#there is something so unbelievably charming about men who never get mad

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i think jing yuan should be with the most venomous person in the whole wide world bc i truly do he think he could fix them . imagine saying the meanest thing you can think of and just getting a patient smile back … it frustrates you more than anything and he knows

[chiumii]

the lamb and the wolf ~ dom! vampire! jake x sub! reader ౨ৎ .⋆。⊹ ♡

ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 제이크 ] ☆ Sim Jaehyun, the popular yet somehow nerdy 21 year old at your shared university. All the girls swooned over him, claiming that he's the most perfect human being to have ever walked this earth. You, on the contrary, felt something off about him, had your suspicions about the blonde haired boy that started to rule your every thought, and he could sense such. of course he did! He was the one crawling into your brain and picking apart your skull in order to rearrange the puzzle pieces to fit perfectly isync with his. He was absolutely crazy about how you didn't pay him any lustful eye or tried too hard to come onto him, that was until he started yearning for you, every part of you in so many more ways than one. You were just as mysterious to him as he was to you, and it drove both of you mad. And he just had to do something about it before his precious little muse genuinely did go insane.

Word count: 14,000

Vampire! Dom! Jake x Sub! Reader. Bondage, blood kink, overstimulation, biting, scratching, slight cnc (reader likes it dw), slight manhandling, praise, degradation, fingering, slight hunter/prey dynamic, slight breath play, slight corruption

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This is more of a short story than a one shot and the reader has similar characteristics to me so it's a little bit of an oc. sorry. it's kind of a slow burn but oh well. Reposts and comments are appreciated thank you! ♡ - phoebe

"Sim Jaehyun and f/n l/n" the professor calls out. you look over your shoulder the same time Jake looks down towards you from the top of the room, your eyes fixated on each others for just a split second before you break eye contact just as fast as it appeared, turning towards your best friend who sits directly next to you. The psychology professor was arranging groups of people for an upcoming project. you look at your best friend, your lips sucked between your teeth as she giggles.

"don't laugh please." you say to in a groan. she shakes her head, her giggling dying down as she speaks

"he's really not that bad, I hear he's actually decently nice and charming. all that talk about being a fuck boy are all rumors from what I hear" you cock an eyebrow up at her words, a look of 'oh really' written across your face

"and how would you know that" you say when you go to grab your book bag and sling it over your shoulder, not yet standing up to move

"one of my friends is a friend of his, so I've hung out with him from time to time and he doesn't at all act like what people talk about. I might just be talking out of my ass but you know" she shrugs her shoulders before continuing

"I guess it's just his looks that everybody fawns over. You can't even deny how attractive he is" she speaks and grabs her bag, standing up to move to her group, leaving you to follow her actions and face the blonde haired man. you look at him and you really can't deny it, he is unbelievably attractive. his face chiseled perfectly, his hair framing his face in a way that extenuates his features. he looks at you, a smile appearing on his lips this time, inviting you over.

You return his smile out of fondness. You're not really the type to fall for looks, you want something genuine. Real feelings and love, so you've never had the opportunity to actually fall in love because a lot of people in this generation tend to follow down the path of hook-up culture that really wasn't designed for your heart.

I guess you could say you want an old type love, one where men weren't ashamed to talk about their feelings for a woman.

You walk over to your group of four people, the empty seat with your name written all over it sat directly next to the blonde. you take your seat and get out your MacBook, opening up your notes before resting your elbows on the table below you, your chin in your palms as you look over your group, your eyes finding jakes figure once more as his do you.

"I'm y/n, by the way" you say to your group and begin talking about the subject of your shared presentation due in three months. its a really big project that consists of the need for various statistics involving a psychological study. When you begin suggesting topics, jakes eyes pour into your movements when you speak, finding it quite cute how much you enjoy talking about your major. he inturrupts you, his voice cherry sweet as his tone cuts into you, your eyes finding his

"you know an awful lot about psychological studies and tests ran in the past, how do you know so much?" he asks genuinely. you smile at him because he seems to take actual interest in your knowledge, you begin to ramble, talking his ear off about how much you enjoy learning how the human mind works and why it works the way it does. the other group members listen to you as well, but not as intentely as Jake does.

"psychology is my major, ever since I was little I was fascinated about the way people operate and the explanation as to why they do the things they do, I guess its kind of like an extreme interest of mine that I decided to make into my life goal to study" you end your ramble, a small tint of red coating your cheeks once you realize you've been talking for over fifteen minutes. Jake's smile never falters at your voice

"you just answered my second question. you're quite an interesting one, y/n" the way he worded his sentence sticks with you, he's talking as if he was born at a different time because you have never, ever heard anyone talk the way he does. you shake your head and the rest of the period goes by in a flash, your group figuring out what to make your presentation on, finishing up on it being the root of different phobias and how they affect different people. its quite simple, but there is a lot of different types that you would like to go over.

"hey guys, I think we should exchange numbers so we can all get together outside of class to do this project" one of your group members says, you nodding your head and getting your phone out of your bag. Jake takes your phone before anybody else could, handing you his in return.

"here, its easier like this than having everybody read out their numbers" Jake says to you, typing his number into your phone. you nod your head in agreement and add your contact information into his device before the two of you switch. you take note of what he named his contact as while he exchanges his phone with someone else.

everyones phone gets passed around and you notice that he named himself "Jake" in your phone while "sim jaehyun" was his name in everybody elses. you take note with a small smile before you wipe it off of your face.

"I'll see you later" he says to the group, but only looking at you as he speaks, exiting the room shortly after, leaving you to tilt your head in agreement. The rest of your group pools out of the room as do you not long after.

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A buzz on your phone causes you to stop doing what you're doing, setting down your lipgloss on your vanity before picking it up to check the message.

It's from Jake, and he's asking if you would like to come study with him at a nearby cafe.

You nearly fall out of your chair when you realize you weren't hallucinating, quickly messaging him back a "sure", trying not to get too excited when you get dressed after deciding on a cafe and heading out the door. its not a long walk from your apartment, giving your legs a good stretch after spending hours in your bed studying other subjects for classes your enrolled in. you enter the cafe, your eyes automatically finding Jakes lean figure. he lifts his head up from his computer, sensing your presence enter the building as he waves you over. he stands up so you could scoot into the booth next to him, deciding it was better to see each others screens than have to turn them around every five seconds.

his toothy grin makes you smile as he looks at you, recropricating his fondness. the two of you get to talking about the beginning of your lecture project, and the more that he talks, the more you begin to realize how much he knows about experiments conducted in the past, his knowledge crystal clear and unbelievably accurate. you look at him in wonder, not understanding how he knows so much about things that have happened so long ago.

"how do you know all this stuff?" you ask him, cutting his sentence short as you look up at him. his glasses frame his face so well, and you can see why every girl wont shut up about him. he really is breathtaking.

he brings his bottom lip inbetween his teeth to stop himself from laughing at your question, the most heartwarming smile on his face. he pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose and you take note of his eye color; dark brown.

"psychology is my major too, y/n. I also love learning about how the human brain works" the way he says 'human' makes your stomach churn, but you pay it no mind.

"you're really smart for someone who's only 21" you laugh at him. just as he's about to say something, a waiter with your drink comes over and goes to hand it to you. Without thinking, you lean over Jake, one of your breasts presses up against his arm gently and your hair gets in his face; he doesn't move. he doesn't want to move. you smell good.

so fucking good as you get closer to him. everything moves in slow motion in jakes mind as you're oblivious to the thoughts coursing through his skull. his eyes start to become heavy as time begins to catch up to speed. you thank the waiter and lean back on your seat, your body peeling away from his. a distasteful look clouds his face as he wants to grab you and pull you to press up against him again, but he controls himself.

you take a sip of your drink with a hum before looking at the man next to you, freezing at the look on his pale face.

"Jake, are you okay?" your voice rings through out his head and suddenly he's snapped out of his thoughts as he turns to you, his eyes still heavy.

"yes, yeah im okay" he says, trying to push a reassuring smile out to comfort you. you dont look away, concern laced in your tone

"are you sure? you dont look so good" you say, leaning closer to him. your hand raises before you can event think. the back of your hand comes in contact with his forehead and much to your surprise, he doesn't have a fever, its actually quite the opposite.

he's cold. almost freezing. you gasp and furrow your eyebrows. Jake takes note and quickly grabs your wrist in your hand, gently so he doesn't hurt you, and brings it down.

"I'm okay y/n, really" his smile is genuine this time. he's never had someone worry about him so easily before and he's never had someone talk to him about their interests, let alone his. ever.

your lips part as a small, shallow breath leaves your throat, your cheeks warming up. you take notice in the fact that his hand the same tempature as his forehead. you stare at each other before you feel jakes thumb gently caressing the skin on your wrist, breaking you out of your trance. you lift your wrist away from his hold, but not before your fingers lace around his in a small squeeze, deciding to do something slightly risky.

you pick up the glass and take another sip. you almost choke when you hear Jake laughing from above you, loud and clear. you set the glass down and look up at him, your lips in a full pout as you cross your arms.

"dont tell me you're one of those matcha haters." you tighten your lips and glare at his laughing. he shakes his head and begins to calm before speaking to you through giggles

"matcha tastes like grass y/n, how could you like that stuff" you huff at his sentence, kicking his foot under the table before turning away from him, his eyes being met with your back.

"oh y/n, dont ignore me, im only expressing my opinion. you can't be mad at meee" his hands move before he can process what he's doing, his fingers find your waist and tickle you.

your body spins around as a loud shriek forces its way out of your throat, a loud laugh following in pursuit. you shake in his hold, your palms desperately trying to smack his hands away as laughter fills the whole building.

"okay okay im not mad let me go" he stops tickling you, but his hands dont leave your waist, and you don't even realize it. he can feel your warmth under his fingertips and the blood coursing through your veins, your body and soul very much prominent and alive. it fills Jake with so many emotions.

"what do you like to drink then, mr. picky" he almost answers your question honestly, but he bites his tongue.

"something much sweeter than matcha" his tone darkens playfully and it makes you slightly lightheaded. You can now feel his hands on you, his fingers tightening around your figure, but you don't say anything about it, and you can't understand why.

Jake comes to his senses when you squirm under his hands ever so slightly. your body's pulse as well as your flowing blood being felt under his hands becomes quickly overstimulating, making him clench his jaw. he lets you go before muttering a quick

"I'll text you later" before speed walking out of the cafe, leaving you lightheaded and almost breathless. you walk home in confusion after spending the last few hours of your day with Jake studying and talking. you hear a distant scream a few blocks away, but that's normal in a city like this, so you push it to the back of your head once you enter your apartment for the night.

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"y/n..." a dark voice sings you name. you turn around in what appears to be an empty, dark space with no walls and the ground around you is filled with shallow water that leaves your bare feel cold.

"y/n" the voice echos, louder this time. your heart begins to pound in your chest, but you can't get your feet to move for the life of you. your breathing is heavy and it feels like you're about to be snatched up. you look around, no light, sound, or anything can be seen or heard in the weird universe you find yourself in.

That's until you turn your body around, finally getting your feet to move

That's when you see it: a figure with a blurred face stands a ways away from you, but you can almost see it clearly, carrying something

no, somebody.

Your freaked out breathing increases, but you stand your ground. you squint your eyes, making out the small drops of a red liquid stained the clothes its wearing, you can tell now its a man carrying a woman in a short white nightgown stained in the same red liquid that matches the color of his clothes, similar to your own night gown you sleep in every night. the mans face is blurry, but you can still see the red that stains his chin and neck, your eyes working their way down his figure to see his fingertips painted in the same, dark color. you can feel the grin on his face from where your standing. The woman doesn't move or make a sound. she's completely limp in his arms.

within the blink of an eye, he's standing in front of you, his face still blurry as the woman disappears from his hold

"be careful with who you trust" he whispers. the way he moved was so quick, it scared you into falling into the water below you, and suddenly you jump up out of your bed with a gasp. your hand clenches your chest as your heave for air. you shake your head and turn on the light on your bedside table.

You look around, scared out of your mind before getting the courage to get up and walk to the kitchen, getting a glass of water and chugging the entire thing before putting it down on the counter, leaning down to stretch your back.

"it was only a nightmare" you say to yourself, standing up straight and running your fingers through your hair. You walk into the living room to check the time. 5:30 am and your psychology class starts at 8:00 am. You decide to take a shower and make yourself breakfast instead of going back to sleep, you're too awake to do so anyways, the dream forcing you into being fully alert.

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Walking into class, now tired out of your mind from getting up so early, you set your bag down and sit next to Jake. you lean over the desk with your head in your hands, face buried in your arms as you let out a groan.

"are you okay" Jake puts a comforting hand on your back that eases you. you turn your head to look at him, your eyes tired while you nod your head. Jake doesn't believe you and cocks his head to the side, a questioning look sweeps over his face as he looks at you.

"I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep, I'm so tired." you say, not looking away from him, the cutest pout on your lips. Jake wants nothing more than to kiss you right then and there, but he holds himself.

"I know how that feels" he says, his face softening. class begins and you end up falling asleep for the entire two hours, Jake taking down notes for you. he watches your peaceful figure, your shoulders moving up and down gently as your breathing is calm.

You feel a hand rubbing up and down your back and the softest, sweetest voice lure you out of your sleepy state. you blink your eyes open as you realize Jake is the one coaxing you out of your little nap.

"hi sleepy girl" the nickname makes your heart swell in your ribcage as you look up at him with a smile

"how long was I asleep for?" you ask him, not moving. he chuckles before answering your question.

"the whole class" you sit up quicker than the speed of sound, looking around to notice the class packing up, the clock striking 10 am. you shake your head in disappointment

"you let me sleep through the lecture??" you ask him in a sassy tone without meaning to, but he doesn't take it to heart

"you needed the sleep, I didn't want to wake you. you looked so peaceful" he says, his hand on your back leaving. you look at your open MacBook, then back at him

"I took the notes for you, if that helps" he gestures at the screen and you look at the organized notes before your expression softens

"im sorry for having an attitude, I'm just kind of anal about taking notes, but you did them perfectly" you stand up and close your laptop, putting it in your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.

"y/n, do you wanna hang out? we can study too if you want"

I just want to spend time with you.

you're glad he asked before you could, because you're not too sure you would have due to the fact that you were just too shy. you nod your head and walk out of the classroom side by side.

"where do you want to go?" you ask him as you begin to walk off campus. He shrugs his shoulders as he thinks, not really knowing where to go. you also think for a moment before the two of you begin talking in unison

"do you wanna go get food and then go to a park?" you ask him as he cuts his sentence short to listen to you. he nods his head

"that's perfect" he says as the two of you make your way to a cafe not far from campus. the bell dings, signaling to the workers that the two of you entered the building. Both of you stand in the short line to order, but you suddenly have the urge to pee.

"Jake, can you hold my things, I have to use the bathroom" you say. without needing any words, he grabs your tote off your shoulder and slings it around his. he smiles at you as you grip his arm gently without realizing it, walking off after. your touch lingers on his arm, even as he's ordering he can still feel your warmth.

you walk out of the bathroom after washing your hands to be met with Jake talking to another girl. She's beautiful; long blonde hair and a button nose, she's skinny and her clothes bring out her curves. she's holding onto Jakes arm, and before you could feel any sort of jealousy, he shifts under her hold uncomfortably, peeling out of her grasp with the fakest smile you've ever seen. you pause in your tracks, picking up on the conversation.

"You're so handsome, it's incredible" she says, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes at him. he chuckles and shakes his head. How could she not see the obviously pink tote bag littered with keychains and plushies on it? He clenches his jaw and musters out a "thank you"

"do you want to, I dont know, hang out? we could go back to my place?" she asks, eyeing him up and down. he shakes his head instantly, denying her invitation

"no thanks, im good. I'm actually here with someone" he cocks his head in your direction and she spins around, glaring at you. surprise takes over your body as you question how the fuck he knew you were standing there in the hidden corner without him even glancing at you. Your jaw slacks open in a quiet gasp as his eyes shift over to yours, not even needing to move his body or head to look at you. his stare makes you feel things you shouldn't. his eyes are telling you to come to him, so you obey, the both of them staring at you

You go to stand next to him shyly and Jake can't help but admire how obedient you are. he's not meaning to have such perverted thoughts about you at a time like this, but he can't help himself you're just too fucking adorable.

good girl

he thinks to himself. the girl huffs and walks away without a single word. you turn to face him

"good riddance, these girls have no shame" he says, smiling down at you

"you don't like it when girls approach you?"

"correction, I don't like it when they throw themselves at me" he says and before the conversation can continue, he holds up an iced matcha for you. you smile and look at it, then at him again.

"you bought it for me?" you ask and cup the cold drink in your hands.

"don't even think of paying me back" he says, still holding your tote as his now empty hand finds its way to gently grasp the small of your back, ushering the two of you out of the building and towards a non-busy park. You walk side by side through the cool, crisp autumn breeze. the golden, red, and brown leaves falling and crunching under your feet and the smell of the earth is calming. you take a sip of your drink and hum. Jake looks at you, admiring the way you enjoy the small things around you.

the both of you silently approach the grassy park and sit down next to each other. you set your drink down as he mimics your actions with your bag, putting it down next to him.

you lay down, your hair sprawled out on the ground but you don't care, you have to shower today anyways.

"its so nice outside, Its finally sweater weather, I can use my hoodies now" you say out in the open, not directly to Jake but at the world

"are you cold?" he asks you, moving to take his hoodie off before you can reply.

"a little, but its nice" before you open your eyes, you feel Jakes arms around your shoulders, ushering you to sit up as he helps you put his hoodie on. you take his hoodie as a kind gesture and put it on. its comforting, but not quite warm. you would think that his body heat would make the jacket at least a little warm, but its not.

it smells like him and your body begins to relax into the material of the jacket, feeling comforted.

"thank you, but aren't you gonna be cold?" you ask

"I don't get cold" you look at him, confusion written all over your face, but you take his words as a joke.

"ha ha, I guess you're just built different" you fake a sarcastic laugh at him and lay down again, Jake following after, laying next to you.

"do you have a girlfriend" you don't mean to be so direct, but his earlier actions confuse you, making you wonder if he just isn't looking for anything, or he already has a girlfriend. he turns to look at you, a serious look on his face as he speaks

"no. I've never fallen in love before and I don't plan to." he says as you turn to face him now, a little sad, but you listen to him with undivided attention.

"why?"

"everybody wants to just use me for my body. I don't understand it. not to toot my own horn but I do know that I am attractive, but im so much more than a handsome face. I want somebody to love me for me." he says and you become breathless, feeling the exact same way. you nod before you speak, looking deeply into his now hazel eyes

"I feel the same way. ive never met anybody who thinks the same way as I do apart from my best friend. I want to love someone and I want someone to love me, I don't want just sex I want-

-passion" Jake says the same word as you do. your face turns a deep shade of red. no other words needing to be said. his eyes lure you in dangerously close and suddenly you're daydreaming of kissing him.

kissing him with so much force and emotion it makes heat rise to your core, spreading throughout your body like fireworks.

"they're wrong about you" you blurt out as you keep daydreaming.

"I know" he says sadly. you can feel his emotions, as he feels yours.

"you're so kind, I dont understand how everybody can say such things" you chew the skin on the bottom of your lip after the words leave your mouth, worried you've said too much.

"you're too sweet to me" he's being serious. he's done unspeakably bad things, and he's dangerous. He's been telling himself to stay away from you out of fear he might hurt you as well because you're different than all the rest, but that fact alone drives him in more. you're like his muse. you're all he's been thinking about as of late, but no matter how hard he's been trying, he just can't stay away from you. he thinks of how badly he wants to crawl over you and devour you, show you how badly you've begun to take over every thought in his mind and the reasoning as to every action he's started making.

you've begun to drive him mad, and he's never wanted to take, taste, keep something to himself so badly.

his eyes shift color ever so slightly and you can almost swear they darken, his eyes getting heavy. however, you're not the least bit scared. you're intrigued.

you want to know what makes him tick. you want to know what he's thinking and why. his eyes flood into you, making you feel like your drowning in his stare. a coil starts to form in your lower abdomen, and you wonder how in the hell that's happened when he hasn't even hinted towards touching you.

"Jake" his name rolls off your tongue in a breathless whisper, almost like a hushed moan and its music to his ears. he hums in response, urging you to continue.

"do you think you could eventually fall in love?" you ask him, wishing he would give you the answer you would like to hear.

"I will, I can feel it." he says answering your question. he doesn't want to, but he feels himself falling for you ever so slowly, a ticking time bomb he wish he could defuse. he doesn't want you to be a part of his life because that would put you in danger, making you one of the most beautiful walking targets, and he would hurt anybody who even thought of laying a finger on you because of him.

but he doesn't want to let you go. the internal battle he's having with himself only grows with every passing second he's with you, and he's falling into insanity. with his slow decent into madness, yours follows not far after.

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this universe is a deep shade of red, and its dark. the cool water floods around your feet, making them cramp with how cold the temperature is. you've finally worked up the courage to walk around, wondering why you always find yourself in this familiar place every single night.

the only sound that echoes in the never ending universe is water rustling around, and your shallow breathing. it feels as though you've been walking for hours, if not days trying to find the answer as to why you've been brought here so frequently.

a scream makes you jump, whipping your head around as your heart feels like its going to leap into your throat and out of your mouth. your nails dig into your palms, attempting to ground yourself. you can see the familiar figure, holding the same woman in the white night gown, still stained in red.

you dare walk closer, tired of being played with like a game in your own dream world. you clench your jaw and swallow, hard. you begin to walk over with confidence, but all of your thoughts are drained from your body once you realize what's happening.

He's holding her in his arms bridal style, his knees digging into the wet floor as his face is in her neck. she's facing away from you, so you can't see who it is, but you can hear the moans of... agony, pleasure? you can't tell as they roll off her tongue and into your ears.

the water begins to turn red underneath the two of them, and all you want to do is wake up

wake up

wake up

please

but your frozen as you attempt to piece together what's unfolding before you. your jaw slacks open when one of his free hands slides under the slip of her dress, touching her in ways that make you feel tingly, now realizing her moans are ones of pleasure.

you gasp when he lifts his head up, his hair covering his eyes as he chuckles darkly. his face isn't blurred anymore, and you can almost just make out his face-

your hands fly to your mouth, trying to stop yourself from gasping even louder as he looks up at you, his mouth stained a with deep crimson red liquid that drips down his chin and onto his suit. a smirk litters his face as you can see the undeniably prominent fangs that stand out like a rose in a field of weeds.

"Jake.."

you shoot up out of bed, trying to understand what's happening. a loud bang makes you just about jump out of your skin and your window flies open, your curtains dancing in the night wind. you get up quickly and slam it shut before running back into bed and under the covers. your hands rake through your hair, pulling on it out of stress.

you just had a dream about Jake and he was.. inhuman. its not possible, it can't be. your hands move down to cover your face as you whine, realizing he wasn't just inhuman, but he was fingering someone, touching them in all the ways you wished he would touch you, and suddenly you start to think the most disgusting, vile thoughts of the man you've befriended less than two months ago.

thoughts ranging from kissing each other deeply, his hands all over you, touching your every nook and cranny you possess as he sucks deep, purple marks into your skin, his hands traveling down to the hem of your panties as he slips them to the side, sliding his fingers in and out of you ever so gently as if you were the most fragile little doll ever made

to him fucking you deep into the mattress, biting and grabbing you everywhere he could reach, his cock breeding you and engraving his shape into your body for all of eternity, marking you his as he carves his name into his creation, his little doll.

you feel disgusting as your fingers slip inside your underwear, dragging against your clit as you make yourself wetter at the though of Jake using you in every way possible. you slip down into the mattress as you begin fingering yourself, wishing he would come and replace your dainty little fingers with his long ones, stretching you and abusing your hole as if it were his own, and honestly, you wish he would come claim you.

"y-yun,,," you moan quietly, but much to your obliviousness, he hears your call, watching you from the darkest corner of your room, watching you unravel yourself just for him,, all because of him.

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"okay only two weeks until the project is due and we have to present, we just need to do revisions" one of your group partners says to the group. your head is in your hands, shielding yourself from the sun coming in through the windows. Jake puts a comforting hand on your back, luring you out of your almost-sleepy daze.

"are you okay?" he asks gently, his tone sincere. you turn your head to look at him, nodding with a small smile on your face. he looks at you as if he doesn't believe you, but doesn't push the issue.

"Ive done all my revisions, so im pretty much all done unless any of you need my help with anything" he says. you shift under his hand still rubbing your back.

"I'm all done too, ive been staying up late at night to get this done because I have other classes I need to focus on" you lie through your teeth. The real reason you haven't been getting sleep is because you have the same exact dream every single night, and it wakes you up at exactly four in the morning on the dot. its been almost three months now and you're starting to feel restless, and now with the new information that the man in your dreams is indeed Jake, you don't know how to feel. One thing you do know for certain is that you've begun to grow feelings for the blonde haired boy. The way he looks at you is alluring, and it the fact that the two of you have been hanging out almost every other day isn't helping your case. Whether it be studying for an exam, or watching a movie at home, you always find yourself with Jake as of recently. His presence is comforting, and you're beginning to become attached.

You feel gross for thinking it, but you've also been feeling a sort of urge with him. Thinking about how well he would fit inside you and how good it would feel. What kind of sounds would he make when he's fucking you. Would he moan, or keep quiet? Little to your knowledge, he's been thinking the same thing about you.

Would you writhe underneath him, or take his cock like the good girl he's come to be obsessed with. Would you whimper or scream? He wants all of you, especially the part he's most scared of taking.

You just smell so good.

He can't help but want to taste you. not only is your pussy making him want to do unspeakable things, but so is your blood. pure, innocent, and so full of life. your heart is also calling out his name without you realizing it, and so is his.

Even though his isn't beating or pumping blood throughout is body, he wishes it would beat just for you, all because of you. He still feels that red hot firework throughout his stomach and mind whenever he's around you, and all he wants to do is hold you and tell you how badly he craves you, needs you, wants you.

Your mind, body, and soul he wants to take for himself.

"lets go back to your place so you can nap, okay?" he says into your ear and you nod quicker than you can even think. He packs up his back as well as yours and carries them out of the building the four of you decided to study in for the day and head over to your apartment.

"y/nnnn" Jake says, throwing his head back as you look up at him through your eyelashes, you don't say anything, but pout instead.

"y/n please" you shake your head no, the pout not faltering.

"if I watch this with you, can you at LEAST let me teach you how to play Fortnite. All my friends are ass at playing" you groan, throwing your head back now.

"please please please please please-"

"FINE oh my god I just wanted to watch twilight for fucks sake you can teach me" you throw a pillow at him from your position on the floor before turning around to plug the dvd into the dvd player. you hear Jake snicker from behind you. you whip your head around with a glare, your lips sucked between your teeth.

"why on earth are you using a dvd player" he laughs.

"i'm going to strangle you." you say seriously, but Jake takes it as a challenge.

"oh yeah?" he spreads his legs apart slightly, manspreading on the couch as his arms are folded behind is head, and the way he's looking at you makes you feel hot and heavy, quickly.

"I'd like to see you try" your cheeks heat up, but you decide to stand up and charge at him anyways with a laugh. you jump onto his lap and your hands find their way to his neck, attempting to choke him out, but he grabs both your wrists in his one arm and flips your back onto the couch below you, hovering over your body.

suddenly, this game isn't funny anymore, as your thighs clamp down together as his face is only a couple mere inches away from yours. your lips part as you let out a shaky breath. you clasp your thighs together and Jake can smell the arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jake" there you go again, saying his name in the most beautiful, breathless and airy way possible. he drops his head down and shakes it, trying so hard to control himself.

"fuck,,, y/n.." he says quietly and you hum. he's eyeballing your neck, his own arousal and lust just about clouding his mind before a harsh knock scares you, making you jump in his hold. your arousal is stripped away from you as you turn towards the door.

"pizzas here" is all Jake says before letting you out of his grasp and heading towards the door, pulling out his wallet and saying for your pizza. you lay there while he's paying, trying to figure out what the hell that was. you felt so extremely turned on and Jake looked at you like he wanted to either kill you, or fuck you until you were completely braindead. You sit up as he puts the pizza on the living room table and the movie starts playing when you hit play on the remote.

The two of you watch in comfortable silence as you munch on your second slice of pizza.

"That's not how vampires actually are" he blurts out randomly. you turn to him and tilt your head in confusion

"what?" you ask him, swallowing your bite and putting the crust back into the box.

