom shook his head. “Stone cold sober. Hear me out.”

She glanced around, seeing no plausible escape. “I’m listening. But if another customer comes up, I’m walking away.”

“I need something to move the paparazzi off this current news cycle with me.”

Molly smirked. “You ran into the ex. Did she have a new boy toy on her arm?”

“Yes, but that is beside the point.”

“It is entirely the point.”

Tom slammed his hand against the bar, rattling the container of nuts nearby. “Can I continue or are you going to keep interrupting?”

Molly crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“I need something to move the press off this story. You need money. We are the solution to each other’s problems.”

“You may be gorgeous, but if you think I am sleeping with you for money…”

“I never said sex. I said marriage. The last I checked, they could be mutually exclusive.” Tom’s expression softened. “Listen, you are clearly unhappy here. I am unhappy too. If us being together could alleviate a bit of that unhappiness, why wouldn’t we seize the opportunity? We get married. Get the paparazzi off my back. I would pay off your student loans and credit cards. And then after a year of living together, we quietly divorce. No sex. Just a business relationship.”

Molly chewed over what Tom said, while chewing on her bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong, she was unhappy. Vegas was supposed to be a brand new start, but it was more of the same. Dead end job and no career prospects on the horizon.”

“Did you say live together?”

“In London, yes. I have plenty of room. Your own space. You have a passport.”

“Yes.”

Tom’s face broke out in a wide grin. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The blood pounded in his ears and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes.

“Will you marry me, Molly Bishop?”

“Yes.” she smiled back.

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get going, because the licensing bureau closes at midnight.”

Molly headed over to the manager, Nick.

“I quit.” she shoved her apron at him.

“What? You can’t quit, Molly. The big rush is coming.”

“You heard the lady.” Tom called. “She quits.”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé. Come on, darling.” Tom held out his hand. She lifted up the bar at the entrance and took his hand.

-

The two of you were full of nervous energy the entire cab ride to the licensing bureau, fitting right in with the other couples waiting to get a license. While you waited in line, Tom made some calls to several chapels until he found one open and able to squeeze the two of you in.

“Now all we need is to get you a dress and some rings.”

“Oh!” Molly dug through her purse. “My friend’s kid gave these to me.” She pulled out two plastic rings. “I think these will do in a pinch.”

Tom closed his hand over hers. “I’ll buy us proper rings tomorrow. Now a dress.”

“There’s a mall on the way. I can grab something on the way.” Tom kissed Molly’s forehead.

“You are brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

Within an hour, Molly was wearing a simple white slip dress, Tom still in his suit from the awards show, although he did straighten up the tie. She smiled like a fool, holding onto a fake bouquet and Tom’s wedding ring, complete with a plastic spider in her hand.

Tom slipped on the plastic gem ring when the minister told him to, and she did the same with the spider ring. Tom giggled and so did Molly .

“I now pronounce husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. His lips were warm and soft. It was… nice. Under other circumstances, she imagined Tom would be an excellent kisser.

Tom gazed down at her. “Hello, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

“Hello, Mr. Hiddleston.”

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!Changbin

request: Hiiiii I read you bangchan enemies to lovers au and I swear if I could like a post more than once I'd like that one a MILLION TIMES I'm wondering if maybe you could write an enemies to lovers au for changbin pretty please? 🥺🥰 genre: enemies-to-lovers!au (again, not Super extreme, low-key clash bc they’re both stubborn), film club president!Changbin, childhood penpal!au (fluff, very mild angst, they bicker a lot, kind of cheesy bc changbin’s a sap and we know that) pairing/s: Changbin / Reader (ft some skz members)  word count: 17k+ tw: mild coarse language (they say shit a lot LOL)  a/n: THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS...IM PRETTY SURE you waited months for this so thank you for being so so so patient!! I decided to try something a little different from my usual style but idk if it’s That Obvious, but its more structure wise I guess, but nonetheless, I'll be getting a little busier soon so I’m not sure If I'll be able to put out Full one shots for the next few months but I'll try my best w those little shorter ones maybe! (I'll have to see how Tired I am) also p.s I love this gif thank u to whoever made it but changbin is blonde in this fic bc of Personal Reasons 

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

I had a good day today. Sorry if the paper is crunchy I am writing this on my bed because my mom thinks I am already asleep. Today I went out with my mom and we went to the park and ate some sandwiches at the park. We had a picnic but with no juice because my sister finished everything. And then we went to the toy shop after lunch. I saw a keychain of a camera and bought it for you because you like acting and cameras can take a video of you acting.

This is a picture of me next to the wishing well at the park, you cannot see it but i’m making a peace sign. I threw a coin in the well and made a wish that your audition will be good. I know you will do very well because you practiced a lot for it. That’s all. I’m a bit tired now. Goodnight, or good morning if you are reading this in the morning. Or afternoon.

I hope i’ll be hearing from you soon, Binnie.  

“So, do you wanna keep them? If not I can chuck them together with the rest of your old things,” your mom began, already reaching over to take the letter from you.

Your eyes widened just as quickly, shaking your head quickly as you gripped the envelope and its contents behind your back away from her reach.

“No, no. Don’t throw them away,” you said sternly, softening your gaze when you noticed the way her eyebrows had raised in amusement, embarrassment washing over your features.

“I’ll keep them. Gimme the box.”

Your mom set the beaten looking converse shoebox down onto the table, shaking her head at you as a small chuckle escaped her. Mental note to transfer the letters to a smaller (and more durable) box. 

“Alright, alright,” she waved her hands at you in dismissal, “hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”

She shut the door behind her with a light thud, leaving you to stare at the grainy polaroid your childhood penpal had sent you when you both were only eight and still exchanging letters every week.

Inhaling deeply, you shoved the polaroid picture back into the envelope, slipping it into the box of envelopes before getting up. You figured that was a box you wouldn’t have the time to delve into when you were already keeping Jisung waiting.

Driving as fast as you could (or as fast as you dared to) within the speed limit, you’d reached your campus soon enough. It wasn’t that long of a drive and it would be even shorter (walking distance to be specific), when you move into your apartment nearer to campus in a few days. But that didn’t change the fact that you were running late now, spotting Jisung standing by the fountain with a sour look on his face that had only deepened once he’d spotted you.

Before an utterance of apology could leave you, Jisung had pursed his lips, stretching out his hand that held your cup of drink, a small hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“I’m starting to wonder which one of us has worse time management,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head with feigned disappointment as he glanced at his nonexistent watch on his wrist.

Jisung was one to talk, for sure. His crumpled looking shirt over baggy cargo pants and a hat to cover his head of messy hair told you his journey to school wasn’t exactly ‘leisurely’ either.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste, “it’s definitely you. I was only late today ‘cause my mom was showing me my old stuff she found in the storeroom.”

Jisung waved you off, “fine, whatever,” he fished his phone out of his pocket as you started walking towards the auditorium for a class you were both dreading.

“Oh, shit, Hyunjin says the professor’s already in class, we should hurry up.”

Quickening your pace, you were glad to have reached before your professor had started, Jisung directing you towards where Hyunjin was seated at the side of the auditorium, giving him a small nod as you sat down.

Not that Hyunjin noticed anyway, the said boy busy with messaging someone on his phone with a frown on his face.

“What are you doing?”

Jisung peered over Hyunjin’s shoulder, frankly not wanting to focus on the lesson as the professor played a video on boring business things he figured he could just ask you for later.

Hyunjin sighed, setting his phone down onto the table and pushing his laptop open further, going to his email with quick clicks on his trackpad, “gotta send the scene for the auditions later to Changbin.”

“Oh, for that film thing?” Jisung asked, earning a nod from Hyunjin, whose eyebrows furrowed as they remembered your presence.

“Y/N should audition,” Hyunjin nodded his head towards you, his mention of your name distracting you momentarily, but you’d brushed it off quickly as you tried to take down whatever your professor was rambling on about.

At your lack of response, Jisung nudged your shoulder with more force, “hey, did you hear what Hyunjin said?”

You tore your gaze reluctantly from your professor as your fingers finished typing whatever you had left in your memory, the confused look on your face prompting Hyunjin to take over.

“We’re having auditions later for the movie the film club’s gonna be making,” he started, nodding slowly as his eyebrows raised, “I was saying you should join, you’d be good for the role.”

You narrowed your eyes at Hyunjin, “what’s it about?”

Jisung huffed, “some cheesy penpal shit, the last I heard.”

Your quirked an eyebrow at that, Hyunjin rolling his eyes.

“Something like that, but it’s not super romantic. They’re childhood penpals who meet again in the future but they don’t end up together, I don’t know how to explain it to you as well as Changbin can, but will you come anyway?”

You scrunch your nose as you consider his offer.

Was there anything you needed to prepare? You didn’t even know exactly what you were signing up for. Or much less anyone in the film club. Well, other than Hyunjin, of course.  

“Is there any script I'm supposed to prepare with?” you asked, making Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise, his lips parting in realisation.

“I’m pretty sure it depends on what role you want…” he trailed off, making you scoff.

Not being able to help the laugh from escaping you, you narrowed your eyes at him, “you sound like you’re not even in the club.”

Hyunjin flashed you a sweet smile, “you know what? I’ll just send you what I sent Changbin. You can just prepare with that! Penny’s role!”

Jisung snorted, his hand coming up in a poor attempt to stifle his giggles.

“Penny? Is it because...she’s a pen pal?”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, finding it awfully amusing as well.

Hyunjin frowned, scrunching his nose up in distaste, “we couldn’t think of anything better, okay?”

You huffed, lower lip jutting out in a small pensive pout. You didn’t have much going on in terms of school productions as of now, anyway, you guessed there would be no harm in showing some support for Hyunjin.

“What time are the auditions?”

“They start from lunchtime until like five,” Hyunjin tried his best to recall, looking at you with his best pleading gaze.

Sighing again, you nodded, “this is my only class for today.”

Hyunjin was practically beaming now.

“Perfect.”

===

“I don’t like it.”

Hyunjin sputtered over his sip of coffee, an incredulous expression on his face, attracting looks from the other film club members in the dance studio. Excusing himself, he’d made his way outside, oblivious to the squeals and stares the girls waiting to audition were directing towards him, settling himself in the middle of the field outside the dance studio.  

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t like it’?” he asked you again, his eyebrows furrowed as curiosity took over him.

You sighed, rolling your shoulders back as you nodded at one of your teachers you were walking past, your grip relaxing on your phone as your arm had started to get tired.

“I mean, I read through the script, and something about Penny’s character just doesn’t sit right with me,” you told him, “it just… doesn’t make sense for her to come to that conclusion when she’d been having a perfectly good time with the guy before that, you know?”

Pausing, you’d waited for him to respond, his silence prompting you to continue with your elaboration.

“Okay, I’ll put it this way,” you started, adjusting your grip on your laptop in your arm, “If I were a reader, or like, a viewer in this case, I would wanna be able to pick up on these small moments or signs that Penny is actually thinking about her relationship, do you know what I mean? Because now the way it looks is that she’s just a plot device meant to hurt him, and that there’s no exploration of the development of their relationship at all.”

Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, “Okay, I know, I know, but the thing is… this was Changbin’s idea, and I don’t know if you’ve heard—I mean, you probably have, but… nobody really questions him.”

You hummed, following Hyunjin into the school building and tugging your coat tighter around yourself, the cold air in the building shocking you as you entered.

“Yeah, I get that, but you’re forgetting that I don’t have the same relationship with this Changbin guy that you guys do. I don’t mind telling him that I have a problem with it. I don’t wanna be acting out some two-dimensional love interest character if I can help it.”

Hyunjin grimaced, not seeming to be too keen on your insistence, “I really think it might be a little late for him to change the script.”

“It’s never too late.”

“Well to Changbin it could be!” Hyunjin insisted, making you roll your eyes, a small chuckle leaving you.

You huffed, “I still think the audience deserves a better film with better crafted characters.”

Hyunjin let out a sound in between a sigh and a groan, “Okay fine, you just have to make sure you get the role, and then you’re free to argue with Changbin all you want. Deal?”

“Deal,” You turned the corner and spotted Hyunjin standing in the middle of the field, already making his way back to the dance studio.

“Okay,” he spoke before you could end the call, “I gotta go, see you later.”

You didn’t expect there to be so many people at the auditions, mostly girls and just a handful of guys. Though you seemed to piece the uneven ratio together when you saw the not-so-furtive stares the girls would cast in Hyunjin’s direction whenever he’d peek his head out from the crack in the door to call the next person in.

You recognized one of the guys who’d come in later than you, one of Jisung’s upperclassmen friends whose name was Minho.

“Didn’t think i’d see you here,” he gave you a small smile as he took a seat next to you.

Shrugging in response, you let out an awkward huff of laughter, not used to talking to him about anything other than his cats and Jisung’s whereabouts.

“Yeah… well, Hyunjin asked me to come, so I figured I might as well,” you fiddled with the slip of paper with the scene printed on it, “not like I had anything better to do, anyway.”

Minho nodded slowly, leaning closer to you and dropping his voice to a murmur, “I’ve never seen any of these girls before.”

You huffed, “I’m pretty sure most of them are here for Hyunjin.”

“Oh yeah, makes sense,” Minho hummed, a small lilt of amusement to his tone, “where is he, anyway? He told me he would be here—”

Minho’s question was answered when the girls beside the both of you had erupted into harsh whispers and murmurs, tapping each other excitedly as Hyunjin could be seen through the window panel in the door, looking on seriously as one of the girls inside the room was auditioning.

You huffed, gesturing to the window.

“Found him.”

Inside the room, Changbin was distracted.

He knew he had a certain image in his head about what he wanted ‘Penny’ to be. But whatever the girls that had auditioned so far had been showing, that dramatic ‘i never loved you!’ emotion, that wasn’t exactly it. And it didn’t help either that they struggled letting go of the dramatics when Chan would prompt them to try a different angle.

Hyunjin cast a (mildly concerned) look at Changbin, trying to gauge his expression, figuring the pointed look Changbin had sent his way was enough to say he didn’t think this girl would be shortlisted.

“Who’s next?” Chan leaned over in his seat to peek at the clipboard of names of signups, Changbin leaning back in his seat and pushing the clipboard towards him, not finding it in him to be able to be more hopeful about the next person.

“Oh, Y/N,” Chan hummed, nodding with an impressed expression on his face, the name catching Changbin’s attention, “that’s cool, didn’t think they’d audition.”

“Y/N?” Changbin echoed, something about the name awfully familiar to him, yet not being able to make the connection in his memories yet.

So for now, he’d simply gestured to Hyunjin to signal that he could send the next girl in, Chan sweetly thanking the girl that had just auditioned as she left the room.

Making your way into the room, you scanned the ‘panel’ of judges.

You recognized Chan, the said pale-faced boy looking even more tired when he’d yawned as you made your way to the centre of the room. He came to your school productions often since he and Felix were friends, and Felix was always involved in some way or another. The other boy, though, you didn’t think you’d seen before.

The two of them seemed to exude completely different auras, with Chan smiling warmly at you and gesturing for you to come closer while the other boy sat with his arms folded across his chest, frowning at you as though you were a code to decipher.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here,” Chan broke the silence first, giggling.

You shook your head, “honestly didn’t think i’d sign-up either.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile, rocking back on your heels as you glanced at the boy next to him again, “I actually only heard about it from Hyunjin this morning,” you admitted, Hyunjin flashing Chan a grin from behind you as if to say ‘you’re welcome’.

Changbin cleared his throat, making Chan perk up.

“Right, sorry. So, we’ve obviously met but this is our club’s president Changbin,” he gestured to the boy sitting next to him.

Changbin nodded curtly, bringing his hand up to run it through his bleached hair and shoving his cap back on his head with habitual movements.

Now you were starting to understand why Hyunjin was so intimidated by Changbin, always having heard stories about him but only now being able to put a face to the name.

Nodding slowly, you gave him a smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

Changbin had to stop himself from faltering, his breath hitching when he realised why your name was so familiar.

After all, it had been the first candidate before they’d decided to go with ‘penny’. He wondered how cruel fate was to have brought you, someone with the same name as the person he’d practically based this story on, to be auditioning for the very role.

You tried not to be offended by the way Changbin had simply nodded at you, straightening up in his seat, “and you’ll be auditioning for the role of…?”

Would it hurt him to smile?

You inhaled deeply, trying to hide your amusement as you answered him, “Penny.”

Changbin nodded, Chan humming as he looked up from his copy of the script to give you another reassuring smile.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready. I’ll be taking the lines of the male lead,” Chan told you.

You understood that the scene was some sort of scene where the two romantic leads have some sort of confrontation, and you did your best to get into what you imagined Penny would be feeling, Chan reading the line asking if ‘penny’ had even loved him at all. Dramatic was the word to describe it, really.  

You softened your gaze, unintentionally letting it rest on Changbin but deciding to let it stay there, executing your lines all the while trying to ignore the way Changbin’s stare was unnerving you, making you want to prove to him that you were a good actor even though he hadn’t questioned your acting skills.

Hyunjin had been watching the exchange closely, Changbin’s grip on his pencil loosening as he’d let the pencil fall softly against the table.

Changbin wondered if it was some sort of coincidence, because whatever ‘it’ was that he’d been looking for in Penny’s character, you’d managed to convey almost perfectly.

And it was clear that Chan had felt the same way as well, since once your audition was over, the smile on Chan’s face was nothing but beaming.

Once you’d left the room, Hyunjin telling you that they would contact you by the next morning, Chan had turned to Changbin, the same stupid smile on his face.

“That was great!” he nudged Changbin, the younger boy still recovering from the shock of the coincidence of it all, managing to muster a small huff in response.

“Yeah,” Changbin reached over to grab his water bottle, prolonging his silence as he took a long sip, “I don’t think we’d even need to see the rest.”

Chris scrunched his nose up, grinning, “but you know we still will, of course. Just in case.”

Changbin sighed, glancing at the clock, agreeing with Chan even though he knew he’d already had his mind made up.

“Yeah, just in case,” Changbin mumbled, looking out the window and seeing you talk to Minho, tearing his gaze away and rolling his shoulders back.

“Okay, send the next one in.”

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I’m okay. I like the picture you sent me of you using your scooter. My mom says you look nice. I think so too.

Today I went to the museum and I ate an ice cream for lunch. I don’t have a picture of it but it was a Strawberry ice cream.

I just finished reading your letter. Sorry to say it using a bad word, but i think what your sister did was stupid. I think you should still tell her to ask for permission to use your scooter. But if she still does not listen, maybe you should tell her again. Because my mom always tells me that if I want something, I have to ask for it. So you should do that. Maybe she does not know you don’t like it when she plays with your scooter. Or, you could buy a new scooter. Here is some money so you can buy a scooter. I drew you $50 because that is a lot of money. I hope you have a good day when you read this.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

You weren’t the world’s kindest human alive, you had your petty moments. I mean, there were so many songs and literature and movies that highlighted that idea that no human was perfect, right? But you tried your best, surely.

So, you’d gladly complied when Hyunjin asked you to grab extra cups of coffee for Chan and Changbin (as reluctant as you were. You were strapped for cash as it was).

You figured that was the least you could do before the trouble you were about to cause the both of them. But hopefully, if office etiquette was anything to go by, the simple gesture would show that you were kind, and someone who appreciated the offer given to you, as much as you hated the superficiality of your character.

However, when you showed up at the room, you were reminded that Changbin wasn’t just anyone. And while Chan made his appreciation known, Changbin… was the same as ever. Intimidating, and very hard to read. The sight of it almost made you want to take back his coffee.

He wasn’t wearing a hat today. Instead, he’d let his blonde hair (which looked darker since the last time you saw him, or maybe it was just his dyed-black undercut) fall messily over his forehead in a slight side part.

His black shirt did nothing to hide his physique, every movement of his coming across as a subtle flex, making you have to remind yourself time and time again that you weren’t exactly here to fawn over him.

He would lean back in his seat, scrolling through whatever he was looking at in his phone with one hand, his other hand draped over his stomach and propped underneath his elbow to support it. The way he would look made it seem as if he was almost oblivious to the world around him, only paying attention to what was on his phone until he would laugh at something Chan said, Chan being the only person you’ve seen that managed to elicit seemingly uncharacteristic giggles from him.

Though it wasn’t as if you were given much time to get used to it. The moment Chan had murmured something in his ear, his expression had switched back to ‘strictly business’.

Chan straightened up, looking around the room with his eyebrows slightly raised in question, one hand adjusting the braided leather bracelet around his wrist

“So, shall we get started then?” Chan asked, gesturing to Changbin before typing away at his laptop.

Changbin took his cue, getting up from his seat and making his way around the table to the front of the room, pulling the overhanging screen up to reveal the whiteboard.

“So, first of all, we’ve finalised the actors playing the characters,” he gestured towards you and Minho, “Minho as Soobin and Y/N as Penny. So, we can start shooting about next week. I would say we’re working with a pretty loose deadline because we don’t have to submit it until a few months from now.”

Changbin rolled his shoulders back, his body language seeming fairly relaxed although his expression remained serious nonetheless, “but that doesn’t mean we should slack, obviously.”

His statement elicited a small groan from Hyunjin, who muttered a ‘figures’ under his breath, making you stifle your giggles for Changbin’s sake.

“But we will start with maybe going over the script once through, go over the technical stuff after we get any issues with the flow out of the way.”

He looked as though he were going through a mental list of things to cover, his gaze flickering momentarily to Hyunjin, as if his face would give him answers to the invisible question in his head.

“The people in charge of the props, have you started preparing the letters?” Chan stepped in, earning a shake of the head from the two girls sitting next to Hyunjin, making Changbin wave a hand dismissively in their direction.

“They could start on that after we confirm the script,” Changbin leaned over the table to grab his cup of coffee, proceeding to take a long sip from it.

“Alright, let’s start then.”

Changbin took the empty seat he was standing next to, pulling his laptop closer to him to pull up the script.

Throughout the reading, you tried to keep your comments to yourself, you really did. It just fascinated you how fearful the team was of Changbin (well, aside from Chan), the way everyone seemed to bite their tongues or withhold their comments caused a permanent frown to be etched on your face.

It didn’t make it any better that Minho seemed to have no problems with the script, not even when you’d occasionally leant over to whisper to him and ask if he found that part a little weird or a little abrupt. But you held your tongue for now, (and also because of the side glance Hyunjin would cast your way whenever you would let out a small sigh),  you wanted to give Changbin the benefit of the doubt, figuring maybe if he read through his script again he’d realise how one-sided it was.

But thankfully, when you were reading out the lines where the two main characters had ended their date, and on a particularly high note for that matter, it seemed the opportunity to voice your concerns about the script was presented to you when Changbin had spoken up.

“Okay, since the next scene onwards will be where their relationship breaks down, any questions so far?” He asked, though his tone didn’t sound like he was really asking for feedback. But, hey, an opportunity as an opportunity, wasn’t it?

You cleared your throat a little too harshly, raising up your hand as you leaned against the table to be seen better, “uh, actually, me? I mean, I have some feedback actually.”

Changbin looked at you curiously, his gaze landing on you with slight surprise, as if he hadn’t expected it to be you of all people. There was a slight hesitancy evident in the way he paused before giving you a short nod, prompting you to go ahead.

You smiled, ignoring the way Hyunjin had sighed deeply a few seats away from you, dreading the chaos that could have come with people like you and Changbin bumping heads.

“Well, it’s not really specific to this scene. It’s kind of about the whole flow of the plot in general…” you fiddled with the corner of the page you were on, “but I was thinking it would be better to show more of Penny’s point of view? You know, because when I was reading it it just felt a little… weird for them to suddenly break up if everything seemed to be going fine.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at you, looking back down at his computer with a simple dismissive shake of the head, “That’s not necessary, they’re going to break up anyway.”

The room had fallen silent, everybody seeming to have taken that as a ‘end of the conversation’ kind of line, already beginning to bring their attention to the next scene.

You frowned, unable to control your expression as you made your dismay obvious, casting a desperate look to Hyunjin who honestly looked as though he would pay you not to pursue this.

“But that’s not the point,” you spoke, getting Chan’s attention as he looked at you, silently urging you to continue, “you wanted to show their relationship, right? So, shouldn’t you show… both their parts in the relationship? Since it’s not like this is told in Soobin’s point of view.”

Changbin pursed his lips, “the point is,” he brought his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a small sip before continuing, “their relationship was superficial so it doesn’t matter.”

You mirrored his expression. The way it sounded was that he was just trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter.

Your frown deepened, quick to respond to him.

“That’s the thing, if you’re so insistent on them breaking up, why don’t you just make their relationship lead up to that? The way they’re interacting up to this scene makes viewers think they’re just going to end up together,” you tried to reason, hoping Changbin would understand where you were coming from.

Minho took that opportunity to excuse himself to the bathroom, and as you gave the rest of the film club members a once-over, you hated the way they were all looking at you as if you were cussing Changbin out instead of just giving him constructive feedback, or just voicing your thoughts for that matter.

“Well, not everyone gets a happy ending, I guess.”

He was practically avoiding your message at this point, making you grow more frustrated.

“Okay, look, what’s your intention behind making this film?” you asked, watching carefully as Changbin huffed, looking fairly amused at your insistence, which only served to irk you more.

“Simple,” he shrugged, “to show people like you that not everything that seems so perfect ends up perfect in the end.”

Your lips parted, scoffing, resisting the urge to get up from your seat as you heard Minho re-enter the room.

“People like me?” you echoed spitefully, “okay, fine, whatever. But as you said, if that’s the point of your discourse, shouldn’t your message be to tell people that they can work through things like this instead of just giving up and leaving like Penny did?”

Changbin was annoyed now. To him, you seemed too idealistic to understand his reasoning behind the story. He wondered why it had to be you that was telling him this, you were the only one that was trying to find problems with his story, that he’d based on his own life for that matter.

“Well what if she did, huh? What if Penny did just up and leave with no warning?”