"not all vampires have powers, only the strongest of the strong have powers. its actually rare for a vampire to actually get their own individual powers, they're just fast and strong" he says in a matter of fact tone and it makes you wonder. It's odd how much knowledge he has about this sort of thing and he's talked about it before in front of you whenever you talk about mythical creatures.

"how do you know that" you look at him, turning your body to look at him fully as the movie becomes background noise.

"the internet is free, silly girl" he covers up his knowledge and shifts his gaze towards you, the movie pushed to the back of both your minds.

"that could be true, but we dont know for certain because its not real" you say trying to comfort yourself. Jake rolls his eyes with a small "sure" before smirking at you, leaning in towards your frame.

"what..." you say, leaning in the opposite direction. his hands come to either side of your legs, trapping you. one of his hands places itself on your waist and in less than a fraction of a second, he's ticking the life out of you as you scream for mercy.

"Jake pleaseeee let me go- pl- Jake please" you scream at him while laughing, writing under his fingers.

"nuhuh, you asked for this" he laughs with you and your hands fling up and around his neck, shaking your head from side to side. he stops ticking you and looks down, a smile still on his face. he collapses to the side of you after a moment of staring, and pulls you into his body by your waist, your head on his chest. your body relaxes into his hold and you nuzzle your face into him. this is the closest the two of you have gotten, and now he's finally holding you in one of the ways he's craved for what feels like eternity, and you could basically say that.

He's waited for someone like you to come around for hundreds of years, never being able to fall in love in the centuries of being on this earth, and he can't repress his feelings anymore as you fall asleep in his hold. Your steady breathing and the beating of your heart bring him comfort that nobody, and nothing else ever could. he kisses your forehead gently before groaning to himself.

He is so fucked.

he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes as he breathes in your scent, his arms around you tightening as if that would help protect you from all the evil in this world, including him.

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"Guys we got an A...." one of your group members says with a huge smile. you squeal and jump, giving your group mates a high five before Jake is pulling you into him from behind, giving you a huge hug.

"I knew we could do it, we're all way too smart for this class anyways" Jake says to everyone

"it helps that we had the smartest girl in school on our team too" he whispers in your ear as a deep shade of blush coats your cheeks. you turn around and slap his chest with an eye roll.

"be quiet" you shake your head and wave off your other, now past group members as they walk out of the class for the end of the semester.

"lets celebrate, wanna go get something to drink and go to the beach?" Jake asks and you look at him like he's crazy.

"Jake it's almost winter, what on earth are we gonna do at the beach?" you ask him, not quite rejecting his idea. he grabs your tote bag and slings it over his shoulder.

"I just want to look at the ocean and walk around, you don't have to come if-"

"No I want to, lets go" you grab his wrist interrupting him, dragging him out of the classroom and towards the campus cafe. The wind is chilly a sit blows your white maxi skirt, the hoodie Jake let you borrow a couple months ago keeping you warm. you turn to look at the blonde behind you before looking at him in surprise

"how are you not cold" you motion to the thin black t-shirt he's wearing. he shrugs his shoulders and pulls you to walk next to him instead of in front.

"I don't get cold often, remember?" he says, making the memory of him telling you that before front in your mind.

"oh yes I remember now, are you sure you're not cold?' he nods his head and looks to you with a reassuring smile before opening the door to the cafe, holding it open for you as you trot inside. you order a hot chocolate, offering Jake something but he declines.

The cafe is pretty, the walls a nice pretty green color with fairy lights littering the walls around you. it's not super busy especially for it being the middle of the day. Your drinks are finished and the two of you walk to the beach, not too far from the college. you grab his cold hand and lace his fingers with yours and urge him onto the sand, the water crashing down and meeting with the small grains to make a beautiful sound.

"its been so long since ive been to the beach, ive been so busy" you say and breathe in the salty air, and finish your drink, throwing it away at a near trash can and you start walking along the beach, avoiding the ocean water to not get your shoes wet. Jake follows you, walking a couple feet behind you.

Once you realize he's behind you, you stop and turn around to face him, questioning why he's walking behind you and not next to you. He stops in his tracks too, watching your body. Suddenly, an idea hits him as a shit eating grin makes its way to his face and you get the urge to run, watching the gears in his head turn. You spin around without questioning it and run away from him, and he takes off after you. You laugh and turn your head noticing how close he's gotten in such a short amount of time. You scream and pick up pace, but much to your avail, his arms wrap around your smaller frame and pick you up in the air. you kick your feet trying to get out of his hold, but he's strong, keeping you in his arms. He spins you around and throws himself on the ground, your body falling on top of his with a squeal.

"oh my god Jake, didn't that hurt?" you laugh and he shakes his head. you rest your chin on his chest as he lays in the sand, admiring how perfect his facial structure is. the way his blue eyes

blue eyes?

glitter in tune with the crystal ocean water. he brings his hand up to you, pushing the stray hairs out of your face and behind your ear. you shift on top of him and he feels every inch of your body very quickly. the way you smell is overwhelming and the way your warm, beautiful body is pressed against him pushes his senses into overdrive. his eyes change from blue to a deep red and within the fraction of a second, he's pushing your back into the sand with a small yelp coming from you, his face is in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply through his nose and out of his mouth. you whine, shifting uncomfortably underneath him as you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers finding his hair.

"Jake..?" you call out to him, but he doest hear you as he bites down on his bottom lip, hard as an attempt to control himself. he groans into your skin and it sends vibrations throughout your body. one of his hands is on your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin, but you can't feel it.

You pull his head up to look you in the eyes, but when you see him, your lips part and you become breathless.

Hes so incredibly handsome, but he looks like he's in pain. his nails dig into your skin and you yelp, tightening your grip in his hair without realizing, making him moan and fall into your neck again.

"j-jake?? are you okay?" your worry makes him want to split you open and fuck you right there in the sand, but he can't. he wont hurt you. He shakes his head and tightens his grip once more before letting you go gently, standing up and looking down at you, a harsh look in his eyes as he speaks.

"I can't y/n.. I can't- fuck..." he cocks his neck away from you and walks away, so quickly it's almost as if he disappeared. you lay in the sand, awe struck and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. you lay there for a few minutes, wishing he would come back, say something- anything to you. your suspicions grow with every passing second and before you could let your mind go into overdrive, you get up and brush the sand off. on your walk home, you try and think of something else, anything to take your mind off the raging, burning hot pit in the bottom of your abdomen. you bite your lip so hard, it starts bleeding when you approach the door of your apartment.

You slam the door behind you and lock it. you throw off your clothes, suddenly feeling hot despite the cold weather. you get in the shower, trying to wash yourself clean, but no matter how many pumps of body wash you use or how red you scrub your skin, you feel dirty.

Does Jake not want to be around you because he figured out you have a crush on him? or even worse... you want him to use you? fuck you? you groan and throw your loofa on the ground and turn off the water.

after getting dressed and drying off your hair, you think about what to eat for dinner, but instantly feel nauseous at the thought of eating, so you just turn on the tv to distract your brain, but the phone on the corner of the table is calling your name.

You stare at the device before scooping it up to see if Jake texted you.

Nothing.

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The red universe has now become your second home as you find yourself here once again. the water isn't as cold as it normally is, it's actually quite warm. you clench your jaw with an eye roll and begin to walk around, looking for the familiar blonde boy and the mysterious woman in white.

it feels as though you've been walking around for hours before your eyes land on the familiar scene, only this time, its clearer.

he's once again on his knees with her in his arms, his hand is slipped under her night gown, her moans echoing off the chambers of your skull, a pang of jealousy hits you straight in the heart as you scowl.

he lifts his head and turns to you, the blood of the woman staining his lip and clothes, the same black suit has undertones of red and you tense at the eye contact. his fingers work faster inside of her as she turns her head, looking dead at you as you gasp.

All these nights of waking up with your clit pulsating and your mind as tired as can be finally all make sense as you look at the woman

a perfect mirror

its you

"no,,," you whisper

"oh yes" he chuckles darkly, and you go to turn your head because when he spoke, the voice wasn't coming from Jake himself, but from behind you.

when you turn your head, your body freezes as you're now on the ground exactly where the mirrored version of you was and you moan loudly at the quick ripples of pleasure that flow throughout your body, caused by jakes fingers working inside you, pumping your walls as you become as wet as the ground beneath you.

you turn your head to look at the man above you. his eyes are a deep, vibrant red and even though its dark, his pale skin is shimmering as if you're in a room full of lights.

"Jake.." you whimper to him, his eyebrows pinch together and suddenly he looks like he's in pain, giving you the same exact look he had given earlier at the beach.

he lowers his head to your neck, and bites down.

Your moans pick up volume as they fill your dark room, the moonlight cascades in through your window as jakes silhoutte is illuminated perfectly, his shadow pours down onto the bed where you moan his name in your sleep so prettily.

You fling yourself out of sleep, sitting up with heavy panting, your chest heaving up and down. Jake looks at you as you awaken, his figure looming over you as he stands at the foot of the bed. you feel anothers presence and decide to look up and that's when you see him. his eyes are as red as they were in your dream, and there are prominent eye bags that soil his perfect skin. the spaghetti straps on your white nightgown fall off your shoulders and your hair is a mess. with parted lips, you breathy call his name, but he doesn't move, nor does he speak.

"Jake please..." you call again. he bites his lip and shakes his head.

"I can't.." his pained voice responds finally after your plea. you feel your eyes burning and your clit is throbbing more than it ever has in your life, your forehead is starting to get glossy as sweat begins to rise on your skin. you shake your head, not understanding the meaning of all of this, the dreams, him running away, why he's so cold all the time but can't feel it, his eye color changes, why you've never seen him eat, or drink.

Why can't you read him?

"I don't understand, Jake please" you whine at him and it drives him crazy, falling head over heels once more. his hands make their way up to his hair as he tugs on it out of frustration.

"I'm in love with you y/n." his words vibrate your body, your eyes widening when you understand them.

"but I can't be with you."

"why?" you cry out to him, begging him to do anything, touch you, hold you, feel you. you need something, you need him more than anything.

"I can't hurt you. I wont do it." he turns around looking out of the window, and for the first time in his pathetic life, he feels his eyes sting, his thirst increasing with every passing second.

"I want you, please. you could never hurt me, I don't want you to go, Jake I-" you cut yourself off as he turns towards you, his hands dropping out of his hair to dangle by his sides.

"I love you" he scoffs, not believing you.

"you love a person who kills people in order to survive." you shake your head in disbelief, knowing this would come sooner or later.

"you love a person who has been resisting the urge to take you since the first moment he's laid his eyes on you, y/n." his voice is dark but somehow sweet. you shake your head again, denying his words.

"you love a monster."

"you're wrong. I love you Jake, I love Sim Jaehyun, I need you please- please don't leave me" you squeak out the last bit of your sentence. your eyes pleading him to stay. the arousal only growing stronger the longer his around you and he can sense it.

"I don't care that you're a vampire, I don't care about any of it I just need you, im begging you Jaehyun. stay with me, please. I can't imagine myself without you I dont want that" you get up on your knees, crawling over to his body that stands near the edge of the bed. his lips are parted, giving you a full view of his fangs that you've never ever seen before.

if he had one, his heart would have been shattered in his chest with the way you're looking at him; worried and completely heartbroken. he would rip it out and gift it to you on a silver platter if it meant he could be with you with no risks. so the venom coursing through is veins at rapid speed replaces his heart. he's never felt hot in his life up until this moment, where the woman he's been waiting for for centuries is begging for him. his eyes hold pain as they meet yours.

His hand moves up to grip your chin softly, ghosting his fingers along your skin before cupping your cheek, caressing your face with his thumb.

"I won't hurt you y/n. I can't.. imagine having an existence without you in it, but I refuse to cause you any pain. I wont do it" his voice is stern, a single tear falling from his eye and down his cheek in frustration. you want him to understand how badly you need him.

"you could never do such a thing, please, im begging you please don't leave me.." your eyes reassure him. it takes a moment of silence and a lot of thinking before he speaks, finally giving you an ounce of hope.

"if I stay here with you, y/n, you'll never be able to leave. you're life will forever be different. if you want me to stay, you'll be marked as mine, permanently. do you understand love?" he gives you the final opportunity to back out, and some sick part of him hopes you will stay. you nod your head in his grasp, but that's not enough for him.

"words, sweetheart."

"I want you and only you in this lifetime, and all the ones after, I promise. I'm yours" you say in a whisper, and that's exactly what Jake wanted to hear. he bends down so his face is right in front of yours

"I love you" he says quickly under his breath before his lips capture yours in a deep, heated kiss. giving up on the last bit of restraint he had. this kiss was one filled with so much desire and longing that it makes you whine into his mouth, and he happily swallows it. his free hand moves to the outside of your thigh, and before you realize, a flip switches in Jakes mind as he's picking you up by the bottom of your thigh, his huge hand swallowing you as he pushes you up farther on the bed, pinning you down. his teeth scratch your bottom lip as your teeth crash against each other. your hands fly to his hair, gripping on his blonde locks to keep you from floating out of your body. his hand then moves towards your knee, spreading your legs apart.

His hand slips up the silk of your night gown, his fingers met with the flimsy lace fabric of your panties that are soaked through and through. he growls lowly before he speaks

"you drive me so. fucking. insane." is all he says before pulling the fabric to the side and dipping his freezing fingers in your wet folds. you break the kiss as your eyes fly closed, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins as he rubs concentrated figure eights on your slit. your mouth slacks open in a perfect 'o' shape. Jake takes this opportunity to dip his face in-between the skin of your neck and shoulder, sucking the prettiest shade of purple into your soft skin. he can now hear your blood flowing.

he licks a stripe up the junction of your neck and collarbones and towards your ear, biting down on the lobe which causes you to arch your back into him. Jake takes this opportunity to plunge two long fingers into your tight cunt, and he chuckles at how tight you squeeze his digits. you turn your head to face him and he detaches from your neck, looking down at you.

your face buries itself into his neck, finding comfort in his cool skin against your hot face. your moans muffle against him as you flutter around his fingers deep inside of you.

he curls his fingers up, grazing your sweetspot perfectly and you moan his name rather loudly.

"let me hear you my darling" you detach from his neck and open your eyes, looking into his red ones as your parted lips moan his name in the most sinful chant he's ever heard. his fingers twist and curl into you faster, making your hips buck up into his palm.

Jake sits up and uses his free hand to push your hips down into the mattress, keeping you from moving.

"stay still" he commands, and you obey. Jake slowly sinks down onto the bed as his fingers pull out of you. you whine in protest, but quickly hush your mouth when he pulls your red lace panties down your legs with his teeth, his fangs on full display. you clench down on nothing at the sight and he sees this, chuckling darkly.

he throws your legs over his shoulders as he pins your hips down with one of his hand, the other coming to trace the slit of your pussy, gently rubbing a circle around your clit every time he makes his way back up. you groan in frustration after a minute passes, but that's quickly cut short as he forces two of his digits inside your pussy, curling upwards instantly to scratch your g-spot. you attempt to thrust your hips forward, but are met with the rough forcefulness of jakes hand keeping you pinned to your silk sheets.

his teeth graze your clit, his hair in his face making you feel the coil in your stomach form. you yelp when he bites down, sucking afterwards to soothe the pain as he begins to eat you out. his tongue is fast against you, the sweat forming on your body creates a beautiful glow on your skin and Jake can almost swear that you walked straight out of a painting. the most beautiful painting ever created. the moonlight cascades down over his figure, his jawline sharp as it moves when he laps at your cunt like a starved animal-

-and that's exactly what he was. your legs wrapped around him in a desperate, failed attempt to suffocate him as you squirm underneath his tongue. fast, wet, and cool as he fucking you from the inside out. his fingers splitting you open as they work inside you. your walls squeeze him tight and he wonders how you'll ever be able to take his cock.

"y-yun,, m'- ffuck" you moan out to him as you grip the silk sheets on either side of you. Jake can't get enough of how sweet you taste. the perfect girl having the most perfect taste, what more could he ask for? He groans into your pussy, his fingers pulling out of you to wrap around your legs, the hand on your abdomen mimicking the others actions as he pulls you into his face. if he could breathe, he would be suffocated. a part of him wishes he could be suffocated because this right here is the closest he's going to be getting to heaven ever. especially with the sinful thoughts that have collected in his head since he met you. he's the devil himself when it comes to you.

You gasp at his actions, gripping his hair tightly between your fingers and grind onto his face. his long tongue fucks itself into you, pulling out to lick, suck, and bite your clit at a perfect rhythm that has your back arching and Jakes name dancing off your tongue creating the sweetest harmony that fills his ears. your juices spill out of his mouth, much to his dismay, and down his chin and onto the bed, soaking the sheets under your ass. your legs shake in his tight grip, your grinding onto his face becomes sloppy as your moans become whimpers. your pussy flutters, and Jake takes note of this. His eyes watch you as he tips you over the edge, spilling all over him as he brings you to your first orgasm. you cream around his tongue as you squirt liquids everywhere. your breathy whine of his name makes his eyes roll into the back of the head with a groan that sends vibrations throughout your body starting at your cunt. he helps you ride out your high, slowly licking and sucking your clit to comfort you on your way down.

you collapse onto the bed as he stands up at the foot of your bed and you hear a click. his belt coming undone as you sit up on your forearms, eyeing him. You're breathless as you stare at the man before you. his eyes glow a deep red and the moonlight hits him perfectly as he takes off his belt in one quick motion, holding it in his hands staring at you.

"so pretty..." you say under your breath towards the creature before you. he chuckles at your words and throws the belt above you on the bed. you go to turn and look at it, but the feeling of his hands wrapped around your ankles prevents you from doing so as he yanks you down to the foot of the bed where he stands. you yelp in surprise as you're face to face with his chest. he grips the base of your jaw in his huge hand, forcing you to look up at him.

"I wan'.. to... want.." your words trail off, not knowing how to word what you want. he tilts his head to the side and brings his hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek

"tell me what you want baby" his thumb caresses the soft skin, comforting you.

"I wan' you to... taste me..." you whisper and his ears perk up. he sighs, shaking his head.

"oh honey, I wish I could. I really do... but I can't.. I'll hurt you.. I'll lose myself" his hand entangles in your hair, massaging your scalp softly. you whine, shaking your head and furrow your eyebrows. you look up at him and place your fingers in the loop bands of his pants.

"please, yun.. please please please I want you to, need... please plea-" he quickly forces your nightgown above your head and throws it in the corner of the room to be forgotten before his hands find your hair again, yanking it back as you interrupt yourself with a loud scream at the pain. he forces your back down onto the bed as he reaches above you to grab his belt. he ties your arms above your head and around the bed post quicker than you can contemplate. he stands back up at the foot of the bed, watching you squirm under his gaze. he laughs at your helpless figure, finding it way to amusing how easy it is to get you to submit to him.

"you look so cute when you squirm around, my dear" he says unbuttoning his suit jacket and sliding it off, revealing the silky dark brown collared button up. he tilts his head at your whine as he unbuttons the dress shirt painfully slow, sliding it off of his arms to reveal his pale skin and toned body and your mouth waters. he slides the silky material off of him and shoots you a toothy, shit eating grin. one full of lust that makes your thighs clamp together. he unbuttons his dress pants and unzips the zipper, so slowly as if to taunt and tease you.

he slides his pants down passed his ankles and kicks them away, his boxers shielding you from seeing what you want the most. you whine again, signaling him to hurry. he shushes you and pulls his boxers down. his cock springing up to slap against his abdomen, precum leaking from his pink tip. he's huge. long and girthy as you wonder how the fuck that was going to fit inside you. everything about him is perfect, and he just now proved that to you. he crawls over your small frame, his hands enveloping your waist as he caresses your bare skin. the cold air hits your nipples, making them perky and hard, goosebumps littering your skin.

Jake takes his fingernail and presses it against your upper hip on your stomach, his eyes never looking away from you. before you could realize what was happening, he scratches you, hard. you let out a soft yelp at the sudden pain, blood trickling out of the fresh wound and slowly down your hip bone, pooling on your skin. he does it again with his other hand, above the other hip. you yelp, arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach once more and Jake can smell it. his eyes widen as he continues to look at you.

"god, look at you. such a messy, disgusting girl. you're enjoying this hmm?" he says before he cuts you open again. you moan at his words and the pain. your face heating up in embarrassment because what he said was true. you feel hot tears in the back of your eyes you feel so embarrassed, but in a good way. he takes note of your glossy eyes and pouts at you.

"no need to cry sweet thing, ill take care of you." Jake leans over you and kisses your tears away. his kisses trail from your cheeks, down your collarbones and in-between your breasts and down your stomach. he smells your blood before he looks at it, so close that he can basically taste it. his hands find your waist as he holds you in place, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick the smallest bit of blood off your stomach. His mind goes into overdrive as white hot pleasure rips through him. you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, and it makes him want to suck you dry as you struggle underneath him. his grip around you tightens as his long tongue licks up your blood from one of your wounds completely, his lips latching around the cut as he sucks. your walls clench around nothing as you pull at the restraints around your wrists.

he groans into your stomach, your sweet taste covering all his senses as he moves to lick another fresh cut. the way you taste, he will never ever need anything else ever again. nothing could amount to you. you grind your hips into his body as his mouth moves to the final wound, licking it clean and when you look down, surprise overwhelms you as the deep cuts he made are completely healed up scars.

as you look into his eyes, you see Jake for exactly what he is; a vampire. that doesn't scare you away, however it turns you on even further. he quickly pushes himself above you, his lips crashing against yours as he bucks his hips into you, his dick pressing against your heat but not quite going in. you whimper into his mouth, a plea for him to fuck you. you can taste blood on his tongue as you grind against his length, begging him, needing him to use your body.

so that's exactly what he does.

He grabs his cock in his hand and presses it against your entrance, pushing his tip inside of you. you hiss at the stretch, tugging at your restraints. you whine from underneath him. his face finds its way to kissing your neck, littering your skin with his lips. he pushes his dick inside you slowly before bottoming out, his balls slapping against skin.

"so tight, so good baby,, feels like fucking heaven" he says, taking his cock out before pushing it back inside you, his tip instantly kissing your cervix in the sweetest way possible. you scream in pain and pleasure, his dick filling you up perfectly. he lifts his head from your neck so his lips ghost over your skin, breathing hot air on you making you shiver, goosebumps rising to your skin. you squirm in his hold, his hand coming to your waist to hold you in place as the other comes to grip the headboard above you.

His thrusts start off slow and gently, making sure you keep up with his rhythm. your walls flutter around his cock, driving him up the wall before his pace increases, thrusting into you faster and faster, the breathing on your neck giving you chills now as he moans into your neck. your boobs jiggle up and down with every thrusts while your moans begin to sound broken as you choke them out.

Jake licks your neck, making you moan even louder than before and you finally feel scared for the first time, wondering how it's going to feel when he finally sinks his fangs into you. will it hurt? you don't know, but you can't wait to find out. your legs shake and thrash around, and your jaw slacks open in a perfect "o", inhumane sounds spill from your lips as you beg for something you're not even sure of.

Jake growls against your skin, the grip on your waist increasing until his fingernails break the skin of your hips. the smell of blood hits his overdriven senses and he finally bites.

as he sinks his teeth into you, a blood curtailing scream is ripped from your throat, white hot pain shoots down your body in ripples as he sucks the blood out of you through your neck. you kick your legs under him, not sure if you're trying to get away, or make him chase you.

your scream of pain is replaced by pleasure as his venom spreads through your veins, your entire body feels like its on fire and you've never felt so good in your entire life. you pull at the restraints as you shake in his hold. his hand on your waist wraps around your back, pulling you into his body as he thrusts up into you.

Everything becomes too much and you can feel every inch of your body. even with jakes arm wrapped around you, you arch your back somehow closer into him, trying to fuse your body into his, wanting nothing more than to feel complete. you press into him with all your strength, wishing hard enough that you could intertwine your body with his own in order to finally feel as if you were one. he wasn't close enough even though he was all over and in you, spreading through you like ice. you want nothing more than to be whole with him in every way possible.

your pussy flutters around him as the knots in your tummy begin to unravel. your moans change and Jake picks up on it, noting how your body starts going limp in his hold. With much force, and an internal battle, he detached from your neck, moving his face to look into your eyes.

He looks handsome, your blood dripping down his chin, his lips stained the most beautiful shade of red. you being painted all over him.

"Let go baby im right here, I got you" is all he says before you let go, Jake being the one to catch you when you fall. the way you clench around his cock milks him dry as he cums inside you. the both of you orgasm in unison, your mixed fluids coming to hit the bed beneath you. Jake fucks you through your orgasm, it's not enough. he's not close to being done with you.

you harshly tug at the belt, your wrists feeling raw. you need to touch him, bring your sweaty body closer to his. He takes notice of your begging face and the tugging at your bonds. you look at him with teary eyes as he gives you a genuine pout. his thrusts not faltering as you feel another coil in your stomach begin to form.

"please, please please please please" you beg him before his arm unwraps itself from your body, undoing the belt in one quick, swift motion. he throws it across the room as it lands on the ground with. a clank. your now free hands fly to his back, your fingers digging into his skin, pulling him closer.

He kisses you deeply, your blood smearing on your face now. he bites your lip with a groan before rolling his eyes. His hand grabs your hips and forces you off the bed, his dick slipping out of you. Jake flips you over on your stomach as he moves behind you on your knees.

One of his hands grips your throat and forces you to sit up, your back pressed against his front. he bends his head down to your ear and whispers sinisterly.

"who owns you, pretty girl?" he asks and you gulp.

"you do" you answer and he smiles.

"that's right darling, such a good girl hmm?" he says. his cold body feels good against your burning one. its like you were made for each other. the moon and the sun, water and fire, two halves of the same whole.

He likes your neck, the one that has yet to be bit. you shudder at the feeling of his tongue on his skin before he gently nips you, the smallest trail of blood rushes down your neck, collarbones and down your breast.

His free hand snakes around your body, pressing two fingers against your clit, rubbing circles on your bundle of muscle. you moan, pushing your back against him. Jake licks the blood on your neck before biting down harshly. Another scream exits your throat as you jump, trying to get away from him, but your attempt to run is unsuccessful as he presses your ass against his dick, his strength overpowering you. the hand on your throat squeezes tighter, making you light headed as that overwhelming and familiar feeling of icy pleasure goes off in your body, spreading quickly once again and you're a moaning mess as you fall apart in his hands.

your body starts feeling like jelly, so Jake unlatches his mouth from your neck and pushes you down on your stomach, your hips hitting the soaked bed beneath you. His body crawls over your limp one. his arm snakes under your body and around your breasts to grip your neck once more, his other hand forces your thighs apart before grabbing his hard cock in his hand and pushes it inside you.

Your quiet mewl fills jakes skull as he groans at your sounds spilling from your mouth. his dick pushes against your sweet spot that has you a moaning, pathetic mess underneath him. your fingers lace inbwetween the bedsheets as you fist them in your palm.

Jakes thrusts are relentless, fucking himself inside you at an animalistic pace. the two of you are so disgusting and messy, the smell of copper and sweat leaks through the walls. you can feel is breath against your ear again as he moans into you, his sounds have you clenching around him, fluttering like an innocent little butterfly as you begin to lose all train of thought, your eyes beginning to look dead as a trail of drool exits from the corner of your mouth.

"aww, my precious angel, you look so adorable when I'm fucking you dumb" he coos at you, his teeth nipping at the skin of your neck behind your ear. you take his words with a clench around his dick, making him moan loudly. his grip on your throat tightens as does the one on your hips.

"takin' my cock so well, its like you were made for me pretty" his teeth sink into you one last time as he drinks your sweet liquid, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins once more as you become overstimulated with everything around you. your body attempts to crawl away from him, but he doesn't let that happen

"s' too much, can't, please I can't" you beg, hot tears spilling from your eyes as saliva drools out of your mouth. he chuckles at your attempt to run

"you can take it sweetheart, doin' so good for me baby, you can do it" he says, his venom causing you to spill over the edge as his hips snap against your ass ruthlessly, fucking you into the mattress that you wouldn't be surprised if there is an outline of your body engraved in the plush material. you're also pretty sure the skin is red where his hips meet the flesh of your ass. you mewl as broken sobs fill the room along with the sound of skin slapping. the knot in your stomach snaps as you're creaming all over his dick, milking him dry as he shoots ropes of cum deep inside of you. his head falls onto your shoulder as he preps your skin in kisses as you come down from your conjoined highs. your bodies interlaced for all of time with the way he's marked you in more ways than one.

you're his and he's yours.

your eyes close as sleep overwhelms your mind as your breathing steadies. Jakes venom starts to exit your blood stream, making you unbelievably tired. Jake kisses your shoulder blade once more before you fall asleep.