You rolled your eyes, hearing Chan struggle to stifle his laugh, your exchange with Changbin being just about the most excitement he had in the whole school year.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “which is why I'm saying that your job as a storyteller is to shed some light on the reason behind that. Then your story wouldn’t be about showing how things don’t turn out the way they seem, it would just be telling you, but not showing you. You could just ask literally anybody to hurt Minho—”

“Soobin,” you heard Minho correct from beside you, making you huff, scrunching your eyes shut tightly before opening them harshly.

“—Yes, Soobin’s character, and it would be the same? The story wouldn’t show me anything other than the fact that it was Soobin’s fault he ended up that way. He didn’t question anything that happened, he just let it happen to him,” you sighed again, clenching your jaw, “Penny isn’t anything other than some 2-dimensional plot device designed as an excuse for Soobin to sulk about how cruel love is.”

Changbin scrunched his nose up, his brows knitting in annoyance as he stared at you, a silence falling again in the room. Changbin was about to interject when Chan had decided that would be a good time to step in.

“C’mon guys, let’s… calm down a little. We’re talking about penpals here, not the king’s lover betraying him.”

You cast Chan a questioning look at his example, making him shrug, continuing, “we’re running a little overtime anyway, we can just continue discussing this another time.”

Just like that, the rest of the film club members seemed eager to leave, either rushing for their next class or just not wanting to be in the same environment as an irritable Changbin.

Chan directed his gaze towards you as you were getting up from your seat, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sure Changbin will keep your points in mind, don’t worry,” he reassured you just as Changbin chimed in with a ‘no, I won’t’ behind him, leaving the room promptly afterwards, leaving you free to let out the frustrated groan you had been withholding.

“Thanks, Chan. Sorry I kind of made you guys overrun your time,” you sighed, watching Hyunjin making his way to you with wide eyes.

Chan shook his head, holding his laptop securely in one arm as he let out a burst of giggles.

“No, don’t apologize! I should be thanking you, I didn’t think about your point until you mentioned it just now,” he murmured, “but again, sorry about Changbin. He’s just a little… protective of his work.”

Hyunjin let out a low whistle from next to you, “Extremely.”

You nodded, shrugging, “It’s alright, I get it.”

Chan flashed you a smile, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Thanks, again. See you around.”

Leaving the room with Hyunjin, you ignored the way he’d begun to chuckle to himself, “honestly, in this whole time i’ve been in the film club, i’ve never seen Changbin actually… argue with someone.”

You rolled your eyes, kicking at the stray pebble “well if he continues like this, you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of it.”

“You sure seemed like you were having fun, though, weren’t you?” Hyunjin was being sarcastic, knowing he was just doing this to dissuade you, his tone eliciting a scoff from you.  

You shook your head.

“You know for a fact I wasn’t. But it wouldn’t sit right with me if I just kept my mouth shut like you and the rest of your film club goons,” you shot him a pointed glare.

Hyunjin pressed his lips into a firm line, holding his hands up beside his head in surrender, prompting you to continue.

“If I want something done, I’m gonna ask for it. It’s as simple as that.”

===

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

Was your audition good? Thank you for the money. But $50 is a lot of money so I don’t think I should spend everything, my mom says I need to save money. Thank you for telling me what I should do, but in the end I didn’t buy another scooter. I did this because we were learning about needs vs wants in school and I think the scooter is a want. My teacher says this means I don’t really need it. But needs are things like colour pencils and pens and paper so I can write letters to send you. Maybe your mom tells you you cannot buy so many stickers because the stickers are a want and not a need.

Anyway, I think I can just let my sister take my scooter. Maybe I will just get another scooter for myself when I am older and I have more money.

I hope I will be hearing from you soon, Binnie.

As you said before, you weren’t perfect, but you surely did your best. But days like this you wondered if people like Changbin even tried.

After your interaction with said stubborn being during your meeting with the film club had put you in a bad mood, you were currently seated with Jisung in a booth at a popular burger outlet outside school, thankfully having managed to get a place in the midst of the anxious afternoon crowd. And even more thankful that you could eat your lunch in peace where you were very much away from Changbin.

“What did you say to him, again?” Jisung hadn’t bothered trying to hold in his laughter as he was almost shouting over the noise of the crowd, making you huff as you bit into your burger.

“I said it’s funny that he was talking so much shit about the main couple when he’s dedicating his entire movie to them,” you drawled, your annoyance returning as you recounted the spat you had with him during the small meeting you had with the film club just before lunch.

Jisung’s shoulders shook as he laughed, fumbling with his drink as his eyes shut tightly, giggles leaving him and seeming as though they would never end, “and that’s what you said word for word?”

You nodded, reaching over to press the lid of Jisung’s drink down firmer before he could spill it all over himself.

“I know you’re friends with him but I really don’t know how you work with this guy, he’s as stubborn as stubborn goes,” you huffed, taking another bite into your burger as Jisung’s laughter had died down, though his smile had only lingered.

“You’re worse,” he snickered, earning a glare from you.

Jisung remained unaffected, “Look, he’s honestly fine once you get to know him,” he tried to reason, sounding as though he were trying to convince a child to make friends, “I mean, we’re all still kind of wary around him when he’s in a mood but honestly, if not for the way you guys met, I’m pretty sure you two would get along well. He seems like he’s your type.”

Your eyes widened, scandalised at Jisung’s implication.  

“The only thing he has in common with my exes is being annoying, okay?” you rushed to push away the curiosity of what Changbin would be like as a boyfriend. Curse Jisung and his stupid implication.

“And plus,” you continued, hearing the doorbell chime for what sounded like the thousandth time to signal yet another entry into the diner that was now overflowing with people asking for take-out, “it’s not like he’s been very nice to me since I got involved with his stupid short film.”

Jisung sighed, his gaze momentarily distracted by something behind you, making you wave your hand in front of his face to keep his attention. He’d glanced back at you, an almost dazed look in his eyes before he’d given you a small smile, taking a bite out of his burger and not waiting to finish chewing before he answered you.

“I honestly think that he just needs a little more persuasion. Like, take this for example, something similar happened with him and Chan when they were composing something in the past, and trust me, if you don’t give up now, i’m pretty sure he’d agree to come to a compromise or something,” he gave you a shrug, his gaze returning to whatever was behind you (probably someone cute, you figured). You couldn’t say you blamed him; almost all your conversations revolved around you and Changbin’s squabbles these days.

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at him, “you really think he’d be willing to rewrite his script?”

Your tone was skeptical, already imagining how Changbin would simply tell you to keep dreaming if you’d brought up the proposal to him.

At Jisung’s lack of response, you’d frowned slightly, seeing him turn back to you calmly as his smile widened, giving you yet another shrug.

“Maybe you can ask him yourself.”

If there was any feeling one would get just before something bad was about to happen, that was definitely what you were feeling now.

You didn’t dare to tear your gaze away from Jisung as you watched him turn his body, his hand coming up in a wave that had only turned into a hi-five, his behaviour only adequately described as boisterous as he welcomed the people you were hoping you wouldn’t have to see for another week until the next film club meeting.

Well, Chan was fine, you were simply referring to Changbin.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Didn’t know you and Jisung were friends,” Chan gave you a sweet smile, gesturing between you and Jisung as he spoke.

Jisung chimed in with a nonchalant “Best friends, actually,” which had only made you shoot him a glare.

“Might have to re-evaluate that,” you muttered, turning back to Chan and Changbin to give them as warm a smile as you could muster.

“Are you guys eating here too?” you asked.

You were oblivious to the way Changbin’s gaze flickered from your face to the food in your hand, and then back to Jisung, looking perfectly unaffected as he joked with Jisung about something you didn’t quite catch.

“Well, we wanted to, but, you know, with the crowd and all we probably won’t be able to get a seat,” Chan’s gaze was pitiful, to say the least, making Jisung raise his eyebrows, and that sinking feeling within you had only intensified as his next sentence left his lips.

Jisung had barely glanced at you as he held onto Changbin’s hand.

“Well, our booth’s actually meant to seat four people, so you guys could squeeze in if you want,” he offered.

Changbin quirked his eyebrow, skepticism written all over his features, though mostly directed towards you, “you guys really won’t mind?”

You glared at your burger, scrunching your nose up as you avoided Changbin’s pointed gaze.

Jisung scoffed, giving Changbin a loud smack on the arm, “of course we won’t, right Y/N?”

He turned to you, giving you a smile you could only describe to be devious (and fairly amused).

“Yeah,” your voice took a pitch higher unintentionally, “go ahead,” you murmured, scooting into the booth to make space for them.

You took another bite from your burger, watching out of the corner of your eye as Changbin took a seat next to Jisung, Chan excusing himself to retrieve both their orders.

“Funny that you showed up, actually. Y/N and I were just talking about your short film,” Jisung spoke, earning a pointed glare for you, as if daring him to continue (and you should’ve known that wasn’t going to faze him at all).

“Oh, were you?” Changbin drawled, his eyebrows raised and a slight smile playing at his lips, “I’m sure Y/N had a lot to say about that.”

As you were about to speak, Jisung had interjected with a little giggle, “she did.”

Changbin didn’t seem to take Jisung’s comment as an answer, simply keeping his gaze fixed on you, prompting you to produce an answer of your own. You ignored the knowing look Jisung gave you.

You sighed, “maybe I wouldn’t, if someone just took my suggestions.”

Changbin had let out a small huff at that, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest as Chan returned to the table with his and Changbin’s food, casting curious glances between the three of you seated at the table.

“Hope you guys didn’t fight while I was gone,” he joked, making you sigh, and you missed the pointed look he cast Changbin’s way when the boy had scoffed, “what were you guys talking about before I came?”

You shrugged.

“We were talking about the short film,” you told him, “kind of.”

Chan had perked up at that, turning to you as he handed Changbin his food, “oh yeah, I wanted to ask if you had more feedback about the scenes.”

You nodded, “I do, actually.”

Changbin’s gaze lifted from his burger to look at you as he sighed, “what is it now?”

You huffed, “It’s not that bad. I was just wondering if the content of the letters were gonna be read out during the scene? ‘Cause if it is, then maybe we could kind of make it a little more relevant to their personalities or something.”

“Will that be hard? What do kids even talk about in their letters?” Jisung laughed.

Changbin’s lips parted slightly before pressing them into a firm line.

“Well, they’ll be like 9 when they’re exchanging letters, I suppose, so I guess they’d at least know how to have a conversation… ” He sounded almost hesitant, making you wonder why he made talking about childhood penpals seem like such a complex thing.

You thought about your own penpal, Binnie. You were about that age when you were exchanging letters with him too, figuring you could give some insight on that until Jisung had intercepted.

“At that age all I did was talk about hot wheels, to be honest. Much less talk to girls,” he snorted, making you scoff, using your shoe to nudge his leg under the table.

Chan, who had been silently thinking, had straightened up abruptly.

“Wait,” Chan’s eyebrows lowered, frowning slightly as his lower lip jut out in a slight pout. He directed his attention to Changbin, pointing his index finger towards him, “didn’t you used to have a penpal?”

You had to stop yourself from making your shock too obvious, your eyes widening as your gaze became nothing but accusatory. How badly did his penpal experience go for him to be so cynical about it now?

Whatever it was, the newfound information made you curious as to exactly how much of the story he’d changed, more importantly, how much he’d retained.

“You?” you couldn’t help yourself from blurting, though Changbin remained unamused.

“Yeah, I did,” he bypassed your incredulous stare, answering Chan simply.

Jisung hummed, bringing one hand up to fiddle with his ear piercing, not having expected Changbin’s response.

“Oh, well, what was it like, then?”

Changbin shrugged, resting one of his forearms on the table to support himself, his other hand reaching down to pick up a fry, “was nice. We would exchange letters every week. Talked about a lot of things, sent each other pictures, you know, all that stuff.”

“Do you still keep in contact with them?” Chan asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, not having heard much from Changbin about this penpal in the entire duration of their friendship.

Changbin shook his head, “nope,” he popped the p, picking up his cup to swirl it around noisily, the ice rumbling as it got tossed around in the paper cup, proceeding to take a sip from it as the rest of you looked on curiously at him.

“Well, why not?” you dared to ask, a million different possible reasons running through your mind.

Maybe they did something to piss Changbin off, or maybe they got into a big fight (which also made you wonder how heated fights could get over snail mail), or maybe one of their parents disapproved of the other. The possibilities were endless as you anticipated just why 8 year old Changbin would’ve cut ties with his penpal. And maybe, you were enjoying the dramatic aspect of it a little more than you should’ve been.

But something about the way he replied felt restrained. Maybe you were reading into it too much, but he almost sounded evasive. But, of course, you chose to ignore (suppress) it for now, watching intently as Changbin had once again shrugged, an air of nonchalance to his gestures as he met your gaze.

“Just… grew out of it, I guess.”

You huffed, memories of your own penpal making his response sting.

You don’t think you ever ‘grew out’ of talking to binnie. You remembered how frustrated you were when you’d stopped hearing from him after he moved, and every letter you’d sent to his new address had only been returned back to you. Maybe he grew out of it, but you wouldn’t have left it like that if you had a choice.

You rolled your eyes at his response, something in your response seeming to have irked Changbin.

“What?” he snapped, making you hesitate just the slightest bit, deciding to bite your tongue and shake your head.

“Nothing.”  

Chan let out a huff of laughter through his nose next to you, shaking his head at you goodnaturedly.

“Forgive us, you always seem like you have something more to say,” Chan spoke, apparent ‘damage control’ for Changbin’s abrasiveness.

“Wait, so, you’re really not gonna have a happy ending?” Jisung frowned.

“Well, Changbin and I were talking about it after the meeting that day, we figured since we have time we could afford to change the script a little,” he hummed, turning to you, “you know, since it could be a chance to kind of send a more hopeful message like you were talking about.”

Your eyes widened, your hand almost reaching out to touch Chan’s arm but realising you were still holding your burger, “really? You’re open to changing it?”

Changbin’s gaze flickered momentarily to you, observing your posture, noticing how open and comfortable you seemed with Chan, the sight alone enough to make him scoff. Call him a cynic, but he couldn’t tell if this was you acting or not just to get your way.

“There could be another meeting for you to discuss and work on the script together, but yeah, we’re alright with changing it.”

You turned to Changbin, a hint of distrust in your stare, making him huff again, putting down his drink on the table with a little too much force.

“He said it, not me,” he told you, pressing his lips firmly into a tight line, “you wanna change my script so badly? Fine. But your ideas better be worth changing it for.”

Jisung scrunched up his nose as you turned back to Chan, not wishing to look at Changbin’s face any longer, leaning over to whisper to Changbin, “you two don’t like each other very much, do you?”

If he was caught off guard by Jisung’s statement, he didn’t show it.

Changbin shrugged, picking his drink back up, “they started it.”

At the sound of his accusation, your eyes narrowed, turning to glare at Changbin, thankful for Jisung nudging you under the table before you could retaliate with a comment of your own. Chan simply casting you an amused look, his eyebrows raised in a silent question of what you were about to do.

You shook your head.

Whatever, you pushed your annoyance away in your head, as long as Chan was there during the rewrite meeting, you’d hopefully still be able to maintain your sanity.

Or at least, that was the hope that you were holding on to until that night when you’d gotten a text from Chan.

Chan 11:17pm - hey, i gave changbin your number if you don't mind... you know, since you guys have to discuss to rewrite the script and all -

You’d almost sat up from your bed in shock, frowning against the harsh light coming from your phone and the contents of the text, the latter obviously making you more disgruntled.

11:17pm - won’t you be discussing with us?? Why not just make a group chat??? -

Your heart was pumping with anxiousness as you awaited his reply, something about the sound of the clock ticking putting you in an even more anxious state, your heart almost sinking as texts from him and Changbin had come in at the same time.

You looked at Chan’s first.

Chan 11:18pm - oh i didn’t tell you? All script writing is done by Changbin. I’m just in charge of the other elements like props and directing and whatnot -

You shut your eyes, suddenly wishing you could travel back a few seconds back in time and not have checked your phone when Chan had texted you. Bringing your fingers across your screen reluctantly as you typed a reply to him.

11:18pm - ohhh hahaha right i forgot, thanks chan -

Now for the bigger menace at hand. You swiped over to Changbin’s message, your finger lingering on his chat as you decided to stop being petty and just open it.

seo changbin 11:18pm - just so you know, i’m doing this only because Chan asked me to. we can go over the changes at my house. is saturday okay with you? -

You pulled your notifications bar down. Tomorrow was Friday, and from what you knew you were pretty much free on Saturday. Fortunately or unfortunately for you.

You took another deep breath as you typed out your reply to him. For your own sanity, you tried to ignore the way he felt the need to clarify that he wasn’t doing it for your sake.

11:18pm - saturday’s fine. What time?-

Resisting the urge to go offline when you saw him come online, you felt as though you were in some sort of staring contest through your phone as you watched him type, his message coming in quickly.

seo changbin 11:18pm -1? We could order in and discuss -

You sighed, it wasn’t enough that he had to take away one peaceful lunch from you today, but yet another one on Saturday.

11:19pm -okay text me your address-

Another sigh left you when you read that the address he’d sent you was just a few blocks away from your apartment. Maybe he lived alone too; most of the apartments here were occupied by college students looking for affordable rent and shorter travel time.

seo changbin 11:19pm - don't be late -

You scoffed, shoving your phone back onto your bedside table as you slumped back against your pillow, burying your head into your pillow and kicking at your blanket that covered your feet uncomfortably.

Fine, if he wanted to be that way, that was fine by you. You would just do this for the sake of the short film. Yeah. That’s all it would be.

===

“Let’s make this quick and painless for the both of us,” you blurted the moment Changbin had opened his door to let you in, glad to see he was donning an outfit similar to yours (sweatpants and a t-shirt), your previous worries of being underdressed dissipating instantly.

He let out a sigh, his hand coming up to run it through his hair, his hair messy and sticking up at one place awkwardly, looking as though he’d slept on that side for too long.

“Hello to you too,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind you as he gestured to the living room.

You glanced around his rather plain apartment as he led you to the living room, his laptop resting on one of the cushions of the sofa, soft music verberating from the device.

“What food do you want?” he asked, earning a thoughtful frown from you as you set your things down on the floor next to the sofa, taking a seat on the other side of it.

“Fastest delivery would be if we order from that Chinese food place nearby, right?”

Changbin’s eyebrows quirked up in intrigue, “I was thinking of that place too,” he handed you his phone, letting you order what you wanted before handing it back to him.

It was otherwise silent between the both of you as you waited for the food to arrive, neither of you quite knowing how to break the silence. The tension slowly made you grow increasingly fidgety as time passed.

Changbin had sat down on the floor next to the coffee table, resting one hand on his soft rug as he pushed a stack of papers towards you, drawing your attention away from your soft copy of the script on your phone as you realised it was a hard copy of the script.

“Just use this, i’ve got a copy on my laptop,” he mumbled, making you nod, accepting it from him as you flipped to where you left off.

Changbin glanced at the clock, in disbelief that only 10 minutes had passed and yet he found himself feeling jittery at your silence. Turning his gaze towards you, he let out a small sigh.

He had expected you to say something by now, or let out some snarky comment about something he wrote. Your silence was unnerving him, it was almost as if he wanted you to say something, especially with the way you were scribbling notes beside the pages with a mechanical pencil he didn’t even recall seeing you take out.

“Which scene are you at?” he blurted, his anxiousness getting the better of him, making your head shoot up abruptly, surprised at his sudden outburst.

“Uh,” you glanced back down at the page, “I’m at the part where they find out they used to be penpals,” you told him.

“Okay,” Changbin murmured, thinking about where to go from there, momentarily distracted when he’d heard the doorbell ring. Pausing, he’d stepped out momentarily to retrieve your food, the rustling of bags getting louder as he neared the table.

Setting the food down on the table, surprising you when he’d pushed the food towards you, your surprise hadn’t gone unnoticed by Changbin.

“What?” he scoffed.

You shrugged, “nothing, just didn’t know you were capable of doing nice things,” you told him, a sarcastic lilt to your tone.

Changbin inhaled deeply, shooting you a patronizing smile as he broke his chopsticks, “anyway, I think we could start from there, since that’s kind of the turning point of their relationship.”

You nodded, pulling your food towards you as you began to eat.

“I was thinking,” you spoke, pausing to chew on your food, “this part has a lot of unanswered questions, like… I wouldn’t just let it go so easily if I found out someone was my penpal that I grew apart from. I felt like they should’ve had a bit more of a confrontation there.”

Changbin hummed, shocking you when he’d leant closer to you to look at the script, making you push it towards him, a small huff leaving him at your action.

“What questions do you think Penny would ask, then?” he asked you.

“I don’t know, maybe why they stopped talking in the first place?” there was a hint of sarcasm in your tone, making Changbin look at you over his mouthful of noodles.

“I told you already, Soobin grew out of it—”

You grimaced at his answer, your chopsticks halting before your mouth momentarily before you shovelled your noodles in with annoyance, “I don’t believe that.”

“I used to have a penpal, and I can guarantee you, the reason why we stopped talking wasn’t because we ‘grew out of it’,” you told him pointedly, having to stop yourself from growing too riled up about it, Changbin tensing up at your revelation.

Bringing his glass of water to his lips, he let his gaze wander around everything but you as he thought, curious as to what your penpal experience was like. Finally meeting your gaze, he almost sputtered over his water with how much he wasn’t paying attention to his actions, the only thing on his mind being to get his words out.

“You did?” It was pathetic, really, that that was all he’d come up with after such a long pause.

You nodded.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter, the story isn’t based on my penpal, it’s based on yours,” you attempted to draw the attention away from you, unsettling feelings of sourness building within you at the thought of how you left things.

“So, think. What would you be curious about?” you prompted him, seeing him purse his lips, a certain dazed look tinting his gaze.

Swallowing his mouthful of food, he looked at you as he thought. He would want to know if they were still passionate about acting, he would want to know how their family was doing, he would want to know if their personality had changed, if they were still the assertive ‘go after what you want’ character that had encouraged him so much. Or maybe, just how they are.

Changbin’s lips parted, shaking his head slowly, “... so many things,” he murmured.

An unexpected tension fell between the both of you, Changbin’s eyes meeting yours with a sort of unspeakable thoughtfulness, as if he was still thinking about your question.

You broke eye contact first, “write that, then. Who knows? Maybe they’re both as curious as the other.”

“You’re one of those glass half full people, aren’t you?” he huffed, making you click your tongue in annoyance.

“And what? You have no glass at all?” you retorted.

“Would you still be… curious too? Even If it didn’t end well?” he asked suddenly, a stupid question, Changbin thought, but still something he felt compelled to ask in the moment, as if he wanted the confirmation that you, someone with a penpal experience as well had shared the same sentiments as him.

You nodded, “of course I’d be. I could hate you and still be curious about you,” you shrugged.

“Me?” Changbin asked, making your eyes widen, the tension dissipating slightly as you shook your head vigorously, your hands coming up to wave at him dismissively.

“No no, not you. I meant-” you stopped yourself, glaring at him, “I just meant it as an example.”

And for what you were sure was the first time, Changbin had laughed, beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around you, his eyes forming narrow slits and the apples of his cheeks rounding slightly as he grinned, soft breathy giggles leaving him.

“Alright, I get it. It’s not a secret that you don’t like me.”

You huffed, not being able to help but feel the need to reassure him, “you’re not… that bad I guess. Jisung talks you up all the time.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to reassure him that you didn’t have a burning hatred for him, “you’re just stubborn as hell.”

He scoffed, “I could say the same about you.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, reaching over to flip the page, “glad to know we’re on the same page, then.”

“Now that you said it,” Changbin began, moving on quickly from your bickering as he shoved his empty food packaging aside, “I do think Soobin would be curious about the things they talked about in their letters.”

You perked up at that, eyebrows raising, “That reminded me, I actually still have some of the letters from my penpal when we were younger, if you want I can loan them to you for some inspiration or something.”

Changbin nodded, flipping over to another page before pausing to type something on his computer, “yeah, actually that would be useful.”

You continued to look at the script for what had become hours, the both of you deciding it would be easier if you each assumed one of the character’s voices, speaking on behalf of the characters as you discussed. Coming up with a ‘what would soobin/penny do?’ process.

All the while during this discussion, Changbin had been scribbling down in his beaten up journal, the sides of the spine of the book peeling off when he’d set it down on the table, making you grimace.

“Do you think Pe—”

“Why don’t you just get a new journal? This one’s making such a mess,” you blurted out, frowning at the way the little brittle pieces of God knows what material covered his notebook had fallen onto the coffee table, making him tear his gaze away from what he was writing, looking at the mess on the coffee table you were gesturing at and letting out an amused huff.

“Oh, didn’t notice,” he smiled, “but that won’t be necessary, this journal’s been serving me fine.”

“It’s literally falling apart,” you pointed out.

“And you’re literally exaggerating.”

You scoffed.

“I mean, look at it, it’s such a hassle to use, since you have to keep cleaning up whenever you do so much as touch it,” you reasoned, seeing him shake his head.

“I don’t need a new journal, I’m perfectly fine using this one,” he told you, making you scrunch your nose up in distaste, Changbin looking at you with amusement heavily laden in his smile.

It seemed that there was something about the hours of bouncing off ideas and bickering that warmed the both of you up more, not feeling as wound up or hostile towards each other as you did a few hours ago, bonding over a shared want for the short film to be good.

“What?” he asked, leaning back against the sofa and resting his arm on one of the cushions, his other hand grasping his fingers as he awaited your response.

“You sound exactly like my mom,” you had a sour look on your face, continuing, “I bet you’re one of those needs versus wants people.” You huffed in amusement, shifting in your seat as you flipped through the scene you were about to discuss.

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, a breathy huff leaving him, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, “You know, those people that decide on buying things through the concept of needing it or not.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, “yeah, like any other normal person.”