"goodnight, y/n" is all you hear before you pass out in his arms.

.¸¸.♡.¸¸.☆¸.♡.¸¸.☆.¸¸.♡.¸

When you wake up, it's still dark outside, meaning you've only been asleep for a little bit now. you sit up and look around. the bed is clean, there are no marks on you from what you can see, and you're dressed in your white nightgown. your mind instantly goes into panic mode, worried that everything that happened between you and Jake was a dream. Your head fills with anxious thoughts before you lift your eyes to the window across the room, seeing Jake's silhouette cascade through your room thanks to the moonlight. you sigh to yourself before standing up out of bed, but you almost collapse onto the floor with how week you are. Jake hears your struggle and turns around, noticing you awake, he walks over to you, embracing you in his arms gently.

You look up into his now dark brown eyes, admiring how handsome he looks in this exact moment, your pupils dilate and Jake swear he can feel a pang in his chest. you wrap your arms around his neck and bite your lip anxiously, not knowing what to say.

"what's the matter my love?" the nickname calms you slightly, putting your thoughts together before you speak.

"that wasn't a dream... right..?" you ask shyly and Jake smiles at you.

"it was very much real baby" his fingertips trace the beautiful purple and red marks on your neck, and the bite scars that follow along with it. you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. his hand cups your cheek and you lean into his comforting touch, closing your eyes. your mind goes against you as begin to overthink again, worried that he would leave you now that you know everything. as if he read your mind, he speaks.

"I've waited centuries for you, y/n. I'm not letting you go." he says before kissing your forehead.

"you're mine" he kisses your nose

"and I'm yours" he brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your palm

"forever"

[alexis-royce]

I love your Stanley parable fanfic, I am so so excited for the full release of nonplatonic forms, and I am enamored by the gay old timey men. ludicael and hawley! if you don't mind, could you share more about them?

Fascinating, it appears I need to turn over this face-down card, you seem to have activated it.

Ludicael and Hawley were a pair of supra-natural researchers who had a big falling out over the ethics of how to fund their research. Their spooky spooky demonic research.

Harold Ludicael is a man who is made of compromises; he's so damn scared of getting in trouble that his moral compass changes with the wind. But he was also highly adept at presenting the right face for the right audience, something that made him a fine communicator, and a passably good professor. That was something that Hawley admired.

Just about the only thing Harry doesn't compromise on is his demonological and alchemical studies, which are his favorite topics. This is not due to any sort of ethical position, but merely because he has no self control whatsoever. He attempted to craft some self control, but merely resulted in creating:

Maggie is Harry's imp, repressed and locked deep inside himself, and is quite possibly part of the reason why he's such a limp wet towel of a man. Maggie and Harry trade off who's using the body, but they're more or less always awake at the same time. If you replay Serialized Killer, you might note times when one of them is reacting to the other's thoughts. Maggie is less quiet about it than Harry is.

Ludicael's last name descends from the surname Judicaël, which also split off into Gicquel. Huh. "Gee-kill." Why does that sound familiar?

A lot of songs remind me of him (like you do), but if I had a Z-grade budget to make Serialized Killer into a full game, I'd beg for this for the opening cinematic.

Also Harry is five inches shorter than he appears to be; the cuffs of his pants are hemmed unfashionably long to hide the fact that he does not leave the house in anything but custom platform dress-shoes. I'm looking forward to coding a height difference in his sprites in the future and making him shorter around the house with Hawley.

Speaking of Hawley! Hawley's mom was a pirate who died at sea, and her crew took him in. The open seas, however, are a TERRIBLE place to be when you have albinism. His father was a professor in a small seaside town, but by the time contact was mad, young Hawley had already been imbued with a fierce, uncompromising streak, and could not thrive in polite society. He frequently flees from the ship to the mainland and back when things get to be too much for him. Thanks to his father, Hawley was able to complete a formal education and obtain a doctorate.

"Uncompromising," by the way, is the best way to describe Hawley. He will list twenty-seven different reasons why your idea is worse than his before he even stops to consider your logic. Ludicael, who loves to get stepped on admires the inner fortitude required to be idealistic, found this to be unbelievably charming.

Annnnd I think I'll stop there, or I'll never actually get this posted.

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 9

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1900

 Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

You heard Jamie’s word after he left, ‘You should go up and spend some time with the clan, it might be worth learning a bit more.’ He wasn’t wrong, though it was hard for you to admit it. You took a deep sigh, fixed your hair, and went back up the stairs. You found Mrs. Fitz, who passed you a drink. “Lovely you joined us again Y/N. Everything prepped for the hunt?”

 “Sure is, Mrs. Fitz, sure is, which means I can drink and be merry,” you watched as the line started to dwindle down as the men took their oaths to Colum. “Anything happen after the oath taking, like that musician, will he be playing today. Love that guy,” you smile down at her.

 She looked at you bemused and shook her head, “No, he won’t be playing this evening. There will be dancing later, I’m sure quite a few men would be interested in dancing with you.”

 You shook your head at her, “You are not a match maker Mrs. Fitz. I would not dare to go out on that floor. I would insult the good Mackenzie clan with my lack of grace.” A man tripped over his feet in front of you and stumbled on to find his friends.

“Grace is nothing you need to worry about here dear,” she grinned at you. “Not too difficult to figure out, I’ll have Laoghaire show you later,” she tapped you. Laoghaire stood next to her, giving you a strange look, you were sure you didn’t warrant. Suddenly the room grew quiet and you looked up towards the entrance of the hall. Jamie was weaving through the crowd slowly. He had changed and making his way towards the oath taking line. And every eye was on him, except when you turned to observe everyone’s reaction Murtagh was looking at you. You gripped Mrs. Fitz’s arm and pushed towards Murtagh, there was no way you were taking credit for this.

 When you made yourself up to him, he was towards the back of the room with his hand gripping the top of his sword, “Why do I have a feeling this involves you?”

 “I didn’t do it,” you whispered harshly to him, sounding like a child defending their lack of innocence. He tipped his head over not believing you for a second, “I didn’t do it on purpose, and he told me he could get back just fine.”

 “You don’t understand what you just did to him. You signed his death sentence,” he pulled you back further. Murtagh caught you up in the severity of Jamie’s predicament. With every word, you grew more worrisome and filled with guilt. The thought of not having Jamie to rely on as a friend tousled around in your head. You tried to find a way to free Jamie from this situation and the only thought you could manage was start a fire or faint and you didn’t believe either of those situations would help him out of this.

 It was Jamie’s turn next and you didn’t acknowledge that you started to hold your breath. Suddenly without reason or thought, you grabbed Murtagh’s forearm. And without much thought, Jamie diplomatically got himself out of the situation looking like a leader. You cursed under your breath, before dusting off the front of your dress, “And you were worried Murtagh. See Jamie came out looking like a,” you paused not being able to come up with a metaphor that would make sense in the 18th century, “I don’t know. He is just fine. Now you can’t be mad at me.”

 Murtagh rolled his eyes as Jamie walked up to him, “Couldn’t stay away from trouble, aye?”

 Jamie looked towards you, his face grew a knowing smile I didn’t quite understand, “Sometimes trouble finds me than I’m like a moth to flame. Y/N, I see you decided to join the gathering again.”

 “You made it sound so exciting and here you were not wrong. Though it doesn’t bode well that you got caught. And now Murtagh here is blaming me for your lack of discretion,” you use your thumb to point back at Murtagh, “And I was starting to win him over.”

 Scratching the back of his neck, leaning in to whisper, “Not everyone can be sneaky as you and not get caught.”

 “Tis right there sir,” you shoot back at him.

 Hearing a big sigh come from his partner in crime, Murtagh gave Jamie an eye roll and pulled him out of the hall, “You’ve had enough of trouble this evening, let’s go.”

 “Enjoy your evening, Y/N.”

 You shook your head, biting back a snarky comment. You could throttle the man for making everything seem so suave and charming. As Jamie and Murtagh rounded the hall entrance, the phrase you repeated to yourself, ‘your charm doesn’t work on me Jamie.’ It was slowly hitting you that, that mantra might not be as strong as you needed it to be. You looked around, feeling someone starring at you and caught eye contact with Laoghaire. And suddenly she was storming out of your eyesight. The dancing had started and you watched the mesmerizing dance of the culture. Everyone’s laughter put you at ease for a moment. Then suddenly, you were in your head missing your home and brother. You weren’t meant to be here, everything you are is fake or reserved. You couldn’t live like this and the bought of hopelessness took over your soul. In this moment, something inside you became a little toxic.

  The next morning, you were up early for the hunt. The way the night ended with the uneasiness sat on your chests as you dressed for the day. This wasn’t your place, this wasn’t your job, and it started to bother you how different the times are. You would never be respected as a woman, an unmarried woman. You tossed your hair in two French braids, per usual fashion when having a busy day. You dropped your hair piece under the bed and you ducked down to grab it to suddenly find a strange bundle. You finished with your hair and brought the bundle down to the kitchen.

 You grabbed some bread and sat the bundle on the table, “Dear what are you bringing that into this kitchen,” Mrs. Fitz yelled catching you off guard and causing you to stumble backwards.

 “I,” you paused to comprehend the situation, “I, I found it in my room, under my bed and I was going to ask it was some weird potpourri thing. What is it?”

 “It’s an ill-wish, a witch’s making,” she tossed it into the fire.

 “An ill-wish, what?”

 “Someone be wishing to bring you harm dear, what have you gotten into,” she put both her hands on your face, “Try staying out of trouble, someone has an eye to hurt you.”

 “I didn’t do anything, literally I have been making myself small at possible Mrs. Fitz,” your voice started to raise. You have done everything in your power to win people over, treat people with kindness, not start a stir when you found injustice to your gender and status. You didn’t believe in witchcraft, though it should cause you to question since you are living the 18th century, which is something you would never believe in.

 “All due respect, Mrs. Fitz, but someone is going to get their ass beat hard,” you shot catching everyone’s attention.

 “Lass, mind your tongue. That is not the language a lady speaks,” Mrs. Fitz tried to sooth you.

 You pull away from her, “No,” you start to gather your things feeling the heat of this betrayal crumble the wall you built around your true self to keep you protected from these people. Every comment, action, and lie you’ve told to keep yourself from being killed, shunned, raped, or imprisoned is bubbling out of your pours. You have reached you limit, “I am not a lady Mrs. Fitz. I do not belong here. I wear pants damn it, I swear, and I could probably kick the ass of half the men here,” you paused, “At the same time,” you paused again, “Maybe not, but I sure would die trying. I do not belong here. Look at how everyone looks at me, treats me, I’m the enemy because I’m different. I’m not part of the clans, I’m an imposter. And rather than whisper about their hatred, someone wants to cause me actual pain with this bullshit. Fuck that. I’m sorry Mrs. Fitz and pardon me, but fuck that.” Your packs were hanging from my shoulder, “Let this spread around the village, anyone that can guarantee me the name of the person who put this under my bed gets all the money I have earned over the time I’ve been here.”

 “Y/N,” Mrs. Fitz called after you. She clearly was not offended by your lewdness, but more she was concerned about what you were about to cause with your burst of feelings of revenge and anger.

 You stomped up to Angus, “Where the necklace man, I didn’t escape or leave, now give the piece back?”

 “Don’t speak to me like that lassie,” he started to feel around his body for the necklace you gave him the night before. With every pat, your already boiling anger grew. That was the only piece from your family you owned. “Might of lost-,” he started to say.

 With the beginning of his sentence, you went for your dagger lying on your waistband. Before you could pull it out, Rupert pushed your hand down holding the handle down, “Settle down Y/N, Angus gave me the necklace to watch over. He noted he would lose it.” He pushed the charm in your hand, “If that would have came out, Angus would have gutted you. Does the hunt have you on edge lass?”

 “Stupidity has me on edge Rupert and it’s not much of your business,” you stormed away to find your horse. Something had changed in you and you weren’t sure what to do about it.

 You struggled to get on your horse, when someone came up and offered you an extra push. Jamie stood in front of you and your horse, “Mrs. Fitz asked me to check on you. She shared you were upset and threatening people. I heard you tried to pull a knife on Angus, what has gotten into you woman.”

 This time you didn’t make eye contact with Jamie, “Mind your business Mister MacTavish. If I want to fight or punish someone for their actions against me, then I’ll see fit to do it. Now get out of my way, there is a boar to chase down and murdered.”

 Jamie didn’t move, keeping your horse in place, “You going to get yourself killed and as your friend, that does in fact concern me. You shouldn’t be going on the hunt like this.”

 You pushed forward with the horse causing Jamie to back up quickly, “I’ve seen Old Yeller, I get the dangers that come from a boar. Right now, you should be worried about the clansmen Mackenzie. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you started to move towards the field.

 You were fully aware he would not get the reference from the 21st century, but you did not care. The thought of taking the horse and charging out of the village to the stones drifted to your mind. But you still cared to get back to your brother at the moment and that meant you had to have a chance to survive, “Y/N,” Jamie yelled after you.

 “Leave me alone, Mister MacTavish, I have business to attend to,” you shouted back.

 Part 10

Taglist:  @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher @lovesanimals @bilesxbilinskixlahey

[multiverseoffandoms-blog]

Infatuation // G.W pt.2

A/N: this is the second part to my George Weasley x reader series. It’s significantly longer than the first one — which you can find on my page (I’m working on updating the masterlist and links. I do all these on my phone, so there are some errors. 

Warnings: build up to smut? Fluff, my poor writing skills.  Pairing: Fred x female!Reader, George x female!Reader

Tag list: @pigwidgexn @xuckduck @is-it-really-a-secret @asluttybisexual

You couldn’t contain your amusement as you watched the twins, the pair of them encouraging cheers from their peers as they ran into the room, a vile each in their hands. They each ran around the room, collecting high fives and cheers from everyone present. Fred skipper over to you, smiling sweetly at you as he planted a kiss on your forehead. Behind him, you didn’t miss how George rolled his eyes at the two of you.

It had been close to a week since the incident, and if you were honest with yourself, you had to admit that you had been emotionally torn since. Once you left the library, you practically sprinted to the Gryffindor common room before locking yourself in the dorms for the rest of the afternoon. You had decided to tell Fred, and so you’d threw on an old sweater, before making your way to the Great Hall. You were late for dinner, and so expected to receive a few lingering stares from students.

As you had approached your table, ready to take your seat, you stopped abruptly when you noticed Fred.. laughing. Beside him, sat in your usual spot, was Angelina. She had positioned herself almost on top of him, her body meeting his side every time she giggled.  You weren’t mad, how could you be? You and Fred weren’t even “official”, but to think that you were sat in your room worrying yourself about how he would feel about the incident with George, all the while he was down getting friendly with some chaser. At least you were going to tell him, he seemed like he had no intentions of letting you in on whatever he had going on.

Huffing out your annoyance, you straightened your back and held your head up, stalking towards the pair who hadn’t even noticed you. George had noticed though, and even as you stood a few students back, you could see him visibly tense at the sight of you.  “Come off it Angelina, he’s not even that funny,” you snapped as you reached the pair, shoving yourself down between Fred and George. George’s arm bumped against yours due to the small space you had crammed yourself into, but your annoyance was far more greater than your infatuation with the twin right now. With your back to George, you set your eyes on Fred.

“I’m late, what — not even 10 minutes, and already you’re filling my position with knock off versions of myself? Harsh, Freddie. Even for you.” You were ware of how dramatic you sounded, but you had always been honest with Fred, and right then it honestly felt like he was betraying your trust. You reached across the table, scooping Ron’s cup from beside his plate before bringing it to your lips, sipping to calm your nerves.

“Hey!”  “Not now Ron.” 

Fred turned himself to you, his conversation with the girl beside him forgotten. 

“Y/n, hey! George told me you weren’t feeling too well and-and..” you waved off his excuses, passing Ron back his cup before reaching for a bread bun to add to your plate.  “Honestly Freddie, I’m not concerned. Although, If I knew you would be so quick to change your mind on me, then perhaps I would of chosen a different brother to have my arrangement with.” You told him with a shrug, absentmindedly stabbing your fork into vegetables that sat in your plate.

Both George and Ron were shocked to hear you say what you did, the statement catching them both by surprise as they choked on their drinks, mixtures of saliva and beverage dripping from their lips as they raced to wipe theirselves clean. You laughed to yourself, reaching out and patting George on the back.

“You okay George?” You teased, smiling sweetly over your shoulder at Fred who seemed to be unbelievably annoyed by your confession. He held your stare for what felt like forever, an uncomfortable silence falling over your friends. After nearly a whole minute, Fred caved.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in your ear as he leans into you, kissing the corner of your mouth. You hmm’d in response, not fully letting the matter go but deciding to move on from it for the time. Conversation soon started back up, and soon it was like the disagreement didn’t even happen.

Under the table, you felt the small tremble of shaky fingers brushing against yours.

George.

Somewhere in your argument with Fred, you’d decided that you weren’t going to tell him about his brother, which was probably why you decided to link a few of your fingers with his instead of moving away. You could see his smile from the corner of your eye, but he bit his lip and dropped his head to hide his ever growing smirk.

-

“Ready Fred?” George asked his brother, the both of them leaving Hermione's side.

“Ready George!”

The two shook their viles, before linking their arms together. “Bottoms up!” The two boys pocketed their viles, cheering loudly with everyone when the potion didn’t reject from their bodies. You watched from beside Harry and Ron, your own shock apparent when they jumped over the age line. You clapped along with everyone else, cheering for them both as they tossed their parchment into the goblet.

Suddenly, a rumble sounded throughout the room, tall blue flames erupting from the fire, whirling around before smacking into Fred and George, throwing them out of the ring and across the floor. You laughed loudly, unable to contain yourself as you watched the hairs on their heads turn from orange to white, the two morphing into old men versions of theirselves.

You couldn’t think.

You couldn’t even breathe, as you doubled over into fits of laughter. Tears were streaming down your face as you watched the boys fight on the floor, their grey hair and beards flying wildly as they shoved each other. You had never seen something so hilariously funny. Sure, you had suspected that the consequences of the ageing potion would be great, but never would you of guessed that it would be this amusing!

“Get your brother, Ron.” You say, distracting him from his chants as he encouraged his older brothers to fight.

“C’mon y/n, really! You can’t honestly expect me to interrupt this?” While you did admit to Ron that it was absolutely hilarious, you warned him about how upset Molly would be, had her sons been expelled and no one stepped in to help.

“Bloody hell!” He groaned. The two of you excused yourselves through the crowd, while Harry did his best efforts to divert the students elsewhere, telling them that that’s enough entertainment for them today.

“Both of you, get up!” You called over their shouts, reaching down to grab Fred by his sleeve, yanking him backwards as best you could. Ron held out his arm, helping George to his feet. The two boys dusted off their robes, each one shooting daggers at the other.

“You two look ridiculous!” Ron laughed at his brothers, causing bickers of disapproval between the three. You sighed, rubbing your hands across your face. Honestly, how could Molly deal with these human headaches.

“In all fairness, I did tell you it would have  repercussions George.” You say, covering your mouth when you met his eyes to stop your giggles. “So it’s really your own faults.” You shook your head, reaching out to toss his grey hair.

“Although, you do make a cute little old man.” You added, smiling sweetly as you watched George blush at your comment. He shook his head, scratching the back of his neck and giving a cough to clear his throat.

“Wait, you told y/n about the potion before you told me?” Asked Fred. He was frowning down at you, and you could practically hear the gears in his mind turning as if he were trying to run through every scenario on why you knew first.

George went to speak first, but you cut him off before he said something no one could take back.

‘Couldn’t have Fred knowing you were considering letting George between your legs,’ you thought - cursing to yourself.

“Yeah! I ran into him in the library the other week when I was looking for books for charms class. I wasn’t feeling well and that’s when he told you, and so you decided to try and replace me with Angelina,” you hoped that would be enough to shift Fred’s questioning eyes off his brother, and it was.

He groaned, slouching his shoulders as he pouted at you. “I thought we were past that!” You shook your head, laughing at his childlike behaviour.

“Not even close Freddie, come on — let’s go find Snape, I’m sure he’s got a potion that’ll fix up this disaster you got yourself into.” You shoved Fred towards the exit, but not before checking over your shoulder to see George mouth a quiet ‘thank you’ to you.

-

It took nearly two whole hours — and a lot of pleading with the potions professor — before Fred and George were back to their normal selves. Snape had lectured both boys, reminding them that if they had of paid more attention in class, they would of understood how to correctly make the potion they had attempted.

You decided to leave out the part that they had used the potion to try and cheat their way into the triwizard tournament, deciding that they’d already suffered enough.

Still, Snape gave them both a weeks worth of detention and another scoulding, before mixing up a rather stinky concoction to cure the boys of their sudden old age. 

“Thanks again, for helping me.” Fred called from the bathroom joining off the boys dorm rooms. You were sprawled across his bed, head propped up on his pillows as you kicked your shoes off your feet, settling in comfortably.

He’d decided to have a quick shower, as if to try and scrub himself clean to make sure there were no more wrinkles or age spots littering his skin. You had spent majority of the time giggling at him, the imagine of his old body still fresh in your mind. He complained almost the whole time, but as soon as he started to see his features start to morph back to his own, his mood brightened.

Fred joined you back in his room, wearing nothing but a towel lowly around his hips. His hair was still damp, and the veins popping along his arms seemed to only become more prominent as he lifted his hand up to run it through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes. The movement caused small water droplets to fall from his hair, sliding slowly down across his chest and — relatively toned — stomach, before absorbing into the towel. 

It was if suddenly you forgot what words were, your mind turning to mush as you stuttered over yourself, scrambling to sit upright. You watched wide eyed as he kept his back to you, reaching down to pull his draws open to retrieve a fresh uniform from inside. His back muscles twitched at his movements, and you were sure you had drool on your chin.

“Holy shit Freddie,” you called, shaking yourself out of your daze. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking. He was cocky, there was no doubt about it. He spun on his heals, resting himself against the set of draws as he gripped the edges in his hands.

You wondered how his hands would feel, gripping your throat like that.

“Like what you see, do you sweetheart?” He teased, running his tongue along the front of his teeth. Fred was a flirt, the whole student body at hogwarts knew that. He spent more time flirting with you than either of you did doing anything together. And while you two hadn’t slept together, the two of you took advantage of the comfortable bond yous shared and did everything other. You weren’t a virgin, but you definitely didn’t go around giving it to whoever asked for it.

You decided to play with him, opting on not giving him full satisfaction of the effect he could have on you. You shrugged, giving him your own flirty smirk when you met his stare. “It’s alright, I guess.”

He raised a brow at you, tilting his head and analysing you while he stalked his way slowly over to you. Fred stopped beside his bed, where you sat patiently, anticipating what his next move would be. He reached out, gripping your jaw between his thumb and fingers before giving you a small pull upwards, signaling you up on your knees.

He kissed you harshly, almost possessively. Your mouth melted against his, your fight for the game suddenly gone as your tongue met his, his sweet taste filling your mouth each second he held you to him.

Fred pulled back, leaving you short breathed and flustered as he chuckled to himself, rubbing his thumb along your jaw. “Mhm, no one does it for you quite like me darling.” He stated, falling his body horizontally across his bed, his feet planted firmly on the floor.

You were astonished, he’d had it over you without even trying. Catching him by surprise, you moved forwards to bring yourself into his lap, straddling his waist. Fred held his composure, pushing himself up onto his elbows, the tips on his fingers brushing against your knees.

Just like George did..

“And is that what you think Freddie?” You asked sweetly, shifting your hips slightly to brush against his growing bulge. He groaned beneath you, falling his head back with a whimper. You tsk’d, pressing your hands to his chest as you kissed along his neck, nipping the skin there, leaving a trail to his ear.

“Do I do it for you? Or is that why you were hitting on Angelina?” You laughed in his ear, knowing that your accusations would annoy him. As if on que, he shot his arms up, wrapping a hand around your neck before pinning you down on the bed. He grinned down at you, shaking his head and leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

“You like her, don’t you?” You pushed. You slid your hands up to link behind his neck, playing with his long hair. “Guess I don’t do it for you, hey Freddie.” He rolled his eyes, finally, he was about to play your game.

“And so what if I like her to? It’s not like we’re together. We’re just messing around,” he told you. You knew it was true, it had been a mutual idea to not take your relationship to that level. Some lines can’t be crossed back over once you take that step, and you didnt want to lose a friendship over something that wouldn’t work.

‘George would work,’ you told yourself. In a sense you knew it was true. You had a connection with Fred, but your attraction and common interests with George made him a more compatible match.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft on me now?” He asked, leaning down to bump his nose with yours. “I like what we have. We can keep doing it, I enjoy being the only one who can rile you up,” he slipped his hand underneath your top, fingertips tracing patterns over your stomach as they moved up your body.

His head fell to your neck, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses along you. Fred Weasley, the nerve of him to think he could get away with having you both. Like it wouldn’t be a completely selfish act to keep you to himself. You frowning, pulling his head up to brush your lips against his.

“I’ve got a secret,” you mumble, meeting your lips with his in a few sloppy kisses.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was a whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he let his body enjoy the sensations of your mouth against his, your hands on him.

You moved your lips from his to his ear, the thrill of your confession stirring butterflies in your stomach.

“George actually does it for me.”

His movements froze, his body going stiff as he pulled back to look at you. You couldn’t recall a time you’d seen him look so blank, face vacant of any expression as his eyes bore into yours.

Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea..

-

The sun had begun to slowly drop for the night, the last remaining rays of sunshine trying to peak through the growing cluster of grey storm clouds that were quickly filling the sky. The rumble of the storm brewing bounced around the forests trees as a few stray raindrops fell from above, splattering theirselves against your hogwarts school sweater.

You smiled at the feeling, the rain being one of your most favourite things, before turning the tip of your wand upwards to cast a shield above you, the drops of rain reflecting off it in small spots of blue. The forest around you seemed to release a calming  aroma, as if they were almost happy that they had been gifted with a storm.

You sat by a small abandoned dock by The Great Lake, still surrounded enough by trees and bushes to stay hidden if anyone was to wonder by, but out enough to be able to see all of hogwarts and its beauty. The raindrops fell peacefully into the lake, and you tilted your head in amusement as you watched the surface of the water ripple with the movements below it.

This was probably your most favourite place to come and be alone. Luna Lovegood had shown it to you in your forth year. She had sat with you after you received a rather upsetting letter from home, and told you that this was the most beautiful place to come for comfort.

She was right.

While you hadn’t seen many of the magical creatures that inhabited the lake — a few sea turtles here and there — there was one being that always seemed to make your visits interesting.

It’s eyes watched you from just below the waters surface, small bubbles bubbling around it as if it knew that made you laugh. The Giant Squid lifted one of its tentacles above itself to protrude just above the waters surface, and you laughed lightly at its demanding behaviour.

You reached down beside you, grabbing another bread roll before standing and throwing it out into the water. Your aim way off — an indicator on why you never made the quidditch team — but the lake monster stretched his limb to catch the bread before it hit the top of the water.

It was past cerfew, you knew as soon as you headed back to hogwarts you would be in all types of trouble with the headmaster. But after your argument with Fred, you couldn’t stand to be there for longer than you had to be.

Or really, not much of a fight at all. He hadn’t even spoken to you. You frowned as you remember how he moved away from you, like your hands had suddenly burnt his skin and he couldn’t stand it. He seemed to look right through you while he stood by the end of his bed, before he focused himself onto you.

“Get out,” he’d whispered to you, and you knew you had upset him. You tried to reason with him, moving to stand on your feet in front of him and place a hand on his chest, but he avoided your touch with two steps backwards, before barking at you to leave once more.

You shook the thought from your head, before sitting yourself down on the damp dock. Did you regret what you said? Absolutely not. Over the past week or so you had made time to analyse everything to do with George. From the pranks on each other in your second year, him carrying your books to each class for you in third, being the one who comforted you when you were sad, being the reason you laughed. He was possibly the greatest friend you ever had.

But, a small part of you had always wondered about more with George. Only recently had you let that idea bubble in your mind.

You loved Fred, you owed it to yourselves to give it a try to see if you’s were ‘the ones’ for each other. But you felt as though your bond with Fred in a way pushed you closer to your attention for George.

You loved Fred; but you weren’t in love with Fred.

“You’re more difficult to find than I expected,” you squealed, your fright scaring the squid to swim off as you jumped to your feet, spinning around to face George.