“It’s so boring! Ever heard of the concept of treating yourself?” you huffed, gesturing wildly. You were clearly very passionate about this.

Changbin shook his head, the smile lingering on his face, “I’m starting to understand why you’re Jisung’s friend. Sure, a treat once in a while is understandable, but i’d rather not waste my money on things I could do without.”

You huffed, a deep sigh leaving you, recalling a conversation you had with Binnie about his scooter.

“What’s up with boys and this need versus want thing? My penpal said the same thing even though he was only eight,” you mumbled, a small breath of laughter leaving your lips, leaving Changbin frowning at your statement.

Maybe other kids just talked about the same things he did with Y/N? He brushed the thought aside.

“He did?”

Changbin’s voice came out more hoarse than he’d intended, the intent in his stare making you falter momentarily, forgetting what you were doing just for a second.

Thankfully, you’d snapped out of whatever trance you were in, shaking your head dismissively, “nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

Changbin tilted his head at you, narrowing his eyes as he contemplated whether to pursue it or not, watching closely as you busied yourself with flipping pages just to look busy, even though the inside of your mind was spinning with an indescribable feeling that came with convincing yourself that the drift between you and your penpal was merely circumstantial.

You chewed on your lip, hating the way it felt as though your stomach was churning as you remembered the disappointment you felt when your letters had stopped getting sent through.

You were young, surely you shouldn’t blame yourself, you believed that. Your finger fiddled with the corner of the page, staring at Soobin’s dialogue.

‘Did our conversations even mean anything to you?’ the dialogue read, and you inhaled deeply as your head lifted to look at Changbin, your abrupt movement almost making him flinch in surprise.

“Why did you really stop talking to your penpal?” you sighed, curiosity getting the better of you. Though at this point you weren’t sure if it was curiosity or simply reassurance. Maybe even closure. All of which you needed to satisfy.

Changbin knew you weren’t going to accept his ‘grew out of it’ statement for an answer, deciding to be honest with you, you know, for the sake of the short film.

“I just… stopped hearing from them,” he began, heaving a sigh of his own as he shifted in his seat, picking at the imaginary dust on his sweatpants, “guess they had nothing to say.”

You couldn’t lie about it, you felt relieved. A part of you began to understand why he’d painted Penny’s character out to be like that, or furthermore why Soobin had seemed so affected by the revelation.

“Nothing to say…” you echoed, as if trying to wrap your head around his reasoning as well.

A small huff of amusement left him, though there was a hint of bitterness in his smile.

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know.”

He took his lower lip between his teeth, letting it go and you watched as the blood rushed back into his lips, looking redder than before.

Your eyebrows knit into a frown, “Wouldn’t have minded what?”

Changbin met your gaze, giving you a resigned shrug, “hearing it,” he continued, “nothing, everything.”

You could almost feel your heartbeat slowing down, the tense silence returning in the room and making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Now that was some dialogue.

“Oh,” you broke the silence, your blank expression reading pure shock, your reaction catching Changbin off guard, “write that down, that’s such a Soobin thing to say.”

Changbin couldn’t do anything but laugh, shaking his head at you, “how opportunistic of you,” he teased, though he wrote it down nonetheless.

Maybe you being here was good, Changbin thought, it reminded him not to take himself too seriously sometimes.

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I hope you are not still sad about your friends. I would tell you not to listen to them but i know that’s difficult sometimes because you can hear everything they say. But they were being very mean so they are not nice people. I don’t agree with what they said, because i think you are very nice and you have a nice smile. I don’t think you are scary. Sometimes my mom tells me i should smile more so people think i’m happy but I think you should just smile if you are happy. If you are sad then you can be sad. It is not a bad thing. I’m your friend because you’re nice to me and I like talking to you. If they’re going to be mean to you then they’re not your friends. If they do that to you again you can tell me their address and I will go and tell them myself!

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N

You’d shown up on the filming set on the first day absolutely buzzing from head to toe and ready to go (though, when you told Jisung about how you felt he’d insisted it was because of the lack of substantial sleep and the cans of energy drink you’d both drank the night before while he was helping you prepare your lines), but it seemed that everyone on the set was more tense than ever.

You found Hyunjin huddled with a few of them next to the sound cart, deciding to approach them to ask where Changbin was, having bought a coffee for him along the way.

“Hey,” you called, Hyunjin jumping in shock as he turned, his hand over his heart as he winced at you.

“Why do you move so quietly!” he groaned, making you dismiss him with a wave. 

“Did something happen? You guys look stressed,” you took a step towards them, possible reasons fluttering around in your mind but none seeming quite appropriate for the context you were in. Maybe the semester’s GPA results were out?

“Whatever, do you guys know where I can find Changbin?” The boy next to Hyunjin, a freshman by the name of Jeongin had sucked in a sharp breath at your question, making you grow even more confused.

“He’s… a little tense these days, so I’d suggest being a more careful around him,” Chan explained, earning nods of agreement from the film club members.

Your eyebrows raised, confusion showing in a slight pout on your lips. You didn’t remember him behaving out of the ordinary when you’d seen him the day before.

“Where’d he go?”

“He’s over there,” Chan pointed towards where the camera was set up and true enough, you saw Changbin seated at a bench there busying himself with his phone.

Nodding, you’d made your way over to Changbin, discomfort growing within you at the stares you were getting from the club members (some of which you didn’t even know the names of) as you made your way towards the blonde haired boy. It was a wonder why they all avoided him like the plague.

Changbin seemed to have sensed your presence, looking up from his phone and giving you a small wave as you reached the bench, sitting down next to him and holding out his cup of coffee.

Accepting it gratefully, he’d given you a nod.

“Thanks,” he glanced at your hands, “you didn’t get one for yourself?”

You let out a small burst of chuckles, “nope, figured it wasn’t the most logical thing to do since i’m already pretty alert from last night’s energy drinks.”

Changbin sucked in a sharp breath, clicking his tongue in teasing disapproval, “I figured as much, Jisung was way too hyper when I met him at the studio.”

Your expression was sheepish, “I’d say I was sorry but it was... important.”

Changbin huffed, “It’s alright, as long as you’re taking care of yourself.”

Before you could react to his statement, Changbin had acted as though he hadn’t said anything, an amused smile playing at his lips as he tore his gaze away from you, looking forward as he took a sip from his cup, “ready to film today?”

You nodded, regaining your bearings, trying not to think too much of his words.

“Pretty much, you?”

Changbin nodded, “yeah, even though we still have a little bit of the script left, I would say i’m pretty confident.”

You glanced behind Changbin, spotting Hyunjin looking at the both of you with sheer disbelief, making you roll your eyes, turning back to Changbin, angling your body on the bench so you could hug your knees to your chest, looking at him curiously.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded, looking at you with confusion written in his features, clasping his hands around his coffee cup as he rested his hands on his lap, “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”  

Maybe it was just his resting bitch face.

“Smile,” you commanded, nodding your head when he’d looked even more confused.

You watched in amusement as Changbin had laughed, shaking his head before looking at you with an all too sarcastic smile, his hand coming up in a peace sign next to his cheek, a smile unknowingly making its way onto your face at the sight.

“Okay now, don’t smile,” you continued.

Changbin had let his smile fall, looking just the same as he did when you’d shown up, making you press your lips into a firm line, a slight knit in your brows as your eyes narrowed.

Turning his head, he straightened up.

“Cool, Minho’s here,” he said, getting up and holding a hand out to help you up.

“Thanks,” you muttered, not expecting him to turn around and give you a smile.

“Let’s go, Penny.”

It was strange to you that there was something that felt so familiar about his smile, it reminded you of something that made you feel nostalgic. You liked seeing him smile. Changbin had a nice smile.

You brushed the thought away, nodding as you took his hand, letting him help you out.

“What, so you guys don’t hate each other anymore?” Jisung groaned later on that same week when you’d told him about the exchange you had.

He lifted his head from where he lay on your bed, “God, with you guys it’s like everyday’s something different.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in amusement, “well… that’s because it is, isn’t it?”

You spotted the box of letters from your childhood penpal hidden beneath a stack of novels you had yet to unpack, your eyes glistening with triumph as you reached into your storage closet, fishing it out with a grunt.

“Come to think of it, Changbin hasn’t said anything about you since that day you met him to rewrite the script,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Heaving a sigh as you got up from your squat, you closed your closet, “which day? We met up a few times for the script.”

Jisung perked up at that, sitting up slightly and supporting his weight with his elbows.

“You did? Why am I only finding out about this now?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to your desk to set the box onto it, “I told you about it, you just forgot.”

Making your way over to the bed, you flopped down onto your belly next to Jisung, looking at him curiously as he frowned at you. His mention of Changbin had made you curious.

“He… really hasn’t said anything about me?” you dared to ask, regretting it almost immediately when Jisung had taken the opportunity to twist your words.

Jisung’s expression had changed to one that you were all too used to, how his eyes would give away that he was thinking of saying something to tease you, his lips curving into a slight smirk.

“Why? Do you want him to be talking about you?”

You wrinkled your nose, a small panicked scoff leaving you, “yeah, right. Don’t get too carried away there.”

Jisung prodded further, leaning closer to you as he drawled, “well, why not? I mean, you said it yourself, you guys are on pretty good terms now, aren’t you?”

You purse your lips. The film club had been nice enough to give you a month longer to work on the script, you and Changbin ending up getting carried away and doing the whole thing over. And of course, within that month, you interacted with Changbin in some way or another almost everyday.

It could be meetings at his or your apartment, or spontaneous phone calls when one of you thought of an idea and you’d felt inspired to discuss it (even if you were on your bed tucked into your sheets when it happened most of the time), sometimes it was even just simple texts checking up on each other and asking what the other thought about the updates.

Nonetheless, you’d grown used to Changbin’s presence, finding that after that meeting at his house, it was like it had softened the both of you up to each other, especially when you realised your perception of Changbin was all wrong and that really, he was as soft as softies go.

You gave Jisung a shrug, tugging the neckline of your shirt down, feeling as though the room had gotten hotter, “I mean, yeah, I guess. He doesn’t annoy me as much as he used to.”

Jisung let out a chuckle, the laugh bubbling out louder as he continued.

“You know if you tell me you like him now,  I won’t make fun of you.”

“You’re lying.”

“So, you do like him?” His grin widened, making you sputter for a better response, figuring you’d dug your own grave with that one.

“Don’t stir shit,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Your reaction had only tickled him even more, clutching his belly as he sighed, “I knew it. Remember? I told you he was your type!” his tone was triumphant, making you regret fuelling his suspicions.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re very happy about that,” you huffed, turning away from him and burying your face in your soft sheets, your hand coming up next to your head to smooth over the fabric.

You felt Jisung’s hand on your arm, his expression grim.

“Wait, so am I really right? You like him?”

You shrugged his hand away, though he hadn’t budged, giving up soon after.

“I mean,” you enjoyed your last moment of peace before you decided to reply to him, “he’s cute, I won’t deny that. And he’s become a lot nicer to me… he’s fun to talk to? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little attracted to him.”

Jisung snickered, “that’s cute, but gross. I can’t believe you like Changbin.”

Trust him to only get that out of whatever you’d just told him.

You turned to give him a wide-eyed look of disbelief, “oh, please, you were the one that kept fluffing him up to me!”

Jisung had simply shrugged, unfazed by your outburst, a small sound of hesitation leaving him.

“I would say I did a minimal amount of fluffing. I just called it before the both of you realised.”

You grit your teeth, “fine, enjoy your moment. But one word about it to Changbin and you’re dead. Got it?”

Jisung’s eyes widened, his hand coming up to mimic zipping up his lips.

“Got it.”

===

“Cut!”

You turned to cast a desperate look to Chan, the said boy looking apologetic as he called for a stop again. You watched as he leant down for Changbin to murmur something in his ear, Chan nodding before making his way over to you and Minho.

“We’re thinking maybe you could try that scene again but maybe with just a little more… in the moment? Maybe try not to rush through it,” Chan suggested to Minho, making the said boy groan.

“Sorry, it’s my fault. It’s just- we’ve been filming for hours, if I wasn’t so scared of Changbin I would’ve—”

“I know,” Chan reassured Minho, giving the both of you a small smile, “hopefully we can get this scene done quickly and then we’ll all be free to go, hmm?”

You nodded, letting Chan make his way back to where the monitor was as you got back into position with Minho.

Changbin watched intently as you and Minho acted out the scene again, something about the way Minho was delivering his lines seeming so unaligned with the picture Changbin had in his head. Was it the lines that weren't doing it for him? Was it because Changbin couldn’t quite tap into the emotions of the character in this scene?

He wasn’t sure what exactly it would look or sound like to be in love, but whatever ‘Soobin’ was showing, sure wasn’t what Changbin wanted it to be.

After you’d finished the scene, the film club members had waited anxiously for Changbin’s greenlight on whether they were free to go, all of them anxiously looking on as Chan went to talk to a few of them at props.

You taken the liberty of making your way over to where Changbin was, seeing him intently monitoring the scene that you’d just shot, the reason behind why he’d made you and Minho run through the same scene 15 times starting to become clear to you.

“That’s not gonna help you make it better, you know?” you spoke, shoving your hands into your pocket and scrunching your eyes shut as you braced against the cool wind that was blowing your way, the trees rustling loudly as Changbin’s head shot up, the frown remaining on his face.

“What?” Changbin figured he came off as a little too annoyed, but he stayed unwavering nonetheless, wanting to know just what you thought you knew about him.

“You know, I watched an interview once, and this actor said something that was so true,” you began, taking a seat next to him, feeling his gaze on you before you continued, your gaze falling on the image of you and Minho on the monitor, “he said that playback makes scenes seem a lot more dissatisfactory.”

Changbin’s frown deepened, “I don’t get it, just spit it out.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile, “I’m trying to give you advice here, okay? As I was saying, be in the moment. Not everything’s gonna turn out like how it is in your head.”

You inhaled deeply, a slight shiver running down your spine at how cold you felt, taking a hand out of your pocket to tap him on the arm.

“Now can you wrap it up and call it a day? The rest of them have been dying to go home but they’re too scared to tell you.”

Changbin hummed, “They are? Why?”

You nodded, seeing Changbin already making to stand up and call for the rest’s attention, with you taking the opportunity to lean over to him and mutter, “Dunno, maybe they just haven’t figured out what a softie you are yet.”

Changbin attempted to press his lips together firmly to contain his smile, though eventually giving up and letting the soft smile be shown on his face as he dismissed the club members, the rest of them already having started shifting their equipment back.

You’d decided to help them shift the equipment while Changbin talked to Chan about something, trying your best to ignore the way the weather seemed to be getting chillier as all the equipment had started feeling cold to the touch. Mental note to start wearing warmer clothes out after today.

“Thanks for convincing Changbin to free us,” Hyunjin sighed when you were coming down the stairs after locking the club room, making you huff.

“He’s not some dictator, you know. You guys could just ask him next time,” you reasoned.

Hyunjin scoffed, “I’d much rather keep my life, thank you very much.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your phone as you thought whether to text Jisung if he’d wanted to meet for dinner.

“You’re so dramatic,” you told Hyunjin, “I told him and I got to keep my life.”

Hyunjin scoffed, “that’s cause he—”

He stopped himself abruptly, eyes widening for a split second before he shrugged, “that’s cause you fight with him all the time, it’s different.”

You saw a text come in.

Changbin 8:14pm - do u wanna go get dinner? I’m done talking to Chan -

“Speak of the devil,” you murmured, erasing your drafted text to Jisung and replying to Changbin to say that you would wait at the quad.

Changbin 8:14pm - i was thinking of eating some cold noodles -

You grimaced at the thought, Hyunjin pulling you out of your thoughts, “are you waiting for Changbin?”

You nodded, sensing his hesitancy to let you wait there alone, “you go ahead, I’ll be fine, he’s already on his way.”

Hyunjin frowned, turning to see Changbin from afar already making his way over, Changbin having spotted the both of you and given Hyunjin a wave.

Waving back, Hyunjin nodded, “alright, I’ll see you.”

Tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, you folded your arms, hoping Changbin would hurry up so you could finally go somewhere with heating.

Though once he’d met up with you, you were a little confused when he’d gone a completely different direction than you’d expected, leading you to a traditional restaurant that served mainly soups and broths instead.

Don’t get me wrong, you were thankful for the warmth of the restaurant, of course, but just a little confused about why he changed his mind.

You let him order for the both of you, looking curiously from where you were seated facing him, leaning back in the wooden chairs as Changbin ordered from the older lady running the shop.

“I thought you wanted to eat cold noodles?” you scanned the menu in search of the item, confusion increasing when you found nothing of the sort.

Changbin shook his head, “figured you might wanna eat something warmer,” he admitted, making your lips part in surprise.

“How’d you know?”

Changbin didn’t know how to explain that it was because he’d kept looking at you during shooting and he didn’t miss the way your hands would clench and unclench the fabric of your clothes, or how you’d fold your arms more and shake them out in between takes when you thought no one was looking.

“…  just a wild guess.”

You brushed his comment aside, the both of you talking about your upcoming classes or complaining about readings that had yet to be read, the sheer boiling temperature of the stone pot making heat rush to your cheeks and spread through your body, thankful for Changbin’s wild guess.

Leaning back in your seat with your hands over your stomach, you sighed at how full you were feeling, already anticipating your food coma as you let yourself zone out staring at the label of Changbin’s bottle of soju.

“Are they really scared of me?”

You’d dragged yourself out of your daze (reluctantly), your lips pursing, “sorry, what did you say?”

Changbin averted his gaze, fiddling with his fingers under the table. Smoothing his thumb over the soft skin at his palm, his tongue poking at his canines before he looked back at you, meeting your gaze with a certain determination.

“The film club people,” he repeated, “are they really scared of me?”

You shrugged, “yeah, I guess. Like, they talked about it before… I guess it’s because you have that serious expression on a lot so they might take it the wrong way.”

Observing his expression, his lips had parted, a blank expression on his face, “I have a serious expression?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tilting your head at him, “I think It’s just your resting face. They’re kind of wary of how they act around you during meetings, you know, which is why they had that kind of reaction when I first spoke up about the script.”

Changbin let his grip around his spoon relax, whatever rice he’d scooped into it dispersing into the soup.

“Then why aren’t you scared?”  

You almost snorted with how immediate your laughter had bubbled out of you, a bout of chuckles leaving you as your shoulders shook lightly.

“Because,” you waved your spoon slightly, “there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Changbin’s blank expression had prompted you to continue.

“I have no problem with you being assertive about what you want,” you explained, “I mean, if it were my script, i’d probably be equally, if not more, assertive about how I want it. But that’s a good thing about you. You don’t just… shut up if something doesn’t sit right with you. That’s something I’ve always thought was really important.”

Call him crazy, but Changbin couldn’t adequately describe how your words had done more in spreading a giddy warmth in his chest than the food ever could.

He wasn’t always like this. If anything, he’d wanted to say that he’d pushed himself to be more assertive after countless conversations with his penpal about not being afraid to speak up for what you want.

Though he’d always been scared of whether he’d be doing a disservice to the people he worked with if he chose not to speak up, he was glad that you reminded him just why he started doing it in the first place.

Penny’s character in his head had started to look more and more like you. And he was glad.

“You wanna hear something crazy?” You blurted.

You didn’t know where you were going with this. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, really. You just knew that saying what you said to him had triggered a sense of what you could only describe as love within you. If you knew anything about it.

“What?” he asked, the smile on his face making you stop in your tracks. How could he remind you so much of someone, yet seem so much like a mature, upgraded version of them at the same time?

You couldn’t possibly tell him that you were starting to be kind of glad that you didn’t meet Binnie, because you felt like you were looking at him right now. And childhood penpal or not, you were so much more smitten with the one sitting before you.

“Nothing,” you breathed, “nothing, sorry, forget I said anything.”

Your revelation reminded you that you’d brought your old letters from Binnie for Changbin to tap on for inspiration to write the last scene, shutting your mouth and turning to fish the box out of your bag.

“I just remembered, you asked for these right?” you pushed the box towards him, seeing him pick up the box gingerly (as though it were that brittle old notebook he uses), placing it into his bag.

“I’m assuming they’re the letters from your old penpal?”

You nodded, “but don’t laugh when you read them, okay? He was really nice to me.”

Changbin huffed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, “yeah, yeah, no promises.”

After you were done with your dinner (Changbin paying for it as a supposed ‘thank you’ for being patient during filming), you’d prepared yourself to fight against the cold night breeze as you stepped out of the restaurant before Changbin, not having expected to feel a warm weight being draped over your shoulders.

“I don’t know why you decided to come out without a coat when you know now’s usually when the weather gets colder,” he tutted his tongue, feigning disapproval, not giving you any time to be shocked at his gesture.

He stood in front of you, tugging the coat tighter around you as he met your gaze, giving you a tired smile.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”

You bit down on your lip, your racing heart and panic making the best reply you could come up with to be a mere, “didn’t peg you to be so gentlemanly.”

To which Changbin shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“I can be pretty romantic if I want.”

You were gonna get whiplash at this rate.

That same night (or day, 3am was a fine line), you’d received an email from Changbin of the last scene for the film, reading through it and having to stop in between for breaths and water breaks because you had no idea Changbin was capable of encompassing such romantic sentiments in a scene.

Looking at what he wrote, you would never have thought he was the same person that kept arguing with you about happy endings going to shit.

Changbin had written the scene in a burst of inspiration, having felt an almost uncomfortably foreign giddiness within him after returning home from your dinner, feeling even more motivated when he’d watched the film footage they’d shot earlier that day (unconsciously rewinding more than once to watch you act) deciding to just go with whatever he was feeling and write down the scene he had in mind.

And if anyone was asking, no, he totally didn’t picture you as Penny and himself as Soobin the entire time while doing so.

By the time you were done, it was almost an hour later, the aftermath of reading his scene making you pick your phone up and send him a text.

4:02am - did something happen? What’s with the lovey dovey script? Did someone finally change their mind about Penny? -

Not long after, Changbin’s reply came in, feeling thankful that he’d only decided to open your box of letters, or more accurately his letters, after he was done with the scene, something about what he found putting him in an all too thoughtful mood.

Changbin 4:04am -let’s just say... i took your advice-

===

“What do you think, Changbin?” Chan’s voice had snapped Changbin out of his daze, the latter looking at Jisung with a shrug.

“I would say you’re just short changing yourself if you didn’t talk to her. I mean, you said you liked her, right? So what are you waiting for?” Changbin sounded almost impatient, his tone eliciting a grunt from Jisung.

“Yeah, you say it like you’re not the one hiding your hopeless crush on Y/N.”

Chan’s eyes widened, not having expected Jisung to say it so blatantly.

Changbin sputtered, looking at Chan for help only to be met with giggles.

“I’m sorry, dude, it was really quite easy to tell.”

Changbin wanted the cushioned booth to swallow him whole, scrunching his eyes tightly shut in a wince.

“Whatever, that’s not the point,” he waved Jisung off dismissively, “we’re talking about your love life here.”

Jisung pursed his lips, shaking his head, “it’s not fun anymore, I wanna talk about yours.”

Changbin glared at Jisung, “i’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Good, ‘cause you should be having it with Y/N.”

Chan raised an eyebrow at the younger boy, humming in suspicion.

“Why do you sound like you know things...”

Jisung shrugged, raising his hands to give a dramatic shrug, “Do I? I guess we’ll never find out since Changbin ‘isn’t gonna have this conversation with me’.”

Chan turned to Changbin, who currently looked as though he would rather die than be here right now, “actually, what are you waiting for?”

Changbin brought a hand up to massage his fingers on his temples, a resigned sigh leaving him.

“I don’t know, I’ll probably not do anything until the showcase. I still don’t know how exactly I wanna go about it.”

Jisung snickered, “you’ll be fine, seriously.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll just enjoy whatever time I have left to think about it till the showcase. Now back to your issue… ”

But obviously, Changbin didn’t use his 3 days of buffer time very well.

He was lucky the atmosphere of the showcase and the unexpected crowd of people had prolonged the time until he’d be in a situation where he’d feel compelled to talk to you about it. Whatever it was.

You hadn’t noticed, obviously, the way Changbin had been keeping himself busy talking to guests and teachers that had shown up, people from the media and publications club. You were too busy being whisked away by your own friends and a already slightly tipsy Minho who thought it was a good idea to pregame drinks before the afterparty later on.

It’d only been when things started calming down and people were actually watching the film that you’d been put in a position where you had no choice other than to think about the boy seated in front of you tapping his foot incessantly on the carpeted floor of the auditorium.

Once the show was over, you’d leant forward, about to congratulate him when you’d both been whisked up by one of the teachers-in-charge, pulling you together with Minho onto the stage to answer questions from the audience.

The questions were fairly simple, most of them from the media and publications club trying to get technical details for their article, allowing you to zone out from where you stood on the stage, letting Changbin smoothly answer all the questions they could possibly throw at him. It wasn’t like Minho was in any position to answer them, tipsy and zoned out of his mind.

It was only when you’d heard him fumbling around with his words that you looked up from the spot on the wall you were staring at, turning to look at Changbin with an embarrassing amount of concern on your features.

“I’m sorry can you repeat the question?” you’d spoken into the microphone, hearing someone that sounded almost identical to Jisung asking how he got inspiration from the story.

You looked at Changbin curiously, as if silently asking if he needed you to step in, only to have him look at you with a blank expression, his mouth opening and closing as he fumbled for an answer.

“Oh, well, I’m sure I can answer this on behalf of Changbin,” you began, “we’d worked on the script together, and it was inspired by a lot of things, like our experiences with pen pals as well as movies like ‘you’ve got mail’.”

Changbin’s shoulders slumped with relief, nodding towards you as a silent thanks, the moment cut short when you were once again whisked away into different crowds to take pictures or to carpool to the afterparty.

Though you were bored 10 minutes into the party, Minho having gotten drunk before you could even get past your second drink, you’d let Changbin have his fun. You figured it was a good thing that he was being recognized for his efforts, even if he didn’t look like he was enjoying the attention very much. He needed it, you supposed, to be forced to see how much people enjoyed the work he made.

But you didn’t stay to see it too long, adjourning to the porch of whoever’s house you were in to enjoy an environment away from the loud music and too many people you didn’t know.

“Already bored?”

You’d jumped at the sound of Changbin’s voice, his footsteps loud against the wooden porch as he took a seat next to you on the swing, holding out his bottle of soda to you, “do you want some?”

You shook your head, seeing him shrug, “suit yourself, then.” He took a long sip of his soda, sighing afterwards.  

A tired smile on your face, you let out a deep sigh, “didn’t expect you to find me here so quickly.”

“How could I not?” he laughed, shaking his head, “In case you didn’t notice, I was suffocating in there, figured I deserve a break.”

“Good job, though, I’d say you handled everything well…” you started, your smile growing, “... though there is one thing…  I didn’t think you were the type to struggle with public speaking.”

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, scoffing, “shut up, I don’t usually.”

“Sure, you don’t,” you teased, bringing your hands to your sides to support your weight, letting your legs lift off the ground as Changbin used his feet to move the swing gently.

You leant back in your seat, enjoying the silence you were able to get out here as compared to the chaos going on within the house, noticing how tense Changbin seemed, his posture anything but relaxed as he’d let out sigh after sigh, tapping his rings against the seat of the bench absently.

“Relax,” you chuckled, “it’s already over.”

Doing the opposite of relaxing, Changbin simply stopped moving the swing, angling his body to face you more as he fished in his blazer pocket for something, pulling out an envelope from his jacket, “I have uh… something for you.”

Holding it out for you to take, your gaze fell on the colourful envelope, the little strawberry stickers you remembered using your savings to buy as you frowned at the address written on the envelope in your old messy ‘princess handwriting’.

Your gaze darted from the envelope back to him, “how did you… how do you have this?”

“I have it,” he began, letting out yet another sigh, “because you sent it to me.”

If it could, your heart would’ve stopped in that exact moment.

“Read it,” he prompted when you’d stayed silent, your hands moving urgently to open the envelope, your heart feeling warm when you pulled the paper out, already being able to see the ‘To: Binnie’ written with your favourite scented marker.

To: Binnie

How are you? I’m fine. I am writing this very late in the night because I finished my rehearsal for my school play in the evening and I just finished taking a bath. I have to be quick or my mom is gonna scold me for not sleeping yet. I wanted to tell you that you should sign up for the competition. Which is why I have to mail this to you A.S.A.P as possible because you said the sign up closes in a few days. I think that you should just try it out, even if you don’t do well. Because then at least you can say that you gave it a try and you had fun. I saw this on a tv show, and they said if you don’t try, you will never know if it will turn out well, because you didn’t try.

So I’m telling you to try!!!!! Just try your best and have fun. I think you will do well.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

“So this is me… trying… it. Whatever it is,” he sounded out of breath, almost, and your heart had begun to pick up speed at how it seemed as though this would be the time where he would confess his feelings to you (if Soobin and Penny were any guide to go by).

You should’ve known Changbin better by now, though.

“Thank you… for helping me with the film. You know, for giving me crap about it because I know that that wasn’t really what I felt. I was just… bitter, but for some reason, you giving me shit about it kind of reminded me why I liked being friends with my penpal- or, I guess, liked being friends with you, so much in the first place.” he was looking at you more confidently now, straightening up as he continued.

“It wasn’t because you gave me fake money to buy a scooter, or anything,” he laughed, “it was more because you were someone that was friends with me for who I was? You were kind, and you were honest.”

Changbin fiddled with the envelope in his hands as you tried your best to contain your smile.

“And you were especially supportive, you know, in your own argumentative way.”

You let out a huff of breathy laughter at that, your hand coming up to touch your necklace, finding something else to fiddle with to contain your anxiousness.

“I’m glad, though, that I didn’t know you were that Y/N,” he told you, “because I already grew to like this Y/N so much, that… finding out was just… a pleasant surprise.”

For the first time since you saw the letter, you’d spoken, a breathy, “me too,” leaving you, embarrassing you to no end.

“I’m glad it was you,” you murmured, averting your gaze, not having expected Changbin to have reached out a hand towards yours, hovering just momentarily before making the decisive action of grasping it gently.

“Me too.”

“So are you gonna explain why my letters—”

“Shh,” he shut his eyes, the smile on his face making you give in almost instantly, “don’t ruin it.”

===

“I didn’t know people even still sent letters these days,” Jisung snorted, sipping on his coffee that he’d just gone downstairs to buy, “here, you have one, but there's no name.”

You frowned, picking it up and finding the handwriting of your address awfully familiar, feeling as though you’d definitely seen it scribbled on a specific brittle old notebook before.

You flopped onto your bed, opening the letter as Jisung resumed playing whatever game he was busy with on your desktop computer.

Thankful for the distraction, you’d quickly unfolded it, scrunching your nose at his choice of pen name.

To: my penpal Y/N

This letter may just be over a decade overdue, but I wanted to firstly say I’m sorry for making you wait so long. That letter about my film competition, that was the last one I received from you, and one of my favourites. I figured it out, by the way, I gave you the wrong address. Phonics was a very tricky thing for my eight year old stubborn self that refused to cross check with my mom.

I figured sending you a letter was best, you know, since you know I'm not the very best at public speaking, or just speaking in general sometimes, I doubt I'd be able to say as eloquently what I wanted to say to you in this letter.

I wanted to give you a few updates. Firstly, I met someone in my film club. Well, technically I auditioned them for my short film so there’s no one to blame for the trouble they caused other than me. I didn’t like them that much at the beginning. I thought they were just trying to impose their stupid happily ever after beliefs on me, someone who thought I was a big bad cynical bitter man that didn’t believe in love stories.

As you probably guessed, they challenged me (a lot), and waiting to see them started to feel like the days where I would wait to hear my mom tell me that a letter came in for me, even better actually. They reminded me of the qualities in myself that I was always afraid of showing, and they reminded me what was so good about being unapologetic for who I was sometimes, because they accepted all of that, (but not without giving me an shit about it first, of course).

But i’m thankful, I’m thankful because I really grew to like them a lot. I liked how I could be comfortable being myself around her, and I liked how they would support me when I needed it, but also to correct me when I need to be corrected.

They were real, and I liked that, a lot.

So, the point of this was that if they ever happen to receive this, you know, (because I totally didn’t know your current address, obviously), I hope they know that I’ve grown to like them very much, to like the personality that i’ve come to know, and that i’m very excited to grow to know (and like) even more.

I’ll be seeing you, Binnie.

[cudan2]

One Last Surgery

Spring Break Shadowing Part 5.1

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,043

Summary: You finally find out the reason for going to the children’s hospital, but you’re more distracted than usual today and Dr. Cullen can tell. 

A/N: Tell me why part 5 of SBS takes up over half of the whole series? I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for 5 months because I keep adding more to it smh. Now it’s too long so I’ve decided to split it up into 3 parts (in addition to parts 6 and 7). I’m making the final edits the rest of this part now - 5.2 should be posted in like two days.

Anyways, this is technically the beginning of  #1 and #2 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital is only across the street from Doctor Cullen’s office, but it seems to take forever to get there. You trail the doctor like a lost puppy through a skyway and a series of corridors before eventually reaching the right building. Different is definitely an understatement.

Gone are the linoleum-tiled floors, the abstract paintings lining the hallways, and the stark white walls. Instead, there are bright colors everywhere you look. Artwork featuring various galaxies and planets scatter throughout the hospital, and giant stars are imprinted along the floors; even the whole atmosphere just feels different.

You don’t get much time to analyze the differences though. Doctor Cullen is wasting no time to reach the destination, and his long legs aren’t making it any easier to keep up.

“Not that I don’t like surprises, but any chance you can tell me what we’re doing in the children’s hospital now?”

“Impatient, are we?” Doctor Cullen chuckles. He stops at an elevator and pushes the up button, only giving into your question once he catches a glimpse of your pout. “Alright, you win. Are you familiar with a cleft palate or cleft lip?”

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open with it. You shake your head no and get on the elevator with him. He presses the button for the floor and then leans against the wall, arms outstretched on the handrail, and gives you an explanation. 

“A cleft is a gap or split occurring in the roof of the mouth, upper lip, or both. It is due to improper joining of the tissue during fetal development. There are no definitive known causes as of right now, but it’s believed that the environment and genetics can play a role.

The hospital has its own craniofacial team, but I was asked to join this particular case given its more complicated nature. Hanna became one of the first patients I treated when I came to Columbia,” Doctor Cullen finishes fondly, a smile gracing his lips.

“What makes this case complicated?” you ask.

“Hanna was born with a bilateral complete cleft lip and palate, meaning her lip cleft is two-sided and continues into her nose. It took quite a few surgeries to repair the lip, but now the next step is to repair the palate.”

The elevator reaches the floor and dings. You follow Doctor Cullen out and continue prodding him with more questions, which he is more than eager to answer. It’s incredible how knowledgeable he is. Granted, it is his job to know these things, but you couldn’t begin to imagine yourself being able to even scratch the surface of these topics, not to mention give a mini lecture on it.

You’re soon standing at the door to a patient room while the doctor asks Hanna’s parents if you can observe. They readily agree, and Doctor Cullen motions for you to come in.

Inside the room, you see an infant that can’t be more than a year old – Hanna.  She’s sitting upright on the bed, leaning against who you assume to be her father. You notice two fading scars going up into her nose above her lip. Her mother is waving a stuffed toy around her, but Hanna’s attention is fixated on the blonde doctor.

“Y/N, allow me to introduce you to Hanna’s parents, Anthony and Linh Pham. And this is Doctor Giselle Adamou, who will be working with me on the surgery,” Doctor Cullen gestures to the older doctor in the room.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” you say politely.

Pre-op goes differently than what you’ve gotten used to observing this week. There is no case presenting given the lack of residents on the case. If anything, this is what you would expect out of a non-teaching hospital.

Doctor Cullen re-explains the procedures to Hanna’s parents, but halfway through, Hanna crawls to the end of the bed where Doctor Cullen is and attempts to stand, arms outstretched as if to say, “Up! Up!” Bewilderment is not a word you would have associated with him, and yet you catch the brief widening of his eyes that betray his usually calm demeanor.

“I think she wants you to hold her,” Linh comments.

“I can see,” Doctor Cullen muses. “Do you mind?”

“She’s all yours.” Linh picks her daughter up from the bed and hands her to the doctor. The sound of Hanna’s elated laughter fills the room, and you can’t stop a small smile from appearing on your own face. A cute baby and a gorgeous doctor? You don’t know who to thank for the sight.

Meanwhile, Hanna starts playing with various pens in Doctor Cullen’s breast pocket while Doctor Adamou continues where her colleague left off. You try to pay attention, you really do. Like Hanna though, your attention lies on someone else, and that someone else happens to be Doctor Cullen.

The more you study him, the more the minute features you never noticed about him before seem to pop out to you. Under the bright fluorescent lighting of the hospital, the dark purple circles under his eyes are more apparent than ever. How ironic for the preacher of health to lack sleep himself. His eyes, which you normally consider to be a vivid golden, are darker than you initially thought them to be. They are liquid pools of dark amber, speckled with dustings of gold and flecks of black. There isn’t a single blemish on his face that you can see either, further confirming your belief that this man is truly the most attractive person you have ever met. Either that or he must have one hell of a skincare routine.

It’s unnerving how young his appearance is. Skincare and diet can only do so much for a person, right? Doctor Cullen has to be at least 35 at the minimum, yet he could easily pass off as someone from your own school.

“Any last minute questions?” you hear Doctor Adamou ask and snap back into reality. By missing nearly everything the older doctor talked about, you already know you’ll be so screwed if and when Doctor Cullen decides to interrogate you on this case.

Neither parent has anything left to say, so Doctor Cullen gives a reluctant Hanna back to her mother. She lets out a cry and his expression softens.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll miss you too, but I need to get ready for your big surgery, okay? I promise you’ll see me again in a few hours.” His soothing voice does wonders for her. In an instant, Hanna quiets down and her frown is replaced with giggles and smiles again. She waves the two of you off, and you both take your leave with Doctor Adamou trailing behind you. You’re not even halfway out the door yet when Doctor Cullen starts testing your knowledge again.

“Y/N, what procedure will we be doing to repair Hanna’s cleft?” 

You do not have this one in the bag whatsoever. You wrack your brain for information that could help you, but Doctor Adamou interjects before you get a chance to say anything.

“Why does it not surprise me that you’re treating students like interns already, Carlisle?”

“I am merely advancing the education of next generation’s doctors,” he responds.

“Whatever you say,” she laughs. “Don’t scare off Y/N though, or we won’t have any doctors left in the next generation.” She turns to you after picking up files from a nearby counter and says, “You come running to me if he pushes you too hard, alright?”

You grin. “For sure.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing you both in the OR,” she says before heading off.

You like Doctor Adamou. Each surgeon you’ve met here so far has had such different personalities, yet each also has the charisma and confidence to take control of a room and command respect. You, on the other hand, could barely get your own friends to listen to your own words. How are you ever going to get on the level of all the amazing doctors around you?

“She saved you there,” Doctor Cullen comments, leafing through Hanna’s charts as he walks you into an empty elevator to the operating floor. Oops, it’s just your luck that he noticed your lack of attention during the pre-op. “It’s unlike you to be distracted. Penny for your thoughts?”

The elevator doors shut, and he looks up from the chart, his eyes falling onto yours. He has that twinkle in his eyes again – the one that brings warmth to your cheeks and could make anyone weak in their knees. You know it’s silly, but a single look from him could make you spill any of your deepest and darkest secrets, yet a part of you also knows that he would keep it. You’re not naïve – you know it’s dangerous to put so much faith into a man you only met this week – but there’s something about him that told your instincts to trust him from the very beginning.

Call it intuition, or maybe it’s just plain stupidity, but you sure as hell aren’t going to tell him about how you got distracted because of his pretty face.

You hesitate for a moment and let out a sigh. “How do you do it?” He quirks a brow, momentarily perplexed, and you attempt to find the right words. “How do you make all of this look so easy? How do you know what the right thing to say is? Or trust that what you’re doing is even right? How did you know if this was all meant for you? This is really dumb, but it seems like everyone here was born for this job, and then there’s... me.”

There’s a slight sense of dread starting to form in your stomach. You’re unsure if what you asked even made any sort of sense and wonder if you gave too much away. Giving any reason to second guess your abilities is like digging your own grave when it comes to this career. Expressing uncertainty is one of the biggest taboos of the cutthroat world that is pre-med because schools would not accept students that aren’t absolutely, totally, and completely sure about this path.

You’ve wanted this for so long, yet there’s still a part of you that doubts if you would be enough.

Rather than going straight to gowning and scrubbing in for the surgery, Doctor Cullen grabs your hand and leads you down to an abandoned hallway, only letting go once the two of you are hidden in an alcove away from any prying ears or eyes.

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for surgery?”

“We have a few minutes to spare. Y/N, please know that I understand how you feel,” he says softly. “There was a time when I questioned my own abilities as well… whether my perseverance could overcome adversity. It took quite some time to reach where I am today.  However, without enduring those trials and tribulations, I would not be here. With time comes experience, and it is that experience that allows me to perform my job the best I can.”

His voice reminds you of a gentle breeze, rustling the leaves of a tree on a cool summer night when he continues speaking in hushed tones. It brings a blanket of reassurance, a sense that things would eventually be alright.

“I have said this before, but I see enormous potential in you. You still have a great deal of time to grow and develop your skills. It’s easy to get caught up in comparing yourself with others, especially given today’s societal standards, but I believe you are much more capable than you may think you are. Everyone’s journey is different and yours may not necessarily be as linear as you would prefer. In due time though, I have faith that you will succeed.”

What he says is exactly what you needed to hear.

The swell of tears pricks at your eyes and start blurring your vision, but you blink them away quickly, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around the doctor. 

“Thank you, Doctor Cullen.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“You’re very welcome. Now, I believe there’s a little girl waiting on us.” 

XXX

Tag List - Message me to be added or removed to either this series or the rest of my fics!

@jelly-fishy-babie @notahappytree @anxiousgoldengirl

[comfortwriting]

Best Friends Brother Part 4 - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Part 4 of ‘Best Friends Brother’ - please read part 1, 2, 3

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: Swearing, Mention of food, eating, and blood.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of food, eating, and blood. 

Fred waited outside the owlery whilst Ron looked for you, hoping to find you with Gideon to calm his nerves, but also hoping to catch you with George to prove his suspicions so he could finally stop living on the edge all the time.

"Well?" Asked Fred, staring at his younger brother who walked out of the owlery.

Ron shook his head with an annoyed expression on his face "She's not there" he replied.

"Is her owl?"

Ron nodded, following his brother down the steps "yeah, yet she told me she was going to spend some time with him."

"Strange isn't it?" Fred muttered, "how she's always away and nowhere to be found at the same time as George."

Ron went quiet, he hated this - hated the thought of you being swept off your feet by someone better, someone everyone preferred over him, even if he was your best friend, he knew his older brother better than anyone.

"I wish you had that map, you know, you should nick it from him when he's sleeping."

"I would" replied Fred "but he clutches to it when he sleeps."

"Hogsmeade.." Ron said deep in thought "they could be in Hogsmeade!"

Running out of the town and back to Hogwarts, you ducked your head, praying that you wouldn't be recognised through the storms of other students and villagers. You needed to get to the owlery, to be with Gideon like you lied about, you couldn't get caught, not now.

George sprinted towards Zonko's, also making sure that he wouldn't get spotted, he quickly sneaked inside the joke shop through the backdoor, browsing the nose-biting teacups.

"Well, where is he then?" Ron's voice asked in the background.

George swallowed hard and pretended to be focused on the teacups, ignoring his brothers inching closer and closer towards him.

Fred patted his twin on the shoulder "What you doing here then?" he asked "You can't keep skipping Quidditch practice, I'm getting into bother."

George jumped out of his skin at Fred's touch, he turned around to look at him "Sorry for skipping, I've been Christmas shopping" he lied "Only time I can come here, it's why I've got the map." 

Fred and Ron exchanged looks before staring back at George, both of them still unsure, Ron more than Fred as deep down, he believed and hoped that his own twin wouldn't lie to him, especially to his face.

"All right then" Fred replied, staring back at the teapots.

"Have you uh, have you seen Y/N?" Ron asked, "Went to the owlery this morning, but she wasn't there."

George's mouth and throat went dry, he swallowed hard again, desperate for water. "I haven't, no, if I do I'll tell her you're looking for her."

Ron pursed his lips and nodded "I guess we'll leave you to your Christmas shopping then."

Ron and Fred left Zonko's, leaving George with a dreadful and heavy heap of guilt, sinking into his stomach. George sighed and walked to a quieter part of the shop, examining the map, his two brothers going for a drink without him.

George finally got the courage to leave Zonko's and go into Honey Dukes, making sure to pick out everything Ron and Fred loved most in hopes that this could buy their acceptance and trust as Christmas break hung over his head.  

Hurrying up the short, steep, steps - fighting to catch your breath, you stormed into the owlery, the many owls staring at you whilst Gideon turned his head, blinking at you sweetly. Your forehead produced droplets of sweat and you were desperate for a glass of water, your backpack weighing heavily on your shoulders, full of letters and parcels for your family and friends. 

You hunched over with your hands on your thighs, panting, Gideon started to shuffle impatiently. You lifted up your right hand and stretched out your index finger whilst the rest remained in a loose fist.

"One moment, Gideon." You breathed, your heart finally calming down.

Stretching and walking over to your owl, you lifted him into your arms and found a clear stop on the owlery floor to sit down, surrounded by small animal carcasses, feathers, and droppings.

You stroked Gideon's face and back gently with the back of your hand "Penny never allowed me to give her so much affection like this" you reminisced "I'm so happy you let me" you pecked the top of Gideon's head softly, standing up slowly and walking out, ready to see if Gideon could fly as well as Penny once did.

"Something doesn't add up" Ron huffed "Christmas shopping? since when were you left out of that?"

Fred stared at his shoes, walking towards the castle, his tummy still warm from the butterbeer. "I want to believe him, I don't think he'd lie to my face."

Ron shook his head "Well, we'll soon find out" he grumbled, "because mum insisted that she's coming to ours for Christmas, it's why I've been looking for her."

"But she usually comes over for Christmas, doesn't she?" Fred asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

Ron nodded "Yeah, but I didn't ask this time, so either mum is encouraging me to invite her, or someone else has asked."

Giggling, you watched Gideon soar around in the sky, feeling more than confident that he would be able to deliver your letters and packages without any issues, flying down and perching on your arm, you gave him a treat and stroked his head. 

"I've wondered where you've been." Ron called out behind you "Where were you this morning?"

"I've been with Gideon" you replied quickly, still focusing on stroking his soft feathers. 

"Not this morning you weren't" Ron argued, walking towards you and standing by your side. 

You sighed and turned to face him, feeling frustrated "I've been wrapping up presents, okay?" you huffed. 

Ron raised his eyebrows, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle in his head "Were you out shopping with George by any chance?"

Shit. He's on to me. He saw me leave Hogsmeade. 

No. No. He can't know, not now, no way!

"Oh come off it!" you acted, crossing your arms, causing Gideon to leap up and perch on your shoulder "I did my shopping weeks ago - alone!"

Ron swallowed your lies down his throat, the actual truth slowly dissolving in his mind. He nodded his head and pursed his lips "Sorry"

You nodded, feeling slightly guilty about lying to him "It's okay, just... just trust me, yeah? you're my best mate."

Ron wrapped his arm around you, starting to feel more confident and secure with there being no chance in his head of you and George dating "You're my best mate too."

As the snow continued to fall and surround Hogwarts, you, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George got on board the Hogwarts Express and made your way back to London. You could feel the butterflies flapping their wings inside of you, soaring as Gideon did in the sky days before the end of term. 

You and George were so excited to be able to spend more time together, without hundreds of students watching or overhearing, but the risk of being together under his roof and surrounded by his family was too high - but you didn't care, because if anything, in your mind - you weren't going to get caught, you would be careful, as secretive as can be. 

Hurling your trunk and presents into the warm and cozy burrow, Mrs Weasley engulfed you into a comforting hug "It is so lovely to see you again, dear!" She smiled, cupping your face in her gentle hands "You and Hermione will be staying with Ginny in her room, it's very spacious!" 

One of your butterflies lost a wing, starting to fall deep down into your tummy, you didn't want to share a room if it meant that you would be spending most of your time with the little sister of your boyfriend, and your best friends nosy and opinionated crush. 

"But don't panic dear, you don't have to go to bed when they do, you can stay up as long as you like! Oh, Harry!" Mrs Weasley pulled herself away from you and hurried over to Harry. 

Looking behind over your shoulder, George rested against the kitchen counter, turning his head and nodding in the direction of the living room, you knew what this meant and the injured butterfly in the pit of your stomach slowly recovered. Smiling, you nodded back, confirming the meeting, and quickly picked up your trunk and bags, following Ginny and Hermione.

Without having a minute to breathe, you were called down for dinner, all of you huddled around the dinner table surrounded by mouthwatering dishes you had missed so dearly. Mr and Mrs Weasley used this time for a much-needed catch-up, mainly Mrs Weasley scolding Fred, George, and even Ron for misbehaving ("but not you Harry, dear!") whilst Mr Weasley bombarded Hermione with questions about her parents being dentists and expressing how fascinating inspecting peoples teeth seemed. 

George kept flashing you looks across the table, smiling, then smirking, eyeing you up, causing you to go red in the face and struggle to contain your giggles. Part of you wanted to entertain him, pull faces back, blow a sneaky kiss or wink, but Hermione had already noticed George making faces, and you enjoying it.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, putting down her bags and sitting on her bed starting to unpack, Ginny copied, listening in. 

You placed the presents under your bed, opening your trunk you pulled out your pajamas. "I'm lost? What?" you replied, unpacking everything you needed out, placing your folded clothes inside the huge dresser. 

"The way George kept looking at you throughout dinner," Hermione said, the look of patience wearing thin splashed across her face. 

Ginny stopped unpacking and turned around, staring at you. 

"He wasn't looking at me." You replied, pulling off your knitted jumper. 

"Yes, he was!" Hermione insisted.

"It's nothing, Hermione, I spilled gravy down my top and I got embarrassed-"

"Can we not argue?" Ginny interrupted "I'm sure George was just smiling over nothing."

You nodded, Hermione pulled a face and got out her toothbrush "well, I'm exhausted, I'm getting ready for bed and I'll be calling it a night."

Ginny sat on her bed, yawning and stretching "Me too, I'm up early tomorrow, mum needs me to help her with choosing what's for Chrismas Dinner."

Hermione got changed and brushed her teeth in the bathroom whilst Ginny stood outside the door, waiting to go in, having the bedroom all to yourself, you quickly got changed into your pajamas and got into bed, shutting your eyes and practicing deep breathing, pretending to be asleep. 

Ginny and Hermione both entered the bedroom quietly and got into their beds, discussing what time they would be up in the morning and whispering goodnight, you waited until the two of them fell asleep when you could hear their snores you slowly got out of bed and left the bedroom, slowly walking down the many stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

Walking into the living room, George smiled up at you, the dim light highlighting his golden hair and deep brown eyes, he patted the space next to him, your heart pounding even more. Sitting down next to him, you leaned into him, swinging your legs on the sofa and resting your head against his chest, his arms sneaking around you and pulling you into him. 

"I've been waiting for this for so long" George mumbled quietly, nuzzling into your hair. 

Your cheeks began to heat up, you had never been this close to him before, not ever, the closest was holding hands a kiss - and now the two of you were cuddling underneath a warm blanket, so close that you could hear and feel his heart beating, his scent surrounding you, and his touch making you feel safe and secure. 