He stood by the bay, his head wrapped up in a beanie you were sure Molly sent him. He was wrapped in a cosy jumper, the same charm producing a shield from the tip of his wand to.

“Merlins beard George Weasley! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!” You scolded him, crossing your arms across your chest as you frowned at him.

He chuckled at you, taking a few steps up the dock to join you, leaving an arms length between the two of you. You forced your eyes off the ground, bringing them up to look over his face, allowing yourself a sad smile as you seen his awkward emotions.

“What are you doing out here George? How did you even know where I was?” You questioned, trying to shift some of the awkwardness settling between the two of you. You had never been awkward around George. Has Fred told him what you said? Had he told Fred about the stirring feelings you both shared?

George reached into his coat pocket, pulling out what looked like a map with a sheepish grin on his face.

The Marauder’s Map.

“I uh.. I borrowed it off Harry when I heard that no one had seen you all afternoon. Figured why not right? I’ve already got a weeks worth of detentions, why not add another week when we’re caught out past cerfew?” You couldn’t help but smile at him, his body relaxing as he realised you weren’t upset about him finding you.

The rain had settled, and you lowered your wand to shove it into your pocket, keeping your hands there as you kicked at some dirt on the dock.

You noticed George’s feet come into sight, and you allowed yourself a quick peak up at him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. You shook your head, mumbling a ‘not particularly’ with a half shrug. Off behind you, you could hear the stirring splash of water, and so you linked your arm with George, pulling him to the edge of the dock.

“Wha-“ you smacked his chest, bringing your index finger up to your lips to tell him to be quiet. The two of you stood in a comfortable silence, both watching the wafers surface break open, to be met with the familiar eyes peeking back at you — and now George.

It was only small, and you were sure he thought he’d played it off smoothly, but you felt him take a step backwards at the sight of the giant squid. You turned to look over your shoulder at him while you linked your fingers with his, holding his hand to pull him back closer.

“It’s alright, he’s just curious.” You told him. Not many students had the pleasure of seeing the squid, he was a nervous thing who was frightened away by sudden movements. George swallowed his nerves before calming beside you, watching as the squid lifted one of its tentacles out of the water.

You extended your hand, giggling like a kid when he extended forward, placing some pebbles into your outstretched palm. He sunk back into the water, turning to look at George once more before spinning around and diving into the lakes dark depths.

“He likes to give gifts for the bread I give him,” you told him when you noticed that he was frowning at you curiously.

“So you’re friends with the lake monster.. wicked.” George laughed from beside you, and soon you joined him, shaking your head at the boy. He always had a way of making you smile, even when you felt low.

“I think Fred and I are done with it, whatever ‘it’ was,” you told him once the two of you fell back into silence. You could tell by the way his body stayed tense that he was unsure of his actions, his hand even hesitating before he placed it against the side of your face — rubbing your cheek tenderly.

His brown eyes scanned over your face, trying to look for any emotion that said you regretted it. You didn’t.

“I told him that it’s you,” your voice was barely above a whisper, your eyes anywhere but his as you felt the heat rising up your neck and tinting your cheeks. George inhaled quickly, a small grin threatening the corners of his mouth, but he composed himself and opted on pulling you into his chest.

You wound your arms around his waist, holding his body close to yours as you relaxed into his warm embrace. George tested his head in the top of yours, giving you a small peck for comfort.

It felt good to hug him, to tell him that you think you’d upset Fred, to feel okay as he held you against his chest. His racing heartbeat calmed you in a way, and you were sure he could feel yours that was beating just as fast. George pulled back from you, reaching down to cup your chin in between his thumb and pointer, tilting your head up to look into his eyes.

“Fred has always been.. attached, to what he enjoys. He might be upset now, but he cares about you and I know he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he stayed mad at you and denied you what you want.” 

You chewed your lip between your teeth, holding his gaze. “And how do you know what I want George?”

He didn’t speak, instead sunk his head to mold his mouth against yours, his lips moving almost desperately against your own. Your reaction was instant, pushing yourself up onto your tippy toes while you knotted your hands in his red locks. Your teeth clashed against his as you pushed against his lips with the same force he was, a soft moan falling into his mouth as his tongue met yours.

He fit perfectly against you, it was beautiful.

George groaned, his hands squeezing yours sides and bunching your clothes in his hands, his cold fingers slipping under along your lower back to pull you impossibly closer to him. Your stomach was in butterflies as you slid one hand from the back of his neck, dancing it along his neck to place it against his chest.

You detached your lips from his, your breaths coming out in pants by his ear as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck, sucking and biting little marks all along your exposed skin. It didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot, sucking harshly just below your ear — surely leaving a mark — as he drank up your whimpers.

“G-George..” you whined. You knew you probably sounded pathetic, standing here begging for him.

“How do I know what you want, love?” He whispered into your ear, goosebumps erupting over your body. “Why don’t you tell me? Tell me what you want.”

You nearly turned to mush right then and there. In front of you, the usual shy boy that you were so interested in, was speaking to you in a way that had you rubbing your thighs together, the pool between your legs certainly soaking into your panties.

You pushed against his chest, causing him to take a step back from you. The daylight had nearly completely disappeared, so you strained to see his face, but you could tell he was confused by your actions.

“It’s you George.. it’s always been-“

“What are you two kids doing out here so late!”

You practically jumped into George’s arms with a scream, relaxing a bit when you felt him hold you tighter while he shifted you behind his body; one hand wrapped around you, and the other coming forward to draw his wand on who had interrupted the both of you.

It took a moment to adjust your eyes to the sudden light that was now surrounding you, but it didn’t take you long — with the help of Georges ‘lumos maxima’ charm — you soon realised that you’d been caught by Hagrid.

“On my life Hagrid, you scared me half to death!” You shouted, taking a step out from behind George, who had lowered his wand when he realised there was no immediate danger.

“You should think yourself lucky that it was me who found you. You know what sort of creatures lurk out here in the night!” His voice boomed, the light he held shining on his face to allow you to see his disappointment.

No actually, the mythical creatures had actually slipped your mind, and you were embarrassed that George had that effect on you to have you forgetting how dangerous it could be.

“We’re sorry Hagrid,” George spoke for you, his hand staying comfortably in yours. You watched Hagrid drop his eyes to your entwined hands, before shaking his head with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, best be getting you two back inside then.. before someone catches you. Come along.” You sighed, resting your forehead on George’s arm, allowing a quick laugh between the two of you. George extended his arm with a slight bowl, gesturing for you to lead the way.

“After you, m’lady.” He said with a wink.

[mst3kproject]

The Face of Marble

This movie has a zombie dog.  It’s also got John Carradine from The Unearthly and Robert Shayne from Teenage Caveman, and was directed by William Beaudine, who brought us Design for Dreaming.  But honestly, who cares about that when there’s a zombie dog?

On a storm-wracked cliff somewhere live mad scientists Dr. Randolph and Dr. Cochrane, who are trying to raise the dead but aren’t very good at it.  Their first experimental subject, a drowned sailor, promptly dies all over again when lightning strikes the Frankenstein equipment.  This was probably a lucky escape, because subject two, Mrs. Randolph’s dog Brutus, comes back to life as a bulletproof zombie with a thirst for blood and the ability to walk through walls!  They get back to work on improving their technique, and when Mrs. Randolph herself later dies in a tragic matchmaking accident, the two scientists figure she may as well be subject three.  It kinda works, and kinda doesn’t… but not in the way anyone expected, especially me.

I guess I have to explain ‘tragic matchmaking accident’. Elaine Randolph’s ethnic stereotype maid, Maria, wants out of this place and has decided that the best way to bring it about is to have her mistress and Dr. Cochrane fall in love and run off together, taking her with them.  A combination of voodoo and persuasion seems to be on the verge of bringing this about when Dr. Cochrane’s pre-existing fiancée Linda shows up to surprise him on his birthday.  Maria therefore sets out to murder Linda by releasing toxic smoke into her bedroom, but doesn’t know that Linda and Elaine have switched rooms because Linda freaked out when the ghostly Brutus wandered through hers in the middle of the night. It was much shorter to just say ‘tragic matchmaking accident’.

That probably gave you a pretty good idea of just what a dumb and contrived movie this is.  The print is also pretty terrible, old and scratchy and with poor sound – and yet it’s actually kind of fun to watch.  The Face of Marble is a bit slower than it should be despite being only an hour and a quarter long, and the ending unfortunately makes no sense, but the plot twists managed to surprise me a couple of times.  Nobody here is a great actor but nobody’s really terrible, either. You can tell who’s who and what’s going on.  For something I would watch, it’s a decent film

What I really liked about it, though, was the treatment of the characters.  For all I’ve called them mad scientists, Randolph and Cochrane don’t really fall into that ‘type’.  They’re not trying to create an indestructible army or Show Those Fools or anything, they want to save lives: Randolph talks about people who’ve drowned or asphyxiated, people for whom rescue came just a few minutes too late. Nor do they display the mad scientist’s typical lack of conscience.  Randolph gets so caught up in his work that he euthanizes Brutus the dog, but he’s absolutely sure his process will bring the animal back as good as new.  When this doesn’t work, he feels terrible about it and hides it from Elaine, partly so she won’t be angry but partly because he’s deeply ashamed of himself.

The incident also destroys his confidence in the project. When Elaine dies, it’s Cochrane who talks him into trying to resurrect her, since he has been working on the formula and he now believes it will work.  Randolph almost refuses, saying he’d rather see Elaine actually dead than become some monster like the dog, and Cochrane has to do quite a bit of convincing.  What we see in these two men is a folie à deux – each would be quite reasonable on his own, but when they can play off and encourage each other they end up doing unbelievably awful things.  That’s kind of neat, and makes it more believable that they would try the experiment on Elaine even after their previous failures.

The two men’s relationships with the women in their lives also have some complexity.  The backstory tells us that Randolph saved Elaine’s life by removing a brain tumor, and subsequently fell in love with and married her.  Despite this, he doesn’t seem to spend much time with her, and she appears to be downright intimidated by him.  Elaine is shown to prefer confiding in Cochrane rather than confronting Randolph about her fears, despite the fact that Cochrane’s reaction is invariably condescending.  On the other hand, Cochrane is very tender with his own fiancée, Linda, and actually listens to her when she tells him she doesn’t like Randolph and thinks they both need to get away from this place!

Elaine and Linda are set up, both by the writers and by Maria the sorceress, as romantic rivals for Cochrane.  You’d think this would lead to a lot of petty hostility between them, but the movie avoids that, too.  They are fairly cool towards each other at first meeting, but quickly make peace after Linda’s sighting of the zombie dog.  By the time they’re about to part they’re still not best friends, but they clearly don’t dislike each other.  Linda has figured out that Elaine has a crush on Cochrane but as long as Cochrane isn’t going to act on it she won’t let it worry her.  She could have been a villain in this story, as could Randolph and Cochrane themselves, but the writers avoid taking the easy way out.

Instead, the villain of this story is Maria.  The situation would never have arisen if she hadn’t attempted to murder Linda, and later we see her use both the police and the zombies trying to get herself out of the mess she’s gotten into. Unfortunately, this is where the movie starts to fall apart.

A few days after the undead Brutus leaves the lab by leaping right through the wall, a detective shows up at the house to ask Dr. Randolph about a series of attacks on local livestock.  Randolph identifies the culprit as an animal suffering from ‘hemomania’, or a need to drink blood.  When Elaine comes back from the dead, then, we expect her to do so as a vampire. Everything we’ve seen so far seems to be leading up to that idea.  When she comes to and appears to be tired, but all right, we assume the condition will set in eventually.

It never does.  Instead, Maria is suddenly able to control the undead Elaine and Brutus! Dr. Randolph soon figures out that it was Maria who killed Elaine, and in his anger and grief he considers stabbing her to death until Cochrane talks him out of it.  In order to save herself, Maria has Elaine stab Randolph, then go back to bed and forget it happened.

Where did that come from?  We have never seen the slightest indication that Maria can do this.  Whenever she has been working magic, such as leaving effigies under people’s pillows or preparing potions, we’ve never seen any evidence that she actually has supernatural powers.  The love charms were suggestion and the poison was simple chemistry!  The film-makers had ample opportunity to set something up here, by having her take control of the zombiefied Brutus through similar actual magic, but they didn’t do that. We just see Maria sitting in front of a fire waving her arms… then Brutus comes into Elaine’s room, Elaine rises in a trance, and Maria just hands her a knife and orders her to stab away, as if she has the woman under hypnosis.  Did I miss something?

At the end, the cops get the real story from another servant (I’m tempted to insert a quip about how you can tell it’s fiction because the police listen to a black man, but we’re way beyond that being funny) and show up to arrest Maria, but she’s already committed suicide, and footprints in the sand show that Elaine and Brutus have just wandered off into the ocean. Okay.  Does that mean anything?  Are they gonna drown or just wander around on the bottom and fight sharks like in Zombie 2?  Did Maria make her do it or not?  Is Elaine even aware that there’s anything wrong with her?  Earlier she didn’t seem to be, and nobody told her what happened… she seems to think she was merely ‘taken ill’.

The feeling I get from all this is that the writers didn’t know what to do with Zombie-Elaine.  They were too chicken to have her go around tearing throats out because then she wouldn’t be attractive anymore.  They can’t kill her because they’ve already established that the zombies are bulletproof and they can’t think of any other way to do it.  So they just have her leave, mysteriously and unsatisfyingly, and completely squander several opportunities they’ve set up for themselves.

Elaine wondering what’s wrong with her, unable to help herself even as she’s horrified by her own actions, would easily have been the scariest thing in the movie.  Randolph and Cochrane realizing that what came back isn’t quite Elaine, and having to deal with what they’ve done, would have been the most heart-wrenching.  They could even have had the two of them, formerly unbelievers, go to Maria for magical help – only to have Maria refuse to do anything because she, as previously established in dialogue, really does love her mistress.  The ending could have been really cool, but they just ran out of ideas.

I did enjoy about the first two thirds of The Face of Marble.  By the time Elaine finally dies I was getting a little impatient to see some actual zombies, but the film then went in a totally different direction, in a bad way. The ending doesn’t feel like a plot twist, because a plot twist should be something that makes sense of things we’ve already seen.  It’s doubly disappointing, because the attention paid to the characters and their motivations and relationships really made it look like writers knew what they were doing.

[georgemackayhey]

Rules For Falling In Love: #4

summary: In which George wants to get married. But… you’re not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: Hey yall! There were some interesting predictions mixed among the super sweet feedback from the last chapter and all I can say is, I hope you dig this one just as well! There's only ONE MORE chapter left after this one. Can you believe it? Thanks for everyone who've stuck with this sweet little story so far ♡

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

Finally, for once, you had no worries. No work, no award ceremonies, no pending run to the market you were dreading. You threw all the things essential for a weekend getaway into one big bag and watched out of the passenger window as George drove to the little beachside town where Dean, or rather, his lady, had invited you to stay.

You met Dean and Claire outside of the town's main drag, where markets and buskers and icecream stands gathered along a winding boardwalk that looked out over the distant ocean. Introductions were hurried as Dean had his eye on a paper map, with a bistro circled. Food driven as always, you chuckled to yourself.

The four of you strolled along the wooden path that creaked under every dragging step. The wind tousled your hair as families of all kinds crept past, laughing, and posing for photos in front of pop up shops and the view of the roaring ocean in the opposite direction.

George threw on arm round your shoulder as you both soaked up the sights, listening to Dean tell a story. He walked backward to watch your smiles crack into laughter when his punch lines hit. Claire lingered by his side, looking to him with a wide grin, leading the way all the same.

She went well with Dean, you thought. Her dark hair and her bright eyes contrasted his own in perfect harmony. The sun to his moon... Claire kept her sights on Dean, clearly love-struck. And even when she spun around to answer one of George's long-winded questions, Claire glanced to Dean as she spoke, and he watched on with a similar grin. If there was any question of the girls fitting in with the group you and the other two men made up, her clear adoration for your friend was answer enough.

When you made it to the bistro at the end of the walk, and a tired eyed host informed your party would have a bit of a wait, none of you seemed to mind. You settled on a bench in the crisp shade, watching Dean pull Claire into the sun for a round of selfies.

"They're made for each other, aren't they?" George gushed, watching your friend and his lady from across the way.

"A good match indeed." You chuckled, nodding approvingly. You joked for a while how it felt like you were both watching Dean grow up and bring a date home for the holidays. And when you finally got to sit around and enjoy a meal together, it seemed as if Claire had been a permanent fixture long before now. She asked about your life and listened on with care. She gushed over George's talent in the film he and Dean had just finished promoting. And Dean babbled over her, telling the story of how he'd met Claire and what kind of a fool he made of himself in his attempt to ask her out.  You all laughed and ate and kept on laughing when it was time to roam around the main drag once more.

Then, you all darted after window displays that caught your eye, stopping to greet a very excited dog who couldn't help but sniff your shoes on it's trot past. It was the perfect afternoon full of simple fun.

You split up inside a bookstore that seemed to sell little bits of everything besides rows of novels. Dean and George were taken by a large collection of war-torn photographs, huddled together to turn the pages and spout facts. You shook your head with a chuckle as you floated on past them toward a wall of fake flowers and handcrafted bookmarks.

As you reached out to admire some of the trinkets, Claire floated closer to do the same.

"Dean's told me you and George have only just gotten married. I thought surely you'd been together for years, the way you two go together." Claire turned her pleasant smile in your direction. You couldn't help but let out a laugh. This was a different version of the same type of question you always got. But it didn't make you nervous as it had the first couple of times, all those years ago. You'd come to expect it, now.

"Yes, we've known each other for almost ever." You shrugged, pulling a marble toned bookmark from the shelf out of curiosity. "Only now I suppose we're 'official'."

Claire gave you a slow, sage nod, grimacing at a gaudy display of paperclips as you sauntered through the aisles.

"I feel like I've known Dean for decades." She smiled, and you did too, coming upon a row of children's books under an entrance of paper planes hanging by string you couldn't see. "And I can't imagine being with anyone else, but the idea of marriage has never settled with me." The girl shrugged, speaking toward her risen shoulder as if making a confession. It was your turn to nod, understanding more than she probably knew.

"It's a hassle to change your name." You let out a soft laugh, glancing to notice George and Dean pointing to another book in the same section you'd left them behind in. "And you don't need a piece of paper to prove anything, but... it is nice." You seemed to decide. Claire listened, watching the wheels turn in your head as you spoke your thoughts aloud. You spun off into some ill rehearsed monologue about how seriously George had taken his commitment to remain a team with you, how valued it made you feel. All while forming your thoughts into words, new thoughts nagged you in the back of your head. You and George had only ever agreed to get married for convenience, what gave you the right to preach the value and meaning of the tradition you'd gone through with so unconventionally?

"Shit, that was beautiful." Claire let out a stunned chuckled, looking to you as if she'd just met you for the first time all over again.

"I really don't know how I got so lucky." You spoke, realizing that if you'd failed to see the importance of the decision you'd made until now, you must not have been worthy of the title that linked you to George. You realized just how deeply rooted your connection with him was. And you were suddenly wrought with nerves that the foundation on which you built your promises to George, weren't valuable enough to make your marriage last. And you suddenly realized just how desperately you wanted it to last. And that was a scary new thought.

///

Claire had found the perfect cottage in the hillside near the ocean, up and away from the bustling beachside town. She raced up the paint chipped the front porch and waved you all into the front door, as the sun started to set through the dense leafy trees that surrounded the place.

"Oh, it's so perfectly cozy!" Claire exclaimed, skipping through tight doorways. The dull white trim and narrow wooden hallways were charming as could be. The living space was complete with a stone fireplace, and there was a massive patio out of the kitchen that managed to overlook the distant ocean, inside the gated confinement of the lush back garden.

George insisted his friends take the master bedroom since they were the hosts. The small spare would be just fine for the two of you, wouldn't it? You'd been on more than your fair share of trips and surprise sleepovers where you'd had to share close quarters with George, before now.  

But until the time came to fight over which side of the bed to stay on, everyone found themselves out back in the comfy cushioned patio furniture, watching the sun turn the beach golden while dense clouds turned the sky dark overhead. You all stayed there for a while, chatting about the places you'd wound up earlier in the day. Laughing about some of the people you'd met in passing. George insisted you tell some old story he knew the details of just as well. Dean already knew most of your stories, together and apart, but he still laughed along as you told them to Claire.

When it was her turn to speak, she mostly spoke of Dean, how he'd charmed her family, how some of their adventures together panned out. He kept his moonstruck gaze settled on her, as you and George exchanged knowing glances to one another.

When the air grew misty and cold, you headed in to start a fire in the living room. Claire said something about having brought along drinks to mix and headed to the kitchen after you. George went in search of a sweater as a chill sent Dean in too.

You listened as everyone flutter about the rented space, spouting lose plans for the next, and the last day you'd spend on the mini getaway. You managed to spark the perfect fire in the stone place, as someone chose a record from the vintage player in the corner. How lovely for the renters to leave some albums for their guests, you thought.

Dean soon stole your attention by creping into the room and clearing his throat. You whipped around from studying the flickering flames to see Dean giving you an expectant glare, as if you were the one who'd approached him with something to say.

"What?" You worried.  Dean only grabbed you by the elbow and led you closer to the crackling fire, away from the open kitchen doorway.

"Is something... going on?" He asked in a nervous hush, glancing back to where George had taken to help mix drinks.

"Oh God, why did George say something? Is he mad at me? He'll cry if he sees me cry and so he'll go too long without telling me if-."

"No..." Dean laughed unbelievably, stalling your rambling. "No, that's the thing. You've always been a convincing couple. But this is- you both seem... different. Has something changed, at long bloody last? Are you, ya know... down to one-bedroom, back home?"

"Dean. Nothing has changed. George and I still have never slept together, and I can't believe you're asking, after all this time." He was always supposed to be the friend who understood, who was the only one saving all the dumb questions people at parties would always ask.

"First of all... you said never have, not never will. See? Secondly. You're married. Things obviously aren't the same as they were when I met the both of you."

"You are reading in between lines that aren't there."

"No, I'm looking across the room right now and watching George watch you, and as his best friend I can tell you that there are lines you're not acknowledging."

Another voice cut through your frantic whispered argument with Dean.

"What are you two up to?" George quirked a brow, holding out two perfectly mixed drinks for either of you to take.

"Nothing." You responded to George, but looked to Dean, more so making your point clear that there was nothing to argue about any further. He pursed his lips, rolled his eyes, and turned to smile and thank George for the drink.

Your group took to the cozy living room, around the warm fire as rain started to pelt at the windows. As you sat, like usual, unfamiliar thoughts crept out of the shadowy dungeons of your mind. A few dozen "what if's?" floated about your head, growing louder every time George locked eyes with you, asked you to remember a certain story, told his own on your behalf. You watched him speak, sipping your drink as you silently studied George. You watched his hands fan about as he spoke, before his fingers rested on your knee. Was it just a reflex? You felt him sink lower into the sofa at your side, leaning toward you to rest his drink on the coffee table, letting his shoulder stay pressed against yours while Claire told a crazy story about her time at Uni.

You caught Dean's glances, the question in his eye. He was silently asking you what he dared to address earlier. The question that hadn't left your mind since he'd brought it up.

When the fire started to die, and the rain became more than just background noise, you decided to call it a night. Everyone went their separate ways, parting with quips about how excited they were for the last day of roaming about the quaint seaside city.

You sat up in the warm, blanket dense bed while George took his turn cleaning up for the evening. You opened a book in your lap, but you didn't read.  You totally zoned out, lip trapped between your teeth as your brian drifted completely away from the lines on the pages.

Only when George eased into his side of the bed with a stretch were you broken from the daze. You turned to him with a question you hadn't realized was on the tip of your tongue

"What did you think of me when we first met?" You recalled the very day you moved across the neighborhood, how Georges parents were the first to offer your family baked goods and a friendly smile. You didn't meet George until school began, but when you realized he belonged to the neighbors your family had become accustomed to chatting with at the end of the block, it all made sense.

"I thought you'd be a big bully." George teased, settling under the covers as you scoffed in reply. "Really, you were too pretty. I thought surely you'd torment the school like in all the pretty girls do in American teen dramas."

"Well, you looked like all the boys on the rugby team, so I supposed I thought the same." You jeered, shutting your book. "I was truly shocked to learn there was a big brain inside that lovely head of yours."

George smiled, nearly rolled his eyes.

"Remember bonding over being little teenaged nerds, together?" You asked with a breathy chuckle, setting your book aside. George seemed to study you seriously for a beat before responding.

"Course I remember. Just because we've spent every day together since then doesn't mean the details blur together."

"So then you haven't blocked out that embarrassing New Year's Eve party, then?" You laughed, watching George bite back a reluctant smile.

"Unfortunately, no I haven't managed to forget." He grinned. "There's this girl who likes to remind me of it every holiday season, and sometimes more than that." George playfully glared your way. You'd both been keeping each other secrets for so long, there was no worry over using them as blackmail. Your only fear was the day you and George stopped keeping tabs.

For another few minutes, you rambled over the silliest times you'd spent together. The time he got so scared in the middle of haunted house maze that he let out a shriek, that you took the blame for when your friends stalled ahead to make sure you two were alright. Or the summer you had a reoccurring dream about meeting Robert DeNiro that ended up coming true when George introduced you to the icon at some award show.

George laughed along as memories kept popping into your mind. You chattered about them until your heart grew heavy, for reasons you couldn't begin to understand. When George started telling some story about Dean, you remembered your friends suspicions from earlier. You were no longer questioning how George might have felt. You've moved on to wondering exactly what it was you were feeling.

You were zoning out again, Georges rambles sounded distant and muffled as you tried to process what was going through your head. Why your throat was going dry? What was going on? And right when you felt the threat of tears burning the backs of your eyes, you snapped out of it, and determined you were being utterly ridiculous.

"Hey, what's wrong?" George turned toward you, worried, noticing your glossy eyes. You were quick to suck it all back in, shove it all way deep down.

"I... I really don't know." You shrugged because you didn't. You reached over to flick the bedside lamp off with a pathetic sniffle. When you turned back to settle in for the night, George was there, reaching out to you. You couldn't help but follow his lead, as he nudged you toward the pillows, leaving a warm comforting hand splayed across your shoulder as his ocean colored eyes searched yours.

"For better or worse, right?" George asked in a hush. His way of assuring you could tell him anything. But you didn't have words for feelings you didn't understand, yourself. You just gave him the nicest smile you could muster and closed your eyes for the evening.

///

You woke up early, you could tell by the way the sun was peaking over the frame of your window. What you couldn't figure out, though, was how Geogre had stayed so close to you all night long. You were pinned under his arm, close enough that you debated staying there to relish the comfort. But your eyes wouldn't close again, and you didn't disturb his peace on your silent mission to get up. So you did, headed for the kitchen to fix some tea and try and sort out your jumbled thoughts in the blip of time you had so quietly all to yourself.

But you mustn't have been as clever as you'd hoped, because no sooner than you'd started the kettle and found some breakfast to cook, George was up. He looked like he'd rather be sleeping, as he shuffled in the room, musing his flaxen hair and holding back a yawn.

You gave him a hushed good morning, in case the others were still down for the count. George hardly greeted you. Instead, he sauntered closer to peer over your shoulder at the food you'd found to cook, and wrapped his arms around you in a loose hug. Maybe he thought you were still upset. He was always quick to comfort...

"It's very hard to make breakfast this way." You laughed, all the while savoring the contact like you hadn't been touched in ages. Geogre hummed, reluctantly letting go when the kettle rang. He went about fixing tea for the both of you when Dean shuffled in.

The dark-headed fellow traded chipper good mornings and gave Geogre strict instructions on how to fix his tea. While Geogre spun around with a chuckle, he brushed past you and letting his fingers trail across your arm before he was too far away to reach for another cup. That's when Dean shot you a look reminiscent of the one he kept flashing you last night. You gave him the smallest shake of your head to confirm you hadn't gotten a better idea of what was going on. In fact, you were more confused than ever.

You and Georg always discussed everything. Game planning was your best combined talent. From what to watch on movie night, to how to deal with disasters and destruction, you'd always talk through everything as it happened, together. But you couldn't talk to Geogre about this... you tried last night, and look what kind of confused mess that conversation made you into. That's when you realized how easily you settled under his quick comfort. And that you longed to cuddle just as close for no good reason... That's when you realized that you weren't very confused at all. You realized exactly what you were feeling. Now you just needed to accept it...

───※ ·❆· ※───

taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver​ @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin @dearevansamham @belledamsceno@nilletellsstories @loulouloueh @visionsofmelodrama @haileymorelikestupid

[ginger-bread-official]

Invested

Remus Lupin was known to be well versed in combating against dark creatures, but he clearly was more than competent in defensive spells. He managed to catch up Fred and George; world class slackers, enough to pass their DADA O.W.L. He was willing to put in all his effort to get his fifth years onto N.E.W.T.S.

Words: 1,530

He walked out of his office after making them wait for a solid five minutes. These two were masters, rivaled only by James and Sirius in his opinion. The good news was, he had years of practice. The pair stood smiling and laughing at some unknown joke.

“Just George right now.” They stopped in their tracks and shared a shocked look. It was quick and they regained themselves so as not to alert him to his upper hand. First step to taking down a dynamic duo, break up the duo. “Sit please.” He gestured to the chair across his desk as he closed the door to his office. He rounded to his chair and sat. He allowed the silence to stretch just a moment into an uncomfortable silence and then pushed the failed essay toward its author. George looked briefly at the page, shrugged and leaned back with a cheeky grin.

“What about it.” He said daring Lupin to lecture him. Remus felt his marauder spirit flare at the sight of the defiant young man.

“I know you’ve heard it all.” he leant back in his chair clasping his hand together. “I know nothing phases the great Fred and George Weasley.” Another pause “But I also know you’re brilliant and that you could get an O on your O.W.Ls if only you tried. Now what I don’t know is why you down play your intellect.” George seemed ready for this not allowing Lupin’s lecture to penetrate his aloof demeanor.

“Fred and I are being selective with our efforts. Businessmen don’t need counter jinxes or moster protection.” His easy smile showed Lupin that he really had no remorse.

“You have me there,” he stood from his desk and walked to the front of it. “My subject only progresses the careers of Aurors and the like.” He leant back onto the desk as he looked onto the young man. “But I’m not worried about your career. I’m worried about your safety.” George’s smirk broke. His eyebrows raised in questioning.

“My safety?”

“Yes. See defense is something you don’t plan on using, and when you find out you need it, it’s too late.” George now looked intrigued. “Your uncles knew that.” At this the front two legs of his chair slammed back down to the ground.

“My uncles?”

“Yes.” He smiled softly at the young man. “I fought alongside Fabian and Gideon during the war. They were brilliant, two of the bravest people I knew.” He smiled at the memory of the troublesome duo. “They were very good at ‘counter jinxes and stuff’ and took out more death eaters than Mad-eye Moody himself.” George was hanging on to every word of Lupin’s, clearly eager to hear more about his hero Uncles.

“They did?” he saw a proud smile erupt on George’s face, “Mom never said that.”

“It was an internal tally we did really. Your mom wasn’t in the army then.” He settled back into a serious tone. “I know I have a war mentality and the war is over, but if I hadn’t known what I do, I wouldn’t have made it through. I want you and Fred to have the same preparation that Fabian and Gideon had. That I had.” George nodded, Though Remus wasn’t sure he had completely broken through to him. “I don’t know if I can Change your attitude, I’m sure every professor has tired to explain why their subject is the most important, but I can offer my help. I can work with you guys during the night, or weekends. Whenever works for you to get you through your O.W.Ls.”

“Yeah.” He stood “Thanks professor. I’ll—I’ll redo the essay.” He stood and reached out his hand to shake Remus’ which he took. George turned to leave, but seemed to think of something and turned around. “You really fought in the war?” he asked blunty.

“Yes.” He responded. “Me, Sirius Black and James Potter joined up right after graduation.” George looked like he was going to ask another question. “I met the most courageous and amazing witches and wizards; including your uncles, but I don’t much l care for thinking on those years.” He paused letting George fill in the implied trauma he didn’t care to re-visit. “Please send your brother in.” he put a note of finality in his voice, and George obeyed.

Fred sauntered in after his brother. An easy smile on his face and an air of arrogance surrounding him.

“Please sit.” Lupin gestured to the chair George had just vacated. Fred did so and waited for Lupin to speak. “I suspect you already know what I’m going to say.” there was a brief pause.

“I’ve gotten this lecture once or twice before mate.” He sat up straight and put on different impressions of different teachers. “You’re a brilliant student Weasley I don’t know why you’re throwing away your education” he said in an overly eccentric Scottish accent. “I know you can do better if you tried.” He said in Flitwick’s high voice. “All pretty standard stuff. George and I have it all figured out though. We’ll be successful businessmen without knowing the difference between devils snare and tentaccula.” He sat back waiting for Lupin again clearly sure he won this exchange. Remus saw he couldn’t give Fred an inch, and so he dropped the formal professor façade and allowed himself to be more candid with the boy.

“You seem to have it all figured out. Fool proof plan, no need for my subject at all, all you need is your witty and savvy business skills.” Fred’s smile was firm on his face, but his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “I guess you don’t need to know how to protect yourself, or protect others. You can probably talk a banshee down from screaming with your winning personality.” His tone was harsh, but warranted. “No need to learn how to stop a curse from hitting you or maybe hitting George.” His voice rose slightly and he went on, “If a dementor is attacking you, or your family or anyone for that matter, Fred Wealsey will come in with some wise ass comment and send it packing. Dark wizards won’t dare to touch you with your charming smile for protection.”

“We’ve been in tight spots before and managed our way out.” He sounded so young and naïve and he must have sensed it, because his smile finally fell from his face.

“You’re too smart to genuinely think that evading Filch and fighting for your life are the same.” Lupin shot back. There was a moment of pregnant silence where Fred looked ashamed. Remus took pity on the boy. “I remember what it was like to be young,” Fred looked up to his professor now with a vulnerability Remus had never seen on the boy’s face. “To feel like there’s nothing you can’t do, that you’re invincible. Me and my friends were reckless, fool hearty. You actually remind me a lot of one of them.”

“Who?” he asked

“James Potter.” Fred’s eyes widened. “You’re both unbelievably stubborn, witty, effortlessly brilliant and a loyal, kind friend. But James knew when to grow up. He knew what life had in store for him outside of Hogwarts and he knew he needed to be prepared.” A beat of silence held the weight of his words between them. “We joined the resistance to Lord Voldemort at 17 years old and the only reason I am standing here is because I knew defensive magic.”

“But the war is over.” Fred said meekly.

“And you think that means there’s no danger out there, that every other bad or evil being in the world retired that day?” he sighed “I can’t force you to take your studies seriously. But It’s more important to me that you understand what a disadvantage you’d be putting yourself at by writing it off.” He walked to his chair behind the desk allow the young man space to breathe. “I want you to succeed Fred. I want to help in anyway I can. Evenings, weekends, lunch periods, whatever works for you. Just take it into consideration.” He waited a minute and watched the young man in front of him gather his wits and regain his composure after the reality check he was just given. He felt bad for being harsh, for his aggressive attack of his student, but when he was their age these realities were forced onto him and he is alive because he was able to prepare.

“Right.” Fred stood and made for the door, “Thanks professor.” He reached for the handle, but turned before opening the door. “You fought in the war?” he asked just as his brother did.

“Yes.” Lupin answered simply.

“Did you know my uncles Fabian and Gideon? They fought too.” He smiled at the boy.

“I knew them, and I was lucky to have called them friends. They saved my life multiple times.” He explained. “I don’t think I’ll ever meet braver men then those two.” A proud smile surfaced onto Fred’s face and he turned away from his professor and left the office.

[theladysexpistol]

I saw your request for requests! Can I have a Kakyoin X Reader? Anything fluffy would do it ^^

Don’t get me wrong part 5 is probably my favorite part in jojo (so far) but I’m so excited to get a request for a different part! Especially for my favorite character in Stardust crusaders! 🍒

I hope you don’t mind me doing a part 4 Kakyoin? My irl Jojo friends and I have been talking about Kakyoin in part 4 a lot lately so he’s on my mind 😬

This got much longer than I intended - sorry, not sorry?

Side note I’ve been using Kakyoin’s theme in my homebrew dnd campaign. why is Kakyoin’s theme still the best Jobro theme to exist ever? 🤩

~~~

   Bright, midmorning sunlight filtered into the kitchen of your small city home. You were cooking to get your mind off the absence of your husband, but you weren’t as successful as you would have liked. Your hands were trembling.

   Of course, you trusted the word of Noriaki Kakyoin, the man you had chosen to spend the rest of your life with, as well as that of Jotaro Kujo, his best friend. But the bombshell the two of them had dropped on you, along with everything else they had decided to explain, had your head spinning. Kakyoin had probably wanted to spend a little more time with you, to ease your worries further; but Jotaro had insisted it was urgent. And that, it was, you had to agree. But the thought of either of them getting hurt - or worse - wouldn’t leave your mind.

~

   You had basically grown up with Jotaro, only a few streets away from his home. You both attended all the same schools. He had always counted you among his small group of friends, on account of how you neither fawned over him like most girls nor were you interested in fighting him in a vain attempt to become popular like most boys. Several of his fan girls did not like you because of this, but it never bothered you. In fact, you found some entertainment in watching him groan even after being pushed aside by his groupies.

   But the transfer student that Jotaro returned with from a long, unexplained absence in the middle of your third year of high school was another story.

   Both of them were covered in bandages under their uniform, and both avoided any questions as to their condition. You and Kakyoin hit it off immediately, and in fact your feelings for him emerged quite quickly. The two of them became your closest friends, but there was alway something there, something you could feel but could never quite place, something that the two of them had in common that you didn’t have.

   When all three of you graduated, Jotaro left to study marine biology abroad. Suddenly you were spending more and more time with Kakyoin, and your silly childhood crush blossomed as you fell in love with him. By the time Jotaro returned to see the two of you in Japan, he was more irritated than ever.

   “Good grief you two, I was hoping you would’ve gotten together by now.” he had said. It had been mortifying, but in a way it was a blessing. After all, that was how you and Kakyoin had gotten together. Even as Jotaro dated, then married a woman he had met in America, had a beautiful baby girl, and continued his studies, you and Kakyoin remained together.

   Kakyoin had informed you when Jotaro returned to Japan from New York where he had been visiting his ailing grandfather, but that he would not be able to visit the two of them for some time as he was investigating a series of odd family events in a small town called Morioh. You were disappointed but thought nothing of it; until Jotaro showed up in your living room.

   “I’m going to need your help,” he told Kakyoin. “I can’t handle a serial killer-Stand user alongside a handful of high schoolers and a manga artist.”

   “A what?!” you exclaimed. Both men looked at you after your outburst as though they had forgotten you were there. “Stand user? A serial killer? Jotaro, you’re the strongest person I know but this still isn’t your responsibility... shouldn’t you go to the police?”

   Per habit, Jotaro sighed, tugging his hat over his eyes. “Good grief... I forgot you don’t know about Stands.”

   Kakyoin smiled, but you could tell his smile was strained; forced, on your behalf. “You’re not usually one to slip up like that, Jotaro.”

   “Both of you! Tell me what’s going on!” you demanded, getting frustrated. They were both acting as though this was nothing, as though they dealt with serial killers normally!

   Finally, after some more frustrated convincing, the two of them explained everything. Dio, and Jotaro’s mother, the involvement of Jotaro’s grandfather and Avdol and Iggy and Jean Pierre Polnareff and their absence from school as they traveled to Cairo in order to put an end to their suffering. They explained how all along they’d had spirit guardians called Stands at their sides, and how their Stands had watched over you, too. Tears pooled at your eyes as they explained how Kakyoin had nearly fell to the same fate as Avdol and Iggy at the hands of the vampire, but by some miracle he had survived. But before you could fully comprehend everything they had told you, the two men had left for Morioh.

~

   Honestly, it was all unbelievable. If it hadn’t been Kakyoin and Jotaro, the two people you trusted most in the world, who explained all this madness to you, you probably wouldn’t have believed it. But the existence of Stands made sense; that was the thing they had always shared, that unexplainable presence you sensed between the two of them. So you had to believe the rest of it; and Stands, they sounded wondrous; but dangerous in the wrong hands. And the two of them had just willingly returned to Morioh to hunt down a person using their Stand to deliberately kill people.

   The more you thought about it, running through every event they had described to you in detail - on top of Jotaro’s young relative Josuke - who was technically his uncle? God, it was all confusing - the harder you trembled. Kakyoin, the most precious person to you in the world, had almost never survived. You imagine every happy moment he had brought you - your wedding, meeting Jotaro’s daughter, buying the house together - and it’s almost too much to bare.

   A face full of smoke breaks you out of your revere.

   “Shit!” you exclaimed, having become so lost in your thoughts and your worry that you burned what had been cooking on the stove in front of you. All the pent up frustration and emotions are released upon this mistake, like popping the cork off a bottle of champagne. You collapse in the kitchen in tears. Kakyoin had left about a week ago, and yet you didn’t think you could stand another moment away from him.

   You sat there on the kitchen floor for who knows how long. At some point, the soft ringing of the telephone caught your attention. You weren’t sure how long it had been ringing for, so you pulled yourself together the best you could and picked it up without looking at the number. “Hello?”

   There was a familiar sigh on the other line, before the one voice that would normally fill your heart with warmth answered. “It���s so good to hear your voice. I hope you’ve been all right.”

   But now, it just filled you with worry and longing, and you struggled to keep your voice from cracking. “Noriaki, I can’t stop thinking about everything. I can’t stand this, knowing where you two are.”

   “I’m so sorry,” he replied, sounding disappointed. “But I will be okay, I promise you. Josuke, he is Joseph’s son that Jotaro told us about; he and his friends are quite talented Stand users. They want to protect their town. It reminds me of Jotaro and myself, on our journey to Egypt.”

   You could hear the smile in his voice. It was the first thing that soothed your worried heart.

   “Noriaki,” you said, after the two of you had talked for some time; mostly listening to him talk about Morioh, and what a wonderful city it was, potentially for raising children; once this mysterious serial killer was taken care of. “Let me come visit you. Just for a week, and I’ll stay safe, I promise. I feel like I’ll feel better once I meet everyone, once I see the city for myself. It’s just that... well, ever since you told me how close to death you had been before we even met, it’s all I can think about. You, dying, against this horrible person.”

   “I’m sure they don’t even hold a candle to Dio,” he gave a bitter chuckle, as if knowing what a terrible thing a joke like that would do to your heart. “I’ll... let me think about it and talk it over with Jotaro, okay? You can’t see Stands. That’s what makes this guy so dangerous.”

   Your heart clenched. “Okay.”

   “I love you.”

   You hung up the phone, and immediately went to your bedroom with a suitcase. As soon as the idea had came to your mind, you were already set. You weren’t going to give him time to think it over. Before leaving for the train station, you only emailed Jotaro of your plans.

   And when you checked your email on the train, you were unsurprised by his short reply. It honestly made you smile a bit.

   Good grief. I’m not sticking up for you.

~

   The train arrived at Morioh Station early in the morning. As you descended the steps to the station, you could see several students of differing ages all waiting for the bus. You were immediately charmed by the quaint, peacefulness of the town.

   And then you remembered the dark secret lurking in the shadows of the cheery buildings, and fear gripped your heart once again.

   Making your way toward the taxi stop, you were careful not to accidentally bump into anyone. It was honestly even more terrifying than you could have imagined, the idea that any of the people around you - laughing and smiling to their friends or dressed in a fine suit, speaking loudly on the phone as they headed to work for the day, even the friendly gentleman driving the taxi that came to take you to the Grand Hotel - could be the one killing innocents with a spirit they couldn’t see. You wondered what their victims knew in their last moments, what they felt as they were killed by an unseen enemy.

   You could practically hear your heartbeat in your ears as the hotel loomed over the city street. You just had to get there. Kakyoin would probably be furious with you, but you would be safe. Jotaro knew you were coming. He’d know not to let Kakyoin leave.

   You bounded up the steps of the hotel so fast you nearly forgot to pay the taxi driver. The Morioh Grand Hotel was beautiful, living up to its name; it would almost be romantic if your husband wasn’t staying there in order to catch a murderer with supernatural powers.

   The woman at the front desk, prim and well-dressed, greeted you immediately. “How may I help you?”

   “Ah, I um- I’m waiting to meet someone here... you haven’t seen two men, one with a white hat and the other with ginger hair leave, have you?”

   The receptionist looked as though she were about to explain “We can’t give away details of our guests, for security reasons you know.” when someone called your name indignantly. You turned to find just who you were looking for, a bewildered-looking Kakyoin and an exasperated, but amused, Jotaro.

   Kakyoin swept you up into a tight hug, before planting a kiss on you. Despite obviously being frustrated that you had made your way to Morioh on your own, it was also clear he was just as relieved to see you as you were him.

   “I should be furious right now,” he mumbled into your ear. “But I’m glad to see you.”

   “One week, Noriaki,” you whispered back. “Give me one week. That’s all I need.”

   When he pulled away, you beamed up at Jotaro. He mumbled something under his breath, something that wasn’t hard to take a guess at, before Kakyoin spoke up again.

   “I hate to be the paranoid husband but... I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave the the hotel by yourself,” he gave a sigh. “I want to keep you as far away from danger as I can.”

   “There’s a simple solution, you know,” Jotaro said with a smirk on his face and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he continued walking toward the door to the hotel. Presumably, the two of them had been leaving to meet with Josuke and the others. You grabbed a hold of Kakyoin’s hand, intent on going with them to meet these other Stand users. “Make sure they never leave your side.”

~~~

[A/N: This fic is already so super long I know... I just wanted to add that after I wrote all the stuff about the reader being scared that any of the people they passed on the street being the killer... well I was this close to putting in a Kira cameo at the end where he noticed that the reader had such beautiful hands, with a beautiful golden ring holding an emerald in the center (kakyoin, emerald splash, obviously) but decided against it because this fic WAS supposed to be fluff... probably a little more angst than you were expecting but i hope you all liked it! i spent my entire shift at work today imagining what i was going to write!]

[moonmeg]

what are the hamilwives like?

Oh! Good question! The answer here are my own headcanons so don't take it as historical accuracy. I doubt it is hahah

Long text ahead!!

Mary Morris Hamilton (25th December 1790-24th May 1869) is a very kind and generous person. Benevolent and charming. She has a good relationship with her parents and her seven siblings and she is quite close to her grandparents. Her two years older sister Julia and she also are very close. They can tell each other everything and act like best friends even after both married. When Mary met James, for example, Julia was the first one to find out. When James had asked her to marry him, Julia read Mary like a book and noticed there's something up with her little sister and was the first one in Mary's family to find out Mary said 'yes'.

She loves her husband and her five children, Elizabeth, Frances, Alexander, Mary and Angelica, with all her heart and is a very affectionate mother and wife. She thinks it's amusing to get attention from other men, just to mess with James and his jealousy a little, but she is absolutely devoted to James and could never be as intimate with someone else than with him. As a couple, they lay priority on honesty, loyalty (especially James, since he experienced the aftermath of affairs himself as a child) and communication. They talk to each other about everything and are both upset when the other one lied about something.

When they fight, she's the one to keep the fight rather calm, telling James to be quieter when she thinks he's too loud or telling him to calm down a little in general. She can't stay mad at people for long. Especially not people that she loves, so after every fight she has with her husband, she tries to solve things quietly again and it ends in "I love you"-s and either an embrace, a kiss or... well you can think your part here.

Mary is intelligent and humorous. She is social and supportive.

(TW// next section contains mentions of child death)

Maria Eliza van den Heuvel Hamilton (4th January 1795-13th September 1873) too, is a caring and devoted mother and wife. She's a joyous person for most of her life and her laughter is the most contagious and the loudest. She's proud of her Dutch heritage and is glad to have found a Dutch speaking "friend" in Betsey.

Her children are the dearest thing to her, she'd do anything for them and will never truly accept they're grown adults that go their own path of life. She's quite talented musically wise but would never admit it. She's fragile. The deaths of two of her children in childhood break her. Especially baby James' death about a year after his birth makes her blame herself that she wasn't a good enough and caring enough mother. The morning she notices he isn't alive anymore she wakes John in hectic and in panic and collapses in his arms, full of tears. Ever since she grew more and more caring and almost overprotective of her other children and especially of the newborns she'd have afterwards.

John and Maria have a v e r y intimate relationship and are always by the other's side. To comfort the other one an embrace is not necessary; holding hands tightly is enough. They get each other gifts whenever they can, especially John does and Maria always meets him with a genuine smile and gratitude. When they fight, and she believes she is in the right, she ruthlessly gives him the cold shoulder and won't give him attention anymore until he apologized. She stands for her beliefs and it's hard to break them from her. Sometimes, when neither wants to give in, they both give each other the cold shoulder and John purposely is even harder to soften because he doesn't like it that he always to make the move to forget the fight and apologize. He's basically making Maria take a taste of her own medicine.

She grows attached to people quickly and sees the wives of her brothers-in-law like sisters. When other men flirt with her, she accepts but complaints about it to John later how much she actually hates it.

Eliza P. Knox Hamilton (?? ?? ????-21st July 1873) is a literarl sunshine. She always wears a smile on her face and is sure to have found her one true love in Alexander Jr.. She doesn't mind the age gap at all. She loves him and that's enough for her. She's an astonishing dancer and very active. If she could, she would travel the world. She always drags Alex away from his study, desk and law cases just to take a walk with him or have a snowball fight in winter. She loves teasing her husband and messing around with him. Putting or shoving snow on his neck or into his coat, reorganize his desk and entire study so he just stands in front of his desk and groans her name in annoyance with a little smile on his lips. Her rather childish behavior is what he loves about her. It makes him feel like a child again and remember the carefree days. They balance each other out.

She gets sick quickly and adores it when Alex nurses her, although she doesn't like to admit it. She has a wish for children but with a heavy heart gives up hope more and more with the years as it just doesn't work out for some reason. To compensate that she doesn't have her own children, she likes to spend extra time with her nephews and nieces. They are like her own children to her and she gladly watches them or takes care of them when the exhausted parents need a break and a little time for themselves again. She doesn't spoil them, however.

Alex and Eliza don't exactly "fight". They talk about it in a calm but mad tone and if it doesn't come to an agreement or they don't find a midway, they continue their days as if never having married each other, which upsets both but both also are too stubborn to make the first move.

(TW// next section contains mentions of death)

Rebecca McLane Hamilton (?? ?? 1813-1st April 1893) just seeks for an equal in her life. Someone who understands her, supports her and loves her for herself. In Little Phil she found her equal. They are both pretty much similar personality wise. They both have a heart of gold and only seek for the best. She's rather quiet and passive when around others. In a circle of ladies, she just stands or sits uninterested in the conversation, but if it's a topic she is passionate about, she gladly participates in the conversation. She cares about fashion and always wears and shines in what is currently in. When she noticed Phil took a liking in her, and she in him and she felt like there'll be more than just an acquaintance or a friendship, she amused herself with playing hard to get. Although she played hard to get, she also was the one to make the first advanced step with an affectionate kiss to the cheek.

She loves her two sons more than anything in the world and is indescribably proud of both and unbelievably heart broken when she gets the report of her firstborn Louis having fallen in the Civil War at only 24. After that she was extremely caring of her second son Allan, who was 20 at that time.

She doesn't like to cry and always tries to hold her tears back. The only place she feels comfortable with crying is in her husband's arms. Phil and her barely fight. And if they do, it's easily and almost immediately forgiven.

When Phil died, she grieved and mourned for the rest of her life. It felt to her like a part of her died.

She, like Mary, has a very good relationship with her parents and her siblings and is always a very adored person.

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 6

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Sorry I’ve been away, I’ve been trying to get some balance and perspective. I’m hoping to come back swinging. Thanks for everyone’s supports, it makes it a real pleasure to continue to write. 

Oh, at this point is when it might start slowly deviating from the tv show. 

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2300 (long!!!!)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

Jamie was making his way towards the kitchen, thankfully you subtly slipped out, and found your way to the pair as Murtagh whispered harsh words to Jamie. You didn’t even look at Jamie, “This way,” you whispered harshly.

You led the gentleman to the space Mrs. Fitz showed you, where you were studying and trying to understand as much as you could about medicine. “Try not to hurt the man, lass, I think you’ve given him enough trouble,” Murtagh shared as he helped Jamie to the seat.

Looking him straight in the eye, stone faced, “Next time you think I’ll want your thoughts Murtagh, I’ll be sure enough ask for it.”

It was obvious he was doing his best not to growl or yell at you, “Watch yourself, she’s wee sized, but she’ll find you weak spot and have you on the ground real fast.”

“I expect minimum talking from you, sir,” you look around Murtagh to Jamie. He was biting back a smirk, “You are quite the barbarians, you know, fits and all.”

“Are men in the colonies babes, do they not know how to be a real man,” Murtagh questioned you again. Shooting him another glare, he quickly shut up, “Jamie, I’ll leave you with the woman. Best of luck.”

“Goodbye Murtagh, miss you already,” you wave at him. Jamie watched you in amazement, shaking his head at your antics. You shrug, “I think I’m growing on him.”

He still held his arm as you passed him something to drink, “Watch yourself, Deoiridh, Murtagh is a good man, but not all men are as nice as him.”

You were mixing some stuff you learned could be good for healing and inflammation, while pointing back at the door, “That man, nice? Where,” you question again.

He shook his head, “Trust me.”

“Sure,” he said.

You started to work on his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. He did do something quite honorable for a young woman, “Why did you do that, I could have handled it,” you whispered trying to focus on his face.

“I understand you are not familiar with our ways, but for an unmarried woman and a stranger,” he said while trying to make eye contact awkwardly, “like yourself, it would have brought you shame. I’m sore, but not really damaged. I would have done the same thing for the girl if you hadn’t stepped in. And the Mackenzie’s don’t much mind for outsiders getting into their affairs.”

“I don’t care what people think of me,” you answered back, “And I’m here, I exist in their affairs.”

He grabbed your hand to stop you, “I don’t know much about you Y/N, but I know I couldn’t sit and watch,” he was stopped my Mrs. Fitz coming in with somethings for Jamie.

“What you did was kindly meant lad,” she said to him, nearly crying. A part of you broke inside seeing her this upset. It melted your anger down to almost nothing. Jamie had let go of your hand, thanking Mrs. Fitz.

“Do me a favor, don’t get into any more fights. You’ve got a few days before this arm fully heals and I already have enough things to do than mend your ailments, sir,” you turn away to start cleaning up things around you.

“You seem to be quite the busy woman,” he said, standing up to look down at you.

Stopping to look up at his smirk. He was aware that his touch and close proximity was affecting your mood, “Yeah, so busy I might not be able to deal with you. If I don’t see you in two days, you should remove your bandages,” you answered him, not looking him in the eyes again.

“I’m sure I can manage,” he smirked some more. He stopped your fidgeting and avoidance maneuvers with hands by gripping your arm and forcing you to look at him, “But I’d sure not mind seeing you if you do find the time.”

A clank caught your attention, Mrs. Fitz’s granddaughter stood waiting an audience with Jamie, “Seems you have someone waiting to thank you,” you pull back from his grip.

“So it does,” he looked in her direction.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you say pulling a few things of yours into your arms. You took a step towards the entrance, before turning back to him, “Oh, by the way, your charm doesn’t work on me Jamie. I’m still plenty mad at you,” and you swung back around, hearing his chuckle from his breath.

  The way Jamie made you feel unease, an unfamiliar feeling, you found it easy to force yourself to avoid him. Jamie was right about something; you were a stranger. Collum and Dougal were both suspicious of you, so you tried to find ways to get them to trust you. You had spent some time thinking about finding a way back to the rocks, but you were far from identifying a detailed plan.

In the trying to gain trust of the community, outside of educating yourself about potential, but sketchy ways of healing people and creating medical notes for your own survival experiences with your outdoorsy brother and the military.

You gravitated to the children and the woman of the people. Often you were showing the children how to better their fighting skills and how to create weapons, especially the girls. With the women, you peaked some of the more progressive women to learn some self-defense and battle strategy, but mostly you tried to educate them in how to read people.  The one day, you made Mrs. Fitz laugh by predicting Angus tripping over the wood by the fire and deciding to drink to help his wounded pride, “Hope you’re not a witch,” she laughed.

“Mrs. Fitz, I’m just good with people. Witchcraft is something that takes much more strategy and imagination,” you grinned at her, before passing Angus another cup of mead caused Mrs. Fitz to laugh again.

Outside of trying to educate the community in swords play and self defense, you have gotten closer to Collum. He clearly was suspicious, and he relied too heavily on you when it came to medicine and healing. Often it made you think of your brother, he could heal nearly anything from anywhere. You remembered how your brother helped a puppy left in the woods to die because it’s inability to walk on its own. Some of the small gestures he did to help the puppy, like massaging its legs and back. You thought of this when Collum called you to help ease the pain of his legs. You were just lucky that what your brother taught you work. Human bodies and nakedness didn’t make you uncomfortable, especially when regarding science and medicine. It was nice to have a purpose and learn something new.