"Me too," you said softly "I'm so glad we're away from the constant noise, large crowds, and watching eyes." 

George smiled, kissing your head softly "It's nice just being able to exist with you, like this, away from everyone and everything, even if it's this late in the evening." 

"We'll need to be careful" you reminded him "Hermione saw what happened at dinner and she brought it up in front of Ginny. Ron has been paranoid too, especially after what happened a few days ago."

George nodded, leaving soft kisses on your head, his hands stroking your waist "Fred's suspicious too, I had to give him the map, the way he was looking at me - it's hard lying to him, Y/N."

Pulling George's hand up to your mouth, you pressed your lips against his hand and kissed it softly, George smiled, pecking your head with another soft kiss. 

"It's hard" you sighed "but we won't have to hide this forever, the right time will come."

George freed one of his hands and reached for the family photo album on the table in front of him, placing it in front of you to hold. 

"Just spending the late evening with you for the next two weeks is enough for me." He sat up, pulling you closer. 

Holding onto the photo album you opened it, expecting to see pictures but you were met with nothing but empty spaces. 

"I've bought this for us," George said softly "I want us to fill this with pictures, we need to make up for the three months we've been together with no photographs to show for it."

You felt your heart enlarge and flush your body with warm blood, your veins pumping it throughout your body, getting high on the feeling of this happiness - this love.

"Oh, George..."

Hearing a door opening and footsteps up above, creaking down the stairs, your face and George's dropped.

"Hide!" He mouthed, snatching the photo album from you.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @carisi-sonny

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

kisses and cuddles

wooooooooo time for some more fluffy shit yall i loved making this so much this sorta relted to my weed garden fic but you dont need to read it (be cool tho)

Ruby was sitting in the cafeteria with Oscar and penny she was too tired to pay attention to what the two were talking about penny sitting across from her and Oscar was excitedly talking about something while Oscar liens looking interested she’s unsure how he’s so put together they were both up late hanging out dreading comics and it’s only 7 am she leaned on Oscar and closed her eyes hoping to get a little more sleep before She had to do missions she had a relatively short one today only a search and destroy so maybe she could get home fast and take a nap Oscar nudged her shoulder and she lifted her head “hey don’t fall asleep if you don’t eat you’ll be grumpy” he says she fakes a pout and starts eating the gross cafeteria food she assumed that atlas food would be good sense it’s so many rich folks but no she’s actually had  better tasting mres or maybe she was just getting spoiled eating Oscar and rens cooking “ruby why are you so tired did you have trouble sleeping” penny says drawing circles on the table with her finger “no me and Oscar were up late last night and I only slept like three hours“ penny frowns “while I am happy you and Oscar are spending time together you require at least 6 hours of sleep for maximum field efficiency” ruby just nods “so why don’t you seem tired Oscar you couldn’t of slept anymore than I did” she says with a yawn he shrugs and says  “I guess I’m used to it I had to wake up early back home so I always didn’t get a bunch of sleep” penny raises a finger “actually according to my scans  Oscars brain is only running at 89% efficiency and his hear rate is faster from his normal 48 beats per minute to to 51 it is likely that he simply better at hiding his tiredness” Oscar slumps “penny do have everyone’s heart rates memorized” he says exasperated “yes I also have all of your medical charts on file and criminal records why” he raises a brow “criminal record?” Penny nods “yes several of your team have criminal records qrow having the longest with 22 counts of public intoxication as well as 3 of public indecency and” ruby raises her hands “trust me you don’t wanna know the rest they had to make a new law for one of the things he did but who else has charges?” she tries to wake herself with conversation and it sorta works she also learns some new and unsettling things about her friends but eventually breakfast ends and she starts to get her gear ready she’s loading rounds into one of crescent roses magazine when someone knocks on the door to her locker room “it’s open” she calls out and incomes  Oscar he’s holding a small Tupperware box and a small metal tumbler “hey I wanted to give this to you before you go” he says with a sheepish grin he sets the box next to her and hands her the tumbler it’s warm and smells good “it’s coffee, don’t worry I added way too much sugar for you and the other thing is a surprise you said you don’t eat a lot on missions so I made it for you it’s a bit of an experiment so tell me if it’s bad” she’s grinning ear to ear and stands up from her weapon bench and hugs him “you are the best and I’m sure it’ll be great” she gives him a kiss on the cheek she’s been slowly trying to work her way up to kissing him on the lips but nose and cheek kisses were enough for her he smiles and his cheeks get all rosey  and he hugs her back and says “be careful ok sorry I know you can take care of yourself but just you know“ she squeezes him a little “yeah don’t worry I know  I’ll be careful and when I get back we are so taking a nap mister I’m not that tired” he giggles and looks up at her with a smile  “you won’t hear me complain and uh before you go could I uh kiss you like um on the lips” he says nervously she leans down pressing her forehead to his and smiles she smells his breath it smells like chocolate and coffee she feels her cheeks heat up to match his and says “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now are you sure you want to ” he nods his head wordlessly she takes his hand and gently presses her lips to his its short and maybe a little clumsy but it makes her heart soar when she breaks the kiss Oscars breath shakes slightly  and a little panic starts to fill her did she mess it up did he hate it and then he smiles and it all fades away “that was really nice” he says rubbing her knuckle with his thumb then there’s a knock on the door frame she looks up and weiss and Blake are standing there weiss looks annoyed and Blake is grinning “time to go ruby morning Oscar” wiess says already turning to walk away ruby quickly gathers crescent rose and Oscars gifts and says “bye Oscar I’ll be careful byeee” and dashed out the door behind the others Blake nudges her shoulder “your lucky I made weiss wait  ,god you two are adorable” ruby squeaks “will you stop spying on us”  “we weren’t spying you two dolts left the door open” weiss says annoyed 

 The mission was boring as she thought it was gonna be how normal soldiers couldn’t handle this she’ll never know on the airship ride home she opens   the box Oscar gave to her a note on top says “have a great day and stay safe” she smiles at the note and sticks it in her ammo pocket  it looks like a brownie is some kind and yang leans over and says “where did you get that”

“Oscar made it for me” she says taking it out of the container it smells like a peanut butter protein bar “ooo come on share with me pleassss” yang says putting her hands together “ugh your lucky I’m a good sister” she breaks off a small piece and hands it to yang and takes a bite of her own and it’s amazing it Taste like a peanut butter brownie but somehow better it’s somehow not dried out or crumbly yang seems to have a similar opinion “god if you don’t marry Oscar i will his food is too good”yang says with a laugh  she kicks yang in the leg “I know right I can barely eat the cafeteria food anymore” her and yang chat a bit about food until they finally land Oscar is standing on the landing pad waiting for her she bounce on her heels excitedly despite how tired she is when the door finally opens she rushes out to hug him “how did it go” he asks wrapping his arms around her shoulders “oh it was easy but soooo boring I don’t know why they asked us to do it” she says leaning into him he chuckles “well I’m glad it wasn’t dangerous at least did you like it” he asks sheepishly she puts her head on his “yeees brothers it was great what was it” he unwraps his arms and looks at her “there’s no name for it yet but it’s kinda like a protein brownie was it too grainy or anything what about the after taste” he asks “I didn't even realize it was supposed to be healthy” she puts her hands on his shoulders “Oscar I’m gonna need more of that” he smiles “happy to make some more tonight” he says proudly yang walks past and ruffles his hair “make sure to make enough for me too kiddo” and walks off “how about that nap ruby my teams still on mission so we should have some time” he says taking her hand “yes please” 

They walk back to team alpns dorm room after ruby changes into something more casual Oscar was already wearing his normal clothing he sits on his bed and smiles “I’m gonna get to have two naps today” she sits down next to him and throws her arm around him "you and your team  sure like your naps huh" he smiles as they lie back on his bed "honestly who doesn't like naps I never use to be a huge cuddler but it’s nice to have someone close to you, you know” they lie back Oscar resting his head on rubies shoulder “well I do  wish my team took naps together sometimes yang is a big cuddler too but Weiss  doesn’t like being warm and Blake can’t sit still even so less than you” he snorts as he takes her hand running his thumbs along her knuckles  “well I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind you joining our naps if have to ask but i'll warn you ren sits up in his sleep  Jaune snores and i talk in my sleep” she raises an eyebrow “you didn't last time” she says “that's cause we were smoking  but if i take a nap or if im really tired you can actually talk and I'll talk back” she grins “well what do you talk about”  he rests his head on her chest “usually about my aunt or all yall but Nora has told me i say lots of stuff about you if i'm asked” he says his cheeks getting just a tiny bit rosy she grins and plants a kiss on his nose “well i hope i get the chance to ask but i'll probably fall asleep first im super tired” she rolls over and wraps herself around him oscar adjusting to lay on her arm pulling a blanket over them "well if you can get me to talk I'll answer any question just nothing to embarrassing please" he says  “i would like to know what you have to say tho so maybe i'll try to hold out just a bit longer” she says closing her eyes as oscar lets out his relaxed sigh about half of Oscars communication was nonverbal she liked to mentally catalog the things he does when he relaxes he lets out a long almost high pitched sigh it makes her happy to hear that and it helps her relax her thoughts starts to get fuzzy as sleep takes her she wakes up a few hours later laying on her back oscar laying on top of her them both having wrapped around each other she hears quiet murmurs  coming from him to quiet to understand "Oscar are you still asleep" she whispers no response "Oscar are you comfy" he nods his head "of course I'm comfy I'm cuddling with ruby" she snickers he was definitely still asleep "who's the coolest person you know" she she's "ruby for sure she's so good at fighting and everyone trusts her I wish I was more like her" she runs her hand through his hair "how do you feel about ruby " she asked "I'm in love with her she makes me feel strong and weak at the same time when she's with me I feel like I'm safe and that we could do anything together i want to be with her forever" she's crying now "oh shit I didn't expect him to be that honest" she thinks as tears run down her face "I love you too Oscar"     she kisses the top of his head “you know i never used to want like romantic stuff and all the fluffy garbage i just wanted to be a huntress and fight grim stuff like that but you  make me want that stuff i wanna take you on dates and like hold your hand and stuff there are a bunch of things i wanna do like” she pauses resting her head on his “i forgot you were asleep for a second i'm starting to embarrass myself i do love you tho i dont know when your supposed to say that we've only been i guess dating for what 2 and a half weeks my dad always joked that huntsmen relationships move really fast nothing like holy shit we might die to move a relationship forward right but you make me feel like i don't know amazing and I love being with you you make all my worries disappear even if it's only for a little bit and i'm rambling and your not talking back” oscar lifts his head “its cause im awake and i love it when you ramble” she feels her face light on fire “w-what when did you wake up” he hums happily “around we might die  i think it was nice that stuff you said you can ramble longer if you want what that new gun you saw in that magazine” she smiles “it's a roller delayed blowback sniper rifle its a smaller caliber than crescent rose but it has a longer effective range because of the way the bore is shaped i prefer bolt actions to semi automatics for a long range rifle semi autos have there merits and stuff it's a lot lighter than crescent rose as well on account of it not also being a giant scythe you know i was thinking about carrying a pistol too crescent rose is great but shes heavy and she's also really hard to conceal  even when shes folded speaking of i need to clean her gears a bunch of dust got in them today you said you wanted to learn weapon maintenance i could teach you today if you want” “sure i can learn there's a lot of things oz knows but it's like a big library without a librarian its all jumbled up” she scratches the back of his neck “well i do not understand the dewey decimal system but i'm happy to help” they both giggle at her joke ruby keeps rambling until the rest of team alpn return 

Oscar is walking ruby back to her dorm they come to her door and they turn to face each other and oscar rubs his hands together “so ruby uh I got permission with ironwood to leave school grounds as long as someone's with me so I was wondering if you’d like to maybe go out like on a date” she smiles and puts her arms around his shoulders “sounds amazing sweetie I’m free this weekend where do you want to go” he blushes and says “well I actually have something in mind but I wanna keep it a surprise if that’s ok” she kisses him on the cheek “of course casual clothes or should i dress nice” he shakes his head “i mean it's really up to you but were not going somewhere fancy just a place I think you'll like" she smiles and kisses his nose and he leans up a little so there lips are level "can i kiss you again" he asks just above a whisper her pressing her lips gently against his is her answer they  hold the kiss for a few moments Oscars hands drifting to ruby's waist when they separate  she says "i think we're getting pretty good at that" Oscar smiles avoiding her eyes "yeah um It's certainly enjoyable" they break the hug "I'll see you in the morning I'll make that stuff you like ok" he says "yes awesome you're the best Oscar good night" she says as she slips into her from her teammates giving her knowing smirks 

[rudypankwow]

climb through my window (pt. 2) | jj maybank

not my gif! (i think it was posted by ssjiara)

warnings: s l o w b u r n, briefly talks about violence and abuse (bc it’s jj and his dad’s a meanie)

word count: 2.7k

masterlist, pt 1, pt 3

a/n: i know the beginning is also a little slow, but pls stick with me bc after this it’s gonna be so good! jj comes in at the end, and from this point on he’ll be the main focus of every part. but i had to set up the story :) also big thanks to kay bc i complained about this nonstop for the last few days sorry kay ly

Yelling was something you had become well acquainted with in the last year and a half. It was your sister’s fault. She didn’t stick to the plan.

“She was always supposed to go to Yale and she’s still going to Yale!” your mom shouted, her hands practically slamming on the table. “That was always the deal,” she continued, ignoring your sigh and tense jaw, “you got Meg  and I got (y/n).”

You had moved on from the, “Isn’t it my decision?” argument long ago, instead choosing silence as your parents battled it out. When your sister, Meg, had decided to forgo college and instead spend some time traveling (she had secretly saved every penny she received from presents, allowances, paychecks, etc), your parents had moved on to you. Your mother had attended Yale and your dad Dartmouth, and the plan was always that Meg would go to Dartmouth and you’d go to Yale. It was a whole legacy student ordeal. It didn’t matter anyway, because your sister had ruined it. You were only a junior, and the school year was still a week away from starting, this was your reality for the time being.

“Well I think she’d like Dartmouth more, anyway,” your dad said. He didn’t even look up from his plate. “New Hampshire has way more to offer than Connecticut.”

Your mom on the other hand, was red in the face. Her arms were flailing, pointing her fork at you and your dad. “You’ve hardly even been to Connecticut, how in the hell would you know?”

“I just know it is, who goes to Connecticut for fun?” your dad continued. “New Hampshire has way more to-”

“You know what?” you cut them off. They both turn to look at you. Every time they get into these arguments, they wait for your input, for a final “I’m going here,” but it’s not coming today. Instead, you say, “I’m leaving.” You stand up from the table, pushing in your chair, making sure it angrily scrapes against the floor. “Feel free to keep arguing on my behalf, though.”

Your favorite spot in town was a 20 minute bike ride from your house. There was a little hill you could climb up, and when you reached the top it was a beautiful view of the ocean. You sometimes brought a book and read, and other times you just laid down and enjoyed the sun. Either way, that’s where you were going.

You decided to take a different way there this time, it was a little longer but it was so nice out you didn’t mind. As you turned the corner to ride past the police station, you saw the back of a blonde head that looked a lot like JJ walking out with another man. Your heart immediately dropped, too worried about why he was walking out of the police station to be disappointed in yourself for knowing him by the back of his head.

You were still some distance away when they got into the car. Despite no longer being able to see JJ, you kept your eyes on the movement in the car. As you started to get closer, you noticed the movement you could see get more violent, causing the car to shake. You finally become parallel with the car, staying on the opposite side of the road. You were nervous to stop, scared of what you might see, but you knew you had to.

JJ was pressed against the passenger door, his hands covering his face. The man in the car, which you could only assume was his dad, was hovering over him. You could probably hear his yelling if your ears weren’t ringing. You knew what was coming next, and you tried to will it not to happen, tried to focus all the energy into the universe to make what was going to happen not happen.

His hand collided with JJ’s face anyway. Over and over again. And you couldn't look away, couldn’t stop the tears that started to form, couldn’t believe the universe for being so unfair. The police station was right there, it would be so easy to run in and get help, but you were completely frozen in your spot. 

His dad settled back into his seat and you saw JJ touch his face, attempting to clean the cuts but only producing bloody hands. The car engine started, and quickly peeled away, leaving you stuck to the pavement. You stared as they turned at the end of the road and reached up to wipe the few tears that you didn’t realize had fallen.

Once your breathing finally evened out and your heart stopped pounding out of your chest, you pushed your feet off the ground and started pedaling your bike. You had forgotten where you were supposed to be going, instead just seeing where your feet took you.

You hadn’t planned on making your way to the Wreck, but before you knew it that’s what happened. You debated going in for a few minutes. You weren’t sure you wanted to explain what you just saw to Kie, though you were sure she knew. You could just not tell her, but your anxiety was without a doubt written on your face. You probably should tell her, or anyone for that matter. But on the other, was it yours to tell? 

You were still standing over your bike outside the restaurant when the front door opened. “(y/n)?” Kie’s dad called, garbage bag in hand. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Why are you just standing there? Come in!”

It snapped you out of your trance, and you nodded, stepping off the bike and walking it over to the rack. It was way less crowded than the last time you were there, especially for a Saturday. “Oh, hey, (y/n),” Kie says.

“Hey, Kie,” you said. You smile, trying to put on happy face for your friend.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “I can make you something if you want.”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure any food you tried to eat right now would just come straight back up. “I was just passing by,” you continue. “Your dad invited me in and I didn’t want to upset him.”

“Oh,” she says. She stares at you for a second. “Are you okay?” You look down at the counter. “You look like you don’t feel well.”

“Yeah, I just uh-” you try to fake a laugh, “I just have a headache.”

She seems to buy it. “Well let me grab you some water and then you should head home and get some rest,” she says, raising her eyebrows at you. You give her a nod and she takes a few steps behind the counter. She hands you the bottle and takes a sip.

Before your common sense can stop you, you say, “Hey, I saw JJ mowing the Copelands’ lawn the other day and noticed he had some bruises. I don’t know if there’s any reason to worry but,” you pause, unsure of how to finish, “uh, I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to make sure he was okay?” You immediately wish you could suck the words back out of the air and take them back.

But Kie just shrugs, giving a little chuckle. “Honestly, (y/n), who knows? It’s JJ.” You smile and nod, looking back down at the counter. “Look,” she continues, “if it ever seems like he’s in trouble just let me know. But he’s usually got it figured it out.”

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “I’m honestly not even sure why I asked. Something about it just made me nervous, I guess.”

She smiles. “That’s sweet of you, really,” she pats your shoulder. “But I wouldn’t let it worry you too much, okay?”

You nod, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “I’m gonna go,” you say. “Thanks for the water.” It seems awkward, but you’re not sure what else to say.

“Let me know when you’re feeling better,” she calls as the door shuts behind you.

You lean against the side of the building once out of sight, once again trying to calm yourself down. You take a sip of the water and click on your phone to check the time. It had only been an hour since you left home, but it felt like it had been at least five. 

Unsure of what else to do, you get on your bike and start back home, stopping at the library on the way to pick up a book. Halfway through your ride, the sky seemed to open up, big drops of rain soaking you through to the bone.

When you were little, your mom used to say that it only rained when people wanted things to be washed away.

It only seemed fitting.

-------

JJ hadn’t come by to mow that Friday. It was Sunday now, and all you’d done was think about him and what you saw the day before.

School was starting in a week, and despite the fact that you almost liked school, the thought of being forced to see all the other kooks every day was enough to ruin the idea. And since junior year meant college planning, you knew tensions would be high.

Needless to say, you were dreading it.

But today, it was gorgeous outside. So, before your parents could even try to bother you, and before you spent another minute staring at the ceiling in your bedroom, you grabbed your headphones and your book and headed out to your back deck. You had made a deal with your parents long ago that any arguing had to stay in the house, so you knew you were safe outside.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on your book, your mind couldn’t stop wandering. After twenty minutes, you basically give up, dropping your book in your lap with a huff. You close your eyes and lean your head back against your chair, sighing. The sun is as burning you skin, but it’s lnice to feel something other than anxious.

Your heart just about skips a beat when you hear a lawn mower start. Your eyes open immediately and you swallow hard. Sitting up slightly, you turn your head to look at the house next door.

And, of course, there he is, two days late, mowing the lawn. Part of you hoped that you’d be able to avoid seeing him for the rest of the week after what you saw yesterday.

You’re trying your hardest to not stare, you don’t want him to catch you again, but you need to see his face. He’s actually wearing a shirt this time, which is a bad sign. You can’t remember the last time he wore a shirt while mowing in the summertime. You can’t quite see his face yet, so you turn around and pretend to read your book, waiting for the sound of the mower to get closer. When it does, you try to peek over. He’s still a bit too far away, but you think you can see a dark spot on the side of his temple. It makes your stomach turn.

You did have one thought in the back of your mind, but it was borderline crazy, nevermind how it would make you look. You had been mulling it over for the past few days, but always dismissed it immediately. Seeing him here, however, a dark bruise on his face and likely countless others across his chest, made that horrible idea seem not so horrible.

Your feet were moving before you knew it, before you could stop them.. You always felt like there was a magnet drawing you into him, but up until now you’d tried your hardest to act against it. 

“JJ!” you called. Your palms were starting to sweat. In all honesty, you had no idea what you were doing, but for some reason you were still doing it.

He turns around, shutting off the lawn mower when he sees you standing there. “Oh, hi,” he says, thinking for a minute. “(y/n), right? You’re friends with Kie?” You nod. He thinks for another minute and smiles. “You’re that girl I always catch staring at me?” The smirk on his face tells you everything you needed to know. You knew he had noticed a few times, but had no clue he’d picked up on a pattern.

Your eyes go wide and you shake your head. “Uh, no,” you try to be casual, “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.” He could probably hear your pulse from where he was standing.

“No,” he continues, nodding, “you almost crashed your car into your garage the other day because you were staring at me.” His hands are crossed against his chest and he’s smiling wildly.

“No,” you say say again. “No, I was just,” you can’t come up with anything good, “looking at the Copeland’s dog. It had gotten out,” you finish, knowing the Copeland’s have never had a dog, not for as long as you’d lived next to them.

He clearly knew this too, because he answers, “The Copeland’s doing have a dog, (y/n).”

“Okay, well, that’s beside the point,” you say, shaking your head again and waving your hands. His eyes are wide when you look back up at him, and you sigh, seriously regretting whatever it was you were doing. “Look,” you continue, “I came over here because I wanted to tell you,” you pause, your hands are shaking. You take a deep breath. “I saw you. The other day. Outside the police station. With your dad.” You can’t say the whole thing at once, cause you think the weight of the words might poison all the air around you. “At least I thought it was your dad, anyway,” you say, looking down at your feet.

“Look,” he says, taking a step forward, “please don’t-”

“Wait,” you interrupt, because you think if you don’t finish you might never get out the words, “just let me finish, please?” You look at him and he nods. You exhale, still not believing the words you were about to say. “If you ever need somewhere to crash, for whatever reason, my window is the last one to the left on the back side of the house. It’s easy to climb in. I’ve done it a few times before.” He looks completely thrown off. “I just know how Kie’s dad is, and I know how Mr. Heyward can sometimes be a pain, and after what happened to John B-” you falter. “I just figured you might need somewhere to stay from time to time,” you explain. “I have a couch in my room and I promise not to ask questions.”

There’s a pause. He finally says, “Okay,” and when you look up at him he’s got that same smirk he did before.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, pointing a finger at him. “You will be sleeping on the couch, believe that.”

His smirk doesn’t dissipate as he nods. “Sure,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, my god, I’m leaving now.” You turn and start walking away, resting your hand on your chest, trying to calm your heart rate.

“Hey, (y/n)?” he calls after you. Reluctantly, you turn back. He’s got a different look now, less cocky. “You were close with Sarah, right?” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you say, “we used to be best friends when we were little.” You hadn’t been that close with her in a long time, but you don’t tell him that.

“Do you think they’re,” he drops his hands by his side, sighing, “you know-”

“Dead?” you ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, but I was trying not to say the word.”

You smile a little, brushing some hair out of your face. “No, I don’t,” you say simply.

He nods, looking down at the ground, and gives you a smile. “Last window to the left, right?” he asks. “On the back side of the house?”

You try to stop the smile that’s threatening to engulf your face. “Yeah.”

You turn around, walking back to your deck. You hear the lawn mower start. Your feet feel like they’re no longer touching the ground. You have no idea if he’ll come, and you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but you feel better knowing you’ve offered, that he has the option.

And the thought of getting to see his face more sure doesn’t hurt.

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[maxwell-grant]

If someone were trying to make a new character inspired by pulp heroes, but the new character had to be a teenager, what existing pulps heroes should they look to for inspiration?

I'm not exactly in touch with the yoof so I could be off the mark here, but let's talk about teenager characters for a bit.

Now, I could just tell you to look for characters that appeal to you and use them as a baseline and that's probably the best advice here, but if you want the essay and history lesson: American pulp fiction didn't used to market much to teenagers. Teenagers as a consuming market haven't always been the all-encompassing force they are considered today, and the pulps were largely marketed either towards young boys, or for working class men, mostly the latter. This is part of why teenagers tend to show up in these stories largely as sidekicks, which was something carried over to comic superheroes, and part of why Spider-Man was such a breakout hit, because he was a teenage superhero who was not a sidekick.

The biggest pre-1950s traditional pulp hero I can of who was a teenager would be Jack Harkaway, an 1871 penny dreadful adventurer who would go on to be published overseas, one of those characters who was big enough in his day to inspire imitators a plenty but didn't quite make it past a specific time period. Comic strips had plenty of kid or teenage protagonists who are a bit closer to pulp heroes, like Tintin or Terry Lee, one in particular I'm highlighting above is Ledger Syndicate's Connie Kurridge, arguably the first female adventure hero of American comics. Overseas you can find a couple of prominent examples of teenage adventurers published in what we call the pulp era, the biggest and most influential of which being The Famous Five, but as I stated in answering whether Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys were pulp heroes, these were not published in pulp magazines, instead their direct opposites in glossy and reputable paperbacks.