With yourself getting comfortable didn’t mean there were not difficulties. Unfortunately, that came with the unease of being a woman from the 21st century in an era of no women’s rights. You got shouted at for just wanting to wear a pair of pants. And quite a few gentlemen enjoyed the fact that you were an unmarried woman, which made you incredibly uncomfortable when they sought your affection or attention.

At this current moment, you found yourself getting ‘the lean’ from Dougal, “You seem to be finding yourself a home here.”

“Of course, but not too comfortable,” you mumbled to him, drinking some of the rhenish. You never quite got the hang of drinking, but during these uncomfortable times it was making it easier to cope.

He nodded, “Right, you’re waiting for news from your brother. Collum mentioned you tried to send word for him at the colonies.”

Looking anywhere but at him, you tried to pull yourself from this situation, “Yes, I hope to hear back from him.” You paused to choose your words wisely, “I’m going to try to get closer, excuse me.”

You sit on a bench away from the wandering eyes and whispers of the hall. Mrs. Fitz’s granddaughter sat next to me, “Hello, I’m Y/N O’Mulligain your grandmother talks very highly of you.”

She sent you a smile, leaning in to whisper back, “Laoghaire Mackenzie, I never got to thank you for trying to-.”

You stopped her with a wave, “No, no need,” you both looked towards a figure entering the hall, “That’s the man who gets all the thanks.”

“Yeah,” she gushed in a whisper, “I just wish he had eyes for me.”

Jamie made eye contact with you, making his way in your direction, “He is quite the charmer, Mr. Mactavish.” You look back at her, “He’d be stupid not to like you, you’re quite beautiful.”

Jamie interrupted your conversation by sitting in between the both of you. He greeted you both before turning his attention to the musician who started to play. You had done such a good job avoiding your feelings of hatred, annoyance, and something else with Jamie. And because Laoghaire sat next to you, you were stuck with him sitting next to you.  You leaned forward, continuing to drink your rhenish. It was quite beautiful, if only you could understand what he was saying, “Do you not like the music Miss O’Mulligian,” Jamie asked you, trying to read your facial expression.

You leaned back, “Oh no, it’s truly lovely. I just focusing on the words, wish I knew what the song was about.” There might have been other motivations to looked focused and uncomfortable, but it was mostly true.

Jamie started to explain a little about the musician when Laoghaire tried to prompt Jamie to talk to her about their past, “No, I don’t think so. Still, I wouldn’t be likely too.”

You glared at Jamie for being so dense, “But look at her now, quite the enchanting young woman,” you point to her.

He glanced at her, “Aye, she’s bonnie.”

Eventually you got quite focused on the music, sighing, and holding your hand to your face in amazement. You couldn’t quite hammer out why you were acting so strange, besides the point that you could feel the tension from Laoghaire and Jamie’s presence next to you, “That Collum’s rhenish?”

“Sure is,” than it started to hit you. It was quite easy to drink, but it was starting to get to your head, “I think this is my second, maybe my third, but I’m fairly sure my second. Would you like it,” you offered it to Jamie, trying not to laugh at the awkwardness you were feeling.

“Most people wouldn’t be standing by their second,” he took it from your hands. When the song finished, you struggled not to roar with applause and shout like you were at a hockey game. Jamie stopped you before the next song started, “Miss O’Mulligian, remember discussing the bandage it’s been bothering me, would you mind taking a look at it,” his whispered.

You leaned back in shock, “You can’t be serious, right now,” you question. He nods, “Fine, but if I never get to see this guy play again. It’s your ass Mr. Mactavish,” you mockingly say his name. You get up and make your way to your workspace, trying not to grumble with annoyance. You put most of your focus on the walk to your work area, though for some reason it was not as easy as you remember. Thankfully Jamie was leading the way, which made you remember the time he tossed you over his shoulder. Before you could complete that thought, you were there, “Let’s see it,” you point to him to have a seat on the table.

“I don’t need your help,” he grinned at you, “I thought it was best to get you back to the surgery while you can stand.”

You lean against the table, letting a laugh out, “Oh,” you answered him, “You think I’m inebriated, you might be right,” you chucked again, “I thought about jumping on your back on the way down here and making you carry me.”

“You can hold your own,” he said, stepping towards you to lean against the table with you, “But thought it’d be best to be safe.”

“Thank you,” you knew he was right and that it’d be best to get to safe place before you made a fool of yourself. You glance at him gain with your heavy eyes, “Surprised you haven’t moved the bandage.”

Sending you another smile, “Scared about what you might do.”

“Smart man,” you answered back, “While you’re here, let me look at it,” you spun to look at him. He didn’t much move, he just gazed at you as you undid his shirt. You felt like you were suddenly on fire and with the alcohol is was become harder to fight the urge and attraction to Jamie, “You should pay more mind to Laoghaire, she like you.”

“Aye, she is a nice girl,” he said as he watched you maneuver around his clothing and bandage, “Why do you mention it.”

Ignoring his questions, “It looks just about right,” you cover it up again, “I’d say in a few days you can remove all this.”

“As you say,” he took a step back, cutting a smirk away, “I didn’t realize you cared so much about my affairs Miss O’Mulligian”

You rolled your eyes and stomped a foot as you walked around the table to get your things in order before you go to sleep, “I feel for the girl Mister Mactavish. It has very little to do with you.”

He looked towards the door, then back at you, “Right lass, if that’s the case. I’ll be off. Good night Miss O’Mulligian.”

Part 7

Taglist:  @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans

[everlastingcaptainswan]

Contractual Attraction  (10/?) 

Enchanted Forest AU 

Summary: The war had raged on for many years, the people of Misthaven would say too many, and there was only one way to end it, only one way to quiet talks of rebellion. Princess Emma of Misthaven would have to marry the enemy, Prince Killian of Montave.

Notes: Hope y’all are having a good week! Just a little more angst, but I promise good things are coming!

Ao3        FF

Chapter Ten: Actions Speak Louder Than Words

The Royal Family had an early start the next morning with a tour of the village, an address to the people, and a dinner with the nearby lords and ladies. Personally, Emma would rather be on the battlefield again rather than do this. She loved seeing her people, but speaking to a crowd was not her favorite and the lords are about as exciting as toast. Not to mention she would have to spend the day with Killian and right now she wanted nothing to do with him. She was still furious with him. He never returned to the ball last night. Which she was fine with, he could go skulk and think about what he had done. Emma would have to play nice with him and put on a pretty face for everyone. To limit her exposure to him she took breakfast in her chambers that morning. After she dressed for the day in a simple white dress Leo came to fetch her, 

“Are you hiding from him?” He asked in lieu of a greeting. 

“No, not hiding. I didn’t really feel like seeing him. I’m already going to have to spend the day with him.” She rolled her eyes. 

“If it’s any consolation he looked miserable at breakfast, maybe you should talk to him.” He shrugged. 

“Are you defending him?” Emma almost stomped her foot, but restrained herself. 

“Of course not, but he was blindsided, and you have to spend the rest of your life with him, are you going to be mad at him forever?” He sighed at his sister’s antics. 

“I can certainly try,” she mumbled, placing the tiara on her head. It matched the one Leo was wearing, a solid gold band encircling his head. The only difference was hers had a simple diamond in the center. They left her room and began their descent down the stairs. 

“He hasn’t even apologized to me yet.” 

“Pretty hard to do when you hide from him.” He gave her a pointed look and Emma hated to admit it, but he was right. 

“Just hear him out.” Leo shrugged. 

“Why do you care so much?” 

“If I kept my mouth shut this wouldn’t be happening and I don’t want the treaty in danger because of something I did.” Emma stopped on the stairs and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh Leo, no. Look, peace may have been fragile at first, but Killian needs this just as much as we do. I know him enough now to say he’s not going anywhere. We will work through this, but the treaty is fine.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Killian saved my life on the ship, there was an accident. He could’ve let me die, let the treaty fall through. He didn’t. He cares as much as we do.” Leo nodded and they continued on. 

Killian, Snow, and David were waiting for them at the bottom of the staircase. Emma desperately wanted to be angry at Killian, to be furious, but he looked apologetic and damn good in his regal red outfit. She was mad that he would doubt her and call her a liar. They both have things they haven’t been honest about. 

Killian will never not be struck by her beauty. It could be an elaborate gown for a ball, her vest and pants on a ship, or a simple gown for a tour of the town. She’s beautiful in every situation. 

He shouldn’t have blown up like he did last night. He was just so thrown off by it, it had completely blindsided him. Killian knew she was still mad with him, but now was not the time for his apologies. He nodded and held out his hand to her when she approached him. Emma nodded, but said nothing. She was definitely still upset with him. 

Snow saw the interaction between the two and sent Leo and David ahead. 

“You two need to act like you at least like each other.” Snow crossed her arms looking expectantly at each of them. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I don’t know what happened between you last night, but our people will not accept him if you don’t. Now, you have five minutes before the carriage leaves.” Snow glided out looking as graceful as ever. Emma turned to Killian. He looked a little bewildered by Snow’s blunt honesty.

“Love last night was a mistake. I’m sorry for how I acted. I felt like we had grown closer over the voyage and I felt betrayed. You were right we both have hidden truths and I shouldn’t have-” Emma squeezed his hand. 

“I should have told you. Men don't exactly react well to being told they’ll never be in power. At first, I was afraid it would ruin the treaty. Now, I just-” She shook her head. 

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell me; I can’t imagine suitors would like the idea. I’m not them, I’m not running away. You and I will be partners until the end.” He reached out and touched her face. He thought she would flinch away or worse hit him. She didn't, she gave him a soft smile. 

“How would you like to see Misthaven?” Killian squeezed her hand. 

“Show me your kingdom, love.” Killian gestured out in front of him, letting her lead the way. 

They walked out to the carriages and Snow lifted her eyes at their linked hands. Emma gave a small nod. Killian and Emma shared a carriage to themselves and the rest of her family led the way through the village. While the people were ecstatic to see Emma and cheered for her, they seemed to fall silent and gave Killian weary looks, unsure of what to think of the foreign Prince. The whole time Emma plastered a smile on her face. She interlaced her fingers with his, their connected hands displayed for everyone to see. 

Emma showed him all of the village surrounding the castle, her people with their works of artistry. From blacksmithing to jewelry makers. They toured the market full of the various crops of the kingdom, it was nothing compared to the market it the summer, but for winter it was a true accomplishment of her people. 

Most of the people gave Killian a wide berth, not wanting to be close. A few were more open with their displeasure by glaring at Killian. He gave them no attention and was kind to every person he met, not that Emma expected any differently. She smiled at him often, her hand never far from his. She thought it would bother her, but it didn’t, not in the slightest. Today was about showing her people her acceptance of Killian, so they would accept him. Not only that Emma felt true ease and comfort around him that had been building for a while now. 

They toured some of Misthaven’s countryside and gave Killian a chance to view Misthaven’s spectacular mountains. Overall Emma would’ve called today a success. However now the royal family has to host a dinner party for the lords and ladies of Misthaven. They wanted to get a sense of their soon to be king. 

On their way to the Great Hall for dinner, Snow was stopped by Graham, who muttered something and gave her a note. They all waited outside the Great Hall while her eyes darted back and forth across the small page. Snow sighed and looked at Killian. Graham waited for further instruction. 

“What is it? Is it Liam? Elsa? The babe?” Every terrible scenario running through his head. Emma wanted to reach out to him, to let him know she was there, but his hands were clenched into fists.

“They’re fine. The note is about your ship. It was stopped in the channel, by one of our few remaining ships. They apparently didn’t believe a naval ship would have the diplomatic papers we issued them, and your crew is currently being held. Graham send word to release the Prince’s crew and send the boat on its way. Make sure to relay to any of our other ships to not stop it.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Graham nodded, before running off to follow Snow’s orders. 

“How could this happen?” Killian asked Snow, fear and anger evident in his stance. 

“I can’t control everyone in my command, no matter how much I try. You led men; you understand all too well what I am talking about.” Killian nodded she was right he did indeed know all too well. 

“Are my men alright?” 

“No deaths, they surrendered. Everyone is fine, knowing Graham your ship should be here by next week.” Killian still looked like he had gotten terrible news. He simply nodded and wandered down the hall. 

“What on earth is his problem?” David asked Emma, who just shook her head. 

“I don’t know.” She frowned, looking after Killian. 

“Find out, will you? We’ll entertain our guests until you return,” Snow sighed. Emma nodded and turned away from her family. She followed Killian down the hallway at a slow pace. She knew he needed time to cool down, she doesn’t understand what this meant to him, but it’s important. 

Emma finally caught up to him in an alcove overlooking the palace grounds. Killian’s back is to her, his hands gripping the ledge of the windowsill. 

“Killian.”

“If you’re here to drag me into that dinner, I can’t! This is bloody unbelievable; I can’t go out there and pretend everything is alright.” Killian let go of the windowsill, and clenched his fists. Emma could feel the anger emanating from him, she knew the anger wasn’t toward her. She reached out placing a hand on his arm. 

“Then let’s go somewhere else.” Surprise crossed his face. 

“What? Don’t we have to charm those lords and ladies at dinner with your parents and brother?” He shook his head in confusion. Emma took his hand and led him through a door that did not lead back to the great hall. 

“We definitely do,” she snorted. 

“Then, where the hell are we going?” Emma stopped and turned to look at him. 

“Do you really think I am a perfect princess who always does as she’s told?” His face turned red and he scratched his ear, his nervous tick that she was growing to love.  

“No, but what does that-” she began pulling him forward again. They went down another passageway, one that led to the stables. 

“Stop worrying about the lords and ladies of Misthaven, they’ll live with our absence for today. Now, pick a horse.” Emma led him into the stable, finally letting go of his hand to tend to Buttercup. Killian stopped in front of a beautiful black Friesian horse. 

“That’s Orion,” Emma said across the stables. Killian nodded while he prepared Orion, who took to Killian much better than Emma thought he would. They mounted their horses and Emma turned to Killian, “Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be, lass,” he smirked. She smiled and led the way. They moved swiftly through the grounds and the fields surrounding the castle. 

They slowed when they reached the forest, maneuvering the horses through the dense trees. Emma dismounted Buttercup when they reached a beautiful lake with a waterfall. Without a word to him she walked toward the waterfall and for one moment he swore she disappeared into the cliffside. When he got closer, he saw her nestled in the cliffside in a nook that Emma was leaning against. 

“I thought you disappeared in a mere blink of an eye,” he whispered, the waterfall roaring next to them. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Emma has that mischievous glint in her eye that Killian is learning to love and hate at the same time. 

“Good. What is this place?”

“One of my favorite hiding places. The waterfall is great to cool off in the summertime, right now it’s just beautiful to look at.”

“One of?”

“A rebellious princess needs many, don’t you know…” he chuckled at this, “Killian, I need to know the truth.” The laughter stopped and he swallowed, feeling his airway constricting. 

“About?” 

“Your ship. You looked absolutely panicked, way more than I would’ve suspected. Even when assured it would be resolved you couldn’t go to the dinner. So, if you’d like my help you need to tell me what’s going on.” She never broke eye contact with him, never blinking. 

“It’s not simple.” Is all he can manage to get out. Her gaze is unwavering and relentless, never judgmental though. 

“It never is.” 

“This damned war nearly broke our people; it certainly broke our very limited farmers and trade. We relied heavily on fishing as an export and well we took those fishermen into war and soon there was very little to trade, we were trying to keep our people alive and fed. With each passing year it got worse and worse. We had trade agreements for a few years that helped, but other countries were so fearful of war and what it would do to their country, so they never held up,” he rambled on. Emma laid a hand on his chest. 

“Killian! What does this have to do with your ship?” Her eyes searching his, looking for the answer he couldn’t seem to give her. 

“My people need food, grain, seeds, whatever I can get them. Emma, they’ll die without it. I was going to send over some food and seeds to help the few farmers we have. My people need me, I can’t let them down.” She closed her eyes and cursed him. He might be smart on the sea and with strategy, but he had a long way to go when it came to diplomacy. She opened her eyes to find he had retreated slightly. 

“Why didn’t you ask for a trade agreement in the treaty?” 

“What?” His brow furrowed, not expecting that answer. Truly the thought hadn’t occurred to him or Liam. 

“Killian, we aren’t heartless. We don't want your women and children to suffer, to starve. We would’ve made it work, just as we will now. Do you not trust me?” 

“Love, I trust you more than anyone else in the realm right now. I have followed you into what used to be enemy territory, my life is quite literally in your hands.” With each word he moved closer to her and they were chest to chest, almost touching one another. 

“But you couldn’t come to me for help?” she whispered, and he placed a hand on the cliffside. 

“Not then. Not when peace was riding on every action and reaction.” He shook his head. 

“What about now? Did you really think I wouldn’t help?” she asked him, her voice wavering, her hurt evident. 

“I was afraid. Emma, please I trust you. Everyone is counting on me. This wasn’t about you, it was about my fear clouding my judgement,” he pleaded with her. 

“I see, we should head back now. At least make an appearance for dessert.” Emma pushed past him, back to Buttercup. 

“Of course,” he muttered after her. He worried that this truth had ruined everything building between them. They rode back in silence to the stables; Emma didn’t know what to say to him. She was beginning to trust him and now this. 

“Love,” Killian started. 

“Not your love,” she threw the words back at him. Killian flinched, he definitely deserved that. 

“Emma, I shouldn’t have-” 

“No, you shouldn’t have, but that’s not the point anymore. The point is your people need help. We’ll talk to my parents in the morning, figure out what we can do.” 

“What if they aren’t inclined to help?” 

“Doubtful that will happen, but then you and I will handle it ourselves.” Killian reached out for Emma’s hand, his fingers brushing hers. She moved out of his grasp, walking ahead. Killian sighed, throwing his head back.

Today had felt like a dream with her. Her smile and touches had sent him on cloud nine. Killian knew that some of it was manufactured for her people, but he couldn’t help but to revel in it. And now he feared he may never feel that again, may never feel that way with her. 

Killian took a breath and followed Emma in ready to fake a smile for these people, who he didn’t give a damn about.

[borhap-au]

Joe Mazzello: the fluffy chronicles.

Joe Mazzello x black!reader. First date(s).

It wasn’t a first blind date you were going on – your friend had a tendency to set them up for you every once in a while. You were on a few of them, once or twice even had genuine fun. Those were mostly her friends from work, and she didn’t have an interesting job, or interesting people in the office. You needed something else than an intelligent geek. Even though they were handsome men. And one thing needs to be added – they were all Afro-American. Guys with similar skin tone were your comfort zone. By dating them you avoided people’s judgement and could live in peace. It’s not like those white boys were not your type, some of them were even more attractive than you wanted to admit, but you never took any steps to date any of them. It was just the safe option.

So the day finally came. Surprisingly, you knew absolutely nothing about the guy you were about to meet. Your friend usually gave you at least a few-sentence description of who you’re going to meet, like what college did they go to and how they are. But this time, nothing. As if she didn’t want to let you know him before you see him for yourself. You only weren’t so sure if it was because he was so dreamy you wouldn’t believe it, or just the contrary.

While you were dolling yourself up you thought how weird it is that you’re trying to look your best for someone you don’t know and frankly, you may not even like. You packed your purse – phone, wallet, tissues, lipstick and a pepper spray. You could never be too careful with those young men.

When you arrived at the restaurant, you asked for Joseph – this is about as much as you knew about him. The waiter told you that he will get to you right away, and you took the time to look around. You tried to spot an Afro-American man sitting alone by the table, but there was not a single one that would fit the usual description of the men your friend set you up with. They were either too old, too fat, or just generally not appealing. You were mad, because you knew that somewhere among those men there is the one your friend told you to meet, because apparently he was perfect for you. The waiter came and told you to go with him to the other side of the room. You walked behind him, and saw a very handsome young man, an Afro-American with a nice smile. Yet before you came any closer, a woman sat by his table. What was the meaning of this?

“Mr. Mazzello? This lady asked for you” you turned your head to look at the person the waiter was talking to. Oh- wow. The most perfect young man stood up and smiled to you. Took your hand and kissed it softly.

“I’m Joe” he smiled, and you immediately smiled back.

“Y/N” you answered and he moved your chair. Then came back to his sit. What a gentleman, you thought and smiled internally.

“Our mutual friend told me so much about you” he started.

“Oh, really? She told me nothing about you. Nothing but your name” you explained. He looked at you smiling a bit apologetically.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you then.” Oh, no, no. On the contrary. You were hardly ever attracted to someone this much.

“If you’re talking about the looks, then no, you didn’t. But I would much rather get to know your personality before saying anything else” you smiled and he nodded, smiling as well.

“I’d like to get to know you too. Tell me something about yourself. What are your interests?” he finally realized you should order something and took the menu.

“Or maybe you can tell me something about yourself. After all, you heard enough about me from our friend” you joked and he chuckled.

“I heard a lot, never said it was enough” charmer. “I like baseball. Cinema. Dancing. My mom has a dance studio, she teaches young girls” you looked at him with interest.

“Maybe she could teach me. Never enough practice” you suggested.

“I can teach you” he said, smiling.

“Oh, no. You’re too expensive for me” you joked and chuckled.

“For special customers I may do it for free” when the waiter came, you both already knew what you wanted. He asked for a bottle of wine, one of the most expensive ones.

“So what you’re saying is, I’m special? Without even getting to know me?”

“Some people have that aura about them. You’re one of those people. I may even say, yours glows brighter than anyone’s I’ve ever seen. There is just that something about you.”

“You sure know how to pay compliments, Mr. …?” you smiled apologetically.

“Mazzello. Or Mazzello, if some prefer” he pronounced his name the second time with a proper Italian accent.

“You’re Italian?” you asked surprised. The ginger hair suggested Ireland, but you didn’t want to be someone who judges people by their looks and stereotypes.

“I have double citizenship, yes. My family comes from there and I’ve been there a few times. But I don’t speak Italian, not as much as I’d wish to. Where’s your family from?” he asked, taking a sip of wine the waiter has just brought for you.

“Africa, obviously” you smiled and he closed his eyes as if stopping himself from doing a facepalm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be rude. It was so ignorant of me” he sighed and you smiled to him and put your hand on his to comfort him.

“I’m just joking. My parents are from Maine. I came here because I needed the sun” you smiled at each other. You took your hand away and tried the wine. “Oh, it’s good.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“And what do you think?” you asked.

“It’s really good.” So was the food. You chatted, and laughed, then laughed some more. You felt so incredibly comfortable in his company. He was so funny and charming... And goofy at times. But overall he was making the impression of a guy who’s both, smart and fun. You never had a date you enjoyed this much.

He walked you home. Since he was better prepared for the weather, you got his jacket when you were cold. At your doorstep, he didn’t really want to say goodbye yet and it was visible. He finally kissed your cheek – that was the moment you got the courage to kiss his lips. You kiss was long and passionate, as you put your hands on his cheeks, while his hands were around you, bringing you close to him. When you finally managed to move away from each other just enough to see each other, you both smiled.

“I’d invite you inside… But I don’t sleep with people on first dates” you smiled slightly, and he pet your cheek.

“I don’t do that either. Can I come in nevertheless?” he surprised you, but you nodded.

“Of course” and opened the door for the both of you. Somehow you trusted him. And he never gave you a single reason not to. He was respectful the entire night and only turned out to be an even bigger gentleman. You watched a comedy, ate snacks, chuckled, not really paying attention to what was happening on the screen.

You even fell asleep with your head on his lap, but woke up after a short while. When you were asleep, he softly pet your head, trying to be quiet. When you woke up, you took a shower, then there was his turn. You gave him some big old t-shirt, and he slept in his boxers.

“I’d go to sleep on the couch” he suggested. You chuckled quietly.

“I think we’re adult enough to share a bed” and you did. You snuggled to him, and he put his arm around you, petting your back until you fell asleep. Actually, he was the first one to do so, and you smiled looking at his peaceful face. In the morning he woke up first. He started making a breakfast when you got to the kitchen, with messy hair and everything.

“What a nice view” he smiled widely greeting you and came to hug you. “How did you sleep?” he asked before you can deny being a nice view in the morning.

“Better than ever. And you?”

“Same. You have a very nice bed.”

“And you have good cooking skills. It smells delicious” you smiled sitting near him.

“Wait with your judgement ‘till you eat” he chuckled, but it was really good. After the breakfast, you both got ready and then you spent the entire day together. You had a walk in the park, went to movies, then to pizzeria, after all, he’s Italian. On a third date you took him to the California African American Museum. He listened with interest to every story you told him and tried to remember as much as he could. In the evening you held a quiz for him of the knowledge he gained that day.

After the fourth date, he asked you if you slept with guys you knew for over a week. You denied. After that, he didn’t asked again. He waited patiently. About a month later you were chilling on his couch and watching some incredibly boring movie, so naturally you found yourself something better to do. You had a steamy make out session, when your hand slowly went down his chest to his zipper. It didn’t take your hand long to land in his underwear.

You never had anyone eating you out so passionately before. He held your hand, petting it with his thumb, and his other hand was squeezed around your thigh, bringing you close to him. His tongue was doing unbelievable things around your clit and your labia, making the guy who invented Kamasutra looking incompetent. You held his hand and the pillow tightly, as you came three times, before he has even entered you.

He had a nice cock, and you were too embarrassed to mention you had never actually see a white cock before. But he was a good lover, and proved you wrong about anything you might’ve thought about white boys and their abilities.  

At your birthday, he was literally the only white person there. It didn’t stop him from feeling relaxed and having a good time. He talked to everyone, and he was the perfect example of how the world should be – we should look at each other as people, not as representatives of different races, genders, sexualities. And most importantly, we should not judge people by those features. Joey knew that, and you were so incredibly proud when your sister called him “the coolest white boy” she knew. Most of your friends liked him too. He didn’t feel different at the party, because he didn’t look at skin complexion. He looked at the attitude, and you’ve always surrounded yourself with laid-back people with sense of humor. Just like your boyfriend was.

Also, out of all the presents you got, the one from him was the best. He got you a neckless with a little silver book, and if you opened it, it read “and they lived happy ever after.” The ring he proposed to you with a few years later had the same words written inside of it.

You friend was your bridesmaid at the wedding. After all, if it wasn’t for her idea for a little blind date with a boy you knew nothing about, you wouldn’t be marrying the love of your life. You owed her that. You both did. And your firstborn daughter had a similar neckless with a book to the one you had, but it read “chapter two.”

[let-it-raines]

Striking Out (1/1)

For someone who has never picked up a bat, Emma Swan knows more about baseball than some of the guys on the field. To be fair, she’s that way with every sport. It’s her job, and it’s one she takes seriously. She’s been an on-air sports broadcaster for the past four years, and she’s damn good at it, better than some of the former professionals and pundits that she works with every day. 

So when she gets a chance to cover the World Series, a chance to follow her home team, she knows that nothing is going to stop her from doing her job. 

Well, except for Killian Jones asking her out on live television.

Rating: Teen

A/N: For @wellhellotragic who sends me the most wonderful prompts that are usually much fluffier than the things she writes...I think I’ve just given away her greatest secret 😉💙

Found on AO3 | Here |

Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @shireness-says @captainsjedi @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @andiirivera @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @notoriouscs @mariakov81 @jonirobinson64 @bmbbcs4evr @thejollyroger-writer @lifeinahole27 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis

-/-

The video restarts, and she presses play again, watching it for what has to be the tenth time tonight. Or this morning, really, since she knows that it’s three in the morning, the sun long since set, and her eyes have been glued to her laptop ever since she got back to her hotel room.

Sleep would probably be a good idea right now, but she can’t seem to stop watching herself barely keep her shit together while on National television.

Seriously.

National television.

She’s going to murder Killian Jones, and she doesn’t even care if that’ll get her on TV for reasons entirely separate from her job.

“Killian,” she starts, holding the microphone to her mouth as she speaks and Killian wipes the sweat from his brow, pushing back his long hair before placing the World Series Champion cap back on top of his head, a bright white smile between his lips, “you hit the home run that brought the Yankees to their win. You’ve had an incredible season, an even more incredible post-season. How is it all feeling right now?”

His grin somehow gets impossibly bigger, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and she recognizes the look in his eyes like she always does. She’s been interviewing him for three years now and following his career around long before she’d actually met him through work, so she recognizes a lot of his mannerisms. It’s odd for her to know every career statistic that he has, to know about all of the publicity about his private life, and yet to have only talked to him while he stands on a field sweating under the glow of stadium lights or in the dimness of the locker room.