There are other examples of pulp heroes who were teenagers and not sidekicks, but nearly all of them are very obscure and you will probably not find much material for them. And the thing is, these characters were not made for teenagers. They were made, for the most part, by grown-ups, and for grown-ups, and I can't say any of them ever really grabbed a teenage audience. Usually, it's the 60s as an era that really starts to pander to and include teenagers at the forefront of storytelling, so a good start for you might be to look at what was going on in the 60s-onwards worldwide in the realms of pulp and pulp-inspired works, which probably means you're going to have to look outside of the US.

Another word of advice would be to look up characters that are beloved by teenagers. I don't think "teenager" is a great baseline trait to start building a character, but if that's the number one priority to you, then ideally you should look for a good baseline of what appeals to that demographic, what appealed to you at that age and why. You're probably going to wind up with a lot of anime anti-heroes in your research though, because teenagers are deeply miserable creatures and few things appeal more to them than characters who are miserable but they act cool and badass and edgy about it. Teenagers are forced to live with the miserable reality of being teenagers with little to no upsides, so I think teenage characters could benefit more from being based on the kinds of characters teenagers would ideally want to read about.

So, "cool, badass and tortured character super popular with angsty teenagers", "rooted in and subverting older storytelling traditions for a fresh new audience", and "60s pulp hero". I think Elric is probably as good of a place as any for you to start.

Elric wasn't just popular, he wasn't even just popular with teenagers (boys and girls alike, which is also quite the feat), he was "cool". He was avant-garde, he was the hip new thing on the block. He wasn't Conan or Bond or Batman, and you'd hardly mistake him for a hero. He got the rock albums and fans tattooing him. He was penned by the guy who was openly called the "anti-Tolkien". Elric was Loki before Loki, the edgy anti-hero before them all. The emaciated warrior with white hair and black clothes and a demonic sword who suffered in a cool way, cool in his uncoolness. When I think of pulp heroes who achieved a substantial popularity among teenage audiences, Elric is definitely the first that comes to mind.

Another good example might be Captain Harlock, easily one of the premier Pulp Heroes among manga and anime due to how heavily Leiji Matsumoto incorporates pulp space opera into everything he does. Not only directly influenced by it, Matsumoto even has actual pulp credentials as an illustrator for C.L Moore's Shambleau, Northwest Smith and Jirel of Joiry. The space pirate, while not created in manga and anime, is one of Japan's premier pulp hero archetypes, and Harlock's as good of a baseline to work with as any.

The most popular pulp-inspired works nowadays among teenage or younger audiences are definitely the ones derived from pulp horror, several creators have been getting a lot of mileage these past decades out of plundering and remixing stuff from it. The big ones are Lovecraft and related works like The King in Yellow, but because they soak up all the attention, it also means that people are sleeping on authors like John W. Campbell, William Hope Hogdson, Clark Ashton Smith and Karl Edward Wagner, Nictzin Dyalhis and Olaf Stapledon, and many, many more, which gives you a lot of narrative real estate to work with should you take this direction.

Additionally, one thing that you could consider is that, for a very large portion of the history of pulp fiction, a significant amount of the most popular stories and characters were those that were based on celebrities and real life figures. The biggest of dime novel protagonists was Buffalo Bill, and following him was Nick Carter, a literary equivalent to Eugen Sandow (the Schwarzenegger of his day). Thomas Edison inspired an entire subgenre of dime novel fiction, even Jack the Ripper was a pulp protagonist in Dutch magazines, because sometimes the term "pulp hero" doesn't take the "hero" part much into account.

The precedent for celebrity stories is older than pulp fiction itself, but it was in the dime novels and novelettes and pulps that the idea really found it's footing. The Shadow's exploits took a lot from Gibson's own experiences with Houdini (who himself starred in fictional stories, one famously penned by Lovecraft). Doc Savage was visually modeled after Clark Gable and supposedly inspired on Richard Henry Savage. Eddy Polo, Charlie Chaplin and Tom Mix were the protagonists of several pulps and comic strips across the world, as well as Al Capone (who starred in pulp magazines in Germany and Spain), who fought Nick Carter in a Brazilian story guest-starring Fu Manchu (reportedly based on real figures Sax Rohmer claimed to have met) and Fantomas. Today obviously there are much greater restrictions at play concerning celebrity images, but if dime/pulp magazines were around today, we would have quite possibly seen figures like Keanu Reeves, Tilda Swinton and Lil Nas X either star in their own magazines or be used as models for rising protagonists.

So I guess one other way you could go on about creating a pulp hero, who's either a teenager or appeals to teenagers, would be the route of taking a look at some celebrities that either are, or appeal to those demographics, because if pulp magazines had stayed around unchanged past the 60s and 80s and whatnot you definitely would have seen the likes of David Bowie, Will Smith and Dwayne Johnson get their own magazines. I don't know much about what celebrities are popular with teenagers these days and I'm not about to start caring now, but you could take a look at some icons you like, or liked when you were younger, and think about what made them appealing to think about as characters, and how you could apply that to something closer to a pulp story.

A word of advice would also be that, if you want to make a character inspired by pulp heroes, if you want to create a convincing modern pulp hero, you might want to look less at the pulp heroes themselves and instead those that they were inspired by or working to defy and stand out when compared to. You take the building blocks and rearrange them in a different way. If you have a specific character you want to design yours in reference to, you can send me an ask or a DM about them and I'll dig into my files to give you a few pointers, and what kind of history or cultural predecessors they have that you could take a look at to make something more genuine.

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

RWBY V08E06 - Midnight

Surprise RWBY liveblog!

To be honest I've been avoiding watching or thinking about RWBY because nothing good will come from Penny getting hacked and as long as I avoid watching the show I can pretend nothing is going to happen. But the hiatus has been haunting me so... I guess it's time. Let's do this?

Penny hit Cinder so hard she sent her into a flashback.

It makes sense that this scene looks a bit barren if it'll be only used once or twice but the painted grass really makes it look like an unity asset flip game.

Huh. I guess she was in an orphanage?

I didn't expect a second part to what seems to have been a miserable childhood. I mean, whatever's inside that place can't be good if it ends up with Cinder trusting Salem.

Oh. So this is the Cinderella part.

Yyyup.

I'm really curious to see if somehow they make it so Salem ends up being the Prince, ball equivalent and all.

Noo, don't end. I'm really liking this flashback. I'm not on-board the "Cinder gets redeemed" train but it's at least interesting to see her backstory.

Okay, I love this song. Straight from a musical.

Hopefully the OST doesn't disappoint me by making these the only 30 seconds of the song that are sung like this and the rest four minutes of hard rock.

And who are you

lol, in case it wasn't clear before here's a sign that says "we're bad people"

Ah yes, because things can always be worse, now she has a shock collar.

WAIT

WHAT

I thought this was something that Salem taught Cinder, not something older. It kinda re-contextualizes those interactions, at least for me, since I thought Cinder was at least a bit sincere when talking to Salem instead of lying through her teeth by using old lessons she's learned to appease her abusers.

For a second I was worried I had missed something and that this sword was hers in the future but nope, doesn't look familiar at all.

Uhh, metal semblance. I thought it was a prosthetic hand

WHAT I thought she was at least a teenager or something.

I'm morbidly curious about how this is going to end because it has to be a tragedy. Is this guy do something making her think it was all a lie? Is Salem going to kill him?

Well.

At least she's taking her destiny into her own hands instead of what I was somewhat dreading, that the dude was going to end up "saving" her.

ah yes, that's the look of a well-adjusted young woman.

this change of expression? * chef kiss *

entire fanfics can be written about her changing state of mind

...of course they are a gun, I can't believe I doubted it for a second

Now I'm trying to remember if we've ever seen Cinder's neck before. I think we have, but I definitely don't remember seeing a scar. I guess it healed.

Gotta say, I think they succeeded in making Cinder interesting again. I still think she can't be redeemed (without putting a ton of characterization work, which I'm not sure the format of the show allows) but now I'm like 80% sure she's going to end up betraying Salem instead of that being just a "yeah, I guess it can happen" thing.

Not sure what this means for Emerald though. I'm still hoping she breaks away from all of this.

Even how she treats Emerald fits neatly now that we know her past. She never had any peers, everyone was above her. Of course she can't relate to Emerald or even trust her "devotion". She probably doesn't even understand it as anything else but a way to control her.

…welp, that's not going to make Cinder happy.

I wish she hadn't turned her head because her expression before that was marvelously subtle.

…lots of child abuse this episode huh?

I'm going to need a presentation with slides to understand how this is supposed to be an opportunity on the level of Salem's followers doing their thing.

I wonder if Salem getting to him was what made him violent (since he'd finally realize what Ozpin was fighting) or if he was already working to get his revenge before that.

Salem working her silver tongue to convince a depressed Hazel that it was all Ozpin's fault would definitely be in character for her at least.

Oh. Hazel seems to not know what the relics do when brought together.

Which makes sense, I doubt Salem's recruitment speech ended with "and then we'll give the gods a call so they can destroy the world"

Glad Neo still looks pissed off at having to kneel.

For a second I thought only the "primary" henchmen were going to be present (showing how Mercury had gotten a promotion)… and I guess they are, since Emerald and Neo are pretty far away.

oh no, I had managed to forget that was a thing

Even the nature of her abuse is similar, with something that physically hurts them when they disobey. I doubt she can cut off her arm though, since it seems to be inside her.

lol "did you forget something similar happened 10 minutes ago?"

…this is incredibly foreboding

I can't tell if Salem is manipulating Cinder just to kill her soonish or if she's genuinely changing the way she's manipulating Cinder since being too obviously evil wasn't working. Hm.

Cinder's short flashback did imply she finally broke and now she'll be thinking of ways to kill Salem but who knows.

…and of course Ren is the first to dismount the bike. AAAB, Ren, AAAB.

I kinda wish these guys weren't so obviously in the wrong. There's no way Harriet "angry about absolutely everything" Bree is going to react sanely about this.

Wait, how is this getting transmitted and why.

Very glad Salem started with Atlas. That whale is about to "eat the rich" very literally and I'm here for it.

Also, this is a great way to show the scale of that whale, it was just "big" before.

---

(ominous music) indeed.

Very interesting episode. I loved seeing Cinder's past and it definitely added a lot of character to what has been a very thin one. It wasn't exactly a surprise but it finally nails down her past and gives a lot more context to her relationship with Salem. I'm very curious about what's going to happen in the mid and long term between those two.

I think that’s it, until next time!

[enigma-im]

Like a Virgin Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Incubus x F!Human Warning: Insecurities, fluff, Silas is a fuckboy, date night, first time, bonding

Word Count: 8261

Part 1 -----------------------------------

I pace around my room like an anxious chicken. I look down at my three dresses, not knowing which one to pick. Each having their pros and cons but still not making the choice easier. Silas never bothered telling me where we were going. All week I kept trying to get answers from him but he would just give me a kiss then a smile. I can't complain because it worked every time.

"just pick the red one," I mumble to myself. I reach down for the dress but hesitate when I look at the purple one. I stand straight and groan. Just pick one.

"The Yellow one will make you look bright but I'm a bit bias to the red one, the color of love and lust," a voice behind me says. I jump, turning to see Silas at my door. I tighten my towel around my chest making him laugh.

"You are early," I look him up and down. He is wearing a dark blue 2-piece suit. White dress shirt, the last two buttons undone. His blazer is also undone showing how tight the shirt is to his stomach. I can't take my eyes off him. I've seen him in dress clothes, that is his thing, but this is a lot. He looks damn sexy. Even though he still has bags under his eyes and currently his cheeks are beginning to sink.

He snaps his fingers," up here love." I look up at his cocky smirk.

I roll my eyes," shut up. Why you early?"

He gives me a once over," what, and miss this view?"

"seriously," I chide.

"Alright, I knew you would be freaking out about now. I guess I was right if you are still pacing your room looking for an outfit," he gestures to the clothes.

"As right as you are, how did you know," I don’t bother denying. He doesn’t answer but walks over to me. Grabbing my waist and looking down at me.

"I've known you for a long while. I think I can figure out if you are going to be a nervous wreck or not," he leans down and pecks my forehead," go with the red one. I'll be in the living room." with that he lets me go and walks out. I shake my head, smiling to myself.

I put on the red dress then walk to my bathroom to fix my hair. I get cleaned up and walk out into the living room. I find Silas lounging on the sofa. His arms stretched out on the back and his legs crossed at the ankle. He looks handsome here. I never bothered looking at him before this week. It felt wrong to ogle a friend but now it's different.

He finally notices me and he drops his arms off the sofa," Fuck." he rests his elbow on his knee. Looking me up and down grinning like a dork. Its almost unfitting on his sexy face. It's so dopey that I can't help but smile back.

"I'll take it you like it," I fidget with the fabric of my dress.

"Like it? I love it, you look holy. Like a goddess really. I'm not worthy of your time but I will cherish it because I'm a greedy man," he lays it on thick.

"Alright, alright. You could have just said you like it," I turn with a blush. I hear him stand from the sofa.

"And miss those rosy cheeks? never," he laughs.

"biggest flirt I have ever met," I mumble as I cup my cheek, fighting off the smile curling my lips. As I fail I turn my face into my palm, grinning like an idiot.

"aw," he coos as he holds my arms," don't hide that beautiful smile." he pries my hand away from my face. I look anywhere but him, not use to this sort of attention. He replaces my hand with his own, turning me towards him. His eyes gleam with admiration and the edges of his lips curls slightly making his cheeks crease. We say nothing to break the silence, too lost in each other's eyes. His smile grows wider before he curls his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Too damn beautiful," he whispers as he drops his head to mine. My heart swells with the gesture, my insides turning to jelly as he nuzzles my forehead. With a sigh, he turns and pecks me on the cheek before righting himself. "Sorry, lost myself there for a moment. Shall we head to dinner," he tilts his head. I take in a heavy breath, calming the fluttering butterflies in my torso. The warm fuzzy feeling flowing from his hand down into my body. I nod.

We walk out of my apartment to his car waiting out front. It's not hard to spot as it's likely the most expensive car in the lot. He helps me in, like a gentleman I didn't think he could be, and we are on our way.

The ride is exciting but nerve-wracking. The tension sits in my stomach, though it's easy to push away with our simple conversation about our days. When he puts his hand on my knee I can't decide on an emotion. His thumb petting my skin is pleasing but it gets me thinking how the night is expected to end.

Before thoughts can spiral into stomach twisting anxiety we stop in front of a building. I look up at the faintly glowing blue sign saying something in French. Silas startles me when he hops out the car. I watch him come around to my side, opening the door with an awaiting helping hand.

"We have arrived my lady," he purrs as I grab his hand. I get out the car confused, looking around at the array of valets driving cars. I have never been to place fancy enough to have valets. Can hardly think Olive Garden doing something so bouche.

"Looks expensive," I mumble as I watch a young man hop into the expensive car. Silas pulls me along into the building.

"I spare no expense for my night of apologizing and wooing," he jokes. I just hums in answer as we enter the luxurious waiting room. The area is dim, having blue edge lights under ledges and baseboards. The fish tank feels like icing on the cake. The only fish tank I've seen in a restaurant have been lobster tanks. This one has actual fish that you aren't supposed to eat.

I don't notice when we make it to the host stand, too focused on the decked-out surroundings.

"D'Amore," Silas answers without prompt. The older lad at the host stand doesn't even look up as he searches his tablet. No warning he walks away. Silas tugs me along after the man.

We walk further into the dimly lit room. I can't stop my eyes from wandering around, feeling oh so out of place. The looks of the food at people's tables screams that we shouldn’t be able to afford this. Silas and I work for decent pay but even my penny-pinching self can't fathom having enough to dine here.

A few people cast glances at us as we walk by, most lingering on Silas. When eyes go to me it's like being drowned in judgment. I definitely don't belong here.

The host introduces us to our seats before parting. Silas pushes out my chair, pushing it back in once I sit. I can't focus on him as the anxiety stacks. I feel so out of place, so wrong. I shouldn't be here, dining like I have a right to such a sophisticated place. I shouldn't be pretending as I could ever. When I look at Silas I feel about that same, I shouldn't even be with him.

As I fuel my own fire Silas reaches out and grabs my hand," Babe, are you alright?" I startle at his question. I snap my unfocused gaze to him.

"Yea, I'm alright. I just-I've never been in a place like this," I nibble on my cheek. Silas watches me, lingering on every twitch. He squeezes my hand, trying to catch my attention but it's too undirected.

"I have a question for you," he starts cryptically. I finally keep my focus on him, dread boiling to my chest.

"yea," I ask. His eyes look between mine, his face stern.

"If an android has a kid with a person and their man milk is technically from their creator, is the baby his," he says while biting back a grin.

I furrow my brow," What?"

"an android, the organic robots, if one had a kid with it's manufactured spunk that technically was a real human's nut, would he be the dad or the human who made it first," he clarifies.

I can't bring myself to answer as I'm too confused about the question. As his words linger a smile cracks onto my lips as the background fades away.

"Well," I start," it would-I mean it could be. Alright, you got me there." we both chuckle.

"Yea, it's kind of stumped me all day. I heard it from a friend and I don't know what the right answer would be. Ideally, the android is the dad but in a DNA test the human would be the dad, though he didn't shoot it," he rambles.

As we discuss this 'important' topic I feel more welcome. It's easy to see Silas as a handsome egotistical playboy who doesn't have an awkward bone in his body. I forget how completely ridiculous he is. The main reason I ever fell for him.

Dinner goes well as the conversation flows freely. Some topics are risqué and others childish. We do get a few looks from the other patrons but I could hardly care. It's hilarious to be eating such high-class food while debating what is the best 90's cartoon is.

It's clearly the Animaniacs.

It seems too soon when the check comes. The friendly rivalry over the superiority of Dc vs Marvel is put on pause when he takes out his wallet. The moment is long enough for reality to settle back in. our next activity of the night pops into my head with a startling realization.

Next, we head home.

The thought is pleasant but my stomach still twists. I like Silas and the idea of giving myself to him isn't completely off-putting, it's actually nice. Either way the chance of something going wrong bounces around in my head with no escape.

We walk out to the valet, Silas' hand on my lower back, I dwell on fears. I'm so nervous and admitting it doesn't help. We get into his car and head on out. Silas tries to keep the conversation going, which succeeds enough for the time being. It's when we turn towards my home does it fail to keep me relaxed.

I fidget in my seat, fiddling with my dress as I nibble on my cheek. I keep reminding myself of his devotion so far and how it should be impossible for sex with an Incubus to be bad. Which is true, it can-will- be amazing. Yet, the devotion part wrinkles my brain.

I tense when we near my home, the sight of the apartment pushing needles in my legs. I watch it come closer and closer, my anxiety mounting higher and higher. As my turn comes up for the parking lot I'm surprised when we pass it. I watch it go back, twisting in my seat to watch some more.

"What," I mumble as I twist in my seat. I look over to Silas who has a fighting smile on his face. I know we aren't heading to his place as it's the complete other direction, so where are we going?

"Something wrong," Silas asks, his smile widening.

"Nothing wrong, I just thought we were going to my place next," I bait.

He shrugs, looking at the clock on the dash. 8:34.

"Seems a bit early to be ending the night so fast," he answers.

"I guess," I watch him," though I can't possibly think what else you have planned besides…uhh." I drop off at the end. Silas passes me a glance, that smirk resting so peacefully.

"What other plans," he teases," are you talking about the finale of the night? The part where I lay you down and give you the best orgasms of your life?" I blush, turning towards the window, feeling like an innocent child. Silas chuckles, reaching over to rest his hand on my leg again. "No need to be so flustered, love, we have time before that," he squeezes my leg," we are heading somewhere special. Somewhere I have rarely taken a date before."

He piques my interest," Oh yeah? I'm not going to some abandoned house to be ditched, right?"

He scoffs," what kind of man do you think I am? Also, I've taken someone to an abandoned house before. Though it was his idea, not mine. Not an experience I will repeat, don't fuck with goth dudes."

"You had sex with a goth dude in an abandoned house," I laugh.

"I don't kiss and tell," he purses his lips. I bark out in laughter.

"Yes you do, that's actually how we got to here," I snicker.

"Yea, yea," he waves a hand," doesn't matter now, I'm only with you." I fluster again at his declaration. It's still hard to believe he would choose me over everyone he has been with.

"So where are we going," I change the subject.

"It's a surprise," he smiles, pleased with himself.

"a surprise? I can't remember that last time a boyfriend tried to surprise me," I answer. Out the corner of my eye, I see Silas pass me a cocky glance.

"a boyfriend? Are you calling me your boyfriend now," he teases the edge of my dress," I like it."

I blush," shut up."

"awe, don't be so mean to your boyfriend," he stops at a light. He takes the time to lean over, cornering me with an arm on my seat. "Your boyfriend's feelings are hurt, can you give me a little kiss to make it better," he pouts.

I scoff at him," you sound like such a fuckboy right now."

He shrugs," if it works."

"shut up," I smile as I grab his cheeks and press a chaste kiss to his lips. He doesn't allow me to get away with that, pulling me in for a better kiss.

His warm lips mold expertly over mine, stealing my breath so easily. His fingers crawl up my thigh, bunching up the hem of my dress. My fingers trail into his hair to grab a handful, pulling him closer as I rest against the seat. He fills the space quickly, pressing as close as he can. I feel his palm smooth under my dress till his finger timidly presses against my underwear. The tip wiggles under the band, barely touching my crotch.

A car horn makes us jump apart, starling us back into our respected seats. As I catch my breath Silas drives onward

My first clue is lights in the distance and a large line of cars following in the same direction. It finally clicks when a familiar amusement ride is revealed.

"The fair," I ask.

"Yep," he grins," perfect, right?"

"yea but aren't we both a little overdressed for a fair," I pluck at his sleeve.

"Hardly matters, we both look stunning and we are going to win the games in style," he smooths back his hair. I snicker at him.

"Whatever you say," I smile to myself as I look at the oncoming fair. It really is a good idea, though I won't pat him on the shoulder just yet.

He parks and we head in.

The fairgrounds are crowded and full of color. The lively conversation and dull lull of obnoxious music is jovial. It's such a contrast to the fine dining restaurant we ate at. This place has deep-fried everything and games rigged to make you lose. It's lovely and downright perfect.

Silas wraps his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close, and we are off.

Everything is so eye-catching, pulling my attention back and forth. The games flash colorful lights, people gathered around each booth screaming out in triumph or frustration. The food stands engulf the air with its high calories snacks. Further down the way, more lights shine as lines of people wait for their turn on some typical carnival ride. So many activities and such little time.

Silas throws an arm over my shoulder and tugs me towards a booth that doesn't have all the glamor and glam as the others. A ticket booth with a few people standing in a line before it. A family leaves the front of the line holding a rope of tickets. We slowly make it to the front to meet a smiling woman.

"Hello, sweetie," Silas grins widely," twenty tickets please, and thank you." for the added flair he throws in a wink. His arm drops from around my shoulder to my waist, pulling me closer to his side. Despite this the woman blushes to herself, smiling as she counts out our tickets.

"Here you are, sugar, twenty tickets," she smiles," I hope you have a grand ole time."

Silas takes the tickets," Will do, dear."

With that Silas tugs me away again towards the rows of well-decorated stalls. I try to not let the flirty interaction get in my head too much. It's Silas, he has always been that way. It's not like I expected him to change because of me. Still, the wink irks me just a little.

"So, what do you want to do first," Silas squeezes my hip," you are in charge from this point on."

I quirk a cheeky brow at him," That’s a bold thing to say." he smiles down at me with that spine chilling smirk.

"What can I say, sometimes it's hot to have your woman in charge," he teases. The insinuation should be alarming but the fun to be had is too tempting.

"And what if I like my man to be in charge instead," I turn away, hiding the blush blooming along my cheeks. I feel him lean down closer, his breath fanning down my dress.

"Keep calling me your man and I'll be whatever you like," he purrs. I feel outmatched now, slowly working my way towards the deep end. My cheeks hurt as I fight back a dorky smile and a silly giggle. Silas still finds out, cooing as he presses a kiss to my cheek.

"Alright, alright, stop," I push him away," let's see what games they have here." he chuckles as he straightens, pulling me to his side once more as we walk down the large path.

We see games varying from strength to skills, puzzles to sporty. Everyone jokes around each game, laughing and teasing one another as they all attempt to win the stuffed prizes. One game catches my eye, a milk jug and baseball skill test.

"how's your pitching," I ask him. He raises a brow in question before he too spots the game.

"I mean, I don't wanna brag," he jokes as we walk over.

I scoff," you don't wanna brag, hell must have frozen over." he snorts, tearing off a few tickets as he stops in front of the carnival worker.

"one ticket for one throw, three tickets for four," the tall teen says. Silas exchanges three tickets for four balls. He passes me two and we arrange ourselves to our own lane.

"Alright," Silas tosses the ball around in his hands," Watch a pro at work." I watch him reel back and launch the softball across the lane. The ball tings the top of the pyramid, flicking the milk jug off. As the jug rolls around on the floor I look to Silas.

"I think I'm watching the wrong guy if I'm supposed to be witnessing a pro," I shrug. He scowls at me, fiddling with the other ball in his hand.

"Yea, yea, shut up. Tis but a warmup," he shakes out his shoulders before squaring his stance. He launches the ball again completely missing the tower all together. I snort, biting back a snicker as he deflates.

"I think we have different definitions of pro," I chuckle. He snaps towards me, playfully sneering as he walks over.

"Alright, your turn, princess," he crosses his arms in a challenge. I smile at him, accepting his challenge with open arms. I walk up to the bar, setting one of the balls down. I toss the solo one around in my hands before tossing a look over my shoulder.