But that’s her job. She’s a reporter for ESPN, which is pretty damn awesome, and unlike a lot of people she works with, she actually likes to know what she’s talking about. She’s not a former athlete, not some kind of all star with household recognition, and she’s a woman. Those three facts make her life impossibly harder, and if there’s anything she’s learned in her nine years working here, it’s that for every step that one of her male colleagues takes, she has to take ten. It’s idiotic, sexist, and all around wrong, but if she’s on TV spouting out facts that are incorrect, there’s twenty thousand men at home tweeting her and the network telling them to get the “dumb bitch” off their TVs.

Charming, right?

But it’s her reality. Most people only care about how she looks, about how her ass looks in a skirt, but that’s not what she cares about.

(Even if she has a good ass.)

She cares about the game.

And anyone who cares about baseball, cares about Killian Jones.

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, which is a tick of sorts that she’s noticed, before he leans into the microphone. “Right now, it’s pretty unbelievable. It hasn’t sunk in yet, not really, but I’m happy to be here wearing this hat, having the trophy. It’s been a long road for me personally, for the team, and I’m in a bit of euphoria over it all.”

“How in the world are you not burning alive?” Ruby says in her earpiece, and she has to keep herself from rolling her eyes with the forced smile on her face. “He’s so hot. And I can’t even see his ass.”

Her producer being her best friend is both the best and worst thing to ever happen to her.

“I bet,” she says to Killian, looking up in the blue of his eyes as chants start to ring out across the stadium. Ruby won’t stop talking in her ear, and that’s definitely something the two of them are going to talk about later. “You had a bit of a rocky beginning to the season with your injury from last year, so how’s that arm feeling?”

“Good as new.”

“Perfect, it looked like.”

Even under his hat she can see the rise of his brow. “You been looking at my arms then, love?”

He is such a flirt. It’s ridiculous. At least he’s not one of the creepy ones. She gets it a lot as a part of her job and the general state of men, but she’s thankful for the fact that Jones never crosses the line. And she’s watched his interviews. He seems to simply be a flirt naturally, no trying necessary.

“Me and a couple million other people.”

He barks out a laugh, his head thrown back a bit, and she can see the sharp underside of his stubbled jaw. “Well, my sister-in-law tells me most people are looking at my ass, so that’s kind of a relief.”

“Oh my God,” Ruby groans, “there are so many things you could say. But don’t. Ask him one more question.”

“So, Killian Jones, World Series Champion and MVP, now that you’ve done something every baseball player dreams of, is there anything else that you want to do?”

His mouth snaps closed, his teeth disappearing in exchange of a closed lip smile, and he tilts his head to the side while his eyes flicker up and down her face, very obviously scrutinizing her before his lips part once more.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting his hat, “I think I’d like to go on a date with you. What do you say, Swan? You want to go out on a date with me?”

“Emma Swan,” Ruby grits, her voice yelling in Emma’s ear, “if you do not say yes, I will lock you out of the apartment. Think of the ratings.”

Later, she’s definitely going to talk to Ruby about sexual harassment. Not that this is what that is. She could say no. Yeah, he asked her on live television. That’s kind of dickish. But he’s not forcing her into it. Ruby might be, but that’s an issue for another time. Right now her issue is that she kind of feels like both vomiting on Killian’s shoes and punching him in the stomach for putting her on the spot like this.

Three years of interviewing him, and this is what he’s going to do.

No part of it surprises her.

“Yes.”

The video has three million views, and every time she refreshes it, there are more. She’s gained fifty thousand followers on Twitter, about the same on Instagram, and she had to turn all of her notifications off because her phone was literally going to shut itself down. She once tried living off of Tom Brady’s diet for a week, but this is the craziest thing she’s ever experienced.

This is not how her day was supposed to go. Not at all.

She needs, like, an entire bottle of wine and whatever the most expensive thing on the room service menu is. But she doesn’t have that. All she has are texts from Ruby.

Ruby: Are you still mad at me?

Emma: I am literally a meme online.

Ruby: So what does that mean?

Emma: You owe me big time. I can’t believe he asked me out.

Ruby: You’re hot. I’d ask you out.

Emma: That’s not helping.

Ruby: I wasn’t trying to. You could have said no.

Emma: You threatened to lock me out of the apartment!

Ruby: Semantics.

Ruby: Our ratings today were incredible. That’s because of you.

Emma: That’s because it was the seventh game of the World Series. That has nothing to do with me.

Ruby: Eh, maybe. Have you checked your Twitter?

Emma: I turned it off. Why?

Ruby: Your lover retweeted the video of him asking you out, and added a caption to it. Go check it out, but please don’t go nuclear on him. You cannot kill someone.

Emma: I can when they ask me out knowing I can’t say no.

Ruby: KJ is literally the nicest guy in that locker room. He’s flirty, but he would go to the ends of the earth to make anyone feel comfortable. He’s the reason you get to go into the locker room in the first place. You know that, right? Most teams are still full of sexist pigs.

Emma: What? He gives me access to a bunch of sweaty men and because of that I have to sleep with him? That’s regressing women by…a lot.

Ruby: Literally, you don’t even have to go on the date. You know that, right?

Ruby: Eat a Snickers. You’re not you when you’re hungry. I don’t want you to be pissed.

Emma: I’m not pissed...anymore. I’m just confused. Why would he ask me out like that?

Ruby: Again, you’re hot. And you guys literally flirt all of the time on camera. Apparently, people have noticed.

Emma: We do not, and if you suggest that again, I will come to your hotel room and wake Graham up so that you’re stuck with him being grumpy all day tomorrow.

Ruby: Go eat that Snickers.

Her best friend may very well be the most ridiculous person in the world, but Emma loves her. She really does. Ruby is definitely a little more on the wild, unfiltered side than she is, but honestly, that makes everything all the more entertaining. And she knows that she’s right about the whole date thing. She could have said no, she doesn’t have to go, and this is something that will blow over in a few days time. Everything has the possibility to go viral now, but it always goes away and fades into oblivion. And literally, she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. She’s an adult. She’s not going to put up with any kind of shit, and that includes being goaded into a date with Killian Jones.

…even if they may or may not have flirted with each other on and off for a few years.

But he flirts with everyone. It’s just how he is, just how he talks, and that’s what she tells herself every time he says something that’s a little more on the flirty side. That’s what she kept telling herself tonight to keep from raging over her day.

Seriously. She gets the chance as a woman not named Erin Andrews to cover the one of the biggest sporting days in the year, and all anyone can talk about is that she got asked out on a date.

(To be fair, journalistically, she understands that this makes a great story.)

Rolling over on the mattress and sinking into the plush cushions, she opens up her twitter app, her notifications flooded to the point where she gives up scrolling through them and goes to Killian’s page, knowing his handle by heart.

(It’s her job, okay?)

@killianjones29: @emmaswanespn How do you feel about pizza? I know a great place back in Manhattan.

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself, clicking on the replies before quickly clicking out of them. The internet is a very weird place, and she does not need to see all of that.

She loves pizza, but she is not responding to that right now. He probably is out drunk right now celebrating with all of his teammates and whatever girls are around, and she doesn’t have any interest in that.

Not at all.

-/-

The date is all that she hears about at work, especially now that baseball is over for the year and she’s not on air as much as she usually is, mostly sitting behind a desk talking for segments or writing articles online, doing prep work for next season and training and everything else that she has to do. But whenever she tweets, posts a picture, writes an article, does anything with an online presence, her comment section is full of questions about her date with Killian and whether or not it’s happened yet.

BREAKING NEWS: it has not.

But it’s consuming anything she does online and taking over all of the office conversation. Granted, most of that is coming from Ruby and Ashely, but still. It counts.

And it’s going to drive her absolutely insane.

She needs a vacation or something.

Luckily, though, Killian doesn’t tweet her again. He doesn’t message her, doesn’t post a picture of the two of them on Instagram. It’s all radio silence on his end, and she chalks the entire thing up to a rush of adrenaline. He’d just won the World Series. If she had done that, she’d be asking everyone out left and right.

Well, not everyone, but a lot more people than usual.

“Are we out of milk?” Graham asks, staring into the refrigerator and very obviously seeing that they’re out of milk. “When did that happen?”

She holds up her bowl of cereal in answer. “I’m not working today, so I’ll go get some more groceries. You can leave me a list before you go to work, okay?”

He grumbles something in response, not that she can really hear over the crunch of her cereal. She loves Graham. She really and truly does, but living with Ruby and her boyfriend is definitely an adjustment to living with just Ruby. But hey, rent is cheaper, so it all works out in the end, especially when Graham cooks more than anyone else in the apartment.

“Emma Swan,” Ruby yells from her bedroom, her voice only muted because of the walls in between them. Emma doesn’t bother saying something back, knowing that Ruby is about to run into the living room and yell at her for whatever it is she’s upset about. Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, Ruby is sliding across the hardwood in her socks with her laptop in her hands until she unceremoniously plops down onto the couch, nearly making Emma spill her cheerios. “Did you see this?”

“Did I see what?”

Ruby shoves her laptop into her lap, and Emma groans before she hands off her cereal to Ruby, knowing that she’s most likely going to finish it off for her anyways. It’s a video, one paused on Kelly Rippa’s face, and she has no idea why Ruby is freaking out until she presses play and sees the video transition over to Killian Jones himself sitting on one of those barstools in a light blue checkered button down that hugs his arms and dark navy pants that make her think thoughts that she usually reserves for late at night when she’s either by herself or with someone that she met at the bar.

(And, if she’s honest, at some baseball games. The pants really work for some men.)

“So,” Kelly continues, a bright smile on her face as her hands move around, “we know all about you being a baseball star and that your biggest fans are your nieces, which is adorable by the way. But what we don’t know is about your love life. And a handsome man like you has to have a love life.”

Blush rises on his cheeks, and he does that nervous tick thing where he scratches behind is ear. If the opposing team could read Killian Jones like she can, they would win almost every game. Maybe that’s a career opportunity if broadcasting doesn’t work out for her.

“Ah, well, you’d be surprised. There are only so many women out there like you, Kelly.”

Kelly absolutely beams, laughing a big, belly laugh, and Ryan Seacrest leans forward on his chair. Seriously, how many jobs does this guy have? When does he sleep?

“What about the interviewer that you asked out? Emma Swan? That didn’t go anywhere?”

The crowd cheers, and she sinks down on the couch, finally understanding why Ruby is showing her this video. When she glances to the side, Ruby has a shit-eating grin on her face, and Graham is peering over their shoulders.

She’s going to move cities and live alone or something. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with this.

“Ah, if I’m honest, no. It was bad form to have asked her out on the spot like that, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins had me a little out of my mind. She’s a, well, I work with Emma a lot. She’s bloody brilliant, knows my game better than I do. Hell, she knows everyone’s game better than they do. And I fancy her a little and maybe didn’t think too much about the implications of asking her out on TV, so I honestly feel like I need to reach out to her and apologize.”

“He fancies you,” Graham teases, and if she could reach him, she’d slap him.

“That’s actually kind of sweet” Ruby sighs, “and not as asshole misogynistic as you thought it was.”

“I’m still not going out with him even if he obviously has taste in knowing that I’m brilliant.”

“Yeah, well,” Ruby shrugs, “he’d have to be blind not to realize that.”

-/-

“I want you to go out on a date with Jones.”

At the sound of the words, she immediately tosses her head down onto her desk, unable to stop herself. It’s been four and half months since the now infamous question was asked to her live on air, and while it did eventually die down, it’s never quite stopped. And maybe she’s annoyed by it, maybe she’s not really because her social media engagement has increased tenfold since then which helps a lot with work, but mostly she wants for it all to go away so that she doesn’t have to deal with it until she flies down to Florida for spring training in two weeks.

“No.”

“Emma,” David scolds, and she only opens one eye to look up at him from her desk, her picture frames and cup of pens in her way. He’s got his hands on his hips, which intimidates literally everyone in the office but her, so she knows that he means business.

“David.”

“It’s not a real date.” She opens her mouth to say something, and he holds his finger up, effectively making her press her lips together as she props her chin up on her forearm. “And don’t say it’s sexist to make you do this. If the man asked me out on a date, I’d go.”

“You’re married. To a woman, I might add.”

David chuckles at her before sitting down in the chair across from her desk, crossing his leg over his knee and looking at her with that disapproving gaze that makes her feel more like his daughter than his employee.

“You obviously don’t have to do this. This isn’t a mandatory assignment, but I’ve been talking with some of the higher ups about how to increase our coverage. You’re one of our most current and in demand on-air talents, and we get more views and clicks talking about you and Jones than anything else. It’s entertainment, Emma. Him asking you out was a huge thing, and instead of you going on an actual date with him, we’ve talked to his manager and asked if he’d be willing to do some type of interview.”

She raises her brow. “What kind of interview?”

“You fly to Florida, do some of your regular coverage of the team and of some of the others, but then you spend a day with a small production team and Jones, letting him walk you through a day in the life when they’re prepping for the season. We have it be a big segment, you get paid, there’s more exposure, we ride on the Swan-Jones media exposure that we’ve been getting before it goes away.”

“Nice to know you’re just using me.”

David shrugs his shoulders before he leans forward to take a peppermint out of the bowl on her desk, the plastic crinkling as he opens the package and pops the peppermint in his mouth. “Again, you don’t have to do it, but you have to admit that it’s a great idea. You’re breaking barriers every time you work a baseball game. One day you could get your own show, be a commentator, do whatever you want. This will help.”

It’s true. She knows that it is. It’s actually a great idea. She could do a version of Vogue’s seventy-three questions, not that she could think of that many, and it would give her the opportunity to boost her own career as well as Killian’s. Yeah, she’d have to talk to him again, but it’s probably better for it to be behind the scenes (and in front of the camera obviously) than be sprung onto the field and forced to talk to him with a camera streaming live television two feet from her face.

Can she damn herself for actually wanting to do this for her career?

And maybe so the questions and comments about the date that never even happened will stop. Killian Jones is a fascinating guy with a damn good story. How bad can this be?

-/-

Florida is a swampy wasteland, and the humidity is going to kill her. New York can be bad. She knows this. She’s experienced it for most of her life. Sometimes she has to shower multiple times in one day simply from walking outside, but she can feel the humidity seeping into her skin the moment she steps out of the car and onto the pavement in front of Steinbrenner Field.

Of course, she knows this about the weather. She comes down here every year, but there’s something particularly miserable about the weather today. She knows that it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, that the water and humidity are hanging heavily in the air, but she literally already has sweat dripping down her back underneath her blouse.

If she was allowed to wear her gym shorts and a sports bra and nothing else to work, she totally would. That would be highly inappropriate and likely get her fired or have her demeaned online, but it honestly might be worth it to handle the heat that’s happening right now. And if Jeff’s grumbling is anything to go by, he’s feeling the heat too. Considering he’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with camera equipment slung over his shoulder, he most likely is going to pass out today.

It’s March.

How the hell do people live here during the summer?

After letting Jeff get a few exterior shots of the complex for B-roll footage, they walk through the front doors and ask a receptionist where to sign in to get their credentials and approval to get into the locker room and out on the field. It takes far longer than it should for that to happen considering the receptionist, a snippy older lady, doesn’t believe they’re there for legit reasons, but after she calls one of the Yankees team managers, they finally get approval to walk through a set of glass double doors and down a hallway lined with framed jerseys of legends of the past, Jeff filming the walk and making her slow down every few seconds even though she’s already thinking that she’ll have Killian walk through the halls while they talk since it’ll be nice backdrop.

She’s a fan of the West Wing style interview.

If she’s not walking, she’s not talking.

Okay, that’s a cheesy motto, but it tends to work when it comes to interviewing. People are more likely to be sincere and to feel comfortable when they have something to focus on other than sitting down in an uncomfortable chair with bright lights beaming down on them. Athletes, especially, are not the type to want to sit still unless they absolutely have to.

So West Wing style it is.

“Emma Swan,” a woman with red hair calls, waving her down when she and Jeff come to the end of a hall. She’s dressed in a green suit, which very weirdly works for her, and any woman who can pull off a green pantsuit has her respect. “Hi, hi, hi. I’m so sorry about the confusion up front. That is completely on me for not calling up and telling Loretta. I’m Ariel Fisher. I work in public relations for the team. I spoke with your boss on the phone. I can’t believe we’ve never met before.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She reaches forward to take Ariel’s hand, shaking it three times before releasing it and motioning to Jeff. “This is Jeff Madden. He’s my one-man crew for the day.”

“Pleasure,” Jeff grunts, not really one for words when it comes to new people.

“So,” Ariel claps, “I’ve got a bit of a busy day today, but now that you have your credentials, if you go down the stairs and to the left, you’ll find the locker room. The team is in the gym right now, so feel free to get some footage. I think Killian should be with you within thirty minutes or so. If you need anything at all,” she hands over a card, “call me. But I think you’ll be just fine. Killian is too excited to do this interview, which I think is funny since he’s usually not one for such personal interviews. I think he nearly murdered me when I had him go on all of those morning talk shows.”

Ariel’s phone beeps, she looks down at it, immediately picks it up, and then walks away, her heels clacking against the tile before she disappears behind another door.

“Well she’s a talker,” Jeff whines as they start toward the staircase, looking out the windows at the field. It’s not Yankee Stadium, but it’s always so impressive. The view from inside the facility may be even better. Maybe she can get players from all of the teams to ask her out so she can get this kind of access everywhere. Is that weird? Or wrong? It might be wrong.

“Everyone is a talker to you.”

“True.”

When they walk in the locker room, she immediately notices the similarities to the one at home. It’s basically a replica with its deep blue carpets and chestnut lockers, leather chairs sitting in the middle over the logo with television screens placed throughout that the room. She’d bet that the door to the left leads to the physical therapy rooms while the one to the right leads to the gym, and the one at the opposite end is definitely the showers. It makes sense to keep things the same, but it makes her laugh a bit since it’s going to make their footage the slightest bit confusing.

Whatever. She’s not really here for the background footage.

That makes it sound like she’s here for Killian, and while that’s technically true, she’s here for the baseball.

It’s always been baseball.

Really, it’s always been any sport. She couldn’t play most of them growing up, not outside of school anyway, but no matter what foster home she was living in, she could always find a baseball game or a tennis match or even a swim meet. And all over the country, all over the world (even with a few changes there, especially in regards to what sports are played), sports are the same. Her life was always in upheaval, never feeling steady, but she could watch people hit the balls out of the stadiums every day and feel that comfort of knowing that it’d be the same tomorrow when she could never have that reassurance anywhere else.

For someone who could never afford to play anything, she’s always felt like someone who was destined to be a part of the team.

Meeting David Nolan was obviously some kind of fate to make that happen because this is never how she imagined her life at any age, especially not as young as twenty-seven.

A set of doors to the right opens, and all of the sudden the peace and quiet of the locker room evaporates to be filled with the sound of feet against carpet and voices bouncing back and forth as the team walks into the room, all of them drenched in sweat, the smell already reaching her nostrils. It’s a hazard of the job, but she’s kind of used to it at this point.

Most of the team knows her, having met her before or simply recognizing her since she travels to nearly every one of their games to cover them, so it’s a string of nods and short greetings before they all branch off to their lockers or the showers, the door finally closing behind the man she was waiting for.

In a totally professional sense.

Killian walks next to Robin Locksley, the two of them chatting about something, but she doesn’t really care or notice when her eyes are glancing over the way that his gray joggers hug the muscles of his thighs as they lay low enough on his hips that she can see the dip of the v into his pants and the trail of dark hair that leads…that is an entirely inappropriate thought, one that could get her fired, so even as her body hums, she looks up his body, attempting to ignore the muscles of his stomach and his arms (seriously, where is his shirt?) and look directly at his face.

His face doesn’t exactly help to make her thoughts disappear.

He’s gotten a haircut since the last time that she saw him, and while she’ll miss the long hair, she kind of likes the short cut and the few pieces of fringe that are falling onto his tanned forehead. And even if his hair is shorter, his beard is slightly longer, but not in a gross way where food would get caught in it.

(She has a lot of opinions about beards like that, okay?)

“Pick your jaw up from the ground,” Jeff whispers into her ear as he nudges her shoulder.

Her mouth snaps closed, and she has that lingering thought of how much shit Jeff is going to give her for this later. He’s not a talker to others, but man does he love to mess with her.

“Swan!” Killian says as he smiles a beatific smile at her, his step quickening a bit before he’s standing in front of her and taking her hand, shaking it once before bringing it to his lips. That is…not a handshake. “Good to see you. I figured you were going to stand me up.”

“Yeah, well, I get paid to be here.”

“Funnily enough, so do I.” He winks at her, and her stomach twists. This job is so strange. “I need to take a quick shower, but then I’ll be all ready to go for the interview. This is our free time, so I’ll try to hurry.”

“Take your time. I have to spend all day with you. I don’t want you to smell.”

Killian’s brow raises, but he doesn’t say anything else, simply smiling at her before walking away and back through the doors she thought would lead to the showers. Wow, it really is the exact same.

“Do you want something to eat, Emma?” Robin asks her as he sheds his shirt before changing into a t-shirt that looks like it’s from his days at Vanderbilt. “We’ll have lunch soon, but we have snacks.”

“Are they donuts?”

“No,” he laughs, sitting down in his locker, “they’re not. Someone should have prepared knowing that you’re going to be here.”

“Damn right. How’s Roland? Still adorable?”

“Absolutely. He’s back home with his mom, but I get calls every day asking about when I’ll be playing back home instead of here.”

“I want to know the same, kid. It’s so hot down here.”

“It is pretty miserable.” Robin reaches down to undo his shoes, loosening the laces. “So, are you and Jones going on that date for this interview?”

She groans, unable to help herself. Robin is one of her favorite players, mostly because he’s a fantastic human being, but knowing him so well also means that he likes to tease her. It’s the same with Will, Arthur…Killian. But Robin feels more like David, like a fatherly figure, than any of the others.

“Am I ever going to live that down?”

“Never. But if it helps, we all gave Killian hell for that.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “that helps a lot.”

“Alright, Swan,” Killian claps when he comes out of the showers dressed in a pair of blue joggers and a fitted gray t-shirt, his feet still bare and hair still wet, “let’s talk.”

-/-

“Favorite player growing up?”

“Chipper Jones.”

“Because he had the same last name as you?”

“Exactly.”

“Of course. Okay, favorite cheat day dessert?”

“Cheesecake but one with fruit flavoring. Chocolate isn’t my favorite.”

“What are you most likely to be doing on an off day?”

“Either sitting on my ass watching TV or spending time with my family.”

“Sport you like to watch the most besides baseball?”

“Tennis.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like the physicality of it and the strategy behind it.”

“Do you have a secret talent no one else knows about?”

“I can quote the entire Soup Nazi episode of Seinfeld.”

Emma can’t help but chuckle at that considering it’s one of her favorite episodes of TV of all time. She can’t help but chuckle at a lot of his answers. They’ve been slowly walking through the facility for the past thirty minutes, and she’s been asking him questions off of her list to try to get to know him a bit better. For the interview, obviously. Some of the first ones were about baseball, things that she knows but her viewers might not, but then they melded into questions about favorite junk foods and movies and whether or not he washes his pants every day or if he simply buys a new pair since they’re always so damn white.

It’s entirely comfortable, especially since the date has not been brought up, and she finds herself laughing at some of his answers, at the ease and charm and cheekiness that comes with it all. She may have been reluctant to do this, but she can already tell that this is going to be a great segment.

“Okay,” she laughs, still unable to stop chuckling at the thought of him quoting that entire episode, “what would you do for a living if you didn’t play baseball?”

“I was going to enlist in the Navy.”

She’s taken back by the immediate answer and the somber way that he says it. This is very obviously something that he didn’t have to think about.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, only one side of his lips forming a smile that makes him seem entirely boyish. “I didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and I couldn’t afford to go to college. My brother was in the Navy, so it felt like the natural conclusion for me. But then Vandy gave me that scholarship, and my entire life changed.”

“You met Locksley there, right?”

“He was a senior when I was a freshman, but yeah. We roomed together at a summer training camp, and apparently not much has changed since then.”

She laughs at that too before looking down at her phone at her list of questions, trying to decide what she wants to ask now. So many of them are dumb and playful, but she’s not entirely sure that she wants to ask him what his favorite color is.

“So, you’re twenty-eight and a World Series champion for the first time. That’s the ultimate baseball dream. How does that change expectations going forward? Has your life changed at all since then?”

Killian hums next to her and stops in front of a set of floor-to-ceiling windows with the field behind him, fresh green grass vibrant against the bright sun. It’s pretty much the perfect picture.

“Well, for one, I haven’t had a date with you.” She rolls her eyes even as she smiles. She should have known he’d say that, and from the smile on his face, he’s proud of himself. “But I don’t think my life has changed. It’s incredible to have that accomplishment, for sure. I’m proud of my team and what we’ve done. But I still wake up and put the work in every day and then spend my free time with my friends, my family. I like being a normal guy. The only reason anyone knows who I am is because I know how to hit a ball with a bat. It doesn’t make me special.”

“And going forward?” she prods, letting his answer settle within her while still trying to get a little more out of Killian.

He smiles that million-dollar grin before turning around to look out at the field, his hand pressing against the glass. “I want to play the game. I want to have fun and be competitive. Breaking my arm two years ago, not being able to play, it put me in a really dark place personally and professionally. The injury wasn’t serious, obviously, but it could have been. The wreck could have been worse, and I could have lost the sport that has really helped develop my life.”

“Have you been back on a boat yet?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, tapping his knuckles against the glass. “It was a freak accident. It’s not something that’s going to happen every time. I doubt I’ll ever be in a boating accident again, but I’ve had to learn that I can’t let fear dictate my life. And I look damn good in a pair of swim trunks.”

It’s a tactic she’s watched him use for years. He jokes in serious conversations, in serious situations, and she gets it. She does the same, but he’s being vulnerable with her and with the camera knowing this is all going to air. She’s getting to see more into the inner mechanisms of how he ticks, and it’s not something she’s going to take for granted.

“I think it’s time to go get lunch,” she tells him to change the subject. “Wouldn’t want you to wither away and lose that boat body.”

“I always knew you liked my body.”

If she rolls her eyes one more time at him, they’re going to get stuck that way.

(She listens to David too much.)

For the rest of the day, she and Jeff are pretty much flies on the wall even though she asks the occasional question to Killian or his teammates as she sits through lunch, batting practice in the cages, batting practice on the field, and more physical therapy and training. It’s a packed day, one without a lot of downtime, and she’s exhausted simply watching it happen. But none of the guys seem to mind, each of them going throughout the day without much complaining, except for Will Scarlett. That’s par for the course for him, though.

But then it’s time for their game. They’re playing the Marlins, and she camps out behind third base to simply watch, her feet propped up in the seat in front of her as she gets to enjoy it all, not having to worry about working or taking notes or preparing questions to ask when the game is all over. It’s been a long time since she actually got to sit and enjoy a game, and it’s remarkably pleasant even if she is sweltering under the heavy humidity, dark storm clouds inching closer and closer with every passing minute. She wouldn’t be surprised if it started pouring down rain within the hour.

It doesn’t, though. The rain holds off until the game is over, until the fans have left, and she’s sitting in the therapy room watching Killian get his legs messaged as she asks him a few final wrap-up questions for the interview. When it’s all over, Killian is walking with her down the hallways to exit the facility, Jeff following behind them still mumbling about how heavy his equipment is.

Seriously.

When they get to the exit, the rain pouring down outside, they both stop in front of the glass doors, Killian dropping his duffle bag to the ground.

“Thanks for today,” she tells him, meaning it. “I really appreciate it since I know it’s all kind of crazy for you guys. I’ve got to edit it, but I think it’ll air right before the first official game.”

“It was no problem, love. I enjoyed it. Truly.” He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “Listen, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I asked you out. That was not my smartest move, and I’ve felt awful about it ever since even if do keep making unfortunate jokes about it.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s – I mean, I was pissed at first, but it’s fine. It was a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

“You were pissed?”

“Oh yeah. Think about it. I’m a woman covering baseball, and I get asked out on live television by one of the most well-known faces in the sport? I have to say yes for ratings. It’s not even a question. And then it opens up the opportunity for more men to think that they can hit on me or ask me out, and before you know it, I’m dating half of the men in the MLB.”

“You’d have a busy calendar.”

“Yeah,” she laughs, shaking her head, “I would. I don’t – I thank you for your apology, but I am curious about one thing. I know you say it was the adrenaline, but what was the real reason you asked me out?”

“Off the record?”

“Off the record.”

“I fancy you.” His lips press into a soft smile, and his eyes crinkle the slightest bit, blue eyes bright under the harsh lights of the room. His eyes are ridiculously blue. “You’re very obviously beautiful, but you’re also brilliant. I’ve watched you work, read your analysis of games. You know the game better than most anyone, and you kick ass showing people that you don’t have to be a former player to love and know the game. That’s always been a pet peeve of mine. Just because you don’t play the game doesn’t mean you can’t love it. And in the spirit of full honesty, I knew it would be the last time I saw you until the new season. I didn’t want to pass that up.”

Oh.

Oh.

His words make her stomach twist, something unfamiliar and yet familiar all the same even if she hasn’t felt it in a few years, and she’s sure that her heart beating is visible through her shirt. Or maybe Killian can hear it from how loud it is, but really, she’s trying not to think about any of that.

This is not how today was supposed to go.

She’s always known that he was a genuine guy, if not the slightest bit cocky, but damn. She either feels like she just took a ball to the gut or hit a grand slam. She can’t tell.

“Anyways,” he continues, his hand rubbing at his stubble-covered chin, “my plan didn’t exactly work out. If you’re not interested, I sure as hell can’t ask you to be. I can’t wait to see the segment.”

With those words, he opens the door and steps out underneath the covered awning, the rain beating against the metal. She is pretty much glued to the ground, but in a move that she one day knows she is going to chalk up to adrenaline, much like Killian did, she takes the steps out the door to yell down at Killian.

“I’m interested.”

He stops walking and twists around, both brows practically in his hairline. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Killian smiles at her. “I’m still willing to take you to that pizza place in Manhattan.”

“What about a pizza place in Tampa?”

“I can do that too.”

After they’ve exchanged numbers, something she still can’t believe she’s doing, Killian walks away to head to his car while she’s left still standing under the awning. Jeff walks up next to her, his shoulder hitting hers, and it’s only then that she remembers that he’s here.

“Dude. You went on for months about how you were not going to date him, and you basically just asked him out.”

“Shut up.”

“I got it on film.”

She reaches back to slap his shoulder, disbelief settling down inside of her. “I hate you.”

“Just trying to document this fairytale romance.”

“You want to come to the pizza place and document that too?”

“Nah,” he sighs, beginning to walk ahead of her. “I don’t need to see that. It’s been bad enough watching you two all day.”

“It was work,” she protests.

“Work with a hell of a lot of flirting. Dinner is on you tonight since you’re getting a free one tomorrow.”

“I could pay on the date. You don’t know.”

“Come on,” he laughs, waving her ahead. “I need you to pull up the car so the camera doesn’t get wet.”

This is a weird day.

-/-

It turns out that she doesn’t have time to go and eat pizza with baseball players who charm her. She and Jeff get assigned to cover other teams and spring training games while they’re in Florida, so she has to text Killian and cancel before traveling throughout the state. It’s disappointing, but it’s kind of a relief. Jeff kept teasing her about it all, which made her second guess everything, and her stomach was beginning to twist and turn in an unpleasant way instead of the small flutters of excitement and anticipation that she felt after she told Killian she was interested.

But work is work, and it’s going to come first. So she sweats (thanks heat) and interviews players from teams she usually doesn’t interact with and films a few segments to air to give everyone a glimpse at spring training. While on the road or on a flight, she works on editing Killian’s interview all while texting back and forth with him, something they seemed to fall into without her realizing it.

And despite the fact that she talks for a living, texting seems to be so much easier.

Killian: Is this entire interview going to be me making strange faces?

She laughs under her breath at his text. She’s taken to sending him bad screenshots of the video because, well, it’s highly entertaining, and the poor man most likely thinks that she’s going to screw over his public persona with these awful little clips.

Emma: You have a very expressive face.

Killian: Where are you today?

Emma: I’m on the plane back to NYC right now. I need to get into the studio to finish this up with some of our legit editors if I want it to air on Thursday.

Killian: It really shouldn’t take so long for you to edit me to be charming.

Emma: It’s a hell of a lot of work. You have no idea.

Killian: Maybe your questions are the problem.

Emma: Shut your mouth. My questions were awesome.

Killian: They were. Are you working the game on Thursday?

Emma: Yep. I’ll be in my little corner. If you hit a home run, maybe I’ll interview you after the game.

Killian: I like that kind of motivation, love.

Emma: Good. I like winners.

They land at JFK an hour before midnight, and it takes a ridiculous amount of time for her Uber to get to her apartment. The hallway lights are all turned off, and it’s a miracle that she doesn’t wake up Ruby or Graham in her quiet tip toeing back to her bedroom, especially when she curses over stubbing her toe on an end table in the hallway. But everything is still quiet, and when she gets to her room, she drops her bag, takes off all of her clothes except her underwear, and then collapses into the mattress, falling asleep almost immediately.

She really missed her bed.

But she doesn’t get to sleep long, her alarm blaring in her ear early the next morning, and she doesn’t bother doing anything but showering and throwing her hair into a tangled bun on top of her head before going into the office and sitting down with the editing team, looking through clips and cutting questions, helping them to decided what transitions and music to use all the while she practically has all ten hours of footage memorized.

There’s a lot of weird clips, most of which come from Jeff trying to be funny. He’s an eclectic guy.

Ruby comes in the room right at the time that everyone is watching her pretty much ask Killian out, and she sinks a little further into her rolling chair hoping to disappear so as not to deal with any of it. But Ruby doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a quip, doesn’t tease her, and of every weird thing that’s happened, that’s the one she was expecting the least.

Ruby never keeps her mouth shut about anything.

By the time midnight rolls around, she’s got a completely edited video, several clips to post online to her social media, and she’s sent it all off to David and the executives to be approved before airing tomorrow afternoon.

It’s a relief to have it finished, to have another project checked off the list, and she files away all of the video footage into her folder on Killian, which sounds much creepier than it actually is.

Killian: Good luck today!

Emma: Why are you telling me good luck? You’re the one playing a game.

Killian: Your piece is airing. That’s a big deal, Swan.

Emma: It’s really good. You only come off as a slight jackass.

Killian: That’s the ultimate level of jackass.

The snort that escapes her is through no fault of her own, and she tries to stifle it with the throw pillow on the couch.

It obviously doesn’t work.

“So did you ever go on a date with him?” Ruby questions as she swipes red nail polish over her fingernails.

Ah, there’s the question she’s been waiting for.

“Nope.”

“But you’re texting Jones, right?”

“Possibly.”

“Definitely, Ems. I saw the footage. You basically asked him out. Why haven’t you gone out? You two have had a standing date since October.”

“We’ve been busy. We’ve got high-paced jobs.”

“It’s Opening Day, and we’re both sitting in our living room still in our pajamas. You have time.”

“I know, I know.” She waves Ruby away, twisting her head to look at her. “It’s…complicated. I don’t know. We text all the time, we both know that we’re interested. But I got called away to work and he’s just now back in New York. We’ll figure it out.”

“You better. Not everyone can say that their best friend is dating a baseball player.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone can say that their best friend is dating a detective or that she herself is a badass producer.”

Ruby waves her nail polish brush in the air. “Touché. I know we were just talking about how much time we have, but you’ve got to be at the fields in two hours. You know that, right?”

“My call time isn’t until three.”

“No, yours is at noon. You’re working the pre-show, remember?”

“Oh shit.”

She practically rolls off of the couch before running back into her room to get dressed, pulling on her pants and tucking her blue and white stripped top into them. She’s sure someone will say that she looks like a sailor, but considering she can’t wear a jersey to work, this will have to do. Luckily, she washed her hair last night, so she doesn’t have to worry about anything more than spraying some dry shampoo into her hair and curling it the slightest bit, knowing that someone will be around the studio to fix it at some point. It’s definitely not putting her best foot forward, but the pre-show completely and totally slipped her mind since she’s never gotten to work it before.

It’s likely the most high-profile day of her career, and she’s in a rush to get ready because she forgot.

How sleep deprived is she that she forgot?

(She’s going to blame Killian since she did stay up late talking to him.)

But she makes it there with time to spare and to go over her notes, especially since she’s not going on air until the second hour to introduce Killian’s interview, and by the time all of that rolls around, her entire day is a blur of muted colors and harried questions until there are claps on her backs and wishes of congratulations for her piece.

She did it.

She finished it.

And it was good.

Damn good.

And then it’s Opening Day at Yankee Stadium, and she’s sitting in an open press box near the field watching the game, reviewing stats, and cheering on the team that she’s come to call her own.

If there’s a specific player who she likes a little bit more than the others, well, that’s her business.

Killian plays an incredible game with several assists and three RBIs, and his stat sheet alone makes her realize that she’s going to get to go out on the field and interview him when it’s all over. An idea sparks in her mind, one that’s likely a little reckless but also probably ratings gold – as well as good for her personal life – and after she’s pulled her hair up into a ponytail and fixed up her makeup, she has Ruby attach her microphone pack to the back of her pants and makes her way through the gates to get out near the on-field press so that she can move in to get her exclusive.

Killian sees her before she even steps on the field, and his lips curve into a bright smile, making his cheeks more flushed than the sweat already made him. His pants have grass stains on them, his hair is drenched underneath his cap, and he looks like a verifiable mess.

She likes that mess.

“You give a girl one exclusive and suddenly she’s everywhere you go,” he teases, stopping right in front of her.

“No one even said I was out here for you, Jones.”

He clicks his tongue. “I assumed.”

“That’s a bold assumption.”

“There is so much flirting going on right now,” Ruby groans in her ear, reminding her that she really is out here to do a job. “You guys need to work out all of this sexual tension. Not on the field, obviously. But somewhere.”

“I’m a bold man.”

“Obviously. Funnily enough,” she laughs, switching her microphone on and nodding at Jeff as he follows behind her (the poor man is likely so tired of this), “I am actually here to ask you a few questions.”

“Fire away.”

Her stomach twists once more, but this time it isn’t a feeling of dread. It’s one of excitement, one she’d like to feel forever, and the thrill of anticipation works its way over her in chills that don’t match up with the heat today.

She may not have liked being put on the spot back in October, her entire world flipping and changing in a way that she wasn’t sure that she liked, but she thinks this question is about to go over a little better than the first time, especially since she’s the one asking. After all, she’s the professional here when it comes to asking questions.

“Killian Jones, you played a great game today, and I think a celebration is in order.”

He raises that one eyebrow, his smile faltering before ticking back up again, and she knows that he’s already picked up on what she’s about to do. He’s a perceptive one.

“And what do you suggest, love?”

“I hear there’s a pizza place around here that’s pretty good, and I am a hell of a good time on a date. So, what do you say? You want to go out with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And then Killian dips his head down to glide his lips over hers, his hand threading into her ponytail and pulling her closer to him so she can feel the heat and firmness of his body all the while her hands grab onto his jersey, nails and microphone digging into him. She doesn’t care, though, and definitely doesn’t think about the fact that she’s making out with someone on television, mostly because that someone is Killian. His lips are warm, a little salty from the sweat, but really all she can think about is how good this kiss feels and how much she wants to keep on doing this and feeling like she’s the one who scored tonight.

(Obviously not on television, though, and maybe with fewer baseball puns.)

They eat pizza the next night.

And the morning after with Emma walking around Killian’s apartment jokingly wearing one of his jerseys because she told him under no circumstances would she be wearing one in public or showing him any bias simply because they’re together.

Two years later, though, when Jones is her actual last name, she folds and wears a number twenty-nine on her back while sitting behind the desk filming her own show.

Killian is her most frequent guest.

[honeymoonjin]

A/N - I’m back into the swing of things at last! I hope you enjoy this one, there’s a veeery big development in the second half that I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on.

LOST IN TRANSLATION

↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER EIGHT ↳You seek advice from an unlikely friend, and come home to an odd sight.

Teacher Min’s house is…well, calling it a house is a stretch. But the small building he shares with a unbelievably fluffy and snobbish Persian cat is cosy if a little untidy, something you weren’t expecting from the grouchy math teacher.

“Gus,” the dark haired teacher calls out from the kitchen as you perch awkwardly on the stool beside the bench, “I’m sick of you making a mess with your dinner, don’t make me give you biscuits again.” An angry yowl gives you a fright, and you see the cat in question winding between Min’s legs with a crumpled up face. “Well, I’m sick of stepping in pate, okay? That’s the third sock this week.”

You watch with wide eyes as he peels off his socks and uses them to bend down and wipe off the smear of cat meat on the kitchen floor. You had to admit that you much preferred Miso, Jimin’s cat, who was gentle and sweet and loved tummy rubs. “What help you’re needing?” Before he can scoff and make fun of your Korean again, you correct yourself. “I mean, what help do you needing? Do you need. Sorry, it’s very late.”

Min stands up and chucks the soiled socks out of the kitchen. They land on the carpet of the hallway and you wonder what he could have possibly been aiming for. He tucks his elbows back and arches his spine in a deep stretch, and you can’t help but stare silently at the way the buttons on his button-down strain against the tension. He sighs in relief and goes lax again, slumping against the bench. “We’re having Mathletics training three times a week, and the competition is a month away, so I’ll need twelve lots of resources, preferably on PowerPoint. I have all the stuff ready to go, but I just need you to put them onto PowerPoint slides for me.”

You nod slowly. “If you want it, I can teach you and you can do it.”

His face crumples in a frown. “Absolutely not. Being an old-fashioned Scrooge is my whole charm. It makes me endearing.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Nobody liked Scrooge when he was Scrooge. They like Scrooge when he’s nice. If you are nice, you have many friends.”

His eyes waver, then drop to the floor as he turns around and busies himself, pulling some rice in a takeout container out from the fridge and getting it ready for the microwave. “Okay, Strawberry Shortcake, how many friends have you made so far if you’re so much nicer than me?”

You can only see his back now, and with his voice so low and flat, you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or genuinely annoyed at your comment. “I hope at least one.” You let the comment hang in the air suggestively, and once the microwave lights up and his job is done, he turns around again, with a much softer look on his face.

“I thought you said nobody liked Scrooge?”

You shrug. “He had one friend too. Ghost. Bob Marley.”

Min rewards you with a full body laugh, his shoulders shaking and his grin so wide you could see him gums. When he calms down, he shakes his head fondly. “Not Bob Marley, Y/n, Jacob Marley. But thank you anyway.”

You think back to what Taehyung had told you earlier today, about how to address males older than you, and put on your sweetest smile. “You’re welcome, oppa.” Your face falls when he shudders and shakes his head. “Is this incorrect?”

“No, no, it’s just… You can call me Yoongi, okay? Yoongi-oppa if you’re sucking up. But not just oppa.”

“Oh. I’m very sorry, I won’t do it again.”

Teacher M- well, Yoongi crosses the kitchen so that he’s leaning forward on the bench you’re on the other side of and fixes you with a serious stare. “Y/n, who told you to call men oppa?”

The intensity of his eyes narrowing in on you makes you feel like you’re in trouble. “No one,” you reply weakly.

He shakes his head slowly. “Don’t lie. You haven’t done anything wrong, it’s not bad, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You feel unbelievably small. “I don’t understand.”

“Just saying ‘oppa’ is very, uh, intimate. It’s for those you’re really close with. Like actual siblings, or… Just be careful.”

You bite your lip. “You’re my friend?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t mad at me?”

“No, of course not.”

Fiddling with your hands, you avoid Yoongi’s gaze. “Taehyung, today at the museum.” The microwave beeps loudly, two blips, but his attention on you doesn’t waver, patiently waiting for you to explain. “He said to say oppa, then… Oh, I shouldn’t say,” you trail off unsurely.

“He kissed you?” You glance up hastily, and Yoongi sends you a sheepish smile. “He actually came by my office right after the trip looking for advice.”

Your eyes widen. “Really? What did he say?”

Yoongi taps the side of his nose with his forefinger. “Private conversation, little lady. Don’t worry, I promised him I wouldn’t go to the principal. He knows it’s inappropriate and it won’t be happening again.”

You nod and give him a small smile. “I don’t want him becoming in trouble. Or me.”

“Getting in trouble,” Yoongi corrects, and shoots you a rueful smile. “I figure it’s more constructive to correct your Korean than to just make fun of it, yeah?”

“Thank you. I don’t want him getting in trouble. Should I do Powerpoint now?”

Yoongi hums in confirmation as he turns around to take the steaming plastic container out of the microwave. “Sure, we can eat while we work. It might take a while, but I’d rather get it all done at once. Go sit at the table, make yourself comfortable.”

--

Yawning loudly, Yoongi heaves his fat cat off of his lap to stand up. “Job well done, I’d say.”

His yawn triggers your own. It was getting really late; you had already texted Jimin not to wait up around 10pm, and now it was nearing midnight. It had taken longer than expected; the science teacher had apparently seriously fucked with his settings, and the majority of your time was spent removing and adjusting different settings as they cropped up. Some Yoongi knew of, like changing his signature to Lil Meow Meow, and Jungkook deleting all fonts off Microsoft Word except Curlz MT, Comic Sans and Chiller. Most of the tricks were uncovered gradually, like predictive text changing the word ‘hypotenuse’ to a word you had never seen before, but that made Yoongi somehow simultaneously go dead pale and blush violently.

But finally you were done, and you were looking forward to collapsing in your bed and getting us much sleep as you could before you had to be up in less than six hours. God, why did you offer to help the teachers?

In the end, you and Yoongi drove home in silence. You, just focusing on staying awake, and him probably regretting offering you a ride. You were expecting to let yourself in the house, tiptoe to your bedroom and hope you didn’t wake Jimin, but what you didn’t expect was that Jimin wasn’t even in his room.

Your feet stilled on the plush carpet of the hallway as you stared into the living area. On the couch, Jimin lay fast asleep. But he wasn’t alone. The television, now playing infomercials on mute, lit up the face of the man entangled with him. The science teacher that had eaten breakfast with you this morning. Jeon Jungkook.

It was clear that they hadn’t intended to fall asleep on the couch. Apart from the TV that was still on, there were two half-empty wine glasses on the coffee table, with a candle flickering dangerously low between them. Jimin was upright, face tilted up on the back of the couch, and Jungkook was turned towards him, with his head on Jimin’s chest and a hand up under his hoodie.

You quickly drew the conclusion of what you had walked into. This was a classic date-night-in, only they probably hadn’t intended to end it in full view of you returning home. It was sweet, the way Jimin’s arm wrapped around Jungkook’s back so firmly, even in sleep, and it’s not like you thought it was wrong at all, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were intruding on a private moment. How could you possibly pretend like you hadn’t seen anything? But on the other hand, how could you possibly tell them you had?

You liked both of them as friends, but you figured you weren’t close enough to discuss it with them. Tentatively, you crept down to your bedroom and fell asleep in your work clothes.

--

“Milk or sugar?”

You smile softly. “Both, please.” You were sat at the kitchen table again, across from Jungkook who was noisily chowing down on some buttered toast that he had stacked up into some strange sandwich. Jimin was pottering around the kitchen making coffee. “You do not need to wake up early, you know. You both should sleep.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” Jimin deflects, joining the two of you with three mugs of steaming, aromatic coffee. “We were awake, anyway. Jungkook came over just before you woke up.”

Jungkook, still in his clothes from yesterday and cheeks stuffed with bread, pauses then nods silently.

You slip your cold fingers around the mug, relishing in the heat that radiates through the ceramic. “Jimin said we could have sleeping over. Maybe it is easy when Jungkook is sleeping over here and not wake up so early.”

Jimin’s eyes widen a fraction but he schools his expression and looks over at Jungkook. “We, uh, I don’t have any other rooms. Just mine and the spare room, which is yours.”

Maybe you can’t outright tell them you’re okay with them spending time together, but you can always play innocent and push them in the right direction. “But Jimin-oppa’s bed is so big. There is room for sharing.”

Jungkook finally swallows his mouthful, rinsing it out with a sip of coffee. He keeps his head down, fiddling with the handle of his mug. “That would work,” he mutters lowly, “as long as hyung doesn’t mind.”

Jimin bites his lip, staring curiously at you. “It wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, two guys sharing a room?” Jungkook looks up quickly and glares at him meaningfully, but Jimin waves him off. “Most people here don’t like the idea of two men sleeping together.”

You know exactly what he’s doing; you’d done it yourself when you’d come out to your family as bisexual. Testing the waters. Running hypotheticals so that you could get a feel for their reaction before actually telling them. “If I am honest, I think South Korea is very, what’s the word? Old-way?”

“Old-fashioned?” Jungkook guesses. Both men are staring at you with what can only be a churning mess of fear and hope in their eyes. You know the feeling well.

“Yes, old-fashioned.” It was time for the olive branch. “Can I say something, and you won’t become angry to me?”

Jimin swallows hard and shares a look at Jungkook. He probably thinks you’re going to call him out on what you saw last night. “Of course, Y/n. Anything.”

“I don’t know the word in Korean, but I am liking a boyfriend and I am also liking a girlfriend, do you understand? Um, and when I am coming to Korea, I am scared, because I know some people are not so nice with girls wanting girlfriends. And boys wanting boyfriends.”

You glance down as the room descends into silence, mentally berating yourself. That was probably too much too soon, you think. What if you were wrong, and they were just affectionate dudes? “Maybe I shouldn’t have said-”

“Us too,” Jungkook blurts out. You look up at him with wide eyes. He lets out a heavy breath, and shoots Jimin a soft smile. “Shit, Jimin said you might not have seen us but I knew for sure you did, and I was so fucking worried that you were going to tell on us. Thank god.”

Your heart settles in your chest, relieved that you were past that awkwardness. “I didn’t know what to say. I want you to know I am happy for you and not mad.”

Jimin’s buried his face in his hands, and you see his shoulders begin to tremble. He looks up, and his eyes are red but there’s a smile on his face. “We haven’t told anyone,” he admits, “we were so careful, never letting anyone see us that close in public. Keeping a secret like this…” Jungkook silently stretches his hand across the table, and with another cautious glance at you, Jimin accepts, clutching tightly. “It’s nice to have someone to be honest with. I’m just really happy right now.”

Jungkook laughs joyously, standing up and giving Jimin’s hand one last squeeze before he’s leaving to dump his dishes in the sink. “I’m just glad we don’t have to sneak around at home for a whole year,” he calls out, “I don’t think I would’ve survived that.”

“Well, you are fine around me,” you state seriously, “I want to- Oh! Is that Coach Jung?”

Just after you notice the figure skipping up the steps, he raps loudly on the door.

Jimin gets up as you’re putting your coat on, and gives you a big hug. “We’re so lucky, you know,” he says afterwards, holding your shoulders fondly, “out of all the applicants we were sent, I’m glad Principal Kim picked you.” And with that, he opens the door and pushes you out. “Now, go on. We’re going back the fuck to bed. It’s too goddamn early.”

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[nellie-elizabeth]

The Walking Dead: Lines We Cross (10x01)

I did not actively dislike watching this, which is about as good as it gets for me when it comes to The Walking Dead. Objectively, this was a pretty good premiere!

Cons:

I do not blame the child actor for this, but the little boy they have playing RJ is... bad. I know some people who say Chandler Riggs was bad as Carl, but I always thought he did a serviceable job, even in the early seasons when he was just a little kid. But RJ is just wow. Distracting. Every line delivery stilted and strange. Especially when he's compared with the girl playing Judith, who actually does a pretty good job.

I have a theory about the Carol/Daryl situation. At the end of last season, they signaled romance between the two of them very hard. But in this premiere, they seem to be splitting the difference, trying to cater both to the shippers, and to those who see them as only friends. There was an almost sibling-like banter to Carol and Daryl for a lot of this episode, as Carol makes fun of Daryl for calling her his "best friend." But then the language shifts to them talking about "running away together," which is pretty romantic, no matter which way you look at it. I feel like they're trying to have the best of both worlds, falling into the classic TV trap of "will they, won't they" to keep audiences on the hook. This is Season Ten. It's time to stop messing around with long drawn out character arcs that make so little progress you can barely see them moving.

Pros:

Honestly, though, for the most part I found this premiere invigorating. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. The opening scene was a great way to start out, as we see a bunch of our characters on a beach in military formation with archers and infantry and shields, all practicing on a group of beach Walkers that are trapped in an isolated location. It was cool to see an organized force, and nice to see them practicing. They're doing what they should have done back in the prison, or when they first got to Alexandria - really preparing people for the realities of their world. I also continue to be impressed with new creative Walker designs. The driftwood zombie at the start of this episode was really creepy and well done!

There's something inherently comical about Rosita and her three men raising her new baby together. I'm fully prepared to hate this plot line later on, as it might turn in to something unbelievably stupid. But for now I like the interplay of Gabriel being all serious and dead inside, and Eugene charting everything about the baby's behavior, and Siddiq sliding in and out of pretty severe PTSD while trying to adjust to fatherhood. This is a plot thread to watch out for - it could break either way, but I'm looking forward to seeing what's next.

Sometimes I think to myself - what the heck is Negan doing here? But then Jeffrey Dean Morgan is an undeniably charming guy, and in some ways I get why he's still around. I still wish they would have killed him off, and I think that letting him live made the final confrontation with the Saviors much weaker. But if we're taking the long view, having Negan here is like having a human symbol of the future Carl and Rick were fighting for. He's still sleeping in a cell every night, he's still being watched by a guard, but he has somewhat integrated into society, and helps out in the gardens. With time, maybe he really will "pay his debt to society" or whatever, and integrate even more.

Despite the poor boy playing RJ's unfortunate performance, I really liked the scene where Judith told RJ the story of Rick's (supposed) death. Judith has actually been a lot of fun. The actress does a great job, and she also acts as yet another symbol of the future, of what a kid can look like in this world. She has never known a life before the zombie apocalypse, but she's still a kind and caring kid who goes to school and looks after her little brother. She's also a bad-ass who gets to come out on training assignments and kill Walkers with the grownups. This show has killed off some characters over the years that I never thought they'd kill off, but the main examples are Carl and Henry. I thought the show needed a child at its center, a symbol of what everyone was fighting so hard to achieve. I hope they don't kill off Judith, as she has become that symbol, and I think it's something that is sorely needed.

As I mentioned, I'm feeling ambivalent about Carol and Daryl and the direction they're going. I want romance, but I think they're going to tease us to the point of irritation. That said, I really liked their scenes together. Carol is acting almost too chipper, having taken to spending her time out on the sea, running errands for Oceanside and Alexandria that keep her away from the greater community. This is clearly a coping mechanism over losing Henry, and while she does seem content, there's always the very real chance that it's going to come crashing back around her now that Alpha appears to be returning. And Daryl is coping in his own way, stuck somewhere between being a loner and being part of the community. We see how happy he is to see Carol. We see him and Michonne reminiscing about Rick, as they talk about how nice it was to bring the kids to the beach. We see him learning some clumsy sign language to communicate with Connie. (If it weren't for Carol, by the way, I'd totally be on board for a Daryl/Connie romance, and I don't think I'll be all that mad if that's where they're going with this).

There are other things going on in this episode, little plot hooks that will be tugged on later - Aaron's isolationist and bleak world-view contrasted to Michonne's hopefulness. Ezekiel trying to find new purpose in his life. Connie's sister having trouble with her hearing, threatening Connie's ability to communicate without her interpreter. A satellite crashes to Earth and Eugene is interested in the potential technology. But all of these threads will develop more fully a little later on. I'll end this review by turning to the looming threat of the Whisperers.

We see our communities getting on with their lives after the painful double-disaster of the Whisperers' attack, and the big snow storm, several months ago. There are hints that they are well aware of the potential threat of the Whisperers returning, but they are mostly just doing their best to stay out of their territory and keep calm and carry on. As the episode ends, the satellite falling causes a fire and forces them into the Whisperers' territory in order to prevent that fire from spreading, and as the episode ends, we see Alpha staring up at Carol, the enmity bright in both of their eyes.

I'm pretty excited for this show-down. Alpha killed Carol's son, and from Alpha's perspective, Carol stole Alpha's daughter. The Whisperers were a really interesting and different villain last season, and I hope they don't overstay their welcome the way the Saviors did. But for now, I'm still on board.

That's that! I know a lot of people have been talking about the new show runner, and what this means for reinvigorating The Walking Dead. Speaking for myself, I have definitely felt disenchanted with the show for several years now, even as there have been moments, episodes, or characters that still intrigued me. I am excited for the show to improve, even while I privately feel that it should probably bow out before too much longer!

8.5/10