"You know in high school I use to be in sports," I look back to the restacked jugs," I did a few here and there but only one really stuck with me. I played softball for two years before I had to quit, and do you know what position I played?" before he could answer I launch the ball towards the tips of the bottom row. They explode outward, all tipping over. Two stay on the barrel while the rest tumble to the floor. With a cocky smile I turn to Silas, "I was the pitcher."

Silas looks between me and the milk jugs. He huffs in amusement, walking over towards me.

"Who knew confidence would look so sexy on you," he grabs at my hips," but not to rain on your parade or anything, but you are supposed to knock them all off the barrel." I scoff at him, hitting him in the chest.

"Yea, but I still get a small prize," I twist away from him," no need to be sour, I'll let you pick the toy."

We walk to the booth operator, Silas standing behind me. He grabs at me once more, leaning his chest against my back. He rests his chin on my shoulder, speaking near my ear.

"I'm not sour, just defeated. Also, I want the purple whale," he nuzzles against my head. I grin, feeling warm as I pet his head. The teenager grabs the small whale from the hooks, passing it to me before attending to the other players.

I hand the whale to Silas," Here you go, babe, I won it just for you." he grabs the whale, hugging it close.

"Thanks, baby. You spoil me too much," he nuzzles the toy with a teasing smile. My heart flutters with an unknown feeling as I watch him. It's nice seeing him be so human, to act like a typical person and not some unapproachable man slut. He catches me staring, turning on his charm once more.

"I’d say take a picture but I like having you look at me like that," he teases, cocky as ever. I roll my eyes, walking past him with no direction in mind.

We walk around the grounds playing all sorts of games. Neither of us wins many games, coming very close in a few of them. It helps our egos that the games are rigged, the fact fueling us to continue on. There is teasing and jokes, all in good fun. The night is going better than I expected, I didn't think a date night with Silas would be so juvenile. This is more of a date for teens or parents with their kids. I appreciate it more than he could ever know.

Our tickets dwindle quickly till we only have enough for one more game. We study the area, picking our final activity wisely. Silas taps my shoulder, pointing towards one across the way. He guides me towards it, holding my hand as we walk through the traffic of people. As we near I see a large pool of water covered in floating toy ducks.

"Lucky ducks," I ask him," it's not much of game, don't you think?"

He smiles to himself as he hands the tickets to the older woman," I think you will find that I'm quite skilled in games of luck."

"Confident as ever, but sure," I shrug. I watch him look at the spinning pool of ducks, thinking way too hard on this. He leans forward, ready to pluck the plastic duck out of the water. He pauses halfway, retreating in favor of looking to me.

"How about a wager," he offers. I watch him skeptically, feeling like his inner fuckboy is going to come out.

"I don't know, I've been warned about making deals with devils," I joke. He rolls his eyes.

"har, har. For real, a bet for if I find the lucky duck. You up for that kind of deal," he asks. I cross my arms, standing firm as I give him a once over.

"What's the wager," I ask in turn. I fully expect some sleazy demand that will make a mother blush. You can take the playboy out of the game but you can't take the game out of the playboy.

"If I find the duck, you owe me a favor," he smiles, looking away towards the pool," I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you before we leave." I startle at his request, not expecting something so simple. It almost feels like a waste of a bet.

"That's it," I ask. He looks to me almost offended.

"Yea, I never got to do that. All my old dates wanted to get home really quick so they don't bother with cutesy things like that. Listen, if you don't want to that fine, we can leave right after. I was just curious," he folds into himself, turning away. The insecurities shine brightly from him. It's really eye-opening.

It's hard to remember that Silas was missing a lot from his short-lived relationships. They were never intimate, getting down to business quickly. It's cute to see how much Silas wants that kind of thing. To cuddle up on some sketchy carnival ride and watch the lights below with a loved one. My heart flutters at the genuine sadness he is showing at my supposed rejection.

As he fiddles with his pockets I walk over. I grab at his face, turning him towards me, and kissing him as best as I can. He jumps at the action, pausing as he figures out what's happening. Then as quick as any incubus could be, he reacts. He holds me close as he expertly molds his lips to mine. I want to pull back and continue with whatever I was going to say but his tongue is teasing at my lips. Who am I to deny such a tempting request.

We split as we hear a pair of teenagers giggling to themselves. I pull away, chuckling as he keeps me close. His eyes remain closed as his jaw clenches. He seethes silently before he slowly peels his lids open. His black eyes slowly fade away as he stares down at me so stern. I can't help but cup his cheeks, petting him with my thumb.

"You know I want everything with you, right? Not just the sex or carnal pleasure you can give but the sweet stuff too," I smile kindly," I'm not like the others, I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you and laugh at how tiny everyone looks from so high up."

A loving smile spreads across his face," They look like ants from so high up."

"Yea, they do," I chuckle," now I need you to pick that lucky duck and win me a prize because so far I'm a far more talented date than you are." he snorts, loosening his hold on my waist. We split away, him turning to the pool and quickly pulling a duck from the water. Without turning it over he looks to me.

"What stuffed animal do you want," he asks. I look from him to the duck then back again. He seems so confident. I open my mouth to retort with some teasing comment but he stops me with a smirk. I squint at him, understanding the challenge. He knows he won. Instead, I look to the large toys lining the front of the booth.

"The Domo doll," I smile back at him. He nods, walking over to the booth worker. He tosses the duck to the man who turns it over and sighs.

"Any toy from the top row," the man grunts out. I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief.

We stand in line for the Ferris wheel, him holding his little whale and I hugging a large stuffed cartoon character. I catch his eyes, smiling widely at him as I hug the toy closer. We near the ride, a worker opening the swinging door to the carriage. I stuff my prize in before myself, Silas following behind. The worker closes the door along with the latch as Silas throws his arm over me.

The ride slowly takes us to the top, stopping as people below get on and off. "Did you have fun tonight," Silas asks. I look up to him, enjoying the sight of his hair ruffling in the breeze.

"yea," I snuggle into his chest," I did." he gives me a squeeze, kissing the top of my head.

"Good," he answers," I had fun too."

The ride stops at the very top, the view taking both of our attentions. The lights and people below make me feel whimsical. The cold air cools my heated cheeks and Silas warms me from the breeze. I find my attention shifting from the colorful sights below to the sweet man beside me. I stare up at him, watching him look out in the distance. A small smile tugs at the edge of his lips, a content sigh leaving his nose.

"I know I'm better than the view but you can look at me anytime compared to this," he turns to me. As our eyes meet everything stops. It feels so cliché but right as we lean towards each other till our noses brush against the other's.

"Silas," I mumble. Before I can say anymore he jumps to capture my lips. I choke on my breath, meeting him with as much eagerness as he gives. He slowly crowds me against the corner of the carriage, pressing his chest against mine as he attacks my lips. His tongue delves in, swirling with mine as a groan leaves my lips. Everything feels so amplified with him. The way his body heats my own, the way his hands pull my hips against his. I feel so hot despite being so cold. I want him, I want him bad.

"Come on guys, people are waiting," someone calls from behind us. Silas slowly pries his lips away from mine, sighing as his eyes open. His pitch-black eyes stare down into my own, promising so much with crotch throbbing appeal.

"My place," he asks with a cocky grin. I can't answer besides a nod.

The next few minutes feel like a blur as we race to the car and to his apartment. Traffic laws are ignored as all I can feel is his heated palm on my thigh. I don't know when we get to his place but all I know is his hard cock grinding against my clothed crotch. At some point we end up in his room, the soft blankets shock me out of a stupor. The seriousness of the situation clears my head.

Silas notices me stiffen, his lips against my neck leave as he looks down at me. He pets along my arms," Shh, it's alright. You want to go slower?"

"Y-yea," I answer, petting on his arms.

"I can do that," he kisses my forehead," we can go a little slower. Just let me tell you how tonight will go down." his tone is teasing. I find myself smiling, amused by his waiter sounding tone. Speaking like he is going to read the specials off the menu.

"Well, you’re a virgin, correct?" I nod," then you get the trifecta."

I scoff," The trifecta?"

"yea," he smirks," fingers, tongue, and cock." his tongue clicks on the final word, adding to the teasing. I fluster, turning away as I picture all this. In answer he brushes his nose against my neck, growling with interest. "now let's start with taking these clothes off."

The motion of removing another person's clothes feels just as intimate as anything I've ever experienced. He bares his chest before me, allowing me time to be distracted by such a sculpted torso. As I pet along his chest he lifts my dress up. His fingers touch at my underwear, I stiffen at the contact. The burning in my belly wars with the anxiety dwelling in my chest.

"It's ok, I got you," he purrs near my ear," keep touching me, I like having your delicate touch on my chest." I follow his demand, petting nervously up his chest as his fingers dive under my clothes. I buck into his hand, embarrassed immediately for doing so. He calms me by kissing my cheek. His fingers quickly delve between my folds, pressing where I need him most.

The sudden attention to my swollen clit brings my back to an arch. I press my clothed chest to his bare one. The rolling growl coming from him makes me whimper. His fingers swiftly glide over my nub, building me quicker than I ever have alone. He kisses and licks my neck, lathering me in attention. Before I can get used to the quick slides of his fingers he presses them down and inside me. His middle fingers squelch as they swiftly go in.

"Silas," I clench as his shoulders. His fingers begin to thrust in and out, petting along my walls with a strange filling feeling.

"Does it feel good," he asks, I nod," no, kitten, you need to use your words."

I open my mouth to answer but his thumb presses to my clit, massaging in short fast circles. I choke on my words, throwing my head back with a broken cry. His fingers cease their thrusting in favor of bouncing against a sweet spot.

"Does it feel good, I won't ask again," he scolds with a smirk.

"Y-yes," I whimper. He rewards me with quicker motions, basically throwing me to my peak. I claw at his shoulder as my body racks with shudders till I'm suspended over my end.

"Cum for me," he purrs near my ear," I want to see you cum for me." I cry out, arching away from him as he forces my body to its end. I clamp around his fingers, fluttering as I grind in his hand. I barely notice him watching me, too focused on my climax.

"So beautiful," I faintly hear him say.

I soon fall slack to the bed, dropping my arms from around his shoulders. His fingers squelch as they are removed from inside me. The wetness on his fingers trails over my thighs before he is removed from my underwear. I watch him lift his fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to clean them.

"Fuck," I whisper as he licks his palm. He smirks down at me as he twines his tongue around his ring finger.

"You taste divine, kitten. I can't wait to get a direct taste," he purrs. Those black eyes are all I can look at as he slides his hands under my dress.

He is tender as he removes my clothes, kissing up my stomach as he lifts my dress. As my bra is tossed to the side he tilts his head in admiration as he cups my breast. He fondles them for a moment, getting distracted by taking off my underwear.

I soon lay bare before him, feeling like a feast with the way he looks at me. He falls over me, framing me with his arms as he fists the blanket. I watch him lean forward, my lips part in preparation. I close my eyes, ready for his lips upon mine. Yet, instead of getting a kiss, I have the blanket below me ripped out from under me. I open my eyes in time to see him removing his pants. The blanket rests on his shoulder, splaying out behind him like a cape.

I watch him confused, momentarily looking at his crotch. I don't have enough time to admire his standing cock as he falls on his stomach. His hands grab at my thighs, spreading me as he scoots up.

"It's time for me to get a taste," he smirks. I sit back ready to watch him bring me to a swift orgasm like before. He surprises me by throwing the blanket over his head, blocking my view of him.

"what are you doing," I ask as I fist the sheets. I can feel his hands petting on my thighs, see the blanket shifting.

"I want you to close your eyes and feel me," he answers. His nose bumps my crotch, startling me. I clench at the sheets, conflicted on how this will play out.

His tongue flicks at the seams, only partially delving between my lips. He is slow in his explorations, teasing with simple touches. The feeling is completely new, completely different from any of my solo sessions. With the added benefit of not knowing what's going to happen. He works his way from the bottom to the top, drinking any and all I have to offer from the previous orgasm. The sensitive skin gives way to new, wonderful sensations. It's not overstimulated like I would assume but its…perfect. Hardly expect anything less from a sex demon I guess.

I relax, not climbing to unbearable levels of pleasure but sitting in a state of comforting arousal. His fingers brought me swiftly to an end, satisfying the craving while calming my nerves. I hum with a grin, carding my finger through my hair as my leg pets along his back. I feel his lazing lapping, delving inside with his own groans of enjoyment.

He startles me with a quick flat lick to my clit. My back arches as I hiss, not prepared for the shock to run up my stomach. He does it again, circling the tip of his tongue around then over it. The electric and warm feeling is brain-melting. I find myself grinding into his mouth to feel more, surprising myself with my eagerness. He delivers in full, bringing me to a swifter climax than his fingers did. I feel like a porn star with my cries as I clamp my thighs around his head. I barely hear his own cries of pleasure as I do.

As I come into my own he throws the blanket off his head, looking way too happy to have gone down on me. "ya feeling alright," he hugs my hips," not too tired yet right?" his smug grin would have made me angry any other time. To be fair, those other times he never earned it.

I reach down and run my fingers through his hair. I smile tiredly down at him and hum in answer. He rests his chin on my pelvis, tilting into my hand with closed eyes. This isn't what I expected at all. I imagined wild coupling with animalistic cries into the night. This is… strangely better. I can't imagine he has ever done this before. All his conquest have been weird kinky sex that- I wouldn't say bragged- he talked about at work. Over divulging in every detail to the point you could paint a solid picture of sweaty bodies and soaked sheets. But this is better, not what I expected, but what I needed.

"you are too skilled at this for your own good, your ego needs a break sometimes," I joke as I pap his cheek.

"well, since this 'skill' is being used to please my lady, I hardly think it could be that bad. Though hearing you cry out for only me may make my head swell. Actually, it has," he gets up on his hands and crawls up my body. My eyes fall directly on his hard cock. It takes me a moment to get his joke, by the time I do he is pressing kisses my neck.

I grab a fistful of his hair and pull him back," that was an awful joke." he laughs as I bring him down for a kiss.

"They can't all be award-winning, besides I heard you like my stupid jokes," he grins against my lips.

"I never said I was a smart woman," I chuckle.

"But you are," he kisses my cheek," you are smart," kisses my nose," funny," my brow," sexy," my eyelid," and best of all," corner of my mouth," you like me." I pull him into his next kiss, meeting his lips with mine. But damn he is right, I do like him.

"now are you ready for the main course," he gropes my hips. At the question, I feel his cock resting against my thigh. The nerves he worked hard to rest are cranking up again. I think on every story and video I have seen on losing your virginity. Thinking about the pain or the countless unsatisfied women. What if I don't like it? What if it hurts too bad? Too many questions float by.

As I get lost in my train of thought Silas cups my cheek. He turns me so all I can see is him. He looks between my eyes, his face focused and concerned. It’s a strange look for him, having never considered him to ever be concerned for anyone, let alone me.

"You know I won't hurt you, I don't think I could if I tried. I promised you this would all work out, I will make this good for you. Just talk with me, ok? Can you do that for me, love," he raises his brow in question. I look up at him, noticing every detail of his blue eyes.

"yea, I can do that," I answer. He smiles down at me, the feeling almost similar to when a child gets a cookie after being good. He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose, resting his head against mine with a content hum.

"Do you, Chloe, wish to be bounded to me from this point forward? To be my mate and lover till the day we expire," he asks with all seriousness," no pressure." he tries to smirk, to add humor to this but I can see the worry. It's almost humbling in a weird way. I reach up and cup his cheek, tilting my head with a smile.

"Make love to me, Silas, and be the first person I see tomorrow," I pet under his eye. His smile is blinding, his eyes light up with too much joy to be anything but heartwarming. He turns his head and kisses my palm before resting himself on his hand.

He adjusts himself so he rests at my entrance. The weight shooting anxiety up to my head. With a well-timed glance and encouraging smile from him, the small seed of anxiety is gone. He won't hurt me. He frames my head with his arms as he presses his tip in. my stomach clenches at the odd intrusion. Silas lowers his head and presses wet kisses to my cheek. I try to relax, focusing on his lips more than his cock. He shoves forward slowly. I can't think for a moment, only feeling this very new stuffing feeling. The smooth glide of his cock is surprisingly a welcome feeling. I expected sharp pains accompanied by a hard snap of his hips. Then again it's kind of dumb of me to assume he wouldn't be considerate and take his time. He has been nothing but patient with me.

"We doing alright," he asks without a strain to his voice. I open my mouth to answer but he takes the moment to slide the rest of the way in. I choke on my words and take to nodding instead. He chuckles, still peppering my face with gentle kisses. "you feel perfect my love," he praises," it's like I was made for this, for you. You fit around me so welcomingly." he pulls back before grinding himself back in. The build-up made this moment all the sweeter. He pulls out again then glides forward. He kept true to his word, he didn't hurt me. Very much the opposite, I think as my eyelids flutter.

His pace is slow, his kisses wet and warm. I could get used to this. I pet up his back, holding him close as I find myself meeting his unhurried thrust. An urge for him to do more is overwhelming but as I buck into him, he keeps his pace. I grow frustrated at this.

"faster," I sigh into his ear.

"there you go," he praises as he ups his tempo," I will do anything for you, just ask." our thighs clap lightly as we meet. I undulate my hips with each downfall, grinding myself into him. He grunts to my surprise, thrusting a tad faster as I buck. I like that sound, I need him to do it again. I let go and scratch at the nape of his neck, moaning and crying into his ear.

"Silas, oh fuck," I whine as I arch my back into him. He bites down onto my neck, growling as he does. I can't help but smirk to myself, loving the sound of him. "Silas, please. Your coc-," I stop myself, feeling embarrassed to even say the word. His thrust slow, I groan in disagreement.

"say it," he hisses near my ear.

"Please," I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Begging him to go back to fucking me.

"Say it," he repeats. I whimper below him, not giving a damn at the moment how wonton I look. He lifts his head from my shoulder, looking down at me. The look on his face is my new favorite view. He looks as wrecked as I feel. Sweet Jesus.

"your co-cock," I spit out," I love it." he grins, picking up the pace again. Slamming into my hips with great vigor. I cry out, writhing beneath him.

"What do you like," he asks. I can't figure out how he can speak when I'm nearly at the peak of brain failure.

"so, hard. Just for me," I choke out," fucking, love your cock, want you- need you to cum in me. Please."

He hums," I will. Fill you to the brim, then when I do I'll fill you some more. Your cunt is mine, my beautiful mate. This cock is yours to ride whenever, cause only I can do this to you." he snaps his hips harder on the next thrust," only I get to see you this way. Only you get to bring me to this level of want. By god, I wanted to fuck you during dinner. Rip your panties down and take you in front of everyone," he rests his head against my head, watching me fall apart at his words. I whimper and moan without a care. My insides feel like they are on fire, nearly burning me as I near my end.

He watches me with rapt attention," Cum for me, Chloe. Let me feel you squeeze my cock, please, love, I need it." I cry out, stuttering as my body stiffens. He watches with a grin, fucking me through my climax. He grunts and groans as I flutter around him, begging him to reach his own end. I pant against the pillow as I watch him try to maintain his cool. Trying to prolong the experience for a second longer.

I tug on his hair," Cum for me, Silas. Please, I need to feel it, need to feel you." he gasps with a startled yelp. His eyes clenching close as he finally peaks. His hips buck wildly, clapping my thighs with his own. Silas shouts and whimpers as he falls apart. I feel his hot load shoot inside me, the sensation startling but welcomed.

"Chloe," he whines," fuck!" his body falls slack onto mine, his weight making it hard to breathe. I don't say anything, just pet his hair and listen to his labored breathing.

"Damn, I need a minute," he grunts as he shifts to the side. I move to sit up but he quickly grips my arms," hold on, I don't want to leave you just yet" the words send a warm feeling through my chest. It's oddly satisfying to hear that. I hum as I settle back against the bed.

"thank you," I find myself saying.

"don't thank me. In all honesty, I should be thanking you. I have been less than savory with you and it took me way too long to get my head out of my ass. You have been way too patient and forgiving with me. Thank you," he says into my shoulder, finishing it off with a kiss.

"I love you, Silas," I mumble against his cheek. I nuzzle my head against his, really feeling the effects of three orgasms.

He hums, pulling me closer," I love you too, Chloe." he finally pulls out and adjusts me in his arms. We both fall asleep in no time.

I wake the next morning to his beautiful face. We both smile, share a kiss, then go make breakfast together.

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

Sweet jesus, this was my white whale. i don’t know why it was so hard for me to finish this. i would write like 5 paragraphs and not touch it for weeks. it took me strapping down and forbidding myself from touching any other stories besides incomplete ones, even then i would skip this one. so i really hope y’all liked it.

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Chapter 1! Reader's job has no chill and Wanda means well (Tony does too), but, as we know, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Reader discovers the source of some peculiar things and can't help but be overcome with curiosity. F-bombs galore!

Fun fact: this story's main soundtrack is Claire de Lune, for some reason. Usually I can't stand classical music.

I didn't anticipate my first day at the bodega to be remarkful in any way but I was quickly proven wrong. My expectations were low: few customers, some of them flat-earthers of the garden variety, perhaps one or two of those 'witches' from social media blogging platforms and an overzealous Satanist or two, since I was pretty sure I saw an Ouija board and a silver pentagram hanging in Odette's office on the day of the interview.

Boy was I wrong.

We averaged a customer every fifteen minutes with each person requesting increasingly strange items: healing quartz and sage were on the closer end of normal; I felt like I had teleported to Hogwarts and was now attending Professor Snape's Advanced Potions class, having to race between the high shelves and memorize the exact location of each and every ingredient. In the end, I sacrificed a few dollars and bought one of the beautiful, leather-bound notebooks off Odette to write down the shelf and position number for the most commonly requested items and planned to begin memorizing them at home.

There's a little bit of Ravenclaw in all of us, I supposed. My curiosity only extended further: sometimes, a haggard looking person would come up and declare they had an appointment with Odette and was quickly whisked away by my boss to her office, coming out looking slightly less haggard in about half an hour or so.

I adapted to the routine fairly quickly, choosing to make my personal peace with the strange customers and Odette's mysterious meetings: after all, I got the job because I needed money - who was I to judge her for doing Tarot readings and spiritual séances for an extra dollar?

The bodega's atmosphere did grow on me rather quickly, as I had thought it would. It was warm and homely even on the rainiest afternoons, there was an unlimited supply of herbal tea, free of charge, and I grew to appreciate it just like I learned to find the positives in my job at the café. That remained a constant, mildly interesting affair too - my regulars, especially the superheroes, had started coming in during the morning hours and we were able to resume our chit-chats without a hitch.

Wanda still fished for my most recent, memorable reading and Dr. Banner left his incomprehensible scribbles on every napkin within an arm's reach for me to return to him on his next visit. The fully grown man with multiple PhDs didn't fail to blush like a schoolgirl every single time it happened, causing Mr. Stark to double on his own salacious jokes, should the engineer have had come with. They often came together, blabbering things I couldn't even fathom understanding even with the help of Google.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Wanda sounded surprisingly chipper for it was freaking seven in the morning.

I blanched, banging my arm against the display door painfully with a softly muttered, "Fuck!".

The witch frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I muttered, hoping my face wasn't portraying the mixture of confusion and fear that I felt. "Something weird happened at my other job yesterday, I'm still processing," I replied honestly, looking to the side.

In fairness, I didn't know what to think. The situation wasn't something that should have shocked me, with aliens and magic people an abundance in NYC, but seeing it with my own two eyes had been jarring.

A limping, paranoid young man had arrived for an appointment with Odette shortly before closing time; I had escorted him to her office without as much as a blink, only noticing he was dripping oddly colored blood when the door behind him had closed. I cleaned it up, dead set on confronting Odette about the obviously injured person - the blood, it was more of an attempt to clean it, since it merely stuck to the rag, refusing to wash off it with water or any of the organic cleaning solutions kept under the sink.

I had to leave the rag in a paper bag, acutely aware of the fact it could not have belonged to a normal person. My best guess was that a man was a mutant - NYC had plenty of them living behind a blue wall. Odette's office wasn't soundproof: I heard a pained yelp and then a vocalisation of relief as whatever was causing the man to bleed had been removed. In a few minutes while I was closing the cash register, he came out looking almost brand new - and as I paid him a more careful look, he was missing his scleras, leaving his eyes to look slightly terrifying.

And then he winked at me, a surprisingly human, boyish gesture - the smile that crawled up my face was purely automatic. I was sure it looked frozen. He disappeared without a word as Odette herself emerged from the backrooms, a tired sheen to her brow.

"Did you manage to clean up?" She asked, eyebrows raised at the lack of stains on the hardwood floors.

"It stuck to the rag," I replied, eyeing her warily. "The rag is in the unmarked bag next to the sink. I didn't know what else to do with it."

"Sometimes it does that," her sigh was very telling. This was to be expected to become a regular occurrence. She motioned for the notebook I got to keep track of everything in the store, rattling off a recipe for a cleaner and solvent combo, made purely from the items she had inside the store, giving me stern instructions to add the ingredients in the exact order I was told. I sighed but added the footnote. Odette was a far cry from the greasy git from Hogwarts so she deserved the benefit of the doubt at least.

I didn't dare to ask any more questions about the strange man; not that day, not after I had suprised Wanda with a quick recap of my story. It's not like I had anything against mutants - as long as they were peaceful and didn't harm humans with their abilities, I was content to co-habit, share my space and even be friends with them. A very nice old lady who came by three times a week had gills peeking out of the top of her turtleneck and she was just the most polite, sweetest thing.

Wanda's curiosity was understandable and not suspicious in any way: I was under the impression she was a mutant, too, along with her twin brother - so the feeling of dread that blossomed within me as soon as the two suited figures entered the small store I attributed to the larger size of the man and vulture eyes of the woman. They both appeared extremely out of place with their black two-pieces and badly hidden pistol holsters, topped off with badges I couldn't take a good look at without losing my customer service facade.

I decided to play it dumb, self-conscious of the thudding of my heart in my ribcage. My body screamed 'danger' at me. "Hello, how can I help you?"

The woman cast an observant look over me, my plain clothes, lingering on my star-patterned scarf and matching hair band. "Are you the owner of this store?"

"No," I frowned, not liking where this was going. "Do you have an appointment with Odette?"

"We'd like to see her," the man pointedly moved his arm, exposing the gun and the badge.

I dropped the nice act, staring him down in earnest. I never liked self-righteous, pushy government officials; even less so, when they didn't follow protocol and started the conversation with demands instead of proper introductions. As I shot a quick text to Odette, noting that there were 'strange people in uniform' looking for her, my suspicions were only confirmed when the woman looked around the store with eyes that knew what they were looking for. Those two definitely weren't cops or even feds, they were straight up shady.

Odette all but flew to the bodega, the imposing, suffocating aura I'd seen only once on full display. It was hard to breathe standing so close to her; with muted satisfaction, I noticed both agents squirm, their fingers twitching, as they took in shuddering inhales through their, undoubtedly, lying mouths.

The whole spectacle was over quickly. I had managed to serve and quickly usher out Ike, one of the Satanists (yes, we did, in fact, have a few of those as regulars) with his paper bag full of powdered goat horn and a fresh cat skull under his armpit before the curtains parted and the two agents left without saying a word. I thought their eyes looked - wrong, like glass marbles, dull, lifeless and unseeing.

Odette dismissed my worries with a frivolously waved hand: "They won't be bothering us anytime soon," closing the door to her office - it reeked of strong incense and horseradish, for some reason. Like she'd been making some hell salad in front of the two nosy officials.

I took a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. The weirdness should've bothered me more, I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to decide whether I wanted to know what that interaction was actually about or live in blissful ignorance, where my boss might be some sort of a mutant or an actual witch that helps other mutants.

The longer I thought about it, the louder anti-mutant propaganda articles screamed at me: children being killed or abandoned because one day, they woke up and could fly or move things with their mind; every potential situation could end up like Carrie or Brightburn - two movies so blatantly obvious in their point to instill fear against children that could grow to work alongside Earth's Mightiest Defenders.

Needless to say, my conscious calmed down pretty quickly. I had felt the hairs on my nape stand up as soon as the agents entered the room and in my experience, a reaction like that was never good. I had been taught to trust my gut.

Odette had cancelled her visits for the day, holing up in her office as the whole store rapidly filled up with the stench of horseradish, old blood and sage. The occasional noise came from the office, interrupted by mumbling, and I was quickly told to just turn up the old, vintage radio if it bothered me.

I was too busy taking in the contents of her office - the table that previously stood in the far end of it, stood in the middle, folded out into the shape of a circle. Something was drawn on it, something the color of dried blood, and there were light candles, white and blue, littered on almost every possible surface. The air was clouded with incense smoke, so thick, it made my eyes water.

Odette's grin was sardonic as she met my eyes, wide and shocked, that had previously landed on what looked like a pot- or a cauldron, emanating the strongest bitter stench that wafted even through the lead curtain of incense. No wonder the whole store reeked.

Before she gently shut the door in my face, I caught the centerfold of the whole show - an extremely large, tattered, leatherbound tome with yellowed pages and a heavy metal padlock laying next to it. Overcome by stupor, I didn't manage to make out the intricate silver letters on its cover.

Needless to say, walking home that day was an adventure. In part, I was cautious that the agents would find me, follow me home, interrogate me - I've never been arrested even by usual cops and it was unlikely that shady government agencies were delicate in their approach. A larger part of my brain was wondering about the implications of what I had seen, I'd nearly chewed off my fingernails remembering the vacant, lost face expressions on the agents' faces.

As soon as I got home, I set to do some serious googling. And find information, I did. Plethora of minor details - candle colors, herbs used, deeply individual incantations and mythical deities that chose to work with a particular witch. It was nothing short of a whole science; I'd go as far as to say it was a complete lifestyle. The use of magick bled into every aspect of daily life, from sleep to food to communication with others.

Part of me felt incredulity at the implication of sacrificing so much to get results that might be the opposite of the ones desired. A larger, braver part of me - the very same that used to push me to explore abandoned buildings with my friends and drink booze given by a stranger - admired the work and the dedication my boss and her kind put into their work.

Having received my first paycheck and successfully having made it through rent day without having to make excuses, my conscious allowed me to treat myself to a few items - I decided to give into my curiosity and placed an order for a few books on modern witchcraft, happily waiting for the package to arrive next afternoon. I went to sleep with my head full and a new world at my feet to explore.

The books were late - or more like, never showed. The refund couldn't come soon enough. My curiosity began to reach unbearable levels the longer I worked the front desk at Odette's. These days I didn't need much assistance anymore, ready to help any new or returning customer with the help of my notebook. Time after time, I noticed a certain working order, a pattern to things if you may - and was able to recommend a few things here and there. In short, I stepped over my initial apprehension and dove into the world of natural remedies and energetic manipulation headfirst.

It made all the sense that Odette would start to take absence from the bodega as my training progressed. On the days she had fewer or no appointments, she would don her favourite scarf and trot out the front door, large purse in tow, to run errands or restock on the rare, pricy items that couldn't get delivered directly to the shop. I'd grown accustomed to locking up on my own; the spare key to the entrance door was my pride and joy, the dull silver a warm comfort hanging on a chain around my neck. Its antique design made a fairly pretty necklace.

The customer coming to pick up a special order hardly disrupted my time. I had Janis Joplin blaring from the old radio, my skirt swayed to the rhythm of the song together with me. The elevated mood while working in the shop was something I appreciated fully - with a kind smile, I departed for the backrooms to search for the package with the customer's name, not finding it anywhere near the proper place. A call later, I was opening Odette's office and extracting the paper-wrapped shoebox from the fridge, passing it into the customer's arms with utmost care: 'FRAGILE. KEEP REFRIGERATED AT ALL TIMES.' read on it in Odette's sharp cursive.

The bell above the door rang as the woman departed but I was already inching behind the curtain, overcome by sudden inquisitiveness.

The book. It stood right in the middle of Odette's desk, shut, but missing its padlock, beckoning with the thick gothic letters spelling out 'PRACTICAL ALCHEMY'. I noticed it as soon as I stepped into the office, confused and puzzled by my own unbearable desire to approach it immediately. I knew something was amiss, yet, my legs had a mind of their own and my hands firmly placed themselves upon the heavy cover of the book, seemingly without the input from my brain.

"What the hell..." I muttered to myself, finding the books contents to be - for the lack of a better word - peculiar. "Protect a babe born on all Hallows Eve..." I numbly mouthed the first words that my eyes registered. The pages made a soft noise as my shaking fingers turned them, one after the other. "Bestow healing upon a barren womb... Punish a thief..." There were - spells, and potions, and so many plants I've never even heard about before.

The pages turned and handwritings changed - at the start, words were written out precisely, the cursive neat and sharp, obviously written by an ink pen. Some things were scribbles, pencil or charcoal, so barely intelligible I had to guess about a third of the words written. Towards the end of the book pages made with a typewriter appeared - blocky letters and numbers, language modern, ash and cigarette smell coming from the paper.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The longer my hands touched the pages, the stronger the tingling sensation became - I failed to notice it at first, attributing it to the exhilaration of finding something so strange yet so precious, but as I was finishing a page that contained a fairly short spell for protection of a witches' home, the discomfort of my palms rose into a mild stinging pain.

"Fuck," I yelped, casting a look at my fingers. They were hot, angry, as if I had briefly touched boiling oil - and the skin on my fingertips began to blister, little white pustules forming where I had gingerly held the pages of the book in place. "What the fuck?" Was my reasonable question to nobody in particular.

The books contents were, no doubt, interesting but I was more concerned with the state of my hands - had I ignored the pain for five more minutes, I might have had to go to the hospital to treat what was beginning to look like a second-degree burn. I slammed it shut none-too-gently, placing it exactly as I found it and winced when barely a second of touching it brought on more excruciating pain.

The healing peppermint oil salve I knew people bought for mild burns only soothed the initial sting, so I had to suffer until I clocked out, stopping by a drugstore on my way home to purchase some much-needed burn cream. And while it didn't make it worse, I knew that my next day at work was going to be Hell.

Most thankful, however, I was to my voice-to-text option on my cell. Not only it allowed me to communicate with my friends without hurting my abused skin even more, but it also dutifully saved the short, simple spell that was supposed to protect my house. There was no harm in trying it, I supposed, after seeing what I didn't doubt was the book's own protection wreak havoc on my snoopy little hands.

The tag list is open until the story is finished.

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[fischerfrey]

Chapter 1: What Lies Ahead

Summary: A new year is starting at Hogwarts and Verna Malinda is entering her fifth year. She may have a little too much on her plate for the upcoming year though, because she’s been elected prefect...

Pairings: Eventual OC/Merula Snyde

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Matthew Luther belongs to @hphmmatthewluther

As this is a rewrite, some of the dialogue is from the game either directly, or modified to fit the new narrative.

If anyone is interested in being tagged to new upates, let me know!

(Verna was born in December 1972, so she was 13 during the autumn term of her 2nd year)

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Chapter 1: What Lies Ahead

Verna Malinda had been anxiously awaiting the beginning of her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even with a detention of indeterminate length looming in front of her. She knew in her heart that this year was going to be important, and not just because of the O.W.L. examinations but because of the events of last June, and the chance of finding Jacob in the next vault. For Verna, summers had, for the past four years, felt like an inescapable limbo. Every year she longed to be back at Hogwarts, delving into the mystery of the Cursed Vaults. This year, however, she had been elected as a prefect to her great surprise. She hadn’t really considered prefectdom as something to aspire to, because all her time was spent either breaking the rules or planning to break them. Was it really appropriate for a Hogwarts prefect to be serving detention? Mysterious were the ways of Professor Dumbledore.

~

As the Hogwarts Express whistled as a signal for departure, Verna waved to her father from the train’s window and then turned to her friend, Rowan Khanna, the one out of the two of them who should’ve been the prefect. Rowan pushed their glasses up their nose and smiled.

“What is it?”

“I ought to go find Charlie,” Verna said as the train picked up speed. She’d been feeling all kinds of weird about talking to Rowan ever since she got the letter proclaiming her prefect. It had been Rowan’s ambition to claim that spot ever since year one, and somehow Verna had managed it even though she hadn’t even tried.

“Alright, I’ll find Ben. We’ll hold a spot for you, if you get a moment to come sit with us,” Rowan replied and the two headed their separate ways. So far it didn’t seem like Rowan was holding Verna’s election as a prefect against her. Even in their letters, Rowan had only seemed supportive and proud. They had been friends since first year, and Verna hadn’t exactly stolen Rowan’s spot on purpose. In fact, she was fairly certain she had entirely too much on her plate for this year even without being a prefect.

~

Once Verna located Charlie Weasley, Gryffindor’s resident Dragon-enthusiast and Quidditch hero, and as it happened, her fellow prefect, the two of them headed to the special carriage meant for prefects and the Head Boy and Girl.

“What in Merlin’s name possessed Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall to make you and I prefects?” asked Charlie, sounding genuinely confused, although in his defence, it was truly baffling.

“I have a theory that it’s to make us so busy we won’t have time to do any curse-breaking,” Verna reasoned.

“Bill’s a prefect and he’s had plenty of time,” Charlie argued but then added: “Though maybe that’s why he became the Head Boy… Wow, actually you might be right.”

“Thanks Chaz,” Verna laughed as the two entered the prefect carriage. It was already quite packed with new and old prefects, as well as Bill and the Head Girl, Ella Higgs.

“Are we late because I had to wait for you…?” Charlie whispered and Verna shushed him as Ella and Bill started to congratulate them on their achievement. Verna locked eyes with a certain Slytherin student across the carriage. Apparently Merula Snyde had also become a prefect. Verna should’ve expected as much. Her hair looked tousled as usual, but she had elected to sport a dark eye-makeup, which somehow made the purple of her eyes look even more prominent. Merula gave her a look of loathing and then promptly ignored her. Verna’s mood sunk.

“Hi Verna!” came a greeting from among the other fifth-year prefects. It was Matthew Luther, a Ravenclaw chaser who had given Verna a run for her galleons last quidditch season. Verna was pleased to see not only complete arseholes had become prefects.

“Hey!” Verna replied, taking her place among the others.

“Hi Luther,” Charlie whispered, smiling.

“Nice to see you two made it as prefects.”

Verna was about to answer but was quickly silenced by Bill who very deliberately raised his voice and started his introduction to the wonderful world of prefectdom, looking at the three of them meaningfully.

~

After nearly an hour of instruction, Bill and Ella bade them pleasant journey and reminded them of their job to patrol the corridors in regular intervals. After that, many returned to their friends or settled down in the prefects’ carriage. Bill walked up to Verna and Charlie.

“Congrats on becoming a prefect Verna!” he said and slapped her arm for good measure.

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to be as responsible as you, William.”

Bill laughed and Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Well, I for one think you two will do just fine,” added Bill.

“If you say so…” Charlie mused. “Should we find Rowan and Ben?” he asked Verna.

“Yeah, see you later Bill!”

“Remember to patrol the corridors! And don’t abuse your power!” Bill called after them as Verna and Charlie headed back to find the compartment their friends were sitting in.

“I don’t think he actually has as much faith in us as he lets on…” Charlie said.

“Yeah, probably not. After all he lives with you, and I’m the one who roped him into this curse-breaking stuff in the first place.”

“Yeah, at the ripe old age of 13.” reminded Charlie. Verna was really starting to doubt Professor Dumbledore’s judgement.

~

Rowan and Ben had found a carriage and reserved spots for them. The two seemed in good spirits and Verna felt much more relaxed. If Rowan was on her side, then everything was going to be okay. Even Ben seemed to be okay, even after he was used to attack Verna under the imperius curse last year.

“How was it?” asked Ben as Verna and Charlie took their seats. He glanced quickly at Rowan, who nodded encouragingly. Verna figured Rowan and Ben had been discussing the incident before she and Charlie arrived. The food trolley had passed ages ago, so Verna nicked a treacle tart from Rowan who gave her an exasperated but amused look.

“Pretty standard stuff, honestly. They explained everything we were told in the briefing about prefects at the end of last year,” explained Charlie.

“Who else was elected?” Rowan inquired.

“Oh you’ll never guess Slytherin’s-“

“Merula,” Rowan said before Charlie could finish.

“Yeah, and she seemed right pleased about it too, I bet she’s gonna have a blast abusing her position,” Verna grumbled. She really was not looking forward to yet another thing to compete over with Merula.

“Not if we abuse our position first,” Charlie said, grinning.

“No,” Rowan admonished them when they saw Verna’s matching grin.

“I’ll disown you both if you sink to her level.”

Both Charlie and Verna stopped grinning.

“Sorry Rowan,” Verna said bashfully. “We’ll try our best to make you proud.”

Rowan groaned in mock-annoyance, and all four of them laughed at the absurdity of the notion of Charlie and Verna as prefects. Even Ben. Verna’s hopes for the year were rejuvenated a little.

~

The rest of the journey went by in a relatively normal manner. Verna and Charlie patrolled the corridors every now and then but didn’t face any incidents. Tonks gave them both grief about becoming prefects though, and loudly announced that this is why she had trust issues. Verna couldn’t exactly blame her, they had after, pulled pranks together in the past and prefects had a well-earned reputation of being spoilsports. After sunset, the train arrived at the Hogsmeade Station and Charlie and Verna were again required to perform their new duties. Verna hadn’t really thought about how small the first years looked until they all filed out of the train and followed Hagrid to the boats. It wasn’t that long ago she had been in their shoes, completely terrified and anxious to start looking for her brother. Jacob. The thought stung like a wasp. It had taken four years and she was no closer to finding him as she was to finding the next cursed vault. Jacob had always been there to protect her and help her and what good was she, if she couldn’t do the same for him?

~

The Great Hall was all decked out for the Welcome Feast when they entered. Verna always felt a sense of belonging at the sight of Hogwarts, but it was also always mixed with something like dread. This year instead of Professor Dumbledore, it was Professor McGonagall taking the podium to hold the traditional speech after the Sorting. Apparently, the Headmaster was on an errand outside of Hogwarts. They were also going to have a new teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, which at this point surprised no one. The new DADA professor did surprise Verna, though. It was Madam Rakepick, the curse breaker Dumbledore had hired to investigate the vaults last year. Rakepick turned her eyes to Verna and something passed across her features, but Verna couldn’t place the expression. Then, just as fast as it had arrived, it passed, and McGonagall bid everyone dig in their food.

~

After the feast, as Verna and Charlie were getting ready to herd all the new Gryffindors (including Bill and Charlie’s little brother Percy) to their common room, Penny walked up to them, looking excited.

“Hey!” she beamed and tailing behind her was a small blonde girl who looked very much like Penny. “How was your summer?”

“Oh, you know, researching advanced curses, eagerly awaiting for my detention this year, the usual” Verna joked.

“I worked on my extra credit stuff for Professor Kettleburn,” Charlie said. “And hung out with my siblings. Fred and George have gotten it into their heads they wanna be the best quidditch players in the world and I have to be their coach.”

“That sounds really nice! We need to catch up more later, I just wanted to introduce you two to my sister, Beatrice,” Penny exclaimed, and the younger girl waved her hand at them.

“Hi,” she said, rather excitably.

“Hi Beatrice, I’m Verna and this is Charlie.”

Next to her Charlie smiled wide and shook Beatrice’s hand. It seemed to Verna that she appreciated being treated like a grown-up.

“Figured you were Penny’s sister when they called Haywood during the Sorting,” Charlie said.

Beatrice nodded. “And now we’re both in Hufflepuff! I was hoping for it, but I would’ve been happy with Gryffindor too.”

“Bea is… sort of a fan of yours,” Penny explained looking at Verna. “She’s always asking me to tell her stories of my adventures with the famous curse-breaker Verna Malinda.”

“Now I can join you!” Beatrice said. “To find your brother and the cursed vaults.”

This, admittedly, took Verna by surprise. She glanced at Penny who, by the look on her face, had not expected this either.

“Bea…” Penny whispered.

“I mean it, I want to help,” Beatrice insisted.

“Well… Maybe you can help with some small things, but I’ll be honest with you, it’s really dangerous stuff,” Verna told the young witch and hoped that was the end of it. No such luck.

“You investigated the cursed ice when you were just first-years,” Beatrice protested.

“That’s… true…” Penny admitted but didn’t look happy about it.

“And Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who when he was just a baby!”

“She has a point, you know,” Charlie cut in.

“Knock it off, Weasley. There’ll be plenty of time for death-defying adventures when you’re older Bea, for now you can just show Verna what you made for her,” Penny said with a glare at Charlie, who seemed vaguely apologetic.

With only a little complaining, Beatrice presented Verna with a yellow, self-made puffskein toy. It was extremely cute, and the gesture made Verna wonder how much Penny had exaggerated her stories.

“Thank you, Beatrice, this is super cool,” she said as she inspected the stuffed animal. After that, she was served to a story about shaving the Haywoods’ pet puffskein every week for the hairs to make the toy, after which Penny had clearly had her fill, because she whisked Beatrice away and Charlie arched an eyebrow. “Wow, they really do just keep getting smaller.”

~

Up in the Gryffindor Tower, the young students were excited but obviously tired, so Verna kept her introduction short and let them explore on their own or just go to bed. After that, the two new prefects made their way to their favourite corner of the common room. The couch there was already occupied by Rowan and Ben.

“Hey guys,” said Ben meekly behind his new Charms textbook.

Charlie squished into the vacant spot between Rowan and the armrest, while Verna sat on the floor, not bothering to drag the nearest chair closer.

“I think I’m going to possibly have a mental breakdown this year,” she mused. “I mean I still have to find my brother, do normal homework, play Quidditch, study for O.W.L.s, and now be a prefect.”

“If you had started studying for the O.W.L.s first year like I told you, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Rowan simply said. It’s not like they were wrong, but Verna still rolled her eyes.

“Literally no one else but you does that, Rowan” Charlie jumped into her defence, which Verna appreciated. She fist bumped Charlie over Rowan’s lap.

“You two are impossible,” Rowan said warmly and turned to look at Ben. Verna followed their gaze and noticed Ben looked distinctly uncomfortable. Well, more than usual.

“Ben…” she started.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry,” Ben blurted out. “I know you already said it’s fine last year, but I don’t think it’s fine. I’m too easy a target to use against you, and I don’t think you should include me in your plans anymore.”

Verna stared at him for a moment, trying to find words. Any one of her friends could’ve been used as a pawn by a dark wizard. After all, they were only students up against adult wizards.

“Ben, I get it. I’d probably feel the same way if it was me in your shoes right now, because it easily could be. You’re not weak for losing against an adult.”

Ben bit his lip nervously. “But I-“

“We need you. You’re one of my best friends and nobody blames you for what happened,” Verna countered before Ben could form a proper argument.

“In the train you lot acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary when everything is!” he slumped against the couch and let the textbook fall into his lap. “I’m going to bed.”

With that, Ben got up and disappeared into the boys’ dormitory, his friends’ pleas falling on deaf ears. Verna looked at Charlie and Rowan.

“Maybe he just needs some more time…” Charlie mused.

“I think I was too harsh on him last year,” Rowan said. “I apologized though. In the train. We had a whole chat about it.”

“I’m glad,” Verna said with a smile. It hadn’t felt right, when Ben and Rowan weren’t on speaking terms.

“He just hasn’t had the easiest time at Hogwarts,” Rowan continued. “And all this business with the vaults… I think it has us all on edge.”

“Understatement of the year…” muttered Charlie.

“Well… It’s only the first day of it, we’ll have plenty of time to make more understatements,” said Rowan gloomily.

[iamanartichoke]

Ah this came up at the perfect time for when I wanted to post something but not put too much thought into it; thanks for the tag @thelightofthingshopedfor!

1. Why did you choose your URL? It comes from a YA book that was one of my favorites as a kid, although why I latched onto that particular book for a url, I couldn't tell you. After a few years, though, artichoke has now become part of my identity and I do like to think I have many layers, so ... there we are.

2. Any side blogs? @charlotte--lennox is my personal journal side blog that I constantly forget that I have, lmao. I haven't updated it in months, but for better or for worse, it's still there.

3. How long have you been on Tumblr? On fandom tumblr, since 2018. On tumblr in general, I had a few blogs sporadically since like 2008.

4. Do you have a queue tag? Theoretically I do, but I don't have a queue lmao. I keep feeling like I should fill the queue up and put it to use again, but, idk something about it makes me feel a bit merpy.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? To participate in the Loki fandom and also to promote my fanfic.

6. Why did you choose you icon/pfp? Bc I love Chloe Bennett and low-key want to be her, and the ace flag background bc I enjoy being "out and proud" as ace on tumblr, since I'm not out anywhere else, heh.

7. Why did you choose your header? Because I made it when I was playing around in Photopea and it turned out kinda good, so I figured I'd use it. I only changed it recently; it was the cover art for Stars Hide Your Fires for months and months, which I loved bc Thor and Loki are so pretty and SHYF is, I think, ultimately my favorite fic I've written.

8. What’s your post with the most notes? My post+ post, lmao. I haven't looked at it in awhile but the last time I checked it was at like 77k. Relatedly, it's really funny how we all flipped out over post+ and then never heard anything else about it again; not sure if tumblr decided to kill it or not, but I do like to think that, if they did, my post (and all the lawyers who commented that I was right) had something to do with it. The headache of my notifications being held hostage for a few weeks should have accomplished something.

9. How many mutuals do you have? I have no idea - maybe like 12? Nah I'm sure it's more than that but I honestly don't know and wouldn't even know how to check.

10. How many followers do you have? I am up to 1730, which I feel really badly about, bc I did my follower celebration call for prompts at 1605 or something and since then I have gained followers and only filled three prompts so, yknow, not a great look. That being said, I'm also pretty sure a decent number of those followers are porn bots or inactive or otherwise blank.

11. How many people do you follow? 178, apparently, which feels like a lot.

12. Have you ever made a shit post? I constantly make shit posts, to varying degrees of success.

13. How often do you use tumblr? Every day; even if I don't post that day, I usually check in a couple of times to at least look at my notifs and a couple of dash pages. It's literally addictive.

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog? Well yeah, I know I've gotten into it with people over wanky things; I do try not to be antagonistic if I can help it but, that said, sometimes it can't be helped. I've also had falling outs with people over who knows what (really, I don't know), and then there's the many people who've preemptively blocked me for one reason or another. So, yeah, I'm hardly popular around these parts lmao.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog” posts? Generally the fastest way to get me to not reblog something is to include some "reblog this right now, I don't care if it fits your blog or not, this is important" note, like, well I probably would have reblogged it but now I'm not going to.

16. Do you like tag games? I do, generally, but sometimes I'm tagged in things I don't really care to participate in (but I appreciate the tag!) and other times I'm tagged and I just completely forget to respond to it, so it probably seems like I don't like them, womp womp.

17. Do you like ask games? I kinda love them, but the last several I've posted haven't gotten any interaction (which is sad bc I used to get at least a few responses, and who are you 1730 followers, anyway?) so I'm less inclined to post them these days.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? I don't think anyone? I mean, I guess it depends on how you define tumblr-famous, though. When I think of tumblr-famous, I think of like, biggest-gaudiest-patronuses and vampireapologist and, like, badjokesbyjeff - those accounts that everyone knows. But then within fandom, there are some blogs that are more well-known than others, and I think at least a few of my mutuals are fairly well-known in the Loki fandom. Ymmv, though.

Tagging @gia-selene-baczewska, @izhunny, @bardicious, @eisenvulcanstein, @scintillatingshortgirl19, @epona610, @pennypaperbrain, @pennie-dreadful, @erdediekatze, @lazy-cat-corner, @illwynd, and anyone else who wants to, please consider yourself tagged :D